The Empty Tomb: Why I Love Happy Endings

Everyone loves a happy ending. Or, at least, I do.

And then there is that one author who decides he wants to be unique. No more of this sweet, happy stuff, he is going to write a tragedy. This author proceeds to systematically defame and kill every single character in his story that you liked. You come to the end of the book,  the death and destruction crescendo, and you are left feeling empty and cold inside. 

Even those stories where the hero dies a tragically beautiful hero's death leave you feeling like a part of your heart died in that last chapter.

Or, at least, my heart feels that way. 

We as humans have this fascination with pain, suffering, and death. Perhaps it is because we are drawn to these things, much like a child, out of a sense of horror.

Or perhaps it is because these three are products of the Fall and we, in our broken and sinful lives, see ourselves reflected in the pain, the suffering, and the death. They are near to us, for they surround us. We feel a kinship to them, even as we sense their utter wrongness.

Then one day we pick up a book and read the tale of a dashing young hero, who defeats all of his enemies (with some minor injuries to himself) and somehow miraculously survives through to the end of the story. Sometimes he even gets the girl. And our heart sings with this brave young man because, for one instant, everything was made right.
This is why I love happy endings - because there is redemption and renewal found in happy endings. The tragedy shows us all that the world is, while the happy ending shows us what the world could be.
A happy ending gives us a small taste of redemption, as we watch our hero rise from his low state of despair and defeat to stand victorious on the neck of his enemies.

Now do you see where I am going with this? Why I love happy endings so much?
The greatest Hero in history fell, defeated, at the feet of his enemies. Death seemed to swallow Him, and Satan and his followers rejoiced in what they thought was their day of victory.

And then the earth shook.

And the grave, so powerful, dark and hungry, couldn't hold Him. Satan fell, crushed beneath His heel. 

"He is not here, for he has risen."

My Brain Doesn't Come With an Off-Switch

I have insomnia.

...sometimes.

This is a side affect of an overactive brain. 

Yes, people, it's because my brain won't shut down at night like normal brains do. When I lay down at night, instead of thinking peaceful thoughts that lull me to sleep, my brain thinks about 

that email I forgot to send this morning,

and the text I didn't send because I was busy writing my paper...

my paper

MY PAPER!

And suddenly my brain is wide awake and buzzing with potential thesis statements, arguments, and sources. I am constructing, deconstructing, and reconstructing sentences, mulling them over in my mind, latching hold of some and discarding others.

An hour goes by like this, until I realize that this is the normal time for people to be asleep and I am not sleeping. I shove my paper aside.

... And it comes crawling back.

I count sheep. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, four thesis statements, five arguments... oh wait...

Desperate times call for desperate measures. It is time for me to unleash

THE LAVENDER OIL!

Lavender oil is a wonderful invention. You see, I hate medicine. I really hate medicine. I hate medicine so much that I would rather suffer through a week of sinus infection than go to the clinic for an hour and take an antibiotic. So I don't take any sleep-aide drugs. 

That, and I work with drugs and I know all of the nasty side effects that come with taking sleep-aides.

So obviously I use lavender, because that couldn't possibly have side effects, right? 

Wrong, anything that is foreign to the body that is subsequently absorbed by the body will have some kind of effect on the body. It's just that I prefer the mild side effects of lavender to those of a drug. 

The sorriest thing about using lavender is that it, well, doesn't always work. It will help me relax, and sometimes it's enough to let me fall asleep. But sometimes...

I lay down, smelling sweetly of lavender, and think relaxing, breathing. In, out, in, out...

And I begin to parcel out minute details about my story.

Normally I do not mind thinking about my story. My story is very complicated; there are a lot of details to sort through and I haven't gotten through half of them. 

But not at 11pm at night. Not when I have a ten-hour shift the next day that starts at 6am (for those of you who, like me, can't math, that means setting my alarm for 5am). 

And yet I find myself sifting through costumes, hair color, eye color, specific dialogue. Every so often I encounter a particularly clever plot twist, and I will jump up and turn the light on to write it down (usually when I read my notes the next day I wonder why I sacrificed sleep for such lame ideas). 

At this point I am thoroughly awake and quite frustrated that I am not asleep. 

It is time for me to bring out the big guns. 

Ruth's Big Guns: Books. Specifically, very thick, very slow, very dry books.

Generally I read for thirty to forty-five minutes and I'm exhausted, especially if I read something theological or factual after 11:30pm. 

But then there are those times when I decide that it's the best idea in the world to read War and Peace, and it has the opposite effect on my brain than I intended. 

