The Change I See In Me

I feel really awake and alive in my spirit just now, and I know God is doing something wonderful in my life. I have to give testimony; God is good.
I wanted to share an excerpt from my journal from 6 years ago and another from today, so you can see what I mean. :)


1.12.06
"Where am I? Where is God in all of this? ...I’m scared to death. ...What can I do? How can I salvage my life? I am asking you, the Lord God Almighty, to take my life right now. Make it right. Make me useful. Change me into my real self, into what your plan was all along. Make your plan work through me, because I can’t stand being useless. I can’t stand these feelings of discontent and anger whenever I do anything. ...Change me now. Change me into what I should be, into what you want my to be. ...I want them to marvel at the change that they know you put in me. I know you can change me. I know you have the power to do absolutely anything. So change me. Shine through me, and in my life. Keep my mind on your thoughts. Keep me from being distracted. Bless me. Redo me. Change me into a picture of a daughter of God. Not for me. For you. Please, God. I need your help, and I need it right now. This very minute I need your grace on my life, so that these moments are fleeting glimpses, but so that my life is made up of one huge picture of the real thing. Because God, I sure feel fake right now. ...Be my guide, God. I have no idea where I’m going. Keep your right hand on my shoulder and your left hand over my big mouth."


12.19.10
"I’m simply amazed right now. I feel… the Spirit of the Lord. ...Wow, God, how am I functioning so much in who I am? I don’t even know how that’s happening. ...I feel like my spirit is coming back to life, that it’s waking up. I don’t know why now is the moment, but I feel more alive than I have in a very long time. I feel like I was “sleeping” ...and now I’m coming awake… did I pray for that? I needed it… it’s happening. And I know you know what you’re doing all the time, but I feel like you are quite suddenly answering prayers, and I feel like you don’t do that very often, like often I don’t even see the answers to the prayers, and these are really quick and obvious.

Well, Father, whatever is happening, whatever you’re doing, I pray that it would continue. Father, let your work keep happening in me. Allow me to see you and to know you and to know what you are wanting to do through me, and then allow me to walk that out. Allow me to do what you have planned, your will in my life and in others. Help me to keep realizing who I am and who you are in me and outside of me, and who others are so I can call out that destiny.

Thank you, God, that although you are Almighty, you are also a personal God who will speak to me in the areas of my life that are untouchable or unmeaningful to anyone else. Thank you that you take the time. ...I feel like I’m coming into my identity… It’s something you’ve been working in me for a long time and will continue to work. ...I feel like the world is continuing to turn but I suddenly woke up. Like everything will continue in a mechanical way and I just became a real functioning person. Father, I don’t know what happened, or what will happen tonight or tomorrow or during break, but don’t let me lose the view of you and of me and of others and of life that I have now. I want to just continue to want you more and to want to want you – because I need you and I know it.

Thank you, God. Thank you. You are glorious. You are King of kings and Lord of lords, and you are worthy of all the praise I can give you and all the praise I can’t."

 

I'm happily surprised at how these prayers parallel each other but also how one is a continuance of the other...

Thank you, God, for continuing your work in my life. I know you will work until I am complete. 

Snow Diamonds

Tonight God is sprinkling powdered sugar snow all over the ground. It's sparkly in the air, like tiny diamonds floating and blowing, and when it lands on the ground it covers everything. With every step, it makes a small creaky sound. The silky powder covers everything: face, hair, shoes... and when you go inside it all turns into little tiny shining raindrops that glitter all over. But if you stay outside, if you stand in it and just listen, you hear the sound of God's breath, and nothing else. The whole world is muffled in powdered sugar snow... there's nothing to do but to go out and stand beneath a lamppost, to point your face toward the cascading diamonds, squinting against the air, and just breathe it all in...
The snow is beautiful.
He is awesome.

Thanksgiving or Thanks-taking?

I'm not going to get up on my soapbox and rant, although there's tons I could say, because there are plenty of other people doing that already. I just want to make a quiet suggestion, and I'll be done.
I realize that Thanksgiving is the holiday dedicated to spending time with family and eating food, but I don't think that's what it has to be (and it sure wasn't originally). I think that if only for one year, I would like to spend Thanksgiving fasting and give the food to those who need it. In fact, if I have my way, that will be my family's ongoing tradition someday. After all, how does gluttony show thankfulness? Isn't it shown much more aptly by giving to those in need?
Furthermore, we need to remember that the "thanks" is supposed to go to God, not the grocery stores... he's the best one to give it to.
Just a couple thoughts...

