Confession of a Potter Fan

You caught me. I admit it. I'm here to confess.

I have fought the trendy little series of books and movies for a long time. I wasn't going to give in to the hype. Oh, not out of grudging spirituality or opposition to the teenaged wizard with the glasses, wild mop of hair and jagged scar. My protest was just because I abhor marketing gimmicks, and greatly detest being told that a book or a movie is unbelievable, the best ever, or making the most money ever made. So what? There've been plenty of popular fads that have made a great deal of money that were completely ridiculous and not worth the time spent considering.

I must confess, Harry seems to be living up to his reputation.

Now, there are two types of people who might read these words, based on the widely differing sorts of people I associate with. Some of you so far are saying So you like Harry Potter. Join the rest of us on the planet, big deal. Others are mildly surprised at my confession and may be having a thought bordering on judgmental. It's okay. I understand. I've been there. Others have simply stopped reading and gotten down on their knees to pray for my backslidden soul. Also okay. the prayers are appreciated, God knows they are needed anyway. If not for this, then certainly for something.

But before you discount my ramblings of a potter addict as not worth the exertion made to read, or before you start weeping on behalf of a fallen sister, hear me out. I'm not a fan because it's the cool thing to do. I'm a fan after careful consideration. You ask why? There are really three basic reasons.

1. Harry Potter is an imagination-stirrer. Anyone who truly knows me will understand why this is important to me. Imagination is the icing on the cake of life. Even if the cake is made of vegetables, icing makes it edible. Okay, icing on vegetables isn't a great analogy. In fact, it's just gross.. Anyway, when you enter the world of the young wizard, his life is identifiable. Teenager with troubled past enduring his school years alongside his peers. We can all relate on some level. But join his world, and suddenly you are having conversations with paintings and eating your meals lit by a thousand floating candles and spending your gym class on the back of a flying horse-like bird. I believe in imagination. I believe wholeheartedly in stretching the limits of reality, for how could we ever imagine a boundless God if we didn't think outside our human box?

2. Harry Potter listens to his teachers. Some movies made for or about teenagers tend to paint adults as idiots. The enemy. The ones who don't understand a thing about what kids are going through and so are completely unfit to provide instruction and guidance. And let's face it, with many adults, that's the truth. But when everyone is doing their job, adults are the leaders. The experienced ones who've been through it and can gently lead the young through the path of mastering life skills. Harry's teachers and role models (save his aunt and uncle) are dedicated to the bringing up of young men and women with morality and justice. They teach them to obey the rules, or face the consequences. They teach them that there is a dark side that must be fought against, and they make no secret of the danger involved in such a mission. And that brings me to my final point.

3. Harry Potter fights evil. To those who are against the wizardry elements of the series, I challenge you with this. Granted, there are words used inaccurately to describe the magical world in which they live. At first glance, it seems to be about witchcraft. But lets all face it. If this was about true witchcraft, divination, sorcery, and all of the rest of it, it wouldn't be about a fight between good and evil. It wouldn't be about love conquering darkness. And believe me, true witches and sorcerers would not be celebrating a Christmas ball! As you move more deeply into the series, and these youngsters become young adults, you plainly see truths that are biblical in nature. Do I think that the author intended them? I have no idea. But I do know God works in ways that we tend not to give Him credit for. Each and every soul granted life and breath from the Creator was given a deep and insatiable need for God. For His goodness. For His story. I'm not surprised to see my faith appear between the lines. I'm delighted, though. Nothing gets my attention more!

I will make several disclaimers, to the great relief of some of you. I am not condoning every word that comes from these books or movies, however well done they are. There are a few uses of bad language that took away from the story. (Not many, but still.) And if if the author had asked me first, I would have advised her not to use the words that so many associate with evil practices. She should have come up with a whole new system to describe the world of her imagination. I also do not necessarily think that these movies are for children. They are intense, and at times scary, especially as the characters mature and approach their later teen years. Harry's story is not full of sunshine and teddy bears. He's been through hell. Kids need to be prepared to deal with those things, and if they are too young, they aren't ready.

