Writing – Faith & Culture Writers Community

September 27, 2016September 27, 2016

Why I Stay in Christian Publishing | Mick Silva

By Mick Silva

The primary reasons for continuing as long as I have in Christian publishing must be selfish. They are the same reasons I do anything long-term—I like the way it makes me feel.

First, let me say I never intended to stay more than two years at either Focus on the Family or WaterBrook Multnomah. After giving five years apiece in each position, I asked God to work it out to convince my best friend, who’d previously agreed to marry me, that this was a good idea, to take our two young daughters and move from Colorado to Portland in 2010 with no steady job and very little to fall back on.

He did and she did and we did. So there you have it; maybe it was destiny.

I’ll tell you what it wasn’t. It wasn’t my genius or proper living or even prayer. I’ve never been very good at praying. And honestly, the challenge to pursue what “the market” (Christian or otherwise) deemed best never appealed much.

I had a different criteria for my decision to move that, let’s face it, is completely unreasonable. But secondly, reasonably or unreasonably, I believed 10 years was adequate training for launching an editing and writing career on my own.

God affirmed this move in many ways, not the least of which came through amazing friends who supported us. They kept me going, kept me on the rails when I wanted to fly off in rage or forget the higher purpose and go tie one on at Joe’s Tap Heaven.

I’ve been blessed to know editors and authors, readers and writers who aspired to something more than seeking personal fame and fortune. I love that the Christian book industry is about more than personal ambition and charisma, though those attitudes creep in; they’ve definitely taken their toll and still threaten to destroy much of it.

But what we believe about Jesus should make a difference in the way we live. In our professions our faith should inform how we operate and be demonstrated in the way we act in our jobs. We should strive to offer something different to clients—more patience, compassion, grace.

This is why I stay and continue to work with writers of inspirational fiction and memoirs, to live these actions out. Despite all the challenges, God keeps proving He can use broken people and broken systems for greater glory.

I’m like a lot of Christians who fall into that magical thinking that tempts us to believe the lie Jesus was offered in the wilderness: you have a way to take control. I’m NOT in control. My well-being does not depend on how well I do, how I behave, how I choose.

Maybe you’ve thought this too, if you made the ‘right’ choices then you’ll be successful. But when our supposedly right choices don’t make us successful, we can often feel shame and condemnation, the opposite of love. To be blunt, if your life sucks, you’ve got no one to blame but yourself, buddy.

That’s the bondage of legalism, of try-harder Christianity. We need to remember our success or failure isn’t our doing, it’s God’s. As one writer pointed out, this belief is a sort of God-ordained meritocracy, like getting brownie points from God if we do things just right. But it isn’t true. We don’t get happy by doing right. Most of the time we overlook the important fact that struggle and even failure is required for our happiness.

I don’t want to accept that. However, it helps when I EXPECT it, moving forward in the confidence the spirit provides.

People often resist challenges to their sense of security and control (or maybe that’s just me). However, it might be this opposition proves you’re where you need to be, proves you’re making real progress, real success.

Big vision demands that kind of commitment. No promises it’ll always make you happy — there are plenty of safety nets to leave behind. But maybe facing them in the conviction that God’s in control is a better definition of success.

Mick Silva is a former acquisitions editor who spent 10 years in Christian publishing, working with many well-known authors and writers. He is currently self-employed working with writers in all aspects of the process. He blogs at www.micksilva.com and shares his Monday Motivations with hundreds of readers. Mick lives in the Portland area with his wife and two daughters in an old house made of wood and various mosses.

May 26, 2015July 16, 2015

When Cracks Show us the Glory of God

by Ashley Hales

Shivering in this northwesterly wind, I sit on the edge of dirt and pavement: this juxtaposition between organic and man-made. This concrete worn and utilitarian next to the unadorned simplicity – almost vulgarity – of the dirt. We are stuff just as these. Stones pulverized and fashioned into meaning. Organic material who hide behind makeup and jewelry and our bios. But we’re all just dust and ashes. All here to serve a God so much bigger and more incomprehensible than ourselves. A God who hung the stars in galaxies we haven’t yet discovered; a God who created atoms and molecules and things we can’t comprehend. For what? For the joy of it.

For delight. (That’s what Henry James taught me – the delight in language, in the glory of the small pieces forming intricate beings called sentences that curl and twist and in which we live and move and have our being).

That there is something about glory that fills and moves spaces; that it is self-assured in its perfection because it is perfection that comes from humility, from sacrifice.

For a Kingdom that breaks through these cracks in the sidewalk or speaks to me out of the dirt, is a Kingdom that is not about utility. It is a Kingdom that glories and dignifies the small, that notices the simple – that says a hair or a sparrow are currency in this Kingdom.

