Before the words “Anti Semite” were used to refer to just the Jews, it had other origins. Originally, a Semite was a descendant of Shem, one of three sons of Noah. This is significant, because technically, both Ishmael (father of the 12 Arab nations), and Jacob (also called Israel, father of the 12 Tribes of Israel), are Semites. All of Shem’s descendants are Semite, including Abraham. Both the Jews and the Arabs call Abraham their father.

I find that to be very ironic. Semites that hate Semites.

Moses, 7:33 -  “And unto thy brethren have I said, and also given commandment, that they should love one another, and that they should choose me, their Father; but behold, they are without affection, and they hate their own blood;”

At the time of Enoch, the Lord said that the children of men hated their own blood . . . or their own families. This was before the flood. This is one of the reasons for that cleansing of the earth by water. The next time will be by fire.

Consider this latter-day prophecy: “And the love of men shall wax cold, and iniquity shall abound.” – Doctrine and Covenants, 45:27

Is there any doubt that we live in a day when love is dying, and becoming cold?

Who are these whom we should love? The 12 Tribes of Israel have been scattered across the earth. Many of the nations of Europe and Asia and Africa have had the blood of these tribes intermingled with their own. So, in a very real sense, this means that most of us share some common ancestry with Shem. We are family. If you are not Mormon, this may not make a lot of sense to you . . . but I know from what tribe most of my ancestry comes from. I am of the House of Ephraim, the tribe of Joseph. Perhaps it seems a bit strange for me to make such a claim. I understand. Maybe we can talk about genealogy and Patriarchal Blessings at another time.

So . . . what does this all mean to me?

I have a deep sense of kinship with my Jewish brothers and sisters. It disgusts me that there seems to be a growing feeling of Anti-Semitism in the world. Didn’t we say, soon after World War II, that we would never let such an abominable desolation of a people happen again? Have we forgotten so soon? I wasn’t born until 20 years after the war. And yet, I feel like I am a part of the outcome of that great conflict because the memories of images and stories from that time period horrify me. I feel like I was there. Perhaps I was . . . perhaps I watched over my grandparents during those difficult years, helping them to be safe so that I might get my turn on earth.

Why do I feel such a strong bond with the Jews? I can’t even explain it. It’s as strong as anything I feel for my own flesh and blood. I have an almost overpowering desire to join with them in their fight for peace and freedom from oppression. When I hear Benjamin Netanyahu speak, it thrills my soul to hear him defend his people and his country. Maybe it’s because the Mormons, as a people, were treated almost as poorly as the Jews. Harassed, driven from state to state, even murdered. Not to the extent of the Holocaust, but very disturbing, nonetheless.

Semites . . . yes, even the Arab peoples are my brothers. I wish no harm for them. But when you are part of a family, you have got to act like part of the family. And if you decide that you don’t want to be family anymore . . .

Like an older brother on the playground, I am seeing my little brother take some pretty serious abuse by the bullies who hate him. And that gets my blood boiling. It makes me want to fight. You mess with my family, you mess with me.

We have got to STOP this growing feeling of Anti-Semitism in the world. Stand up for Israel. Stand up for the Jews. They are our brothers.

Won’t you join me?

* * *

If this post makes sense to you, share it with a friend. Perhaps they would like to understand why they feel a kinship with Israel.

I may yet get an agent for a future project. I may yet find a national audience for the things I write.

But if I do, they are going to have to take me as I am.

I like to write RELIGIOUS fiction. I like to talk about my beliefs on this blog. I like to talk occasionally about politics.

Will that keep me from getting a national contract? Maybe. Maybe not.

But this much I know: There is a fire growing within me. A desire to express the way I feel about world conditions, about my faith, and about things which are important to me as a Christian. And I don’t think I can pull punches anymore. I have been too quiet. Perhaps I have been too afraid of what I might say, and that my words my close doors of financial opportunity to me somewhere down the road.

Maybe that is true. But you know, I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about the prospects of money and fame. I DO care about a great many other things, however. I care about who I am.

Who am I?

I am a believer in Jesus Christ as the Son of God, the Messiah, the Redeemer, and our Advocate with the Eternal Father. I am Christian.

I am also a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I am a Mormon. I hope that I am never, ever labeled as one of those wishy-washy, can’t-make-up-his-mind Mormons like Jon Huntsman Junior. I don’t understand why he can’t seem to answer the question in an un-equivocal way. Either he is Mormon, or he ain’t. Step up to the plate, buddy.

