Let me get right to it...my apologies!  It's  been quite a while since my last post and yes, I am sorry.  Summer was extremely busy with many concerns and affairs - some wanted and some definitely undesired.  

However, let's focus on the present.  And by that, I mean allow me to look back on a trip we took to the ocean.  The weather was beautiful, the food was good, and the kids behaved (for the most part).  On the drive home however, we ran into one of the most ferocious storms I've seen in a while.  Lightning flashed in rapid succession on seemingly all sides of our car and huge deluges of rain washed over us repeatedly - like we were in nature's homegrown psychotic car wash.  

With really no where to pull over and not being familiar with the area, we made the ill-advised decision to drive through the storm.  Well, as you might have guessed, we made it through just fine (due to God's divine providence), but not before going way off track, paying a huge toll on a New Jersey highway, and holding our breath most of the way.  (I could almost swear that we were the only car - surrounded by monstrous tractor trailers.)

The most interesting part of this whole experience to me was the back seat.  My two kids remained fast asleep, napping through the fury of nature.  And why not?  Dad (and mom) got this under control - I'm tired - They won't let anything happen to us - we're safe - nothing to worry about.
 
Their calmness and complete trust in their dad reminded me that I too have a father who is in control of my life.  I can relax in the back seat and take comfort in the fact that I'm safe and secure while the storm rages around me.  He's got the wheel.  So often I forget his simple truth and try to take the wheel myself.  To put the situation in proper perspective, what would have happened if we let our three-year old take the wheel during the storm and allowed him to try to get us home?  Silly of course, but hopefully you see my point.   

The refrain from an old hymn we would sing when I was a boy comes to mind.

The raging storms may round us beat,
A Shelter in the time of storm
We’ll never leave our safe retreat,
A Shelter in the time of storm.

If you should happen to encounter a bad storm in your day tomorrow, who's got the wheel in your life?


Let me know....JJZ

Last night I finally got to see a musical hero of my adolescence in concert, Carman!  It was a great time and Carman looked and sounded wonderful.  However I don't know if I should have felt out of place with the 50+ aged crowd surrounding me?  Come to think of it, I am not that far off....oh well!

Music in general has certainly changed over the years.  I won't pretend to tell you that the newer music currently playing on most radio stations, i pods, or other devices holds the same level of depth or "realness" that the music I grew up with (80's and early 90's), because I just can't believe that.  Sure, it is just my opinion, but I just cannot get into music that has lost its...????? - in my humble opinion.  Now, before I paint myself into a proverbial corner from which I cannot get out, I must admit that there are certain songs and certain artists in today's music that make me think, make me feel, make me move, and bring me back to a different time.  For the most part however, I just feel like there is something missing in today's music - something that resembles....a musical soul. 

In an age of lightning fast social media and instant gratification, some things should and need to take their time to settle into one's mind and soul...in my humble opinion.  

Am I just getting older?  Let me know.. and please turn that music down!

 

This time, I thought I would use this space to reveal a little bit about my forthcoming book, The Journal of Ezekiel Walker.  The manuscript is nearly completed as I write this post, and then the fun tasks of re-writing, editing, and revisions can begin.  


The story itself is the prequel to Walker's Vale, and tells the initial journey of a much younger Ezekiel Walker, circa, 1945.  The story will draw parallels to Walker's Vale in that there is internal struggles, first-hand accountability, and of course, the supernatural.  

Where Walker's Vale left off, The Journal of Ezekiel Walker, will pick up, but go back in time to explain how the strange little town of Walker's Vale began, the unique Walker family's origin, and the ultimate battle between light and darkness.  It is a much darker story, not only with the climax of WWII coming to an end, but also the intensity and direct involvement of the characters being affected by the supernatural battle raging between the seen and sometimes "seen" unseen world.   

What surprised me the most when writing this book was the unquestionable parallel that the main character draws from my own feelings.  I did not plan it that way, but perhaps a writer's own personal emotions cannot help but enter a story and in someways influence greatly the details.   Maybe that goes without saying, but I enjoyed the learning experience along the way - it was a thrilling and eye-opening journey that I feel has pushed me to me more honest and open in my writing.  

However, as Walker's Vale ended on a pleasant refrain, this chapter into the story of Walker's Vale may or may not conclude on such a positive note.  But I'll let you, the reader, my friend, decide for yourself.  

Until next time, may the force be with you....wait, that's something altogether different....or is it?

The other day, a friend of mine asked me if I believed playing the Ouija Board game was considered to be "wrong."  He thought the game to be a harmless, fun game that was good for a few laughs, and maybe even some good old-fashioned scares at the expense of the easily frightened.

Let me relate a story I once heard years ago:  A family moved into their new home and as "luck" would have it, strange and eerie things began to occur. The family, both confused and scared turned to the minister from their church to "exorcise" whatever was causing these supernatural manifestations.  When the minister arrived, he was immediately led to the pantry inside the kitchen. The minister asked if the family would allow him to remove some of the paneling from the back wall, and with their permission, he did so only to uncover a small, hidden compartment built into the wall.  Inside this unit was quite the stash of pornographic magazines some previous owner had obviously forgotten about.  Of course, the magazines were removed and thus ended the strange and paranormal activities for that family - just like that.

