A Discussion about My Next Novel, The Tenth Plague Putting my finger on where exactly the original idea for my upcoming novel, The Tenth Plague, came from is difficult because the novel began forming in my mind probably five or six years ago. The idea for the main plot, of course, emerged from Revelation 22:18-19. In those verses God proclaims a curse on anyone who adds to or takes away from His Word. Given the state of our times and the church today, that seems like a relevant theme. In some quarters of Christianity at large, some can’t even agree on what truth is anymore. One day when I read those verses again, they grabbed me like never before. My imagination began playing the what-if game, and the story began taking shape in my mind. I envisioned someone turning on a bathroom faucet and blood gushing out. I consulted several theologian friends for their thoughts,…
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It’s hard to sum up a life in only a few words. And this offering certainly doesn’t do this amazing worker, provider, father, husband, and grandfather justice. Exactly one year ago today, my father, Larry, only 71, said good-bye to this life and stepped into a much better one after a two-and-half-year struggle with brain cancer. He left behind a wife, a daughter, three sons, a son-in-law, three daughters-in-law, and eleven grandkids. Beyond a few mementos and clothes that didn’t fit my brothers but fit me perfectly, all I have left of Dad, a GM retiree, are scriptural values and beliefs he instilled in my life. And of course precious memories—and what a treasure trove I have to draw from. Not only for my writing but just to remember Dad for who he was. Lest I ever forget. I’ll never forget the beautiful Revolutionary War-style muzzleloader Dad built from a…
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It is nose-numbing winter near Flint, Michigan. There’s a reason why it’s been called one of the murder capitals of the world. More murders are committed there than even Baghdad. I zip up, push my way through double doors, and leave the elementary school behind, carefully guiding my booted feet down ice-slick steps. The subzero wind chafes my cheeks and stings my eyes until they swim. If had looked at myself in a mirror, rosy cheeks would have glowed back at me. But I don’t seek a mirror. I’m not really sure what I’m looking for. Or where I’m going. Maybe I’m not really going anywhere. Wait. Yes, I am. I turn right and head toward . . . Snow. Dunes of it everywhere. All across the playground. Remnants of the latest storm. I come up short. Staining the snow at my feet pools red Kool-Aid. Lot of it. Something tells…
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Watch this amazing testimony (after a required commercial)!
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