Selected Writing

Selected Fiction

A Resurrection Foretold

The vision that wrenched Caiaphas awake was different than any he had seen before. Unlike his other dreams, all of which had taken place within the temple itself or on the temple grounds, this one found him standing on rocky terrain, an uneven dirt path curving before him that led up a slope and out of sight. Although the grass and shrubbery that grew in scattered pockets across the landscape was lush and green, the general appearance of the place was dusty and remote, and Caiaphas could tell immediately that he was no longer in Jerusalem.

The Triumphal Entry

The crowd pressed in thick around her, and Mary struggled to see above the heads of those in front of her. She had left Bethany early that morning and had travelled to Jerusalem on foot. Lazarus was with her too, and as she glanced over at him, she was struck again at how well he looked, upright and strong. The night before, he had reclined at the table with Jesus, as her sister Martha served them and the other men who were Jesus’s constant companions. It had been such a pleasure to hear their brother engaged in conversation and to watch him eagerly eating his food, and it was hard to believe that just months before they had said goodbye to him and had wept at his tomb.

Peter's Rebuke

The road to Caesarea Philippi was long, and Peter found that as he walked along, he had much to preoccupy him. The things he had seen in the days since he had chosen to follow the Teacher were amazing, beyond comprehension. From that first day, when Jesus had called him and his brother as they fished near the banks of the Sea of Galilee, his life had been turned upside down. They hadn’t even stopped to moor their boats or store their nets… they had just heard the call, and answered.

The Woman at The Well

It was the hottest part of the day, and the sun shone brightly from the middle of a blazing blue sky. The few clouds that had not burned off drifted across the horizon like wisps of woolen thread being pulled and twisted, halfway between the distaff and the spindle. The ground was hard and dry, with the tops of olive trees the only hint of green scattered across the otherwise rocky and rust-colored terrain.

The Light of the World

The place where the tomb stood was dusty and barren. As Nicodemus followed his friend Joseph away from the rock-hewn cave, his mind was full. He barely noticed the pull of the donkey ahead of him, the animal feeling lighter without the load of myrrh and aloe they had carried to prepare the body for burial. He walked without seeing, and his thoughts drifted back to the conversation that continued to haunt him, especially now that the darkness had fallen.

Selected Nonfiction

Oh Baby! Oh Baby! The Fertility Crisis

In P.D. James' recent book, The Children of Men, she tells of a future where humans have lost their ability to procreate and are fighting in vain to continue the race. This frightening portrait of a world without a next generation captured the attention of readers and reviewers alike. But is it merely a fiction? Or are humans, hot on the trail of greater technology, unwittingly destroying the one thing we've always taken for granted?

originally published in the November 1996 edition of Chicago Life magazine

What I Learned at Camp

There have been only a handful of times in my life when I have concretely felt the call of God to do something specific. While I’ve never heard an actual voice or anything like that, there have been a few moments where I suddenly and unmistakably felt a pull that I could not otherwise explain. The first time I heard that our church was going to be partnering with Royal Family Kids to put on a week-long summer camp for foster children in Los Angeles was one of those times.

10 Commandments for First-Time Authors

Whether you're working on your novel in the early morning before the kids are awake, polishing up a proposal to send out to prospective agents or even meeting with an editor to discuss your work, chances are your ultimate goal is to find a publisher. You revise your first three chapters until they're letter-perfect, slave over a fantastic cover letter and read every book on the market about how to get published. If you're talented – and lucky – all of this work pays off. You find an agent who believes in your project, and a publisher begins to express interest. But while this may seem like the final inning, it's really just the beginning of a whole new ball game.

originally published in the April 2003 edition of The Writer magazine

Riding the Roller Coaster

Less than two months into a new year that has looked eerily similar to the two previous ones, some of us feel slow and sluggish, filled with an ever-present low-level anxiety that keeps us tired and worn. Part of us just wants to curl up into a ball and wait out whatever part of the storm remains. Some of us, on the other hand, feel like the sun is finally starting to come out after a long winter. We’re more than ready to dive back into community, adventure, and full-throated life, and we’re increasingly frustrated by the things still holding us back.

Selected Poetry

Echoes of David

For years I have been summoned from sleep mid-dream

to tend to imaginary monsters and soaked sheets,

to stroke sweaty heads and whisper soft prayers for sweet slumber

before crawling back to bed myself.

I have held a weeping toddler after a stubbed toe

and a heartbroken schoolgirl after a friend’s betrayal.

I know what it is to soothe,

to tend to one longing for comfort and seeking rest.

Hands

Sometimes

A contorted length

Of tangled cord

I sit in a corner

And sob

Emotions overlapping

Energy flowing in circles

The tears pull my insecurities

To the surface

With their tangy salt

A comforting hand

On my back

Burns with the lack

Of understanding

Of perception

They just don't know

My mind hurts me

So badly

Their hands can't fix

The internal scars

originally published in Left Curve Magazine, No. 19, Cultural Identity and Globalization

Image

She counts her calories at lunch,

Measure her self-worth

By the numbers on the scale.

The flattering new dress she bought

Hangs in the closet unworn,

Waiting while she sheds

The extra pounds.

When he kisses her,

She worries that his hands,

Tenderly carressing her waist,

Are secretly measuring her fat.

originally published in Teen Voices Magazine, Volume 3, Issue 4

Clouds

Waspy whiffs of billowing breezes

Dreams of things with linen wings

Whitecaps rolling, flowing freely

Plump plum pillows fit for kings

Wispy winding towers of heaven

Cushion cotton softening pain

Cotton candy, sweetening, sticky

Cool crisp air before the rain

Ice cream frosting, white as winter

Snowflakes tinging on your tongue

Spun soft dresses, whispering pureness

Laundry drying, freshly wrung

All are clouds and clouds are many

Clouds can feel and heal above

Padding life and all its sorrow

Waking us to life with love

originally published in A View from The Edge, The National Library of Poetry, 1992