I'm feeling rather noble, because I actually finished the first 100 pages of the new novel (for the title of which I'm still seeking inspiration) ahead of schedule. Now, December I'll devote to: research (including a couple days prowling around LA and groping my way through the LA library); revision of what I finished and rough outlining of the rest, so I can send it to my editor on schedule (end of the year); and catching up on all the stuff I didn't do while writing. Such is my life, fall behind, catch up (or almost catch up) and so on.

Since I'm not ready yet to put aside the topic of Olga, here's some rather heady stuff from my book Writing and the Spirit, which I hope will be available in paper within a few months but for now can be downloaded as a pdf from my website.

Consider Olga again:

Søren Kierkegaard contended that belief based on evidence isn’t faith at all, because faith is from a source other than our reasoning minds. Belief based on experienced is reason. And what God wants us to have is faith. In college, I changed my major from Philosophy to English because I found encountering new ideas more exciting than debating them. So I’ll take Kierkegaard’s words to heart because they feel true, and I’ll apply the idea of faith independent of experience to writing.

Consider Olga, while battling cancer, one Sunday in church explaining that faith is something we all have, but it often applies only to certain parts of our lives. We may have faith about our finances, that what we need will always arrive. We may have faith in our friends or family, that they’ll stick by us, no matter what.

Olga contended that we should recognize the faith we have, notice how it may run counter to the weight of our experience and observations, and consider the benefits of peace and security it gives us. God, she argued, wants us to extend that faith into other areas and to trust that he can and will heal us, even though evidence might run counter to such faith.

From which I’ll reason that God wants us writers to extend our faith into our vocations and trust that we have the necessary gifts and are on our way to becoming masterful writers no matter if every publisher on earth has insulted and rejected us, or though everyone in our critique group has said or implied we’re hopeless.

Such faith can be dangerous. If it seems to fail, say we pray for Olga and she doesn’t get healed, we may begin to doubt God or our own judgment. At these times it helps to return to Kierkegaard and remember that belief based on evidence isn’t faith at all, that faith comes from elsewhere, perhaps from the spirit. Even when it seems to fail, faith has enriched our experience.

And writing, like faith, should be judged by the value of the process, not by the results. So if we’ve worked on a novel for ten years, if the process has enriched us, who are we to gripe when no publisher wants it?

Faithful work is always going to enrich us, since exercising faith, even in one area such as writing, builds a stronger faith we can apply to other areas, such as public speaking. Or parenting, or healing. Because faith isn’t a mental quirk. Like Saint Paul tells us, it’s a substance.

Consider Olga

For a couple years I wrote a weekly column for the San Diego Reader. The nominal topic was people and their cars. Here’s one:



Lately even George Bush talks about conservation and cutting our reliance on middle east oil. So I’m convinced it’s time we ask ourselves if living more like Olga Savitsky wouldn’t be preferable to the way we’re living.



Olga’s a minimalist. Though plenty educated (holding a Master of City Planning degree) and able to follow a more lucrative career, she chooses to work only a few short days a week cleaning houses. She shares an apartment and pays less than $400 for rent and utilities, in a pleasant neighborhood near a commercial district. On most of her errands, she can walk. When she needs to drive, she uses her 1994 Toyota Tercel.

She tells me, “It’s not like a sacrifice. I just don’t need much. A person with a family needs more than I do. Usually what somebody needs depends upon their function. A corporate CEO, maybe he’s got to throw parties and he needs a bigger house. But I don’t throw parties, so what good is a big house to me? The only reason I’d want one is because the media tells me I ought to have one. We see all this stuff and the desire to have some gets aroused and commercials come on and convince us we need it all, and so on, until we’re beyond debt and into distress.”



Olga wears jeans and T-shirts. “That’s all I own. They’re comfortable, they last. I just bought two new pairs of jeans for $16 each, and they’ll last two years. To me, the key to living well is living in a way that gives an opportunity for appreciating nature and friends and taking time for prayer and writing and helping people. And unless you inherit a pile of money, the way to live like that is to not want a lot of stuff. Most stuff is just clutter. But our culture feeds the desire to own or consume until what we think we need makes us greedy.



“The Bible says that we should work so we’ll have something to share with people in need. I can work for a few days a week cleaning houses and by not letting myself want a bunch of stuff, I can have money to give away. So I’m careful about what I buy, and I pick the things I do buy for durability and longevity. I need a car, so I buy a Toyota. If I needed a car that would break down, I could buy a Jaguar.

“And it isn’t only the desire for stuff that devours our time. It’s also that we try to buy security. People think they need to not only have lots of stuff, but to save or invest or buy some insurance so they’ll be sure they’ll always have lots of stuff. We need a bit more faith. I mean, I don’t have AAA or any kind of roadside service insurance because every time a car of mine has broken down, it’s been a block or so from my mechanic’s house. Except one time.



“The one time my car broke down in an inconvenient place, a guy stopped to help me, and he happened to be the handsomest man I ever saw. Maybe he was an angel. I don’t know. But it sure was fun breaking down.”


From Battle Hymn of the Republic:

"I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel, 'As you deal with my conviverous soul to you my grace shall deal.' Let the hero born of woman crush the serpent with his heel. His truth is marching on."

"Conviverous" refers to the degree we can live in accord with people of other races and cultures. 

All this reading about Azusa Street and Aimee Semple McPherson may be further warping my mind, or it may be allowing some clarity. 

The Azusa Street movement loosed an unparalleled world wide revival.  Aimee's ministry, regardless if we consider spiritual healing miraculous or physiological, was astonishing in its effects, particularly in refreshing the hearts, bodies and spirits of people who hadn't recovered from the traumas of WW I and the 1918 flu epidemic that killed more people than the war had.

And it's reasonable to argue that what propelled those movements was the acceptance and calling together, by William Seymour and Aimee Semple McPherson, of people of all races and classes.

And that helps give me the hope that yesterday's election marks the beginning of a revival and cleansing of our spirits, minds, and institutions.

Olga Savitsky prayed daily for such a revival.  Return for the next post to learn how she found the time and energy to carry on that way.