Scarf'd!!

I went to a soccer game the other day, and my team lost. Fret not, though... this story isn't about the game anyway. Actually, I want to tell you about something that happened after the game.
I was walking home with some friends, and it was extremely windy. I had a scarf on, and it was whipping about like mad. I had to actually hold it on to keep it from blowing away. We walked down a long stretch of sidewalk and finally arrived at our destination (eg. the cafeteria). I sat down at a round table in the back and watched my friends eat (out of principle, I eat at my apartment... also, out of budget). Just as they were finishing, I noticed that my scarf was no longer around my neck! I began to do what most people do in a situation like that - I blamed my friends (horrid me). Surely they had taken it. But no, none of them had it. It had simply disappeared. I looked around on the floor, asked an employee or two, and scanned the lawn outside for my missing scarf, but it seemed to have vanished. Quickly I left the cafeteria, hurrying with a friend down the sidewalk back towards the soccer field, following the ground with my eyes. The scarf was nowhere to be seen.
(Now, I must interject here that if there is something I've learned in life it is that nothing lasts forever. Nothing.)
I decided that if I never got my scarf back I would be (1) very sad, and (2) determined to be ok with the fact. I know that I must hold onto my things with an open hand, knowing that they were given and can just as easily be taken away. I thanked God for letting me have the scarf, at least for awhile, and I prayed that if someone had found it, they would enjoy it as much as I had. (Weird course of thinking? Maybe. I kind of like the fact that my mind went that direction, instead of in one of anger.)
After all was said and done, I walked that sidewalk 6 times within the evening and the next morning. A strange thing happened, though. The sixth time I walked down the sidewalk, I found my scarf. It was simply laying there on the ground, fully out in the open. I had passed the spot 5 times since I lost it, and I hadn't seen it, and suddenly (on the sixth time) it was there.
I thanked God with the biggest smile on my face as I picked it up and carried it home, and he told me something. One way that he sees glory come to him is when we are willing to give up the things we have and simply love him, not worrying about what we're losing, but only thinking of what we've gained.

Lookin' for love (but what is it?)

I just realized today why God has allowed me to make some "stupid" decisions where love and romance are concerned. I'm not at all sure how to begin, because there is so much to say - and it may not be as clear on paper as it is in my head - but I'm gonna give it "the old college try". 

I was talking to a friend (her name is Amy) about various encounters I have had with others. I was basically explaining what had happened and why I acted the way I did, and I realized what I was really getting at: I have tried to find love in so many things that the world defines as "love". 

Examples? Ok. So... like... long deep conversations, "reading" each other, holding hands, taking long walks, having fun, going places...

I equated love with these things (and others) and I've always been disappointed, because (1) I get myself into situations in which I feel uncomfortable and (2) I never feel like I find love, I just find confusion and frustration because I don't actually feel like I'm "in love".

So today, as I was talking with Amy, I had a realization... a revelation, if you will (and of course, you will). 

I realized that as I think back on each of those times, God says to me, "So you did that, and you didn't feel "love". What does that say to you?" And of course I'm able to reply, "It says that that is not what love is." And he says, "Precisely."

To put this in a brief manner, He is teaching me what love is, so that when I do get married, when I do meet "the one", I'll know what and what not to expect - and how to love. In fact... I love "him" even now. I don't know him, what he looks like, or his personality, but I want the best for him. I pray for him, I think about him all the time. I miss him when I'm doing ordinary, everyday things, and I can't wait till we can do them together. I ask God to bless him, to give him everything he needs for life and godliness. In these ways, I love him. 

This is true love. Those things that you do when you're in love, well, that's precisely what they are: things that you do when you're in love. You can do them when you're not in love, too, and they shouldn't be mistaken for the real thing. 

I guess I knew this before - at least, I had an inkling - but I never knew how they tied into these silly "mistakes" I've made until today. God is teaching me how to really and truly love.

Thanks for listening. I remain truly yours,

Lindsay

The Truth About... Me.