In college there was a singer-songwriter who sang a song based on Isaiah 55, “You who have no money, come buy and eat” and it made no sense to me then. This Kingdom where glory comes in brokenness, where glory breaks in through the stuff of dirt and sidewalks, where glory is a free meal.– where glory fills the ordinary with good things – this, this is where I want to live.

It is only here, in this Kingdom of concrete and dirt, where I am fully free. In this moment there is life, life more abundant and full and overflowing than my degrees or accomplishments. And it comes inching towards me as an offering while the thoughts about all those people who I am responsible for, for the pain and heartaches and miscommunications come racing in. But I’ve been given this moment.

It, too, is an offering of dirt and concrete. And it, too, is delight.

Connect with Ashley Hales:

Website | Twitter

May 23, 2015July 16, 2015

What it Looks Like to Find Home (yet again)

by Ashley Hales

We almost moved to Portland in 2009 to do an apprenticeship with a church. We fell in love. We wanted to be downtown people. We wanted to walk on lazy Saturday mornings with a cup of hand-crafted coffee and browse in Powell’s. We ached for urbanism, books, meaning, and craft beers. We longed for the coming together of pubs and stories; of the gospel and hipsters; of beauty and brokenness. And then it turned to ashes. We didn’t move. And we felt like death. Six years later, this last weekend, I returned to Portland and even in the span of three days and three nights, I am resurrected.

I am more fully alive, more fully myself, more a member of a tribe than I dreamt possible. There is a quiet back and forth between the prophetic fire I feel stretching for release inside of me and the long, slow soul-digging necessary to make a life of writing work. And it all is good work. Because now I believe I have a community of soul friends; where, hunched over drinks around a table, even though we come from different backgrounds and theological viewpoints, we are home. There, around the table, we are most fully ourselves, most fully alive. Because home was never about being right. Home is belonging. Home is where we hash out who we are and what we believe; but surrounding that process, is a womb of protection. Home is where we can be messy, scared, broken, angry. And a true home can hold us as we thrash about as we are birthed into ourselves.

I found a little slice of home there in the drizzly northwestern rain. I found a home by myself, sandwiched between earth and concrete, feeling as much a part of one as the other. I found home in a Kingdom that is wide and deep and long and a breath of air. I found home in words that filled me, where I marveled at beauty and truth wrapped around one another like lovers. I found home in the eyes of my friends, when I could listen to their hurt, to their cries of lament from systemic oppression; or where I could weep at the violence done to them because they were sacrifices to a system. These are systems based on fear or control, where the image of God becomes something to squelch and squash, like my toddler squishes Play-Doh back into its plastic tin. I found home in the words of meandering faith journeys, where we hold holy space open for each other. I found home in my tears. Portland birthed me. Me. Not in my writerly garb, but just me.

I have some resolutions of sorts, some lessons to take away and tape up to my bathroom mirror, to remind myself what I will do: I will dig gently. But I will dig. I will tell myself the truth of the middle day. That there is dusk and there is dawn and at these threshold moments we are the verge of beholding glory. I will see. I will pause, slow down and not rush to resolution. My first duty is to see. I will proclaim truth. I will point others to glory. And, I will show them home.

This was Ashley’s first time attending the Faith & Culture Writers Conference. She blogs at: Website

May 4, 2015May 4, 2015

Letting go of fear and saying, “I am a Writer”

By Leanne Sype

There’s something I haven’t told you because I’ve been fearful. I thought I was being humble. But this past weekend I attended the 2015 Faith and Culture Writer’s Conference, which turned into two-day therapy-retreat where I cried a lot and got really depressed before I became inspired. I was hindered to inspiration because I was blocked by truth.

I sat in a guided writing experience with Micah J. Murray, during the new, “Breathing Space: A Mini Retreat” that was added to the conference this year. Micah called us out our snippy inner-gremlins and fought against them by writing a fan letter to ourselves. I wasn’t going to read mine out loud because my gremlins told me that everyone else’s letter was way better, that I would be self-centered if I volunteered, and that everyone would think mine was stupid. I punched my gremlins in the face by volunteering to read mine.

I read my letter and I was okay; people liked it. Micah asked me to read it again. The second time I read it, I wasn’t okay. I began to cry and could barely get through the dang thing without snotting all over it. I got mad(ish) at Micah, “Why did you make me read this again? Look at what you made me do!” He had called me to a place of public vulnerability–then asked if the group could pray for me. He asked the sweet girl next to me, Michelle, to lay a hand on me and pray. And pray she did, so beautifully and tearfully. This was a powerful moment that I didn’t understand in the moment.