In the spiritual realm, to put it simply, good is attracted to good and evil is drawn to evil.  Where there is light there can be no darkness.  Can certain objects - those that have a dark connotation and even those that are not seemingly outright evil, carry with them the spiritual forces of a dimension invisible to our eyes? 

Let me flip that question and share 2 Samuel 6:11 from the Bible.  "And the ark of Jehovah remained in the house of Obed-edom the Gittite three months: and Jehovah blessed Obed-edom, and all his house." ASV

Because a man died when he physically touched the most holy and revered Ark of the Covenant of Israel, King David became afraid and ordered the sacred vessel to be placed in a man's house for three months.  We read that God blessed that man and all his house!

I'll quote a favorite phrase/question of mine.  "Just because we cannot see something with our eyes, does that mean it does not exist?"  

I'll leave the answers up to you!

   

A while back I saw a a movie that caused me to be afraid - really afraid.  Not because it was a horror film that gave me the chills and built tension with each passing scene or that the atmospheric layered story line was told superbly.   No, and it wasn't the fact that it was not a huge Hollywood blockbuster that largely went unnoticed by critics and that it was created with a marginal budget that would put most horror movies to shame.  And it wasn't even the fact that it contained no gore, sex, violence, slashing or mayhem to evoke a sense of gripping, edge of your seat, apprehension.  No, the extremely scary fact about this movie was that it could have and should have been created by a born-again, spirit-filled, washed in the blood -CHRISTIAN!

It amazes me how the mainstream horror industry as a whole has been largely avoided by Christians?  I am so very tired of horror movies that glorify only evil and violence and neglect to show the other, more powerful side of the equation. I mean, as children of the light, do we not have a mandate to expose and show how utterly weak and powerless the forces of evil really are?  Not to say that there is not a strong demonic presence in this world that should be taken lightly.  On the contrary, I am saying that we need to tell this world that there is a very real, very powerful, yet invisible battle for their very souls raging all around them - every day.  If our spiritual eyes were to be opened - for just a few seconds, what transformation would our lives take? 


Can God use the horror genre as a whole for his glory?  Absolutely and positively - if we get involved and stop letting the world give us their definition of what SCARY should be.  


This post of course, is just an introduction.  I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas and even arguments to my point.  


Come on, what are you afraid of?

I'll admit it - I hate going into the basement of our home.  It's not because there is lurking a supernatural entitiy or some other type of paranormal manifestation, but rather my dreaded nemesis, Scutigera Coleoptrata!

No, he has nothing to do with the Godfather or Joe Pesci;  this monster may be better known to you as a common house centipede - and they freak me out!

From their evil dimensions in length supported by their unusually long and creepy legs to their amazing and almost lightning-fast speed, I can't stand seeing them, and when I do I freeze for just a second - long enough to plan my battle strategy (usually a bottle of bug spray I keep conveniently place near the stairway.)

Fear in itself can be a good thing sometimes.  For one, it causes your blood to move, gets the heart rate up and get the adrenaline pumping.  Secondly, it causes us to confront the things we lack courage to face - the issues that hold us back.  I personally take on fear as a challenge - not to temp fate, but rather as an oppprtunity to reinforce my belief that God is bigger than any seemingly evil force that would threaten my personal security mentally or physically.  The Bible says that "perfect love casts out fear."  The love of Jesus is perfect and undoubtedly, if you call God your father, you have nothing to fear!

In upcoming months, I'd like to discuss horror films and how they can be used to glorify God.

For now however......

when you make your way down the long dark hall, wiping the crusty sleep from your eyes, and quickly turn on the light switch - something scurries quickly past you along the wall - you suddenly freeze.  You feel something gently landing on your cold, damp skin.  Still too dark and your eyes have not fully adjusted, you feel a gentle brushing of tiny eyelashes making its way closer to your neck until....JJZ

One of the most loved and hated icons from the 1970's, Archie Bunker, would often say to his wife Edith, "It's the little things that torture a person."  I think Archie may have been on to something significant, yet often over-looked by many; the little things. 

I can remember a few years back around Memorial Day when I was cleaning out the shed in our backyard.  There had been an extremely wet few weeks prior followed by dry and warm days and nights.  Needless to say the insects were out in full force and ready to attack.  I had received several mosquito bites that day and thought nothing of them.  The next day however, one particular bite on my calf kept getting warmer and pinker.  I brushed it off and assumed like the others, it would be gone in a day or so.  But my leg now was beginning to hurt and turn a darker shade of pink, almost red.  I again, thought maybe it had possibly become infected and still believed in another day all would be well.  Upon the arrival of that day, I could barley walk and was developing a fever.  My leg now was extremely red and swollen and the infection was moving further up my leg.  After being pumped with IV antibiotics and unable to walk for three days in the hospital, yes all was finally well.   A confirmed spider bite from which I still carry a scar.  Scary yes, but the lesson I learned was that if I had listened to the initial little signs my body was giving, perhaps I would not have had to endure such a painful and costly ordeal?  The little things were speaking to me and I ignored them. 

