Snow on Snow

by Randy Petersen

One of the most beautiful Christmas carols is kind of a downer. The first stanza of “In the Bleak Mid-winter” paints a vivid picture of the cold, hard world that Jesus enters.

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

As a writer, I love the bold simplicity of “snow on snow, snow on snow.” That is exactly how snow falls, isn’t it? “Water like a stone” is the common phenomenon of freezing, but here it’s a life-giving substance turned lifeless. With the most basic words, the poet puts us in a bleak world.

Christina Rossetti was already a well-known poet when she wrote this for an American magazine in 1872. (Nice to know, for this blog, that she was a “Christian Freelance Writer,” like us.) Her parents, emigres from Italy, had hobnobbed with England’s literati, until her father took sick. The family then struggled financially. Despite her own health problems—including a nervous breakdown at age 14—Christina was a prodigious poet in her teens. She regained the attention of the arts crowd, eventually publishing several books of poetry.

So, while she had some success, she also experienced a few “bleak mid-winters” along the way.

At this point, the fact-checkers among us are crying out, “But it wasn’t mid-winter! The fact that shepherds were tending their flocks by night suggests the spring season, before Passover. In the foothills of Judea at that time, there would be no snow on snow, snow on snow!”

Right. And the Bible never mentions a stable (just a manger) and the word for “inn” probably refers to the guest room in a house, so there was no innkeeper, and we don’t know how many magi showed up—maybe two, maybe twelve. Every December, we quibble with the Christmas story as it has been told through the centuries. Every generation seems to add a detail to fill out the biblical story. Early on, the magi got names and ethnic identities. One of the earliest English dramas we have, from medieval times, is “The Second Shepherds’ Play,” a clever farce about doubt and devotion. Later we got Good King Wenceslas, Santa, Rudolph, the Little Drummer Boy, an angel named Clarence, and poor Grandma getting run over.

Snow on snow. Snow on snow.

Despite our quibbles, Rossetti’s lyrics do what preachers have always done, applying essential truth to the current culture. It’s what poets do too. So maybe it wasn’t snowing on the shepherds, maybe it wasn’t a frozen world—physically. But is there any better way to describe humanity’s need for a Savior, then or now?

After the first stanza, the “bleak mid-winter” thaws out. Slowly. Gently. Rossetti keeps contrasting the angel throngs in heaven with the simple scene on earth, a mother cradling her child, kissing him. The water, once hard as stone, begins to trickle, bringing life to a needy world.

And the final verse brings it home, simply but powerfully.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

Don’t Burn Your Cargo

By Ann-Margret Hovsepian

A couple of my writer friends were recently discussing the works of Anne Lamott and one of them commented: “I’m not that crazy about her fiction, which sometimes veers to the Jesus-y, but Bird by Bird is one of the best books on writing ever written.” The reference to Lamott’s fiction piqued my interest because I’m a “Jesus-y” kind of girl, but it may have had the opposite effect on others. Lamott must know that not everyone appreciates it when she weaves her faith into her writing, but she’s made a choice between sticking to her principles and pleasing the masses.

All Christian writers face this decision at some point.

Clovis Chappell used to tell the story of two paddleboats in his home state of Tennessee. The boats left Memphis about the same time, traveling down the Mississippi River to New Orleans. Along the way, sailors from one boat began commenting on how slowly the other boat was moving. Words were exchanged, and soon the teasing escalated into a full-on challenge to out-sail each other. The competition didn’t last long, however. One of the boats began to run out of fuel because the coal that should have been enough for the trip wasn’t enough for a race. Thinking himself clever, one sailor threw some of the ship’s cargo into the ovens, which worked well as fuel and, eventually, that boat won the race. Unfortunately, the cargo they were transporting was all burned up.