Hey all,
Unexpected, huh? I haven't posted anything of interest in about a million billion years. I can't promise I'm gonna make up for all that now, either, but I did want to say something, and I wanted to say it publicly. It's sort of a confession and a declaration mixed into one.
Yesterday, I was hanging out with some friends, and I was feeling pretty depressed. They were all playing a game which I really do like, but I was purposely excluding myself because I simply felt like isolating myself. Later, some friends were praying for this girl and talking to her, and I gave her a word, but then I found myself getting really irritated and anxious. I just wanted to walk away from them. Even later, in the evening, I was hanging out with a friend of mine and found myself acting unlike myself, so silly, saying and doing things without thinking them through first. Overall, I had a terrible day yesterday.
At midnight, though, things changed. I met up with Dennis Preston; he was doing caricatures for an event at the college. My roommate and I waited around for our turn, and then sat. And as I sat there, I found I couldn't stop laughing. Like just seeing Dennis reminded me of everything I really am or ever was, and I rejoiced to remember the truth about myself. Then, to top it off, he did a really over-the-top drawing that reveals my personality perfectly.
I so appreciated his willingness to take a risk (that I wouldn't like what he did with the drawing) and be really honest about how he sees me. It was exactly what I needed to see in that moment when I didn't remember who I was. I was being fed lies through an IV yesterday, and he poured truth into the mix. Thanks so much, Dennis.
I always want to remember who I am, but it's not always that easy. Sometimes I give up the things that will remind me (like face-time with my Father) in favor of things that don't really matter. I've been doing that way too often lately, and the mis-prioritization is really messing me up. I need to get that time in, so I can remember who I am... so I don't have more days like yesterday. And I need to continue to maintain relationships with others who remind me of the truth about myself. It's so important.
Thanks for listening. God bless,
Lindsay

The White Horse King: The Life of Alfred the Great

Previous to reading this book, I knew very little about King Alfred the Great. In fact, I may say without exaggeration that I had never even heard the name until I picked up the volume. However, I can now say that I know more about the king than many, and I think that the text has enriched my life in a positive way.

You may be able to tell from these comments that I was somewhat unexcited originally by the prospect of reading this narrative. However, the book is very well written, providing much factual information as well as engaging true stories of Alfred’s life and conquests. The book spans the life of the monarch from a young age up to his death at age 50. It speaks of his goodness towards his friends and his enemies, and of his pious love of God. It tells of the wonders he did for his kingdom of Wessex, both on the political end and the educational end.

The author, Benjamin Merkle, should be applauded for his obvious passion on the subject and for his way of weaving words in an attention-grabbing way. He did a wonderful job, and I would recommend this book to anyone who loves history or the English nation.

(This is a review of The White Horse King by Benjamin Merkle. My review is written as per an agreement with Thomas Nelson, in which I receive a copy of the book in return for my review. If you like the sound of receiving books for free in agreement to post a simple review, please visit www.booksneeze.com and sign up!)

Your Love is a Song

i hear you breathing in
another day begins

the stars are falling out
my dreams are fading now, fading out

i've been keeping my eyes wide open
i've been keeping my eyes wide open

your love is a symphony
all around me
running through me

your love is a melody
underneath me
running to me

your love is a song

the dawn is fire bright
against the city lights

the clouds are glowing now
the moon is blacking out

i've been keeping my mind wide open
i've been keeping my mind wide open

your love is a song

with my eyes wide open
i've got my eyes wide open
i've been keeping my hopes unbroken


-jf.

In and On and Up...

I don't know if you've ever read the last book in C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, and actually, I haven't. However, I've listened to the radio theater version, which is almost as good. Since then, I've been thinking about the ending to the story. I won't elaborate, in case you haven't read it, but at the end Aslan is leading the children and the creatures of Narnia deep into his world. They come to cliffs and caves and obstacles of all kinds, and Aslan is at every moment calling them "inward and onward and upward" into Narnia. They follow, laughing and running. It's somewhat difficult, but they are encouraged by the lion's call.
My mind just keeps running through the parallel between those moments at the end of the story, and our Christian lives. The Father leads us deeper and deeper into his kingdom, calling us in and on and up. It's tough, going up over mountains and through dark places, but we can have joy there, because we get to be close to him, and we get to hear his voice as he calls us to come with him to the high places. As we get deeper in and higher up, we find we can hear his voice more clearly, and see the faces of others around us who are going in the same direction as ourselves. I think this is his plan.
It takes work, though. I couldn't say it's easy; I know it isn't. I've often felt the pain of the knowledge that I've stopped on the path and his voice is getting more and more faint. He doesn't just leave me on the path and continue on, though. He always comes back for me.
Thank you, God. Continue to call me inward, onward, and upward: I'll continue to follow.