In this same class, a gentleman, Sovann Penn (@SovannPenn), read his letter. He said to himself, “You have been mistaking fear for humility far too long… you have friends who are awesome and believe in you.” This stuck with me the rest of the day the same way a rock gets stuck inside your shoe.

That night in the main session, author Emily Freeman said, “I want to write like a hostess. A hostess doesn’t leave her guests to go call all the people who RSVP’ed “no” to find out why the didn’t come and why they don’t like her. That’s crazy. I want to write like a hostess, not a crazy person.” This put another rock in my shoe, and I went home feeling depressed, annoyed, and uncertain if I would be back the next day. I snuggled up to my husband and blubbered all over him with no words to express what was wrong with me.

I woke up the next morning with the very clear voice of the Holy Spirit:

“You’ve been mistaking fear for humility; you’re missing out on the full experience of the gift you’ve been given and the ministry in which you have been invited to participate. You are scared of people rejecting you, mocking you, and being angry with you, yet in all the things I’ve given you to write never once have you experienced what you fear. Not even in your most public confessions of sin. You are a lovely hostess with many guests I’ve brought to you because they can hear you; your translation from the Kingdom to the guests is good! But you leave them so you can wait by the phone for the “no” RSVP’s to call. They aren’t calling… and you’re missing the party! You have faithful friends, family, and even strangers who believe in you, but most importantly I believe in you. I have work for you if you’re willing; the fruit will be good and beautiful if you will trust Me.”

Here’s what I want to tell you:

I’ve spent the last 14 years pouring into and editing the stories of others, defining myself as an editor and merely dabbling in my craft as a “wet-noodle” writer. I confess that while I adore, honor, and value other people’s stories, I’ve been using editing as a way to avoid the true work God has for me–writing. I have been fearful of stepping into the public arena of vulnerability, giving power to voices of the gremlins and cloaking my fear in humility so as to justify my place behind the scenes (which, incidentally, is where an editor works. How convenient.)

Yes, some of my recent writings have been more confessional and vulnerable, evidence of God’s effort in coaxing me out into the arena, but I can tell you they were published in trembling obedience and reluctant submission.

I surrender with humble declaration that I am writer. I write creative non-fiction about real-life, my story, and God’s unwavering persistence to be the anchor for both. I translate through written words what I hear, see, and feel from God so I can better understand the purpose he has for me, how I can live that purpose for His glory, and how I can invite others to discover the same for their lives. My prayer always is that through my experiences, you find yourself encouraged, inspired, and invited into a Kingdom that is safe and welcoming, and promises purposeful life no matter how broken you are. You are loved unconditionally. And so am I.

God gave me my first assignment in January– a children’s book called The Hungry Garden. It’s an alphabet book that explores the ordinary to extraordinary food that gardens grow and why these foods are so exciting. It comes with a 26-recipe “snack book” that parents and children can use in their kitchen to be creative with food. I have completed the first draft of the main manuscript, and I am currently developing and testing the recipes.

I never wanted to write a book, let alone a children’s book . . . let alone a children’s book about food. I didn’t feel qualified. But as I have been following His lead on this project, it’s becoming more clear that as a recovering anorexic patient, I understand the fear of food intimately. I know what it feels like to see food in front of me that looks scary, smells weird, and would certainly be the worst thing ever if I ate it. As a child of God living with an eating disorder, I can relate to children in a way others cannot. Only God can orchestrate such a unique connection.

I look forward to sharing with you the nutty things that have happened since beginning this process, along with the mysteries and surprises I encounter as I journey forward. I promise not to hold back anymore! I am joining the party and will step into the arena as my name is called.

And those grumpy gremlins? Well, they aren’t invited.

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Leanne Sype was a speaker at the 2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference. She IS a also a writer, whose work can be found at Leanne Sype website

May 1, 2015May 1, 2015

Returning to this year’s conference – And cutting loose

By Jemelene Wilson

My word this year is “release”.

I didn’t want a word this year. After all, I have a whole phrase I’m living in. Who has time for a word and a phrase. Not this girl.

Well, apparently I needed to make time because when you ask the Holy Spirit to impress something on your heart and He does, listening seems to be the wisest course of action.

Two weeks ago today I rode north to Portland with my friend. Tresta is a gifted writer who speaks bold truths with a gentle gracious spirit.

Our destination was the Faith & Culture Writers Conference for 2015.

Last year I left with ideas. I had motivation. I wrote about “Coming out of the margins,” and how I was going to move forward with my writing, speaking and living out my faith by raising my voice.

Last year I prayed, “What is it Lord that you want me to write? Who is it Lord that you want me to touch? How is it Lord that you want me to move forward on this beautiful earth in my messy life?”

As I looked back over the year I saw progress. There was forward movement, lives touched and I am steps closer to fulfilling part of my calling.”