God has entrusted Christian writers with precious cargo, too: the truth of the gospel, His Word. Sometimes we feel like our progress is too slow. It seems to be taking a frustratingly long time to build the audience or platform we desire. When we feel that way, we may look for ways to speed things up and get ahead, rationalizing that we want to be more effective in our writing ministry. But if we’re making sacrifices along the way that compromise the truth we are called to communicate, we end up effectively burning our cargo and becoming ineffective—if not a detriment—in God’s kingdom.

Suppose you poured your heart and soul into a devotional or memoir that testified to God’s transformative power in your life and a publisher agreed that it was a beautifully written piece with the potential to reach thousands, if not millions, of readers. There’s just one catch: The editor says your piece is too Jesus-y. “You talk too much about being born again and that’ll push some readers away. Can you tone down the Bible-speak?” (We once had a family leave our church because they thought our pastor referred to John 3:16 too often, so this scenario is not far fetched.)

You can absolutely take the shortcut to success and wealth by diluting biblical truths in the interest of selling more articles and books. The opportunities are there. The market for wishy washy messages is there. If you have mastered the craft of writing, the sky’s the limit. But I plead with you to not take this path.

Abraham thought he’d take a shortcut to producing an heir and there was a high price for that foolish decision. Esau, too, looked for a way to quickly curb his hunger, and he lost his inheritance and the blessings reserved for him. There are many other examples in the Bible of people who yielded to temptation because they took their eyes off the Lord.

But Jesus did not. Jesus faced gruelling temptations, yet He rejected the easy path to take the right one.

I’m not suggesting a Christian writer can’t make a living from his or her craft. Writing can be our ministry and our work at the same time. Yet we must never lose sight of why we write, which will influence what we write, even as we work on how we write. In the parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30), the servants who multiplied the resources they were given didn’t do it for their own gain or glory. They worked hard because they were faithful to their master; they did it for his gain. Still, their diligence was rewarded, and their master was pleased.

When that is our motivation, we will also succeed in our work. We may not become wealthy, we may not become household names, but the Lord will be pleased, and He will bless and multiply the talents we have used and invested wisely.

That Story

by Chris Maxwell

We love writing stories people remember. 

A scene of the ocean as waves rush ashore in rhythm. A view of winter with snow covering the streets and a fireplace warming a family. A glance at a grin from bride and groom while they declare vows. 

What an honor to write those stories, to take people places through paper and screens, to guide eyes and minds into an encounter. Information and statistics help prove our cases. Quotes from trusted sources justify our arguments. But stories stick. They illustrate application. They offer an experience, an invitation, an opportunity.

Stories can shock us as the sad stat sheet turns into an example of a family grieving at the funeral home. Stories can motivate us to pursue more information about ways to rescue people who can’t find a method to pay for medication. Stories can lure us toward laughter as the grandparents tell stories of pictures in a photo album to their grandchildren at Christmas. 

In our tribe of Christian writers, we often create stories which we hope will offer encouragement. Even as we honestly reveal the conflict of our narratives, our beliefs bring a breath of reassurance.

We must be cautious, however, not to rush too quickly to the redemptive conclusion. The pain along the way has value. The greatest story ever told isn’t just about a resurrection. Crucifixion comes first. Blood is shed. Breathing stops. A crying Savior mumbles His meditative prayer from what, for us, is Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Before Resurrection Sunday comes Good Friday. And Jesus wants us to remember that story. 

He had gathered with His followers the previous week. They, as they often did and as we often do, ate together. He served bread and wine, declaring to them a tradition to begin, a story to tell, an encounter to experience. “Do this,” He said, “and remember me.”

Before we hurry to another submission or another assignment, let us hear Him. Let us listen as He says, “This is My body.” Let us pay attention to the ancient dialogue as He says, “This is my blood.”

Imagine us in the story and at the table. Not given instructions from our Teacher about better writing or proper grammar or future goals. But given bread to taste and wine to drink. Given words to receive rather than submit. Given nourishment for ourselves before hurrying it to another editor on our list of potential clients. 