And sometimes it really doesn't matter. I could be yawning when I put the book down, but when the light is off my brain switches to Full Alert Mode and I am suddenly wide awake. In these extreme cases (which rarely happen but twice a year), I make a Last-Ditch Effort. 

Ruth's Last-Ditch Effort: Watch movies until her brain has reached the point of maximum exhaustion and falls asleep.

This really works, guys.

Seriously.

How Hurting Helps: Reflections on Grief

He would have been 20 today. It is hard to think that two whole years have gone by since the first time I celebrated his birthday without it, but they have.

As I think back on those two years, I see so many harsh, painful lessons. I also see many beautiful ones. I firmly believe that God uses circumstances to grow and shape a person. In my experience I find that God uses the painful lessons more frequently than He uses happy or easy ones to grow the Christian. But I find that no sooner does He use them, that He redeems them. 

Scattered throughout these past two years I find many painful lessons that have taught me some beautiful things about living. 

For those of you who don't know me - my younger brother passed away two years ago in an accident involving firearms. Even now I can still hear my father's voice on the other end of the phone that evening. I feel the pain rip through my heart, followed by shock. Dead? No, there must be some mistake.

My 17-year-old brother was alive, and then suddenly...

 he wasn't.

 Several books helped me through those past two years. The first was A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis. During the time I read it I was battling with thoughts and emotions I did not fully understand. What was I supposed to do with all of the hurt? Was it okay for me to not laugh or smile? Those around me kept telling me it would get easier; that the loss wouldn't hurt so much as time passed.
What if I don't want it to get easier? What if getting easier means forgetting?
And I wondered about that.
Then I picked up the tiny volume, written by Lewis after the death of his wife in order to help him process the pain and loss he was going through. I read the first page and couldn't stop.
Lewis understood. And I moved through my grief with him by my side. Sometimes it only takes that one person who truly understands you, to give you the strength to soldier on.
The second was The Four Loves by, you guessed it! C.S. Lewis. A very good friend of mine sent me a copy in the mail because she knew I hadn't read it. It was only a few months after I had finished A Grief Observed that I began The Four Loves.
There is a beautiful passage in Lewis' chapter on friendship that has stuck with me for all of these months, and it has helped me process the change I underwent when my brother died.
"In each of my friends," Lewis writes, "there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets."
When my brother died our family changed; I changed. We do not laugh or joke the way we used to, we are not as loud as we used to be. There are aspects of my personality which have not been fully drawn out since the death of my brother. Why? Because he was the only one who could bring those aspects out. No one I have met since, or ever will meet, can draw me out the way he did. No one has ever, or will ever, bring our family together the way he did.

But that isn't a bad thing.

I don't want my family to go back to the way it was before he died. True, we lost his part in bringing us together as a family, but we are still unified. His death didn't break us apart - though it felt like it did many times - it pulled us closer to each other. 

True, for each of us we lost a part of ourselves in his death that no one can draw out of us again. But we came to know ourselves even better because of the grief. I did not know myself, or my sin, so well before his death as I do now. 

I did not know my Savior so well as I do now because of this grief. For me, the emotional pain and trauma drove me back to God's Word and to the feet of Jesus. Here I found peace and hope, even though everything wasn't okay for a very long time. I found strength to persevere, even when I wanted to give up in despair. 

Several passages I caught hold of, and held onto tightly for two years, were

Psalm 42:9, 11 (But really, the whole Psalm) "By day the LORD commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life... Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God, for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God." 

Hebrews 4: 14-16 "Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive very and find grace to help in time of need."

John 11: 25-26 "Jesus said to her, 'I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?'"

(Emphasis added. But read the entirety of John 11 though, for the whole passage is an amazing promise of life in Christ that each of us needs to be reminded of.)

There are many, many more, but these were the ones I consistently came back to over and over again. I found peace and hope, not in the knowledge that he was in a better place or wasn't hurting, or even that I was going to see him some day. No, I found them in Christ. Knowing my brother was in a better place didn't stop the pain. Knowing that I was going to see him someday didn't negate the fact that he wasn't here now. Time didn't make his death any easier. 

Jesus did.

In him I found another who understood, even better than Lewis, the suffering I was going through. There was a lifting of the burden, a lightening of the grief, not because the situation changed, but because he stepped into the situation and carried the burden with me. 

I discovered that it's okay to cry when other people are happy. It's okay to question why such horrible things are happening to you. It's okay to change because of these things. But only if, at the end of the day, you throw yourself on the mercy and grace of God that is Christ, trusting that he will provide the strength, peace, and ultimately joy that you lack. 

These past two years have taught me a lot, but I think the greatest lessons I have been, and continue to be, taught is who I am and how much I need Jesus. 