I also saw more roadblocks and detours thrown in my path. It’s amazing how easy it is to focus on the things that slow us down. The belief that my focus must be unique in order for my voice to be my own.

This year I found breakthrough and the reality that maybe it’s supposed to come in steps. Maybe growth isn’t always at breakneck speed but often it’s a one foot in front of the other affair.

This year the conference included a Friday retreat setting with a writing workshop after lunch. Seth Haines encouraged us to sit outdoors and spend the time writing from our perspective. We returned to the room to share what we wrote about.

There was a tree that stuck up over a building. It was full of blooms. I wrote of the short time this tree would look like this and wondered if anyone noticed that it was signaling that change was in the air. I lamented the short span of life the blooms had but the beauty of it’s return every year.

As writers shared their work a woman began to tell us about a tree she observed. It had reminded her of the time of year she lost her child and how it was a time of reflection. We wrote about the same tree and even some of the same observations but our words and voice were our own. Our vantage point and life experience gave us both a unique perspective with similar conclusions.

Another spoke poignantly of her own unique point of view because the community she identifies with is at a painful crossroad in history. Her lament echoed over the long wooden table as other writers admitted that we too find it hard to wrap up hard words with a happy ending.

Sometimes I write from the middle and have no ending at all.

My inbox is filled with close to a hundred drafts waiting for the perfect ending. I’ve been locked up by my own need to fix every problem I write about. To bring a conclusion to stories that need to be shared but aren’t quite finished.

We came back together to share as a larger group. As we went around the room I was tagged to share our small group observation. After relaying the revelations found in the workshop the question was posed, “How is this going to change your writing?” I blurted out “I’m cutting loose!”

I’m cutting away from the need to always give the answers when sometimes we need to sit in the questions.

I’m letting go of having to be the only one to address a topic or hiding my words because someone with a platform already said it.

Sometimes we need to repeat things in our own voice with our own words with our own space.

There is still so much more about the weekend that feels like freedom but I don’t have to wrap it all up for you now.

When I returned home there was a present waiting for me. It’s a special edition mug for Jen Hatmaker’s “For the Love” launch team. Most people chose the same hashtag. Me? I lamented over mine so much that I sent a frantic last minute email asking if it was too late to change mine from #grace.

It couldn’t have been better timing or a more appropriate word.

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Jemelene Wilson’s writing can be found at Jemelene Wilson website/blog

April 29, 2015May 1, 2015

Listening silently – then come the takeaways

By Nicholle Franke

“Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.” – Winston Churchill

In a world of constant NOISE… Will we sit down and LISTEN?

In a world of constant NOISE… Will we stand up and SPEAK?

On April 8, 2015 Andrew and I boarded a plane way, way too early for Portland, OR. We were heading to the Great Northwest for our 10th Anniversary Trip (How is that possible?), a Tour of Two Airplane Factories (Andrew-always the plane enthusiast) and for me to attend the Faith & Culture Writers Conference (truly the reason this trip came together).

And because nothing, absolutely nothing is ever simple for me. We were also privileged to spend an extra hour in the PDX Airport with their awesome carpet awesome carpet and seriously the NICEST TSA agents on planet earth because I left my cell phone in one of the bathrooms behind security. But have no fear, they found it! HALLELUJAH!

Can you say this Power Couple (hahaha) is efficient? We killed three birds with one trip.

Plus for good measure we saw about one-quarter of the state of Oregon in a tiny little clown car, had a great lunch with my cousin at a Brewery, and rode Segway’s for the first time around Bend, OR.

When my in-laws were naming their son, I’ve often joked Efficient should have been his middle name. Of course, he did marry me, always the inefficient one. So perhaps he knew his proclivity towards exactness and needed some balance in his life. I mean seriously how many people do you know that leave their cell phone in an airport and can’t remember where they left it? Perhaps our diverse personalities are what joined us together.

But I digress. Because truly this trip was about confronting what’s next for me. It was my chance to wrestle with my passion for Revival and see what that could look like in terms of living as a Writer and even Bigger than that, engage with others around my Calling as Prophet in the Body Of Christ. And honestly, until this trip and the weeks that have followed – the jury was still out in my soul.

I had certainly spent MONTHS in total Silence with the Lord. Months wrestling with understanding what the Lord was asking of me. Months spent writing in these cute little notebooks my friend keeps supplying me with. And Months spent seeing visions of what was to Come. But MONTHS of all of that for an extrovert, can feel like AGONY!

“Listen to Me in silence, And let the peoples gain new strength; Let them come forward, then let them speak…” – Isaiah 41:1

Let me speak plainly for just a moment. I was beginning to feel like a crazy person when people asked me what I was up to these days…

“Well, umm, you know,” I’d say. And they’d say, “well no, I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.” . . . see crazy person here.