Today, choose to be the client. The one loved. The one in the story. Dwell on the week, on the Thursday dinner, on a Friday we call Good, on a Saturday so silent. Stay there a while in that story. Stay there a while and be in the story. 

Slowly, very slowly, work your way to the Resurrection. Remind yourself, “He is risen.” Repeat and you reflect on your own life as someone loved by Him not matter how must or how often or how well you write, “He is risen indeed.”

We will write more stories. We will see them in print and online. We will receive payments. We will smile.

We will also receive rejections. By editors on our articles. By people on ourselves.

But today, step aside from the lists and the goals and the dreams. On purpose, refuse to be so driven. Remember. Remember His death. Remember His death for you.

Stay in that story. The death of your Savior.

Stay in that story. The Resurrection of your Lord.

Stay, remaining away just a while from the demands and the ambitions. Stay, with the story we believe is great. Stay, with the meaning of the bread and wine, of the cross and blood, of the death and Resurrection, of the ancient story and how we are transformed today.

Before we hurry to another submission or another assignment, let us hear Him.

Chris Maxwell served 19 years as lead pastor in Orlando, Florida, after five years of youth ministry. He’s now in his 15th year as Campus Pastor and Director of Spiritual Life at Emmanuel College. He speaks in churches, conventions, and schools, and is the author of ten books, including Pause With Jesus, Underwater, and a slow and sudden God: 40 years of wonder. His latest book is his 2nd collection of poems—embracing now: pain, joy, healing, living.

Time to Fly

by Lisa A. Crayton

One day

That two-word phrase has tanked many Christian writers’ hopes of publishing. While we wait for one day—a day that does not exist on any calendar—we languish in dreams deferred and wallow in regret because oneday we did not take to heart Ecclesiastes 3:1 and submit work for publication or query a dream market.

That famous verse speaks of beginnings and endings. It often reminds me of my first forays into freelance writing. I had quit my corporate job, acting on what I believed was God’s instruction to become “a Christian writer.”

I did not fully understand what that meant. I did know it meant stepping out of my comfort zone and pursuing writing that draws readers into closer relationship with Jesus Christ. It also meant writing for publication, a process that takes words from my heart—and, sometimes, my journals—and placing them before editors who can bring them before audiences small and large. 

I failed miserably in those early days, but I knew that on some Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, if I kept perfecting my craft, querying, and submitting my work for publication, I would realize my dream of being a Christian writer. I was right!

Writing is only one aspect of yielding our words for God’s use. Publishing is the other. One of the greatest barriers to publishing is the reluctance that prevents us from seeing beyond our creativity and marketing efforts to the end results: lives changed. 

Reluctance almost made me miss the opportunity to strengthen the faith of a childhood friend about a decade ago. I was a scheduled member of the faculty of an out-of-state Christian writers’ conference. As the Saturday before the event neared, I kept dithering about my attendance and toyed with cancelling my appearance, but God kept reminding me of Ecclesiastes 3:1. There’s a time for everything. It was time to fly.

Struggling with indecision fueled by reluctance I went to church on Sunday. My pastor’s sermon was “Time to Fly.” When he announced the title, I chuckled, knowing God was secretly sending me a message to stick with my plans.

I flew out the next day. I soon realized God had another purpose for my visit to California. Because of the time zones, I had to stay an extra night after the event. That evening I met with first-ever best friend and her sister. We had a delightful time reconnecting after more than two decades of not seeing each other. For years we had promised to one day visit each other but never did. 

Before they left my hotel room in the wee hours of the morning, I prayed for them, asking God to bless them. A short time later, my friend shared she had recommitted her life to Christ thanks, in part, to my visit. Speaking with her, I understood Ecclesiastes 3:1 more than ever before. I’d wanted to stay home, but I had to fly so that another soul could reconnect with God. 

One day does not exist. For Christian writers to achieve our goals—and God’s ultimate plans for our writing—we must overcome self-placed barriers to publication.  Sure, there’s a worldwide pandemic. Sure, it’s hard to focus because of local, national, and international happenings. Yet, perhaps more than ever, God is saying, “It’s time to fly.”

