It was a simple enough assignment. Read a newly released book and write a review on my blog.  I’m a guy, and the book is “Women’s fiction.” No problem. Although there may be some men who aren’t secure enough in their manhood to swim in the estrogen pool, I can handle it. After all, I’m writing a romance novel, and the primary target for that genre is women.

There’s just one thing I didn’t consider. I never expected “Mom Lit” like Renovating Becky Miller to actually “speak to me.” I didn’t anticipate the possibility that God could use Women’s Fiction to minister to man–but He most certainly did.

You see, I know Becky Miller. I understand her. If I were a woman, I could be Becky Miller. She’s a “fixer.” If you met her in a supermarket checkout line and told her that you were an alien from another galaxy looking for parts to fix your spaceship, Becky Miller would feel obligated to find the needed parts, fix your spaceship, and send you on your way with a couple of sandwiches for the road. Becky Miller is a dreamer. She’s convinced that once she gets past her crisis of the moment everything in her life will be storybook perfect. Becky also doesn’t know how to say “no” without feeling guilty. She raises living in overload to an art form–and I know “living in overload.” She’s also highly skilled in the art of denial, an important life skill for someone who wants to take an already overcrowded, over committed life and add on doing major renovations to an old, run-down farm house.  

In other words, If I lived in Minnesota, Becky Miller and I could be in the same twelve-step group.

One of the greatest challenges for a novelist is creating characters that are not just believable, but are so believable that they come alive and stay with the reader after the book has been closed. Sharon Hinck has done a masterful job of creating living, breathing characters in the pages of Renovating Becky Miller. I found myself wanting to fix Becky and all of her equally (but differently) flawed friends and family.  I heard God speaking to me about my overcommitted life at the same time that he spoke to Becky about hers. God even pointed out to me ever-so-gently that He really doesn’t need me (or Becky Miller) to accomplish His work, and the earth will not fall out of its orbit if I slow down once in a while and say “no” when I need to say it. I even set a few tears free during the last chapter–but then again, I also have been known to weep during Hallmark commercials.

Whether you are male or female, Renovating Becky Miller is a great read, and if you’re a compulsive “fixer” who can’t say no, Renovating Becky Miller  is an absolute must read book. I highly recommend that you click here and pick up a copy today.

D.

“There are no new ideas, just new presentations.”

I’ve heard that phrase a lot lately. I heard it several times at the writers conference I attended in May. I’ve read it in a couple of books about writing. I’ve heard it from people who I admire and respect, and who have far more impressive publishing credentials than mine. They are the authorities, the experts, the movers and shakers of the Christian publishing business - and they insist that there are no new ideas, just new ways of expressing the same old stuff.

 With all due respect, I must humbly respond: “BALONEY.”

I just can’t buy it. there must be some new ideas out here. How could it be possible that all the new ideas are gone? The more I contemplate the statement, the more arrogant it seems. To say that there are “no new ideas” is to say that the God of the Universe — the Creator of Creativity — has reached His creative limits and can no longer inspire us with truly new ideas. It’s like turning off the lights and blaming God because the room is dark. He didn’t turn out the lights, you did. “There are no new ideas” is a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you assume that there are no new ideas, you won’t be looking for new ideas. Even if one slaps you in the face you won’t see it.

Lord, please give me a truly new idea, not some recycled thought picked up from someone else. Create in me a new idea, oh God, and energize Your creative spirit within me. Amen, and Thank You.

D.

Some men are fathers by accident; they are ushered into parenthood by an inability to keep their zippers in the upright and locked position. For these guys, fatherhood is an unpleasant surprise that they could do without. Some men are fathers by plan; they marry and seek to reproduce. These guys want to be fathers; unfortunately there are those who for various reasons are never able to follow through. They want to be fathers, but they aren’t. Some men are fathers entirely by choice. They could have said no, but they made the distinct decision to assume the responsibilities and joys of fatherhood.

I’m one of those “fathers by choice.”  On December 18, 1992, I adopted Sara. She was 14 years old, and her mom and I had been married for two years and five months. Next month will be our 16th anniversary; this coming December 18th will be the 14th anniversary of “Adoption Day,” a day that we celebrate each year. In fact, Adoption day is more important than celebrating Sara’s birthday. On that day, Sara stood before a judge and told him that she wanted to be my daughter. I stood before the same judge and said that I wanted to be Sara’s father, and after the judge reviewed with us the responsibilities I was about to legally assume, I said yes. I’ve never for a moment regretted that decision - it’s one of the best choices I’ve ever made.

Adoptive relationships are special, because they are relationships by choice. There is a bond between Sara and me that is deep and genuine, and unlike any other relationship I’ve ever known. We are so alike in so many ways that people who know we are a blended family have been known to conclude that Sara must be my biological child, and Sharon the adoptive mother. We understand each other. We laugh at the same things. We”get” each other’s jokes while others are standing around saying “What?”

I think God has a very special place in His heart for adoption. He’s an adoptive father, too:

But when the fullness of the time came, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the Law, so that He might redeem those who were under the Law, that we might receive the adoption as sons. Because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” (Galatians 4:4-6, NASB)

He became my father by choice. He decided to adopt me. He accepted me, complete with all my faults and shortcomings, and made me his adopted son. The passage above speaks to the closeness of that relationship. Abba literally means “daddy,” a term of intimate, heartfelt endearment. He loves to have me run to him with my arms extended, crying out “daddy, daddy!” It gives Him joy to have me simply choose to sit with Him and enjoy His company.

He is my Father by choice. I am also His son by choice — my choice.

Happy Father’s Day, Father, from your son… by choice.

D.

Well, it’s official. Dan Case has a blog. On the other hand, it’s not really “new” for me. Back in 1997, the dark ages of the internet for most folks, I was doing what a lot of bloggers are doing today. I just didn’t call it “blogging” because that word didn’t exist yet. In 1997, “high speed internet” was a blazing 14.4K dial-up modem, “broadband” was a group of female musicians, and case-studies.com was born. We sent out a daily email commentary to an email list that grew to 3000 subscribers worldwide, and of course posted all those commentaries on the website, too.

Then, after a few years of hyperfocus, I got a bit burned out and backed off. In fact, I pretty much stopped writing in general. That’s been changing. I’m back at the keyboard, pursuing freelance writing while keeping my bill-paying job in the radio broadcasting business. I’m working some magazine articles, a couple of book proposals, and some other interesting projects. And, of course, there’s this blog thing.

I’m also trying to restart my other related sideline doing speaking engagements. I have one basic rule for speaking engagements… “any time, any place, anywhere, as long as you don’t mind me talking about Jesus.” You see, I’m a blatant Christian. I don’t go around trying my best to offend folks like some of my brethren have done, but I also don’t have a “church folks version” and an “inspiring but secular” version. I won’t criticize those who do, but I don’t. If you don’t want to hear about Jesus, then you should call someone else.

But, if you don’t mind hearing about Jesus, and you need someone cheap… well, call me anyway. :)  I can preach, teach, do dramatic monologues, or just share my heart. My favorite themes are grace, restoration, and healing for broken hearts.

But for now, my overgrown lawn is calling me, and I must answer before the homeowner’s association shows up with a ruler.

 D.