But somehow with each passing day, and each moment spent at Jesus’ feet I was gaining more strength, more hope, and more passion to SPEAK! Because each moment I spent listening to HIM was a moment of being Built Up in my inner being. The very place where I needed it most, the INSIDE OF MY FRAGILE HEART!

And therefore when I arrived at the Faith & Culture Writers Conference Friday Evening, my outside life (the one everyone sees most days) was ready to listen to what I needed to do to be strengthened to stand up and Speak the Words that the Lord was placing in my inner being.

Don’t be confused though. I have not arrived, I still have no idea what I’m doing most days, and I still wrestle. I am the very least likely person God should use to broadcast anything to the world, but like Paul says in his letter to the Ephesians-its God’s grace that calls me to announce God’s good news, which is unsearchable.

To me, though I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given, to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ… – Ephesians 3:8

And at the Conference, I finally found a space to rest, to find strength and courage, and to discern the words I was struggling to own about who I was. I was able to be still and LISTEN, so I can SPEAK.

So maybe you’re wondering what I heard God speak to me up in Oregon at that Conference… Me too!

But honestly as I listened to the words spoken over me at the FCWC and re-read my notes over the last few weeks I walk gently because it’s hard to follow so much collective wisdom. But here are my five key takeaways as I journey forward to speak and live out my calling in a Noisy World.

1. I will Never Arrive. Sorry this isn’t such good news to some, but there’s some strange comfort in it for me. Once I’m published, once people hear what God’s given me to say, once… There’s always another once. But from every published author, from every workshop leader, from every main stage speaker, I heard in their voices a hunger for continued obedience. So until we’re in heaven, creation will continue to wait for the revealing of our hope which is Christ.

2. There’s Beauty in the Redemption Process. Cornelia, Romal , Emily , Phil, Tony, William and everyone else that led our time there shared with fear and trembling God’s mighty work of redemption in their lives. And each of them reminded me that if the LORD has told me to listen, to write, to speak about my journey from broken-ness to wholeness – I need to see that I only have one choice: obedience.

3. My Best Writing and Theology Will Come out of Living the Gospel. Thank you AJ. I know this, and need to hear this EVERY. SINGLE. DAY!

4. Gut-Wrenching Honesty is Always My Preferred Method of Hearing the Truth. You are probably saying, for real? But yes, it is for me. I heard from different agents and publishers that yes, if I want to be a published author, I’m gonna have to work HARD, HUSTLE, and GROW my platform. And even in all that it’s not a given. But it is the truth.

5. My Passion and Calling Won’t Let Up Even When the Work is Hard. Because as Jeff Goins says, “I would rather do hard things that matter than easy things that don’t.” From every person who spoke, to every volunteer, to every attendee who was at the Conference, there was this sense that we all kind of knew what lay ahead wasn’t easy, but we were all ready for whatever it was.

I have no earthly idea, if any of those takeaways will help another soul. But today I was obedient to write and here’s what i realized… although I haven’t arrived, I will share my redemption process of becoming who I’m called to be, so that as I preach, write and live out the gospel with truth I’ll give someone else a sense that what we all do matters and we are ready for whatever that is!!!!!!

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Nicolle Franke is a writer and speaker and can be reached at: Nicholle Franke Website

April 23, 2015April 24, 2015

They’re my people because they’re “Jesus people” – and they write

By Chara Donahue

In my stocking this past Christmas was a gift from my husband. A small little piece of torn notebook paper with “one writer’s weekend” scrawled across it. My husband had asked me what I wanted, and I told him a weekend of quiet to focus on writing. He gave the okay with that little corner of paper. The beginning of the year was crazy: I was in school again working towards a History endorsement, and Biblical Counseling certification, leading Outward’s women’s ministry, starting a blog, and trying to maintain sanity at home raising my four little rascals.

Fast forward two months, and across my newly opened twitter feed I saw that Kari Patterson would be speaking at a writers conference in Portland. Being that she was the first (non-relative) writer to read a very small piece of my someday book, It drew my attention. I clicked on the link and managed to scrape together the funds. My Christmas present arrived in April in the form of the Faith and Culture Writers’ Conference.

I was a bit excited:

Going into this, I knew I was going to have to stop hiding from the fact that I am a writer. Pretending that this piece of me is a dirty little secret of pages needing to stay under a mattress wouldn’t do. It was time to embrace it as part of how God has scripted my part in his story. It was also time to be amongst others who know what it is to write. Those who simply want to serve the world by weaving together letters that create beautiful words and words that create lasting stories.