A Girl At Every Port

Julian stood on the deck in his bright white uniform,  a matching smile glowing on his face. He waved to the girl on the pier, calling out sweet words and giving full attention to her beautiful face. As the boat moved away from the shore, Julian smiled. One more. She was one more girl to fall under his charms. It was all so perfect, his moving around like this. None would be the wiser, except him.
The girl he left behind was not as fortunate as he. She loved Julian... at least, she thought she did. Now he had left and she didn't know what to do, what to say. She felt the loss dearly, and would have loved to have expressed her feelings to another, but no one would understand. Instead, she simply wept, her beautiful face filled with a deep sadness, her eyes sparkling with the wash of tears. It was too much, simply too much.
If only she had known! If only someone had told her, when she met him, that he did not care for her as it seemed, that he only wanted to add a tally to his list. Then she would have stood a safe distance away as he tried to capture her. She hadn't known, though, and there he was, with his riveting blue eyes... it was too much for her to resist. Now he was gone, and she was left to deal with the aftermath alone. It would be a long and hard road for her courage to climb once again.
He couldn't have cared less. He had taken what he wanted, and was gone forever.

(This isn't an exact narration, only my somewhat exaggerated feelings, about something that happened to me...)

Becoming a One Only

I was walking along a pier at Lake Michigan yesterday as the sun was setting. I had brought a blanket and a book, the water was calm, the sky was gorgeous, and I was alone.
Yes, it sounds like a fantastic opportunity, and yet something was bugging me. It was that last part: the aloneness.
You know, I used to be the type who had to be around other people. Loneliness was my greatest fear. If I spent even a day by myself, I felt like I was going stir crazy. About 3 and a half years ago, that changed, as I began taking jobs where I worked alone. I eventually got used to my own company. After a time, I found that I loved being alone. So much so, in fact, that I would neglect others in order to be with myself. I had successfully swung from one end of the spectrum to the other.
It was only a matter of time before I realized that, as there are problems with neediness, there are problems with independence. I have now come to the point where I feel that I have few close friends, and I have so separated myself from others that I no longer know how to build a healthy relationship. Beyond this, I have become lonely. So lonely. I fear jumping into a friendship because I feel I may go about it the wrong way, and I want to be level-headed about the whole thing, and yet I just want closeness with someone. What a tough feeling. What a hard situation.
The book I was reading on the pier is called "Tales of the Restoration". It is an allegory about the Kingdom. I specifically chose to read a chapter called "Safe Places". In that chapter, there are "Rules of Protection (from the Enemy)", as follows:
1. Whenever you live as a One Only, you are in danger.
2. Whenever the hum of the hatchet (the Word of God) becomes foolishness, you are in danger.
3. When you forget to keep watch for the King, you are in danger.
4. When you begin to keep secrets from your closest friends, when you find that you love darkness more than light, then you are in great danger.
Without going into deep detail as to the rest of these, the first mentions being a "One Only". The story defines this as "one who is often lonely".
I fear I have become a One Only.
I wanted to share these thoughts and feelings with you for a few reasons. First, you may relate. Second, you may have an urging to pray for me. Third, you are my closest friends (as mentioned in Rule 4) and I want you to know. Lastly, Father may give you some encouragement for yourself, others, or me through these words.
Thank you for sticking with me. Thank you for your love. I'm still seeking Him...

A Psalm of Trust (inspired by David)

Walk with me in the darkness, O God.

In the night, when no one comes to my aid

be the one in whom I place my trust.

When I am unsure of where to go,

place yourself before me.

Allow me to see the path that you have laid,

before the foundations of the earth

before you gave me life.

Let me find the place you have created for me.

O Lord, when I am lost,

be a light in the dark places.

Guide my footsteps in your way,

give me assurance for each step.

Lead me, O Lord,

and I will praise your name.

I will lift your name on high.

I will praise you in the darkness,

I will exalt you when I cannot see.

Father of Nations,

you are my father as well.

Grant me knowledge

so that I may know the depths of your heart.

Open my eyes to your works,

so that I may know your plans.

Show me the love that you have for me,

bring me to know the loveliness of your character.

Forgive me, Lord,

for sinning against your heart.

Forgive me for walking in my ways,

and not in yours.

I confess, Father,

that I have not always sought your way.

I have not given myself entirely to your plan.

Forgive me, O God, for the times I have strayed.