I am very conservative–politically, and in my religious and moral beliefs. I believe the Second Amendment is my personal right to bear arms and defend my family. I believe in the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman. I believe in the rights of religious freedom, and freedom of speech.

I believe in people taking responsibility for their actions. I don’t believe that freedom of speech gives a person the right to injure other people.

I believe in being trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent. Yes, I am an Eagle Scout. I earned that award, the “On My Honor” award, and the “Duty to God” award. I believe that program helped me to become the man I am today.

I fully support our troops. I am patriotic. I am forever grateful for the sacrifice of those who gave their all so that I might enjoy the freedoms which I have.

I love my family. They are dear to me, and the greatest treasure I have now and in the eternities.

That is who I am. Or at least, who I strive to be. I hope that I may continue to strive for that excellence.

And if there are readers out there who think it’s not appropriate to be so direct about beliefs and politics and such on a writer’s blog, all I can say is that I respectfully disagree with you. I want the world to get the same ME, whether online, or in person. God gave me the gifts which I have. I suspect that He has not raised me up to be ME so that I can hide in a corner, afraid of what people might think if I open my mouth and share what I believe. If you read my writings–short-stories or novel–you are going to see these beliefs come out in the words on the page. I can’t help it. And in fact, I think you can tell a lot about a person by reading what they write.

Around here, you’re going to get the real me. It’s who I am. I hope that means we can still be friends.

An angel came to comfort and strengthen Him.

Several times, Jesus rose and checked on His friends, then returned to the trees. In the daytime, a nearby olive press would bruise and crush fruit until oil would run into collection vats. Here, He too was crushed and pressed. Blood ran freely. Exhausted, He stood and received the men who would deliver Him to wrathful scorn, spitting, and the lash.

“Behold the man!” shouted Pilate as He stood before a crowd. The mob jeered. The mob demanded His death. “Crucify him!” they yelled. Pilate gave the order. Another burden was thrust upon Christ’s back, and He stumbled as he struggled to carry it.

Perhaps, like in the movie Ben-Hur, there was a man who rushed forward in an attempt to bring Him water. Perhaps as their eyes met, a stubborn heart was healed. Perhaps there were many hearts forever changed on that day. Whether there really was a man bringing water or not, my heart was touched by the scene. It brings tears to my eyes every time I see it.

I deserve nothing. I am a beggar. And yet, Christ has brought me water. I have tasted it. I have been refreshed. And like Judah Ben-Hur, my family has been blessed.

I am grateful for religious liberty. I am grateful that I have the right to believe these things, and to talk about them openly. I am grateful for the way the scriptural accounts make me feel when I read them. I am grateful for those who love freedom and defend the right to worship as the heart dictates, whether they be Christian, or Muslim, or Jew.

May religious liberty be protected. May the good people of the world, no matter what their faith or belief system, stand together to stop oppressive governments and leaders who would take away these freedoms. I stand with you. My wish for you is peace and prosperity, and love in your homes. May we all retain those rights if we have them, and if not, may we gain them.

For my Christian brothers and sisters: Have a blessed Easter weekend. May you never forget: The tomb is empty. He Lives!

I saw several comments where people said they thought the Narnia stories were nice at first, but then they found out that Aslan was a type and symbol for Jesus Christ, and it made them angry. One person stated that they wanted to throw The Voyage of The Dawn Treader across the room when they realized and understood the connection.

Here is my beef with that. First, I am Christian. I am a firm believer in Jesus Christ as the Redeemer of mankind. And you know what? So was Clive Staples Lewis. I don’t know all of the details of his conversion to Christianity, but suffice it to say that he had publicly declared himself to be an atheist as a young man, and then things started to change in his life. He had some really good friends who were believers. When he decided for himself that he truly was a believer in Christ, he went on to pen works such as Mere Christianity (an apologetic work, defending the Christian faith), The Screwtape Letters (a satire based on conversations between devils who are trying to cause the fall of a man), Miracles, The Great Divorce, and many more.

These are all Christian works. In fact, MOST of his books are deeply religious.

The Chronicles of Narnia series is no different.

We can debate all day long over whether the movie should have included Aslan’s statement to Lucy or not. Let me quote it here: “But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Debate if you wish, but those words are in the book! I don’t have the movie script to compare, but I’ll bet they are nearly verbatim. They are Clive’s words. Those words made C.S. Lewis who he was.