All this seemed big but not necessarily scary. I mean, what risk was there? I know how to wear big girl pants. Yet, emotionally I heard whispers of peril and intimidation, because I love writing and this was my first real proclamation of that. I was putting something I love out on the offering plate and I had no idea if it would be received. Nevertheless, I was going and I would call myself a writer.

I longed to enter into a retreat where I was able to talk about writing and not have the fear of appearing prideful, because the people there would understand I don’t write out of pride or self-elevating desires. I write to process, to expose hidden glories, and to seek out the truest truths. I don’t write because I know it all. I write because I have something to say. That in a world of billions of voices, I want mine to make people ask, “Who is this Jesus?”

So to Portland I went. While I drove to the land of exotic food carts, the weird, and an airport carpet that’s got a platform 10 times the size of mine, I asked God “What are you going to do? I am listening. How are You going to challenge me? How do You want me to love people?”

The challenges came in many forms:

Can I go from Blank to Beautiful?

Can I–wash windows so that others can see God’s beauty more clearly? — @sethhaines

Can I– point people at God and change hearts with my words?– @NishWeiseth

Can I–remember It ‘s not about my greatness it’s about God’s?– @AshleyMLarkin

Can I–bleed out onto the page in incredible ways?– @karipatterson

Can I–learn “how to market without selling my soul?” — @kurtbubna

Can I–just follow the advice of @karenzach, by never going to a cold computer and telling that nagging inner editor to “shut up” as I write fictional accounts of Kenyan boys choosing their paths?

Can I–like @CorneliSeigneur , “Ask God to show me why He saved me?” or create space to build up, honor, and encourage others while living Isaiah 50:4?

Can I–tell stories that create beautiful images that people will never forget like @tonykriz and his Albanian lights?

Can I–search for reason in unreasonable space?– @phievalon

Can I–read the headlines of my soul from a bench on a Tuesday as tears hug my eyeballs?– @emilypfreeman

Can I–just show up and be willing to tell the painful, shameful stories so that others can find life?– @RomalTune

Can I–strain my best and truest stories through glory and trust my Lord with the results? — @AliaJoyH

Can I–be in my heart and not my head and get out of the way so that what I am trying to convey can break through? —@christaljenkins

Can I–write a crystal clear book proposal?– @MacGregorLit

Can I–remember rightly and craft beauty out of the pain Jesus has healed me from?– @ChapinChick

Can I–step out of the box God is willing to climb into in order to be with me, and reach for Him instead?– @wmpaulyoung

Can I accept the challenges, and love the people?

I loved the inspiration and the information, but the people…the people at this thing brought the joy.

When I have the deepest truths written and interwoven into my very being, I can risk loving others freely and sincerely from the heart.

I could tell my unedited ideas to a room full of other writers because like everything else in my life my writing belongs to God – NOT to me. I could sit with them, be motivated, and as I nodded along with truths from the speakers, I could join the cacophony of Yays and Amens coming from those around me. I could genuinely be more interested in their stories than in telling my own, because all insecurities, hang-ups, and self protective measures become small when God is big; and this God of ours is BIG.

I felt accepted by people who invited me to sit at their tables, ask about their lives, and talk about writing in the ways that only writers do. Faces I had only met once became faces of familiarity that made all the other unknown faces a little less alien. They too want tales to be told, so that faith, hope, and love can seep into the world as we place words on alters of paper, web pages, and open air. They know writing is not an exclusive club. It is a desire that drives, and that is why I feel a kinship with them – “my tribe.”

But really, they are not my people in the closest sense of the word. My husband, my children, my church – those are the people that were still there Sunday morning when the conference was over. I love my daily people, still there, still my favorite humans offering rest when I come down from that conference high and face reality and responsibilities that reach outside of my writing bubble. But my writing people have been grafted into my awareness.

These fellow writers are still there in my mind, so I can be reminded that there are people out in the world that would understand my blank expression when other more familiar people ask me why the dishes are pouring out of the sink and the kids are still in pajamas, and I say sheepishly, “Um, I was writing?”

I may only see them on Twitter (which I am loving by the way); hopefully, I will see some of them next year. Reality tells me I may never see some of these people again–at least on this side of heaven. I know it might sound trite, but truth is I am okay with that. That’s life. I am so pleased and filled by those, “Hey, it was nice to meet you once before heaven, see you when we get there” kind of interactions, because they are hopeful glimpses of eternal community.

This is what I love the most. That these people were my people before I knew them because of Who they know. They are my people because we have the same Ultimate Person. We have Jesus. So yes, these people are my people in that they understand a facet of me that some of my close people just don’t get.

Ultimately, though, these people are not my people because they are writers. These people are my people because they are Jesus’ people. But, it sure is nice that they write.