But those things aside, I think the bigger picture and the overall message is a positive one. Don't be a Potter hater until you give him a chance. And please, comment away on my thoughts in this post! Criticism is welcome as much as agreement.

Gatekeeper

Yes, there is the world. There are the schedules and the survival and the forbearance of all that sort of thing. There will always be clothes to wash, always be meals to prepare, always be someone to care for and something that needs to be bought or sold or repaired or replaced.

But for some, there is another world. Another realm, just as real as the first, just as tangible as the air you breathe at this very moment. Only some see it well. They are the gatekeepers. They are the fortunate, happy souls who lead the way from the sometimes gripping harshness of this reality into the ethereal portal of the imagination.

Ah, I have lost some. Some that hoped I might have found an escape from the drudgery that sometimes makes up a life. Imagination? What possible benefit could there be in trying to exist in a place created completely of the mind?

But those who doubt have never visited. Have never rode a sky splashed in purple and orange on the wings of a dream. Have never sat beside a soul from another time and place and learned of all that has changed, and so much that has not changed in the human race over the many years we have been stationed on this planet.

A word of caution to the doubters. No one can make you believe in fairy tales, can make you talk to animals or your reflection in a glass. None can cause you to think on your dreams long after sleep has left you, but only you. There are those gatekeepers, who can dedicate their lives to the vision of helping you see the world that goes deeper than your flesh, but if you consider them crazy, if you discount all their findings and ignore their stories, you will never see more than the hardships, and you will never understand further than your letters and numbers.

What purpose does it serve to sneak under the veil of time and space and join a gatekeeper on the mission of their heart? To battle the forces of evil alongside the brave heroes that call to our spirit with their courage and integrity? To steal away into the dark night with foes to face, adventure to be had, love to be kindled and fought for and sacrificed in honor of? What of it? Why is it important?

God. How can we not understand so complex and exciting our Creator if we can only except the devestation our rebellion has caused, and overlook all the beauty and life that He left with us, so we might see Him?

Truly consider this truth. Allow your mind to imagine. If you cannot, let a gatekeeper guide your way. See life. See truth. See the theme woven through every great story and line of poetry that has ever been penned or spoken or put to a screen to inspire.

And see God for all He really is, not what men have made Him out to be. It's a promise, if you look closely, you will see Him in most unexpected places. He will wear the most unexpected faces, and say the most unexpected things. And then you will understand.

He is the ultimate Gatekeeper.

Top Ten

Yes, I realize I just finished a post. But as I was straightening up and getting ready to jump in bed and snuggle up to my husband and go to sleep, I discovered I have more to say. And one of two things happen if I try to go to bed when there are things that must be said. Either I can't sleep, or I forget what it was I wanted to say the next morning.

So, here I am again. Wanting to make a top ten list of the moments of my life that have made the biggest impression on my walk with Christ. I know, you didn't ask. But I'm going to enlighten you regardless. These are in chronological order.

1. Six years old. It was a Sunday night and one of my friends had been baptized that night by my father. I wanted to know why. (Actually, I think part of it was that I wanted to know how I could get baptized because it looked like a lot of fun.) Mom and Dad explained that when someone is baptized, they are telling everyone that Jesus has taken away their sins and given them a home in Heaven. I knew I was a sinner, and I was relieved to know that there was a way to get those marks off my record. I also knew that I would like to live with Jesus in Heaven. So I prayed, right there in my top bunk, for Jesus to come into my heart. And He did. Hasn't left even for a moment since. (I was able to be baptized a few months after that, to my great delight.)

2. Nine or ten years old. Camp Manitoumi. During a chapel service I heard more than the fun camp songs and thought of more than going for the polar bear swim or spending my dollars at the canteen. Suddenly I wanted to know why I believed what I believed. I wanted to know why I could trust that the Bible was accurate. I went forward. I asked. And I don't even remember the answer that the counselor gave. I only remember asking the question, and not really feeling like it was answered.