Thank you, Ben, for helping me to learn these lessons in your life and your death.

Keep cheering me on until I cross that finish line, okay?

"Like my fathers I am looking for a home

Looking for a home beyond the sea

So be my God and guide me

Till I lie beneath the hills

Then let the great God of my fathers

Be the great God of my children still."

Andrew Peterson

A Little Bit About Me

Since you have suffered through not one but TWO lectures from yours truly, I figure it's about time you knew a little more about me.


Ten Cool Things About Me:

Yes, I documented how excited I was about this...

... And we all sit in deafening silence as I wrack my brain for something cool...

But perhaps I can come up with ten interesting things that may or may not be cool to you all. (I kept the first title because it was a lot more catchy than this one.)

1. I have ten million siblings.

Ok, I only have seven of them. But I also have two brothers-in-law, who are probably cool enough to count for ten million siblings, plus a nephew and a niece. These two count for 75% of the family's good looks.

2. I am a huge nerd. I like old books, globes, tape players,  old movies, castles, and  perfectly formed sentences. If I was given a choice between a new computer and a leather-bound notebook, I'd take the notebook any day, especially if it included a quill pen and inkwell.

3. I obsessively collect books. A used bookstore is my favorite haunt, because it is the one place where I can indulge in this obsession without feeling guilty or going broke. I love finding hidden gems for $3.50, especially when Amazon lists it for $35.

4. My ideal home has a room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and rolling ladders. No, I didn't put any thought into what the kitchen, the bedroom, or any of the other rooms looked like because, frankly, I don't need them. I know that, should this ideal become reality, I would eat, sleep, and live in that room.

5. I live on tea. I habitually skip meals and sleep - things I have been told are essential to human life. (I am not completely convinced that this is the truth... or God is very merciful in allowing me to live even after all of the meals and sleep I have missed.) A day I miss my morning cup of tea, however, is the day my existence collapses in on itself. The first cup of tea is essential; the second ideal. I do not know what it is about tea that makes it so vital to my morning routine. There is something bracing about that first cup in the morning. The shower helps me wake up, but tea makes me feel alive.

6. I forget to eat. No, I don't habitually skip meals because I think I am fat. (Aside: I think that, unless you are obese to the point that it is affecting your health, the term "fat" is culturally relative.)
I usually get carried away with what I am doing at the moment - writing, reading, cleaning, or visiting with people - that I simply forget. I know that food is an essential part of being, and I know that not eating probably does horrible things to the human body, but I generally do not take that into consideration when I am caught up in the middle of a project. It does not help that my extremely active job schedules my eating times for me. I find that on my days off I am more prone to forget than on the days that I work. I have tried remedying this problem with minor success. The most difficult times are those times when I am working on a research paper for school.

7. I have a job. I work at a hospital as a pharmacy technician. I work four ten-hour shifts a week, the hours and days of which vary depending on our rotation. This leaves me very little time to write much of anything, let alone a novel. Generally all the time that I have goes to studying, which demands quite a bit of writing as well, so the time spent on writing what I want to write is severely limited. But I love my job and the people I work with; they are all very colorful and you will probably read more about them on this blog later. I wouldn't leave my job to become a "writer". For one thing, that would probably the most foolish financial decision ever made. Also, I would become so reclusive and bored that I'd probably end up in a mental institution. Or I would wither away and starve because I would constantly forget to eat. So my job is essential for living. Literally.

8. I go to school but I don't go to school. ...It's complicated. I am taking some online college classes that are unrelated to what I actually want to do, which is become a certified biblical counselor. I'm working on that certification process. Somehow I want this certification to heavily incorporate writing, but I haven't figured that part out yet. I have enough on my hands trying to figure out how to finish up my current class while also studying to meet the requirements for my certification (this involves writing quite a lot of material on both theology and counseling). Now do you understand why I said it was complicated?

9. I have an obsession with shoes and makeup. I wouldn't consider myself a diva. If you asked any of my friends, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't describe me as one either. In spite of this fact, I love looking at shoes to the point of obsession. Of course most of the shoes I love to look at I can't afford, but I still like to window-shop (if it's online, does that still count as window-shopping?). I also like to mess around with makeup. I am by no means an expert - far from it. But I have several hundred shades of nail polish and a nice stash of lipstick. My job makes it a little difficult to indulge in my makeup obsession, but I enjoy it when I can. I also love putting together an outfit, for which a good pair of shoes and the right makeup are essential. Also, EYELINER. I love messing with eyeliner. Except when it messes with me. Then there are a lot of large, black smudges everywhere.