Maybe you wish those words had not been spoken in the movie? As for myself, I was quite pleased with the portrayal of Aslan. In fact, the movie could have been even more Christian . . . in the book, Aslan first appears as a lamb, on the beach, by a fire, where fish are roasting to feed the hungry children. Jesus Christ did the same for his disciples in John chapter 21, verse 9, not long after his resurrection. I think the imagery is wonderful.

Perhaps you are offended by that. You certainly have a right to be offended if you choose to be. But know this: You can’t go blaming C.S. Lewis for sneaking up on you and tricking you with a taste of Christianity. C.S. Lewis was no sneak. He was VERY open about being Christian. In fact, Mere Christianity started out as a BBC Radio series during World War II. If there is fault to be assigned for your being caught off-guard, it has to lie with you, even if it is merely ignorance on your part for not knowing what kind of a writer he was.

Let me suggest something which makes this really easy: if Christianity offends you because you are atheist, or Buddhist, or Muslim, or whatever . . . don’t get angry. Just don’t bother reading any of his books, or seeing the movies based on them. Why? Because they are very CHRISTIAN.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Before I forget . . . one more warning: Don’t read my books either. I don’t think you’ll like them.

After a story hooks the reader well enough that they turn the page, it is the plot and the characters that keep them reading. As the protagonist progresses through the story, the reader is expecting something: The hero must win. If nothing else, the hero must learn something and become a better person because of it.

There is a writing technique for plot development called The Hero’s Journey. You can read about the basics of this using this technique in your writing here at Jordan McCollum’s blog. An ordinary world, a call to adventure, reluctance to accept the call, mentors, tests and trials, setbacks, etc. are all part of the journey. In the end, the Hero must succeed.

Today is Sunday. For me, a day of personal reflection and worship. A day when I take the family to church, partake of the Sacrament, learn, serve, and spend time with family. And right now I wonder if I am in the belly of the whale, or in the cave facing my darkest demons. Or, it may just be a bump in the road. My friends would most certainly call it a mid-life crisis. But a mid-life crisis which has lasted two years? Or has it been five years? Am I at the point of transformation?

Do you ever wonder if you will be the hero? I wonder about myself. Where am I on the Hero’s Journey? Am I on the right track?

Make no mistake, I consider myself very, very blessed. I have had fantastic opportunities in my life. I have a wonderful family. I love my wife, my kids, my grand-daughter, my parents, grand-parents… all of my family. I live in a nice home. I have a job (there are MANY who don’t have that right now). I have food to eat, clothes to wear. And yet…I struggle.

I struggle because I want to be the hero.

There is a fire that burns within me. It makes me wish for a successful journey–to protect my family, to slay the dragon, to return with the magic elixir of life. To conquer. To receive Atonement.

I am so glad it is Sunday.

As you go through this week, think about your own Hero’s Journey. Where are you on the path? Will you come off conqueror?

What will be your story?

I have been so busy for the past few months in preparation for my book release that I have nearly forgotten why I feel compelled to write. As I was doing some site maintenance this evening, I came across a recent comment from one of my blog followers. I hope she doesn’t mind me bringing attention to her comment, but Krista said: “Angel’s Song gave me chills”. That statement really grabbed me.

I had just recently finished editing that story with my editor at Valor, Tristi Pinkston, and so the mechanics of it were still in my mind. Why did the story affect Krista that way? I wondered.

So I went to my website page to were it is, and I read it. This time for enjoyment. Funny thing–it gave me chills too. Why? Because it is an extension of my own testimony or witness of Christ. The feelings which I felt and wanted to convey when I wrote the story, flooded back to me.

I know that Christ lives! There is no doubt in my mind that He, under His Father’s direction, created this Earth and the universe in which we find ourselves. He is my King. He is my Savior. As a hen which gathers and protects her chicks under her wings, He loves me, and He loves you.

For all of the self-important biblical “scholars” out there, those few who deny His divinity, who claim that the Bible is merely a historical document full of fable telling of men who are long since dead, and also for all the others who deny the very existence of God because they have forgotten what it feels like to hear His voice in their hearts . . . I say to you: You are wrong. Christ lives. He paid the debt of the Fall, and performed an eternal, infinite, Atonement. He took up His body, now glorified and perfected beyond all description, never to lay it down again.