3. Thirteen years old. The space between ten and thirteen was the most difficult time of my life. I had an awkward transition to adolescence. I was a mess, emotionally and otherwise. I very clearly remember sitting in Mrs. Foster's ninth grade English class. She was talking about Romeo and Juliet. I was thinking about what I was going to do about my horrible life. Then He spoke. I had been told all my life that God never spoke like that, but I'm sorry, He did. He said "Follow Me." I instinctively knew what He meant. "Give up all the other pursuits you're running after. Give up trying to fit in, trying to look good, trying to experience everything. Instead of following around your friends into whatever places they might lead you, be the leader. Lead others to Me." So I prayed right there in English when I should have been thinking about Romeo and Juliet's twisted love saga, and I told God He could have all of me. No matter what. I'd follow to a mud hut in Africa with bugs and snakes if that's what He asked me to do. Life instantly changed.

4. Eighteen years old. (I skipped a great deal of wonderful moments between thirteen and eighteen. High school was a great time for me.) This memory is captured in the picture above. I was in Rome, Italy, with the chorale from my college. Leading us in song was Doc, and wonderful and extremely gifted musician who taught me how to worship God in the most skilled way I could. How can say enough about what that trip to Rome meant to me? How can I put into words what it felt like to descend into the very dungeon that Paul and Peter spent their last moments within? To enter the very Coliseum where my brothers and sisters gave their lives and hear their voices, speaking so loudly in that desolate and crumbling arena? What do I say to communicate the joy it was to sing to a group of people that didn't even speak my language, and have them see Jesus in us? Come to know Him, just through the smiles on our faces and the love in our voices? There in Italy I realized how much didn't matter. And how much did. In Rome I found my life verses. I want to know Christ.

5. Nineteen years old. There was a move to Ohio that I was not very excited about. A job I hadn't ever seen myself at. Health problems that descended upon me with painful surprise. Through it all I looked up. I prayed for help. I fell a lot. And one night I'd had enough. I needed friends. I needed to grow spiritually. So I went to a singles Bible study. I walked in the door. I saw a few familiar faces from church. I saw an unfamiliar face. Someone introduced me, and I shook his hand. I probably looked like an idiot, standing there with my mouth wide open in surprise. Because God spoke. Again. Like He isn't supposed to speak. "This is the one. This is your husband."

6. Twenty-four years old. (Yes, I am serious.) I stood outside the door in the foyer. My heart thumped in anticipation. Moments dragged by like hours. Finally the music swelled. I entered the church on the arm of my father. I met Pete at the alter. I said I do, he said I do, and we were married. Just like God had promised five years earlier.

7. Twenty-six years old. I'd had a rough couple of years. The stress of being newly married coupled with the stress of dealing with infertility taught me a great deal about patience, and waiting on the Lord. Trusting Him in life's most uncertain moments. The day that I hadn't been sure would ever arrive came, just at the right time. God's time. Hannah Ruth, my baby girl, joined the world. Followed two years later by her brother Noah. Talk about defining moments. My world instantly shifted.

8. Twenty-seven years old. After I gave birth to my daughter, I felt like my brain had experienced a jump start like never before. Ideas flooded my head, and instead of fluttering right back out, they stuck. So much so that when I tried to write them down, they came rushing out of me and lined up on the computer screen more neatly than I could have possibly imagined. Then He spoke again, the third time in that way I had been taught was impossible. He only spoke one word, but I knew what He meant. "Write." So that's what I've been doing for the past three years. Writing. And writing. There's been a lot of times I've wondered why exactly He asked me to do so, because I didn't really seem to be changing the world. But I can see the difference in where I was when I began this journey, and where I am now. I've come a ways. I know I've got a ways to go. But I have learned that when God tells you to do something, there's a reason.

9. Twenty-eight years old. I was first published in October of 2005, in "Horizons" by Regular Baptist Press. Three more articles have followed in the past two years.