In my current novel, Walker's Vale, the tag line states, The Devil is in the Details.  How appropriate for so many instances in our lives.  The little things we try to ignore that gnaw at the back door of our minds, the small voice we pretend we don't hear that calls to wisdom; the little sins we think we can hide under the proverbial rug. 

Could it be that the "little things" are actually the "big things" in disquise?  Would I dare argure that if we could for one day, pay attention to those often ignored, over-looked, tiny details in our lives, we could change the way we think and ultimately the way we act? 

Could it be that Mr. Archie Bunker had some purposeful insight to share from his often dark and dull mind?  Wait, dark....dirty....needs to be washed....

Hmmm, wash...now that I think about it, I have to go and wash my truck and of course detail it. 

For some reason I was thinking about my 6th grade wood shop class the other day.  I believe a more appropriate title on my class schedule should have forewarned  "sanding shop."    The teacher, an older, stern-looking man (with  gigantic hands) who may have very well  never cracked a smile in his life, was not mean or frightening, just down to business all the time.  Probably to keep the 12 year-old boys who were just transitioning from grade school to middle school in check.  Sixth grade can be a weird time for a kid whose voice is changing as well as everything else around him, but that is another story for another time.

Back to sanding, uh, I mean wood shop.  We were working on a wooden (what else) paper holder type-thing that was in the shape of a duck.  Now, going into the class, I believed that I would be working with various machines and high tech saws and the like.  Twas not to be.  We were each given a cut-out pattern of the project along with a block of wood with sandpaper firmly attached.  And, as such, we sanded...and sanded.  You see, when we believed we had sanded out the rough edges and the stain was ready to be applied, we would bring the project to the teacher's desk for inspection.  He would take the project in his huge hands, curl his bottom lip a bit, and bring out his pencil.  Line upon line were marked all over the soon to be duck, and it was our job to make those pencil lines disappear.  As you may imagine, this went on for days...and days....and.....well, I  think you get the point.

Just when you think you've mastered the art of sanding, more pencil lines.  Frustration grew as did calloused palms.  I wondered if this guy just wanted to see us kids grow tired and bored. Until one day, when I brought the project to his desk and he looked up at me and shook his head.  I was finally READY for the next step.

Perhaps I was thinking about this at a time when I am going through a period where I need to learn patience.  Could it be that the trials and annoyances and teeth-gritting, tongue-biting experiences I am going through are the sandpaper smoothing out the rough spots I can't see.  I thought I was ready for staining?  Maybe my teacher is putting a few more pencil lines on me to get me ready for the next step? 

Back to wood, uh...I mean sanding shop I suppose...

I wonder if my mom still has that duck, I'd love to feel the edges!

James 1:3

 Hobo -  One more thing... do you believe in ghosts?

The Boy -[shakes head  no]

Hobo -[in a sinister  tone] Interesting...

I think you will recognize the above dialogue from the wonderful Christmas movie, The Polar Express.  If you've seen the movie, you of course know that the main character, the boy, is at an age where he wants to believe in the unseen - in this story it is Santa Claus.  Yet, everything around him tells him that what is real can only be seen by the natural eye.  In other words, show me the proof. 

In our human existence, much of what we depend on for survival cannot be seen by our eyes or grasped in our palms.  We love, hate, and emote in various expressive forms but cannot physically "hold" any emotion in our hands.  We breathe the invisible air around us and listen to the thunder in a beautiful storm, but cannot physically see either.  Does that make them any less real?  Even our most precious commodity on earth, water, will eventually slip through our fingers if held long enough.  (Perhaps stretching the point a bit, but I think you understand my logic.)  

Just because something cannot be seen, does that mean it does not exist?

As you may or may not know I've had my share of supernatural experiences, not all of which have been evil.  Supernatural encounters can also be of the divine nature and can be meant to establish or reinforce the nature of a loving yet, very invisible God. 

I do sincerely believe in a very real unseen world around us, some of which is very good and some very, very evil, as I suspect many of you believe likewise.  If fact, according to a recent poll, approximately 1/3 of of all Americans believe in ghosts and almost 1/2 of all Americans claim to have had at least 2 supernatural experiences in their life.  Now of course, what is real and what is explainable and what actually are "ghosts" can be debated and open for discussion, but all in all, pretty substantial numbers in my opinion; numbers that do confirm that people from all walks of life have had encounters with the supernatural. 

I'd love to hear your stories or experiences and tell you mine if you'd like. 

Let me leave you for now with another line from the Polar Express -

The Conductor: Seeing is believing, but  sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can't see.