If you no longer feel His comforting presence in your lives, it is not because God is dead. It is because YOU left HIM. But His arms are stretched out still, and He calls to you to come back into His fold.

Is there any wonder why children easily believe? Coming from the presence of God into this life, they are not yet too far removed from that prior existence to forget. It is the youth and the adults of the world who crush that innate belief. Through sin and disobedience and denial, they smother the very lights of heaven which had previously touched their souls.

I believe in Christ. I trust Him. He always keeps His promises. As the God of the Old Testament, even the Great Jehovah, Christ has always cared for Israel, His children. He has said that His children, those who He calls the children of Israel, are those who are willing to covenant with Him. His children are those who believe and keep His commandments. It really is that simple. Have you forgotten what His influence feels like? Then test Him. Believe. Follow. Try to keep His commandments. Then you will once again feel His influence in your life.

This is why I write what I do. It is because I believe.

I know who my readership and audience will be. My books . . . my stories . . . are written from my heart. They are a written witness to what I believe in my heart, even down to the depths of my soul. I hope that they will touch the hearts of many, especially the youth of this world, who are desperate for clean, uplifting stories which can help them to know who they are, why they are here, and where they are going.

This is why I write.

Thanks be to the Lord for His grace and His love for me, and for the talents He has blessed me with. May I always be worthy of His help in this fantastic journey.

Have you ever heard somebody say, “If God truly existed, he wouldn’t allow people to suffer”? Many times, this sentiment is expressed by those who have tasted of suffering in their life. Losing a loved one, living through extreme hardship, or experiencing severe disappointment has made them feel abandoned, or even punished. They have wondered, “WHY?”

They ask: Why do people suffer? What good does it do anyway? How can God allow it? Is he not merciful? If he truly loved us, wouldn’t he help?

They are desperate pleas. The sufferings we feel are sometimes so exquisite that we see nothing but the pain. And sometimes that pain makes us bitter. We even begin to think that our lot in life cannot be expressed in words, because surely, we are the only ones to have ever experienced such a tragedy.

From the New Testament, 1 Peter 4:12 — “Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you.”

Every. Single. Person… WILL EXPERIENCE SUFFERING in this life. I have. You have. If we haven’t yet, we will. The types of suffering may be different. But we will all experience it.

Is there a reason for the suffering? Is it because God doesn’t love us? Is it because we are being punished? As human beings we need things to make sense. We need answers.

There has been a huge outcry recently about statements made by the TV Evangelist, Pat Robertson. He claimed on his show, The 700 Club, that the horrible earthquake in Haiti was because of a pact with the Devil, and is just one more example of a curse upon that land. Shepard Smith of Fox News called him out on it. I agree with Shepard.

Other folks looking for answers to the destruction have cited the extreme corruption in the Haitian government, reminding us that much of the aid in past days never made it to the citizens who needed it because of their greed.

Perhaps, then, we can say at least they deserved it? Certainly they were the wicked people who lost their lives in the earthquake. But what of the innocents who lost their lives? Are there survivors who suffer now through no fault of their own?

Let me take you somewhere else for a moment. Fast forward to events predicted by The Revelation of Saint John in the New Testament.

Revelation 8:18 “By these three was the third part of men killed…”

There are plenty of bible scholars who say that this means 1/3 of the entire population of earth. Calculated loosely, that is more than 2 billion souls. How big is the number 2 billion? That is 10,000 times more than the number of people who died in the horrible 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami. More than 230,000 perished. With current totals and predictions by at least one news outlet, the death toll for the earthquake in Haiti could almost match it.

I am not trying to diminish the heart breaking tragedy of Haiti. Or the tsunami of 2004. I am trying to make a point about sheer numbers. Can you even imagine having a global disaster where 1/3 of the earth’s population is destroyed? It is terrible and frightening.

Tell me: What will be the state of mind for many people on the day in which that particular massive destruction takes place? Will God cease to exist for those who survive? Will there be those who will finally give up, saying, “God is dead, otherwise this would not have happened“?

Will all of those who die deserve it because they are counted among the wicked? What about the innocents? Will they all be spared?

I want to share my own personal belief with you on these matters. Whereas I am sure there were those who were in no way prepared to meet their God on Tuesday, January 12th, there were also many, many people who were blessed by that reunion. God loves His children. The poor who have struggled, the hungry, the oppressed–all have found rest in His arms. Even the most wicked men and women–those who were not following His commandments–experienced a taste of mercy by leaving this difficult existence, if nothing else by being prevented from sinning further.