10. Thirty. It was this past year that I became a fan of the books of Francine Rivers. In fact, she's my number one example to follow for my own fiction. But only the power of God could help an everyday woman write a series like the "Mark of the Lion" books that she authored. Never before had I seen so clearly what it means to be a believer. What it means to be part of the body of Christ. How suprisingly fulfilling and joyful it can be to emerge from the dungeon to an arena filled with bloodied sand and see a mistreated and starved lion eyeing you. Coming toward you. Attacking you. For the sake of Christ. (Read it. You'll see.)

My list so far. It's satisfying to write it down. If you haven't, why not make your own list and see what God's been doing for you these years you've been alive?

I can't wait to see what the next ten will be. Hopefully one of them will be my feet stepping off a plane onto the land of Israel. But even if it isn't, I know I won't be disappointed with the path He takes me down. Why would I? I never have before.

Contact

Remember those friends that you spent every day with at school? The ones you couldn't imagine your life without? The ones you thought you'd never lose contact with?

Then you lose contact.

It has always bothered me. The people that I weathered childhood and adolescence with have disappeared from my life, with the exception of two, who were really more like sisters anyway.

It has been thirteen years since I graduated from high school. Suddenly, especially with the handy little addition of "facebook" to aid in the reunion, people are flying back into my life.

I love it! I love seeing how people have grown up. I love seeing them with pictures of their children and marveling at how much they look like them. I revel in knowing that even though I might not have been part of their life for a long time past, God was still right there with them. He's not only still working on me, but He's still very much involved in the growing process of all those people I loved back then.

It's refreshing. It's God. How amazing His hand! How limitless His power! How faithful His presence, through the roughest spots of life.

I'm praising Him today, for friendships renewed.

To Train Up a Child

It wasn't a very good day.

I'm sure every parent that reads this will nod with understand and instantly relate.

It started out at storytime at our local library. When I opened that door and saw the sea of small kids covering that floor, I should have thought twice. But Hannah was already up in the front row, listening to the story, before I could even decide whether I wanted to stay. So Noah and I made our way to the middle of the floor and sat down.

When it was over, I caught sight of Hannah in the rush of children to get their hand stamps and coloring page. So I sat with Noah and waited for her to get to the front of the mob. A minute or two passed and the crowd began to thin. That's when I realized that Hannah was not among them. Growing very concerned, of course, I went to one of the employees and asked if they had seen where she went. They hadn't, so I rushed out of the room followed by the employee who said she would immediately page her.

"She's only three!" I said desperately.

"Maybe if she hears her name she'll come back." she suggested.

I was highly doubtful. I barrelled down the aisle of the children's area, with not a clue what I was going to do other than panic. That's when I saw her. In her own little world, waltzing back into the children's area, shepherded by another mom who had seen her walking out to the front door and brought her back.

The child I alone was responsible for had walked away from me and had been at the mercy of a complete stranger. Never have I had a moment in parenthood more alarming than this one.

What was I to do? Blame her for her absent mindedness and independence? How could I, when she got them from me? Somehow I knew deep down that it wasn't her fault. It was mine.

The day went downhill from there. I don't wish to relive it, but let's just say that I have been screamed at and hit by two thirty-five pound children more than I have since I was a child myself fighting with my sisters. I had a couple moments where I was severely tempted to join the screaming match and get a few of my own punches in.

Now that the house is quiet and the children I thought of as wonderful blessings before I woke up today are sound asleep, my thoughts have somewhat fallen into focus. I came home from prayer meeting after a encouraging conversation with a friend very curious about the Bible's take on discipline. What am I doing wrong? What does God say about the training up of children? What do all those verses about the "rod" of discipline mean?

I found some interesting facts in my research. And I'm going to give my take on it. You can take my word for it or go on your own search for the truth. But I think we as parents need to truly understand God's heart when it comes to raising our children. We have such a tendency to do whatever we've learned from tradition or whatever is most convenient for us, and not take into account the ones we are supposed to be benefiting in the first place.

