In January 1991, I began a newspaper internship at the Greenville Piedmont (now defunct) in Greenville, South Carolina. It was my senior year in college, and I was graduating in May with a BA degree in print journalism. One of the more unusual “adventures” (misadventures might be a better word) occurred the day the managing editor turned to me with an unusual assignment. “I’d like you to drive over to the Greenville Hilton and see if you can track down Shirley MacLaine. She’s doing a show in town, and I heard she’s staying there.” No joke. Now, many of us think of Shirley as a New Age guru, but actually she’s a pretty talented woman. (And no, this is no endorsement of her beliefs or anything else she represents.) I just sort of stared at him. I was a twenty-year-old journalism nobody who wrote feature stories about city volunteers and…
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See Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, and Part 8. #9: Once I publish my novel, I’ll finally be someone people notice. Oh, this is a sad, sad way to live—to be a slave of others’ approval. When I was a child, I wrote stories simply because I enjoyed writing them. As I grew older and became more self-conscious, I realized that writing could be more than fun and games. I could actually get published and “be somebody” (as if I wasn’t somebody already). Someone important. Someone people would notice. Who knows? Maybe I’d even write best-selling books, and then people would know who I am, and I’d be famous. The Trap (Do you hear the pride ringing in those statements? Perhaps the pride of life described in 1 John 2:16?) In my opinion, the most genuine famous people I’ve ever met are the ones who never sought attention.…
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See Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, and Part 7. #8: Once I publish my novel, I’ll have arrived in the literary world. Can you believe it? I actually thought this once. I thought my novel was that good. Very prideful of me. At the time, it seemed like a simple and logical conclusion. Publish a novel=be a published novelist=enjoy literary acclaim. Right? Well, no. That’s sort of like saying, “If I win a race, I’ll have won the men’s marathon at the Olympics.” When it comes to literary status, publishing a novel isn’t reaching the top of Everest. It’s cresting one of its tiny foothills. Being “Somebody” Becoming recognized as “somebody” in the literary world isn’t as simple as we’ve been led to believe. Think about movies or TV shows you’ve seen about struggling writers who persevere and overcome tremendous odds, only to achieve a big contract, fame, and…
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God delivers his people from the snare of the fowler in two senses. From, and out of. First, he delivers them from the snare—does not let them enter it; and secondly, if they should be caught therein, he delivers them out of it. The first promise is the most precious to some; the second is the best to others. “He shall deliver thee from the snare.” How? Trouble is often the means whereby God delivers us. … At other times, God keeps his people from the snare of the fowler by giving them great spiritual strength, so that when they are tempted to do evil they say, “How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?” … Thou shalt yet be brought out of all evil into which thou hast fallen, and though thou shalt never cease to repent of thy ways, yet he that hath loved thee…
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