As time goes on, there will be further tragedies. Both the wicked and the righteous will suffer in them. Why? Because God wants our hearts. He also wants us to be prepared for whatever may come. If we are obedient, and we love the Lord, does it really matter if we are called home to our Heavenly Father?

What matters is what we have become.

1 Peter 4:19 – Wherefore let them that suffer according to the will of God commit the keeping of their souls to him in well doing, as unto a faithful Creator.

Let us become like Christ. Like Him, let us aid the poor. Let us love our fellowman. Let us also repent of all our uncleanness. Then let us worship our God, and never turn our back on him, even in those times when we don’t readily see His loving hand directing our lives.

And then, if we are taken, we will still find ourselves in the loving embrace of a Father who will say: “Welcome home. Well done, thou good and faithful servant.”

That is the type of homecoming which I look forward to. May I live in such a way that I will be counted among those worthy of such a heavenly reception.

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If you would like to donate to a charity in which 100% of the funds are used for aid to the people of Haiti (not a cent is used for administration or proselyting), please consider donating to the LDS Church Humanitarian Relief Efforts fund.

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Photo courtesy of Logan Abassi, posted on Wikipedia, (Creative Commons license)

I feel those same feelings of hope and joy at Christmas time. For me, Christmas is a time of miracles.

One of those miracles occurred in my own heart, many years ago as a youth when I saw the short movie, “Mr. Krueger’s Christmas” with James Stewart and The Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Scenes of the season, snow, shoppers, giving, music–I remember them all. I also remember feelings of sorrow for this kindly old man who kept being ignored. And then feelings of joy when he found friends.

Most of all I remember the feelings I had at the manger scene. Tears welled up in my own eyes as Mr. Krueger thanked the Babe of Bethlehem for all of his blessings, especially for the comfort he felt at the time he lost his dear wife Martha. My favorite line, “I’m Willie Krueger . . .  but you know that.”

I knew. I knew for myself that Christ knew me by name, and had also blessed me. And I loved Him. I longed to be there in that cave with Mr. Krueger so that I could give my own thanks.

To me, that is Christmas. A time of miracles when hearts are touched, as mine was.

For those who have never seen it, or those of you who have forgotten what it was about, I share it with you here. Merry Christmas!

It is a national holiday, one which finds its roots in the hopes and desires of men and women willing to sacrifice all, even what very, very little they had, in order to come to a free land so that they might live out their dreams. They dreamed to be free from oppressive government, to be free to worship according to the dictates of their own conscience, and to own property so that they might have the freedom to live in peace.

This is how the great United States of America started. Explorers came. Then the oppressed followed. I believe with all my heart that they were brought here by the hand of an Almighty God who loved them. That truth was brought home to me as I watched a special on the history channel yesterday about the Mayflower. They were preserved and protected.

As I contemplate who these people were and what they did, I realize that they were not perfect. Some of them did not treat the native peoples as they should have. But many did. Many tried to live in peace with the American Indians. In the 1800′s, the Mormons did. And they were not the only ones who tried.

I know that this land is preserved by the hand of God for His own purposes. I know that if we serve Him according to the commandments which he has given us, it will always remain a land of liberty to those who are here. It will never be brought into captivity.

But this I also know: It is our duty to remain faithful to God and his commandments. Contrary to what Barack Obama might say, this nation IS a Judeo-Christian nation. It was founded on Judeo-Christian principles. The founding fathers were believing men. They leaned on the power of God to preserve them.

I was thoroughly impressed by President Lincoln’s Thanksgiving Proclamation read by Glenn Beck yesterday. The full text can be found here:

Thanksgiving Proclamation – Abraham Lincoln

I wonder, when was the last time as a nation that we prayed to God, in “humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience” as Lincoln said? This nation has gone far astray from the pure fount from which our roots drew strength and nourishment when it was young.

It is my prayer, a prayer of thanksgiving and gratitude for the great privileges which I personally enjoy, that this nation will be preserved because of the efforts, even the very lives, lived by the righteous among us. Let us not be like Sodom which would have been spared had there been but ten righteous found. Let our voices be heard among the people. Let our voices reach the heavens in supplication for mercy. And may we always be thankful–grateful for the men and women who gave all so that this nation would be born during days of revolution, unified during days of civil war, and protected during days of world wars.

God Bless America!

Happy Thanksgiving