“That I may know how to sustain with a word him who is weary”.–Isaiah 50:4 (Cornelia Seigneur, keynote speech)

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Chara Donahue attended the 2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference for the first time, and blogs at Chara Donahue

April 19, 2015April 27, 2015

Reflecting on Blank to Beautiful

By Dawn Klinge

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. -Philippians 1:6

Facing the computer, blank screen in front of me, silently, I will the words to come forth. Nothing happens until my fingers hit the keyboard. Even then, with that first tap, tap, on the keys, I have little idea of where these words are going. I only know that I want to create something beautiful. I must start somewhere. God help me, I pray.

The words sound clumsy. They aren’t beautiful. Keep going, He says. I look around at other pages, reading other people’s words. They’re beautiful. I want to write like them. I delete my words, ashamed.

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Facing the cross, crucified Jesus in front of me, silently, I will the words to come forth. I’m sorry, I say. Please forgive me. Even then, with that first heartfelt prayer, I have little idea where this life is going. I only know that he’s beautiful and I love him. He’s on that cross because of me, because he loves me. I must start somewhere. God help me, I pray.

I’m a mess. I keep doing things to hurt the One I love. Keep going, He says. I look around at other people’s lives. I think they’re beautiful. I want to be like them. I take my eyes off Jesus, ashamed.

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I start again. Tap, tap, tap on the keyboard, the words coming faster now. God help me, I pray. I’m scared but I keep going. I don’t know if I have anything to say that people will want to read. I want them to think my words are beautiful. He helps me anyway. My words are rough, but I put them out there for others to read. And then I want to take them back. I want to hide. But they’re out there now, and I can’t take them back. My words are still not beautiful, but I ask God to use them anyway.

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I’m still a mess, but I turn my eyes back to Jesus. He’s no longer on the cross. Now he lives and I have hope. I still sin against the One I love, but God sees me as beautiful, because of what Jesus did for me. I keep going. I want others to see the beauty of God in my life. I feel their eyes on me as I stumble. I want to hide. But I pray that God will use me anyway.

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I continue to face the computer. Tap, tap, words fill up the screen. God help me, I pray, because I want my words to point to Him, who’s beautiful in every way. Keep going, he says.

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I continue to face the cross. My beautiful Jesus reminds me that I don’t need to hide. When I stumble, I just remember that he already took care of it. I want others to see my Savior. He tells me to keep going, and I continue to ask for his help. I see a little more clearly where my life is going now. One day, my rough draft will be done, and it will be beautiful, because the author and finisher of my faith will use it for his glory.

Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. -Hebrews 12:2

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Dawn Klinge attended the 2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference. This essay was inspired by the theme of the conference, Rough Draft: From Blank to Beautiful. Find Dawn’s work at Dawn Klinge.

April 17, 2015April 27, 2015

Not the usual suspects

By Romal Tune

So where do I begin?

If I had to some up the 2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference in one word it would be “refreshing.”

I’m on the road three weeks a month each year speaking or teaching at conferences or other venues.

But this conference felt different. It was more like a retreat. The positive energy, encouraging conversations, the inspiring workshops and the great speakers made me feel at peace.

More than that, it was a reminder that I am not alone and that my voice is valued.

Faith & Culture 2015 was refreshing and replenishing, which is important because life can be a bit challenging at times and we need places where people help us recharge. It’s good to know that there is a conference of authors and writers who are willing to share their journeys and stories in ways that are uplifting.

That’s a big deal.

Maybe like me, you have been in somewhat similar settings where there are these passive aggressive competitions between people trying to prove they are better, more important, or attempt to lure you into the comparison trap to make you feel like you’re just not good enough yet. I didn’t sense a hint of that at Faith & Culture, and that was refreshing.

I came across the event on Twitter; and after we followed one another, I checked out their website.

The first thing that struck me was that fact that the list of speakers did not have what I call “the usual suspects” of speakers.

A lot of conferences tend to keep the same speakers in rotation, and after a while that gets a little boring and predictable. I often hear people talking about how there needs to be more new voices included at conferences but I’ve not seen very many actually include new voices.

But, the Faith & Culture Writers Conference was different.

They purposefully inviting new voices to the conversation around faith, culture and the arts. And this was evidenced in the line up of speakers – there were a lot of new voices and very few, if any, “usual suspects.” After all, they even invited me to be a keynote speaker and co-facilitate a workshop without previously hearing me. The leadership took the recommendation of a mutual friend and decided to add another new voice.

I did two large group talks where I shared my story. The point of the both talks was to show that within our personal stories, as messy as they can be at times; God can turn a mess into a miracle. A miracle that if shared through our testimonies, can save and change the lives of others who are wondering if there is anyone who can relate to what they are going through, and can show them that life gets better. As a writer our personal narratives impact who we believe we can become in the world.