Give me your wisdom to walk in your ways,

so that I may do as you ask.

Accept the love offering of my heart, O God.

I have little to give, but what I have I offer you.

I bless your name, Jehovah Jireh,

I trust in your provision.

You are good, as you always have been

and as you always will be.

Praise be to you, O God.

Honor and Glory are yours.

Love defines you;

help me to know your love.

A Difficult Task

I dug a deep grave.

It was actually kind of strange, because at first I wasn't going to bury her at all. I wanted to keep her. Is that weird?

It's just that she had kept me company for so long, attracting compliments from friends and family, making life interesting, and I had never been without her. For a while, in my formative years, I had kept her hidden, afraid that she would be mocked or injured. I wanted to save her, but my over-protectiveness sort of ruined her. Then, when I was a little more confident in her positive qualities, I let everyone see her. They were excited for me, and glad to be let in on the secret, but I knew her too well. She was just putting on a show. I hated her for putting on that plastic shell, but I couldn't figure out how to take it off. So I just let her parade around, making a fool of herself. I couldn't stop her.

Some time passed until I found a solution to the problem. Television. I could distract her with the TV, and then she didn't have time to go out and make an idiot of herself on the streets. Every day, I let her just soak in hours of television. She was losing all sense of herself, which was wonderful, because she had nothing to show off anymore. No one looked for her, either. They just figured she was with me, and I had the situation under control.

Something happened, though, during all that time she spent in front of the TV. She started to get sick.

What was I supposed to do? I couldn't stop her from watching her favorite shows, because she would go back to strutting her (fake) stuff for the world to see. Besides, she was addicted, and I didn't want to see what would happen. So I let her sit there. Call me irresponsible, call me what you will, but I felt it was my only choice.

One day, I went in to check on her, and I was startled to find her slumped in her chair. I ran to her, checked her pulse, shook her fearfully... she was dead. DEAD.

I can't say I was completely surprised. After all, she had been looking pretty pallid and sickly lately. I couldn't help feeling, though, that it was my fault. I probably should have taken drastic measures. I probably should have thrown the television out the window and made her go outside, even if she did go through withdrawals. But I didn't, and indubitably, I had killed her.

What do you think I did then? If you think I buried her, you prove yourself sane, and me the opposite. For I didn't dig the grave then, I didn't put her in the ground until much later. I couldn't bear to part with her. It's sick, I know. I have to admit it, though. I have to tell you. I carried her around with me. I used her. I flaunted her to my friends and family.

Unfortunately, even those closest to me were completely disgusted and refused to interact with me. They began to ignore me. I was frustrated, but I wouldn't give her up. She was all I had... my only friend. I actually stayed up at night talking to her, just waiting for a response. I left the TV on all the time, hoping that she would somehow be revived by her favorite drug. Nothing worked. She was completely, utterly, hopelessly dead.

Finally, one rainy day, I could no longer stand the smell. She was beginning to disgust even me. I had to get rid of her.

That night, at approximately 11:30pm, I found myself in the garage, looking for a box and a shovel. I made sure the night was moonless; I didn't want the neighbors to see. Carefully, I dug a deep hole. It was deeper than necessary. Actually, I couldn't stop digging. I kept envisioning the thing coming up out of it's hole and giving away my secret. I dug and dug, until I was startled to see light beginning to break the horizon. Hurriedly, I climbed up and out. I grabbed the box and ran inside. She was lying there on the floor, and she looked horrible. How could I have waited so long to do this? Eager to see her gone, I threw her in the box with no ceremony whatsoever. I actually used duct tape to close the lid. She would never know.

I ran out the door and over to the hole. Suddenly, I was in a mad rush. The sun was rising and it would only be a matter of minutes before my actions would be known. I threw the box in the hole and began to shove the dirt in after it. I was on my hands and knees, filling in that hole as if my life depended on it.

Then, sooner than I thought, the deed was done. She was gone. The ordeal was over. I had successfully killed and buried my character.

A strange story, to say the least. What does it mean, you ask? You may even be laughing, thinking, "Wow, the wool was sure pulled on that one." Would it shock you if I told you that it was a true story?

Yes, it's true. Maybe a bit exaggerated, but that's what happened. I killed my character - my beliefs, my values, my skills - with a television, and then I buried it to hide it's hideousness from myself and my friends. People still ask about it, though. They want to know where it went. Sometimes I ignore their question, and sometimes I just do my best imitation, hoping they'll fall for it. Unfortunately, it usually works. They believe me.