 It’s time to toss aside one day thinking and commit to writing, and releasing our work on a given Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. Only then can we fully realize God’s greater plans for our creativity. Only then can potential readers receive much-needed encouragement, hope, and peace during and after the pandemic.

Lisa A. Crayton is an editor, award-winning freelance writer and multi-published author, including 15 nonfiction books for kids/teens. She loves helping writers, and challenging them to achieve their goals and dreams! Connect with her on Facebook.

Time Travel of the Nonfantasy Sort

by Joyce K. Ellis

During a rough patch in my personal life, I couldn’t write. I had deadlines but couldn’t focus. God seemed silent, and the Enemy filled the void with accusations. I felt disqualified, unworthy of my calling as a writer. Was it time to quit altogether?

Each night before bed, my husband reads to me from a devotional book, and at that time we were reading Chris Tiegreen’s Hearing God’s Voice. At one of my lowest points, the daily selection was written as though God Himself were speaking. Phrases and sentences burned into my soul:

You would be shocked if I told you how many people refuse to seek My voice because they feel disqualified…They don’t consider themselves worthy enough….

God continues:

Don’t keep your distance from Me. I’ve gone to great lengths to bridge that distance and unite us as one. When you run from Me, hide from Me, or even just grow cold toward Me—whether through your guilt, shame, fear, or apathy—you are wasting a gift I have paid an enormous price to give you.”[1]

I felt as though Tiegreen could peer into my soul at that very moment.

But imagine: That book had been published several years earlier. Considering how slowly the gears of publishing turn, Tiegreen undoubtedly submitted the manuscript at least nine months or a year prior to publication. And because the devotional book covers a whole year, who knows how long it took him to write the 365 devotionals–and arrange them so this one would fall precisely on April 15, right when I would need it? (Of course, he had no way of knowing.)

God’s voice. God’s comfort. God’s encouragement. God’s timing.

A prophet’s time travel, of sorts—projecting those words forward?

I’ve always shunned any possibility that I may have the spiritual gift of prophecy. I can’t tell people what will happen to them in the future like Daniel or Elijah or one of the other biblical prophets did. Besides, the consequences for erroneous prophecies were severe!

Then I learned a definition of a prophet as a “forthteller,” more than a foreteller. And a desire to “tell forth” to others what the Lord is teaching me has been in my spiritual DNA from my early years as a believer. I pondered the way Chris Tiegreen typed words on his computer that “projected forward” to my need years later. I thought about other times I had been helped by that kind of “time travel” from other authors. On the other hand, over the years I have prayed for God’s guidance as I write—that the words would meet the needs of readers. But I hadn’t fully understood their time-travel potential.

It all came full circle, however, when my book, Our Heart Psalms (twenty years in the making) came out at the height of the COVID pandemic, followed by street violence. In God’s time-travel plan, Our Heart Psalms seemed a book “for such a time as this.” There was a reason it had been rejected, rearranged, and rewritten so many times—and finally published in 2020.

A friend gave a copy to an elderly woman whose husband has advanced Alzheimer’s Disease. Quarantined with him, this woman has few interactions with other people. But some of the words, possibly written twenty years earlier, touched her heart, and the woman wept as God met her on those pages.

What if I had quit writing when I was at such a low point? What if Chris Tiegreen hadn’t written those words that encouraged me to keep listening to God? What if he hadn’t followed God’s direction to place them as the April 15 reading? What if we served a God who didn’t have perfect timing?

“Let’s not get tired of doing what is good [what God has called us to do],” Paul wrote. “At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up” (Gal. 6:9 NLT, brackets mine).

“As for God, His way is perfect” (Psalm 18:30 NIV).


[1] Chris Tiegreen, The One-Year Hearing His Voice Devotional (Carol’s Stream: Tyndale, 2014), 105.