10. I like to find beauty in the little things. I don't like the flashy, the expensive, or the bold. I like what is subtle, sweet, and sentimental. The jewelry I have I wear because of the one who gave it to me, not because it is worth so much. Half of the decorations on my wall are pictures drawn or taken by people I love.
I would rather sit in the quiet solitude of the forest and study moss than visit the empire state building. I don't like bangles; I don't like fancy clothing (except for the odd dress-up party); I don't like diamonds, and I hate glitter. I don't want to be the center of attention; I'd rather observe the ones showing attention. I don't want to go to fancy restaurants and travel in fancy cars. I would rather sit in the grass and look at the stars or run barefoot through a rain soaked field. There is great beauty in the simple, the quiet, the subtle, and my joy is searching for it.


So there is my introduction. Now you know ten things about me you didn't know before. I hope it was informative, and maybe even a little bit entertaining. A very important fact about me you should all know: I love truth, specifically truth as it is found in God's Word, mirrored in His creation, and lived out by believers. It is a beautiful and terrifying thing, this truth; sweet as a flower and sharper than a two-edged sword. I hope that my words in these posts, as well as outside of them, will convey truth in all of its beauty (and sometimes pain). My hope is that, as I write, those who read my words will find themselves drawn ever closer to the truth, that is, to God.

My Characters Should be... What?

We have all experienced it: An idea dances on the fingertips. We sit down with pen and paper (or with word processor and keypad), eager to pour them onto the page. And then... an insurmountable wall looms before us. 

We have to put people in this story.

I hope all of you have experienced this feeling at one time or another. An exception would be when the idea comes from the formulation of a character. I have encountered both through the years of my piddling attempts to write. There are times when I meet someone who inspires a character, or I begin the idea with a single conversation between two people. The dialogue leads to the construction of these two characters, which becomes an entire story idea. In these cases, it is not hard to create a character; they just sort of happen.

The majority of the time, however, you will begin with an idea and move from there to forming your characters.

... So what's the big deal? People are people are people. We've all got them in our lives; it can't be that hard to make up a few more, right?

Wrong.

There are several very very very difficult things that must be implemented in the creation of characters in order to make them believable. The type of audience you are writing to also must be considered. The characters in the story must capture their attention and hold it for the 250+ pages of the book you are writing (unless you are writing a novelette... then, I would say, building characters becomes more difficult). 

These characters must be relatable. Your audience cannot just see you in your characters, they must be able to see themselves. Otherwise there would be no way for them to invest in the character. An individual does not invest in what he does not understand. If your character is not understandable - relatable - then your audience will not invest in him. 

And that is why you burn all your two-dimensional, convenient-placed, personality-less characters on the altar of good storytelling.

Your characters also can't be your ideal. This goes hand-in-hand with making them relatable. People make mistakes. They fail. They sin. Exclude these elements from your character and you have taken away their humanity. 

Your readers want to see your character grow, overcome fears, conquer internal and external enemies. They want to see him grow. they can't do that with a character who is the perfect picture of what you want to be. They can with one who has flaws and weaknesses just like you do now.

 Many people read books to escape from themselves. A good writer knows this. He will write so that, in the process of escaping, his readers find themselves.  

Now do you understand why I liked constructing characters to an insurmountable wall? It's hard. Probably the most difficult part of writing a story (except perhaps finding a good ending, but more on that later). You will fail in your efforts to make each of your characters engaging and relatable. But with each attempt you will learn a little bit more and grow closer to creating one that is truly human. 

And remember: Just because each character isn't as perfectly human and relatable as you would like them to be, does not mean that someone in your audience won't find him to be so. While humanity is not completely subjective, I would argue that relatability is (yes, I just made up a word; google told me so). A character I may find stale and predictable, another might find familiar and intriguing.

So do not lose heart when you don't make your ideal, flaw-ful character. You may not have made yours, but that does not mean you haven't made someone else's. So keep writing. And study people around you (just don't be creepy about it; they don't appreciate that at all). Humans are the best textbooks for creating humans.

Where To Begin...

I have met quite a number of people, the majority of which are around my age, who tell me, "I am writing a story."

There are several reasons I have discovered these people want to write a story.
1. They want to validate their idea(s). This individual is very enthusiastic in their response.  You ask, "what have you been up to lately?" And their response is: "I'M WRITING A STORY DO YOU WANT TO READ IT I HAVE THE FIRST ROUGH DRAFT HERE WITH ME RIGHT NOW YOU REALLY SHOULD READ IT THERE IS THIS ONE REALLY GREAT PART..." Ad infinitum...They have an entire world tucked inside of their minds just waiting to come out. At the first sign of interest, they charge full-speed ahead. If you ask this type of individual about their writing, be prepared to spend a couple of hours in a heated discussion over which villain best fits their plot. I hope your friendship is strong enough to survive and, dare I say? thrive on such an encounter.