Until yesterday, I didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure how to function without my character; like I said, it's been a constant companion almost all my life.

But then... yesterday. Yesterday I found out that a character - even one that has died from neglect - has the capability for resurrection. In fact, that's just what God has in mind for mine. When I think back on it, God was the one who kept telling me to turn off the television and let Him do his best surgery on my character. Now that I've killed it, I find Him calling me constantly, trying to get a hold of me. He's been leaving message after message, telling me, "It can be saved! Don't give up hope!"

Yesterday, I finally gave God a call back, and He prescribed some extreme measures. Basically, I need to turn off the television (apparently it is doing exactly the opposite as I hoped) and abandon mindless entertainment. He tells me that those are the things that put my character12 feet under. Along with that, I am supposed to begin to water the ground containing my character. I am supposed to read scripture to it, pray over it, and give it room to grow again.

He promises, if I do all these things, I'll find myself almost as I used to be. In fact, better than I used to be. A better version of myself, with character intact. I'm pretty excited about this new experiment. He claims that the prescription really works, and I guess we'll see...

2150_The Bridge

Some of you may know that I drafted a second novel this past November. The book is science fiction, predicting the state of our world in the year 2150. I haven't yet started revisions, partly because I've been busy, and partly because I'm afraid of what it's going to look like. However, I believe that "The Bridge" turned out quite a bit better than my first novel "Kingdom Quest". I am considering actually readying this novel for eventual publication.

No one has read any of the book yet (except for me), but I've decided to post portions of it here. Let me know what you think. If there are any particular criticisms or comments, feel free to post them or to contact me some other way and let me know. I appreciate your attention.

Chapter 1

“And if you’ll look right over here, you’ll see some of our new concepts for water. We’ve created a few different chemical fusions, some of which might be more satisfying and less expensive than our current H2O…” The tour guide moved on, carefully pointing out and explaining a few points he had written on a 3x5 card in his hand. “This here,” he said, looking up at Warren, “is our beeeeeeep……..beeeeeeeep……beeeeeeeep…”

Warren sat up in bed in a cold sweat. The nightmares had been coming more and more frequently lately. They were becoming more and more realistic, too, and just a little too close to home for him. Trying to clear his mind, he pushed the small round button on the wall to start the espresso maker in the kitchen, and then dropped his feet over the edge of the bed, sliding them into his well-placed slippers.

This morning was one that Warren had been looking forward to for weeks. The Bridge was almost finished, and today was one of the final days of work before its grand opening. Warren had spent almost all of his adult life working on the Bridge, like his father before him. It was called “the grand accomplishment of the age” by every news station and politician in the world. That was sort of funny, Warren thought, because originally the idea had been met with a lot of alarm and opposition. It seemed that most of the population had now warmed to the idea, however.

After breakfast, Warren quickly finished getting dressed, ran a comb through his thick brown hair, and hurried to the tunnel. He didn’t want to miss anything by being late. As he lay down in the tube and shot underground, his ears were met with the calm and welcoming music of some of the 22^nd century’s best artists: Barton, Farendale, Wendelstein. Most of the population had come to adopt these composers as part of their daily life, spending a little time each day with them as their music echoed through each family’s tunnel. Of course, there was also the option of turning on the news during the morning route, but few listened to that stuff anymore. It seemed to be all bad, and who wanted to go around with a frown on his face while the world was such an exciting place to live?

It was hard to remember a day when the Bridge had not loomed over the earth, hiding such a vast amount of terra in shadow. The shadow was a necessary evil, but was combated by the Nu-Sun lights that had been installed on the underside of the superlevel. The original idea for the Bridge belonged to an inventor who was born in the late part of the 21^st century. He escaped narrowly the government’s attempts at depopulating portions of the earth in order to allow the natural resources of the earth to replenish themselves. This inventor was of the old Chinese gene, one which had long been eradicated, although some small traces of the populace still existed. Old China was where the building of the Bridge had begun. It had started as a way to create room for more forests and large vegetative gardens, and had eventually become what Warren now saw before him: A whole new layer of world, a superstructure that loomed high above his head, blocking his view of a gray sky above.

The Bridge provided almost an entire earth to populate once again, and even larger than before. Its weight was not a problem either, for it was composed of a lightweight but amazingly strong metal called graphene, which had been proven to be about 200 times stronger than steel. The weight that was added was balanced out by the dirt that had been removed to make room for the tunnels. That dirt was put into the storage cells that floated nearby the space station. It would be used to surface the Bridge, to provide a way for the new plants and trees to grow.