Revisiting the stories we have been telling ourselves impacts the stories we are able to share through our writing. We are free from pain, shame, and judgment; we are free to be bold, courageous and creative. In a sense, we go from blank to beautiful, the theme of the conference.

A final thought. The plenary sessions felt like church, or should I say what I wish church should feel like. The music was great; the speakers were empowering, practical and relevant. But more than that, there was no pretense, no judging, no shaming. There was just great fellowship, a desire to meet new people, cultivate new friendships and help each other pursue purpose and passion through writing. I couldn’t help but think to myself; wow this is kind of what I wish church felt like.

Thanks to all who attended the 2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference. My heart felt gratitude to the leadership team for inviting me to be a part of the amazing experience.

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Romal Tune was one of the speakers at the 2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference. He’s an ordained minister, an author, and a speaker. Find his writing and work at Romal Tune

April 13, 2015April 20, 2015

The 2015 Risk was worth it

By Cornelia Becker Seigneur

What an amazing experience at our Faith & Culture Writers Conference this past weekend! I am exhausted and over-did it and felt it at night. I needed to rest more during the days. I will pay later for it later. But, I am so grateful to be alive (truly!) And, that I can smile thinking about the weekend. An exhausted smile, but a smile nonetheless.

This year, we tried something new, adding an extra experience Pre-Conference during the day on Friday that we titled “Breathing Space- A Mini-Retreat.” That is always a risk, trying something new and different. What if it flops. What if numbers are really low and it looks like a failure. And, when registration numbers were not coming in as quickly as we had anticipated, I’m not going to lie, I was worried. As the conference director, I see the reality of the finances.

Adding the Mini-Retreat and new art spaces and live art were in response to comments from last year’s survey, saying people wanted more down time, more small group interaction, additional opportunities for fellowship. In short, people wanted to not feel so rushed. And, when one mini-retreat group leader, Nish Weiseth, had to drop out of the afternoon time frame due to a family situation just a week before the event, I started doubting even more. Maybe, this added day was a bad idea.

Then, I prayed and asked others on our lead team to pray.

Our team’s executive administrator, Bethany Jackson, encouraged me to take the group and I appreciated her vote of confidence. But, I really needed to be careful not doing so much since my accident. I was already slated to share from the main stage about my accident, so I just decided to say no to leading this small group. It was hard to say no, as I love leading small writing groups, but I knew it would already be a grueling weekend. I reached out to a few people to see if they could possibly lead that small breakout group for that portion of the mini-retreat. Karen Zacharias Spear and Micah J. Murray stepped in, joining Seth Haines and Brooke Perry, and Romal Tune and Tony Kriz.

God is good. He always provides just whom he needs.

Then came the conference, and people told me how amazing they felt that the mini-retreat experience was. One person said:

“Okay, we can go home now. I’m filled up.”

Others said that God was working on their souls and in their hearts and they were being healed and restored and I am hearing all of these comments and this was only during the “pre-conference,” and I am already shedding tears of joy. Exhausted tears of joy.

Sometimes, when you risk, it flops. Sometimes it goes well. Sometimes it’s in between. But all the time it’s worth it.

The Lord was so in this weekend, and we truly could not have done it without Him. And, that is a good place to be.

That comment I heard over and over again. That God was at work.

It was God, working through my incredible leadership team and committee members and behind the scene folks that made this past weekend possible. I am humbly grateful for their service and friendship. After my accident, they just kept on moving forward. We only had three months to go. We should not have had a conference, but God had other plans.

So many folks worked behind the scenes to make this event go so smoothly. And, these wonderful people were doing more than just running a conference. They were giving their lives. Many took note of the personal nature of our conference. Bob Welch, one of our speakers, said, “Wow, a few weeks before the conference, I received a hand-written note saying you were praying for me!” I’ve never had that before. We wanted to be intentional about making people feel like they mattered.

We serve a creative God who carved something beautiful out of nothing; and now He calls us to create, to fill the blank pages of our lives with our WORDS, our stories, His Story. We prayed that people would find a place of community and belonging; and, from listening to the conversations, both at the pre-conference, “Breathing Space: A Mini-Retreat,” and throughout the weekend, I think that was happening.

So, we risked, we dared, we dreamed.

And, it was worth it.

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Cornelia Becker Seigneur was is the mom of five children between the ages of 12 and 25, with a set of identical twins in the mix; she has been married to her college sweetheart for 28 years. Cornelia loves gathering people together into community and she is honored to serve as the founding director of the Faith & Culture Writers Conference. Cornelia longs to serve Christ in any way she can; she thrives on adventure and the extraordinary ordinary and family; and she needs a lot of grace to survive. Find her work at Cornelia Becker Seigneur’s Website