2. They want some sort of purpose in their lives. I often hear the phrase, "I want to be a writer," and I have to wonder how many actually want to be writers, how many will actually become writers, and how many are flailing for purpose in what they see as a purposeless life. Writing is difficult. It takes a lot of hard work, perseverance, and quite a bit of raw talent. I do not think that simply having an idea, a structure, and/or a college degree automatically turns someone into a writer. If the talent is not there then all that is produced are dry, formulaic, sterile narratives that have very little nuance or depth to them. I do not, by asserting this, claim to have any such talent. I am merely speaking from my limited exposure to literature. If you do not have a good idea of what raw talent looks like, read Tolstoy, read Dostoevsky, read Gaskell, read Austen, read Lewis, read Chesterton, read, read, read. Pretty soon you will be able to distinguish between those authors who clumsily threw words together on a page and those who truly were writers.
What does this have to do with looking for meaning? Well... Writing can't be an excuse for doing nothing. And who's to say that "nothing" is nothing? Don't feel like you have to justify your existence by claiming you're a writer simply because you've jotted down a few ideas into a notebook you hope someday may possibly be published. If you finish it, that is.
Take pride in what you do and don't worry about what others think. And if you want to lay claim to being a writer, then do so. But realize that, when you do, you are striving to be like a Chesterton, like a Lewis, like a Tolstoy. Writing is not easy, light or fluffy, done merely for entertainment or enjoyment. It can be all of those things, but to truly write is to step into the great halls of literature and lay hold of a legacy that spans all of time and history. Do not use the title "Writer" until you fully understand the weight the word carries.
For those of you who struggle and work, and see your own smallness next to these great names: take heart. A good tale is like a good wine: it must age. Your experience, age, and exposure to literature will all help this aging process. Do not try to rush the process with formulas, or by skipping steps in the story development. Such carelessness will only serve to hurt you in the long run.

3. They love it, and they want you to love it too. Those who truly know the sacrifice and the struggle of writing, know the immense joy and satisfaction that comes with nailing it. Whether it is the triumph of reaching the climax, pleasure in weaving the characters' stories together, or the relief that comes with finally figuring out the beginning and the ending of the story (the most difficult parts), each of these moments eclipses the weeks of writer's block and the frustration of an impassible plot-twist. Every writer knows this.
What a true writer loves the most about their stories, however, are their characters. Creating a realistic, relatable, complex character is difficult. It is an even greater struggle to grow and develop them throughout a story. It is so much simpler to insert 2-dimensional, disposable characters to hurry the plot along. DO THIS ONLY WHEN ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. Every character, no matter how little page-time they have, should be unique. If they are innocent bystanders who do not interact with anyone in the story, then make them as many 2-dimensional  as you want. But if they interact at all with the main character, they should at least have some kind of personality. How you describe a character is key when doing this. Using phrases such as, "sharp eyes that twinkled from under heavy, dark brows", or "a mouth heavy with disdain," "a face disposed to being unhappy"... You get the idea.
Remember that, although each character is a part of yourself, each character does not have to be like you. This is where extensive reading (and reading taste) is vital. Every character cannot respond like every other character in your story. If you have several months' time on your hand, read Dostoevsky or Dickens. Their characters are multi-faceted and unique. Dostoevsky in particular knows how to delve into the human mind and heart like no other author I have read.
So read, read, read.
Also, learn to study the people around you. Watch how they react to certain situations. Listen to their phraseology, the words they use the most frequently. Use them as catalysts for characters.
The more you understand people the more you will understand how to create people. So spend time with people.


A good deal of humility and perfectionism comes with the struggle to be a writer. A true writer never thinks he has arrived, is constantly learning, and constantly critiquing his own work. He is always searching for that perfect phrase, that description that will fully encapsulate all that he wishes to describe. He has never completely discovered every phrase, but he rejoices each time he does.
A writer reads critically. He never sits back and passively absorbs what is in front of him. Rather, his mind is constantly slicing, delving into the hidden message of the book in front of him. He is actively probing to discover the underlying worldview, the essence of the author behind the ink. He is constantly comparing the author's work to that of others he knows. If it is particularly shoddy piece of work, he will easily predict the ending and a good deal of the plot in between.
If he is a good author he will never presume that he could do better. Unless it is a particularly poor piece of trash. And then he knows that he can and sets out to do just that.