Now that overpopulation was no longer a worry, the world government had turned its attention to bringing to the earth a peaceful unity yet unknown to man. Many attempts had been made to achieve unity in the past, through treaties and truces that never seemed to hold. War after war had taken place, until the earth was ravaged and hopeless. However, the new government had ideas, radical ideas, to raise up a new race of one mind and body, similar to Hitler’s attempts with the Arian race in the 1940’s. That was ancient history by now, and many had forgotten the sad end to that attempt. A great portion of the world was now behind the government, and no one was for their plan as much as Warren was.

As he arrived at one of the last few building sites, Warren donned his helmet and zipped his jacket. The steady breeze was refreshing at first, but Warren had the experience to know that it would soon turn cold, chapping his lips and cramping his muscles. One of the main problems that was now being discovered about the Bridge was that it blocked much of the sun’s heat, and so led to cold summers, even colder winters, and deficits in vitamin D and in energy. The Nu-Suns had helped some with this problem, but they still didn’t quite make up for what was lost. Short sleeves were no longer worn on the bottom level. Sandals were a thing of the past.

As he flipped the switch on his welding torch, the Nu-Sun light high over Warren’s head flickered. He saw the flash out of the corner of his eye, and a look of horror crossed his face. Blackouts were rare in this area, a section of old-europe that used to house the largest power grid on earth. Such a setback could be disasterous. Warren called down to the nearest captain. “Sir!” he yelled, “We have a problem here! It looks as if the power is…”

“I’m on it, Freud! Get back to work!”

It would be Bradley, Warren thought. He cared little for anyone but himself, and he was the only captain who had adopted the rookie’s nickname. What a frustration. Against his better judgment, Warren got back to welding. He knew that his responsibility was simply to alert a captain to any irregularities at the building site, and that he had already done that. However, he also knew that Bradley wouldn’t hesitate to blame him if something went wrong. There was nothing that could be done, though. He couldn’t afford to stop working and risk losing this job. It was his livelihood, the only thing he had ever been trained for. He had often wondered what would happen when the Bridge was complete. Would he be out in the cold?

Suddenly, it happened. Darkness flooded over Warren, and a cold wind blew over his face. Lights could be seen in the distance, the closest being about a quarter-mile away. Warren heard shouts coming from above and beneath him, as men and women cried out frustrations from their respective positions. There was little any of them could do, as all of the torches, tools, and scaffolds ran on electricity. Warren himself sighed and sat down on his portion of the scaffold, resting his still-warm torch next to him. He listened to two of the workers on the scaffold to the left of him as they continued a conversation they had obviously been engaged in while working. They were talking in whispers, and that fact alone piqued his interest.

“Did you ask him what he thought about you working down here?” a male voice quietly inquired, “Did he give you any suggestions?”

“No,” a woman replied, in a harsh and urgent whisper. “It’s so quiet now. We should continue this conversation later.”

In the semi-darkness, Warren saw the man lift his hand. “Look around. No one is near enough to hear. Let me know what’s happening.” Warren had a sudden urge to duck, to lay down on the scaffolding and out of sight, so that he could continue to listen to the conversation in secrecy, and so that he wouldn’t embarrass the man and woman when they suddenly realized that he could hear every word they said. Before he moved, however, the woman spoke again.

“There’s really very little to tell. He told me to continue work, and simply live it out. He didn’t want me telling anyone or explaining why I do what I do, but just to keep doing it. Probably the same thing he’s told you. The same as he’s told all of us. Anyway, why are you asking? Didn’t you have the exact conversation with him that I did, and just a week before? Why are you asking me?” There was a long pause. Warren dared only breath quietly. He listened for the man’s reply. When it came, he was shocked to hear a break in the voice. As if the man was… crying.

Review of The Sweet By and By

This book introduces a plot variation that I haven't seen before. I enjoyed the way the book was written, and the theme held my attention. I had a hard time "getting into" the story, simply because it seemed as if it was written for a younger set. However, it caught my attention, the characters were full, and the story kept it's momentum.

I also enjoyed the way that truth was integrated into the story. It was very encouraging to read a story with such a redemptive theme.

The Sweet By and By was an enjoyable read, and I would recommend it to anyone who wants a light but interesting read.