First of all, I will immediately say that as a child, I was spanked. And as the Bible promised, I did not die. I benefited from the clear boundaries set up by my parents. I'm not sorry for the way they raised me. I don't feel victimized. I feel blessed that they cared enough to teach me to do right.

Second of all, I'm not against spanking. I'm not getting up on a politically correct soapbox to say that everyone who spanks their children are child abusers. I am however, concerned about the way that people have made some assumptions about what the (King James Version) Bible means when it admonishes us to "beat (our children) with the rod."

Please hear me out, if you are ready to discount everything I've said and stop reading. Yes, I completely and unashamedly believe that the Bible is without error, is literal, and is absolutely relevant to every aspect of our lives. But you also have to look at the Bible in its entirety to see what it is saying. Every word works together to make a complete picture. You can't leave anything out or it won't make sense.

The word that King James translates "beat" is the Hebrew word "naka." It is a word that has many different meanings. When you put them all together, you come up with something closer to "punish" as the NIV says or "correct" according to the NIV reader's. Some of the other versions have come up with "strike, whip, or physically discipline." While that is part of what this word means, you still have to think about what else was said. What about the rod? We tend to think that the verse is saying "Grab a big stick and hit that bad little kid with it." Not at all! The rod in the Bible, especially in the books of poetry means a shepherd staff. Do shepherds indiscrimanantly beat their erring sheep with their staff to get them to do what they want? No. A shepherd uses his rod in many different ways to guide his sheep. Sometimes, it's a tap on the shoulder when they're straying too far. Other times, it's a lifeline to catch a sheep who has fallen into a pit. It is used in so many loving and instructive ways that the sheep come to view that staff as a comfort to them. To let them know that the shepherd cares so much that he isn't going to let them do anything that would bring harm to them.

Does that mean that spanking isn't biblical? Not at all. It can and has been used as an effective tool of discipline that does bring comfort to a child and prolong his life. But it has also been used as a reliever of frustration and a means of convenience. I think that if we truly look closely at the Bible's entire view of raising up godly children we see that the point of discipline is to not let a child get away with anything that will bring them harm.

Think about it. A rod. Unbending. Unweakening. It's a resolve of a parent who says "I'm going to make sure this little one learns to follow God no matter what the sacrifice is to me, because that's how much I love him/her." For some children, spanking is a very effective tool. For others, spanking doesn't mean much. I have a child like that. Spank her until your hand tingles, she doesn't mind. She thinks it's kind of funny. But sit her in time-out, or take away a priviledge or special toy, now she knows I mean business.

There's another aspect to consider in all of this. We can agree to disagree if I have not convinced you of the bigger picture of parent-child discipline. Yet we live in a very touchy society. It is already very politically incorrect to spank. There is a very fine line between legal corporal punishment and child abuse, and there are always attempts on the table to make it completely illegal.

What do we do then? Do we make this our crusade? Do we stand up and defy the government if they say we aren't allowed to spank our kids? Do we really want to see our children taken away from us all for our somewhat vague interpretation of a verse from the Bible?

I can only speak for myself. I'd rather explore the idea of the unbending staff of discipline. I worked for six years in a day care center with 1-5 year olds. I never once spanked a single one of the children that I cared for, but we did not have chaos. We did have the respect of those children. And we did lovingly guide them with discipline and correction.

I hope I haven't caused great offense to some of my friends and acquaintances that might read this. It is not my intention at all. And I must say that the people I have known that did greatly believe in spanking have not done it harshly or to cause injury, but because they truly love and want the best for the children they have been blessed with.

Whatever we do, may we do it with unbending strength, with absolute love, and with constant prayer and gentle instruction. And may we be open to allowing God to further our understanding of His Word in this area, and follow His heart as our Great Shepherd leads us with his ever-comforting staff of discipline.

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." Psalm 23:4