Avengers vs. Disciples (Church, Assemble!)

I love story lines. And a story line I have fallen in love with and can’t get enough of are those of the Marvel Universe. I never really got into reading comic books. My love of words far overpowered that. I love how each character has his own movie, his own story, and then all of the super heroes come together to fight something bigger than they can take on themselves.

What if . . . these super heroes were Christians, trying to make a difference in God’s kingdom, instead of doing that super-hero-thing-they-do? If Iron Man was a disciple, how could he win people to Christ with his powers? Captain America? The Hulk? They all have some pretty great testimonies. I can envision Captain America being the cool pastor of some inner-city church. Black Widow would use her skills to help the church out, as well as Hawkeye. I could see those two heading up outreaches or something. I’ve read a few blog posts on the subject, and the Avengers are an awesome analogy of the church. We are all so very different, yet when we come together and “assemble” in church on Sunday, or at a Lifegroup or Bible study, we glean from each other’s’ differences. While Iron Man is trying to fix an engine that went down, The Captain awaits to pull the red lever. We all get distracted, but the job gets done! Thor would be in the nursery at church, gathering up the toddlers and teaching them about Jesus during church. Or maybe the kids would be climbing all over Hulk—but on second thought, the Hulk’s gifts could be much better used . . . parking cars? Or doing all the heavy lifting.  What jobs would you give these heroes if they went to your church?

What I set out to do with the book that I just released on Amazon, was to create that different kind of super hero—the one that serves Christ and each other. Although there are some deeper issues in the book that probably aren’t fit for children, who doesn’t love a battle scene where scripture shuts down the enemy? In my book, I explore the armor of God, and things of the spiritual world being visible—but only for those with the eyes to see.

If this peaks your interest at all, check out my eBook for Kindle on Amazon here!

Anna E. Meyer

What do you suppose your spiritual gift is? How is that your “super power?” How would having the super power of Christ behind you change the way you live life?

I PUBLISHED MY VERY FIRST CHRISTIAN FICTION BOOK!!!

I started writing “Saving Vindicity” the summer of 2011.  And I finally published it!  This book is now available on Amazon for Kindle.  Click here to download it for yourself, read it, and leave a review!

I stopped after writing it, because I was waiting for the “right time.”  Well, who knew when that would be.  After I had a friend read it a few months ago, and she didn’t have much criticism, I decided to go through with it.  The marketing stuff scares me, but I thought I’d start out with this blog. 🙂

Buy the eBook for Kindle here!

This is my very first book of many.  Eventually, if it does well, I’ll release it in paperback.  But I have more writing to do, as it’s on with the next book!

Anna E. Meyer ❤

A Fairytale

So, I wrote this a few months ago, but I had a friend recently edit it for me.  When I was writing it, I was thinking at how dumb chick flicks are cuz they never happen.  I myself was struggling with writing such a love story as my pen keeps wanting to write at times.  But then I was made aware of all the love stories in the Bible, so finally I set out to write what turned into this fairytale.  I wanted to cover some things that we don’t hear about in secular fairy tales.  Here’s what came to be! Hope you like.  =)^2 Anna

 

In a land far away, there lived a king and his queen who ruled the people with grace and justice.  The people loved and respected their king and queen, who were interested in their people as much as their family.  The two rulers lacked one thing: a child.  They longed for a child desperately, and waited until their patience almost died, but they would not give up hope.  And finally, through the queen was getting later in her years, it was announced to the kingdom that they would be having a baby.  An heir to the throne!  The whole kingdom rejoiced!  But when it was time for the baby to be born, a stillborn took the place of the happy baby they had been expecting.  Dare they wait for another?  What was this hope they had been waiting for?  And so patiently, they waited, until finally, the queen once again announced the coming of a child.  The kingdom was happy, though it held its breath.  And finally, a baby girl was born, healthy and happy.  And they named her Princess Naava, for she was beautiful.  A few days following her birth, the king and queen threw a party in rejoicing for their little girl, and the whole kingdom was invited!  Everyone, that is, except for Wasaki, the king’s arch enemy.  Always picking a fight, the king avoided Wasaki as much as possible, not that Wasaki would be avoided so easily.  It was still surprising, however, when he showed up anyway.

“What are you doing here?” boomed the king.  The guards positioned themselves to attack.

“I was just going to welcome your new little baby!  I notice my invitation was lost in the mail.” Wasaki smiled, even as a darkness shadowed the sky and his eyes at the same time.  The king knew of Wasaki’s jealousy and shuddered at his very presence in the room.  “I even brought a gift.”

“No!” cried his queen, reaching forward as she fell out of her seat.  The king drew her back.  His wife sometimes knew better than he the danger that lurked nearby.

“What are you going to do to her?” he asked in a threatening voice.  He kept his eyes focused on Wasaki, but felt his guards inch forward, readying their weapons.

Wasaki just smiled and started laughing cynically.  The king felt his anger rising.  “I said a gift, didn’t I?  He continued, ignoring the king’s muttering.  “My gift,” he proclaimed, “shall be your people’s first exposure to my world!”

The queen dashed to her feet, pulling away from her husband’s grasp.  She ran toward the cradle where her baby lay, panic strewn on her face.

Wasaki raised his hand up, and, just as the queen saw baby Naava’s precious face, both the baby and Wasaki vanished.

 

The king lost no time in banishing Wasaki’s presence in his land ever.  Wasaki probably had known it was coming, for he had established his world long ago.  But his rules and his laws left no being any room for fulfillment; the king had tried to go down there, but it was no use.  He could not get his daughter back.  Soon, word spread throughout the kingdom.  The king was willing to let anyone offer input if they thought it would help.  Few came, for they were all as stumped as the king himself.  All had heard about his failed attempts previously.  One day, a young man, who was merely a shepherd, called on the king as he was in the throne room.  The man expressed interest to the king in helping.

“Perhaps this will work,” said the young man as he presented his plan.

“You do know the cost of this plan?” the king asked the boy, hesitant.

“If it will save her, I will do it.”

“Why are you willing to do such a thing?” the king inquired.

“I have been hearing for years of this terrible thing that Wasaki has done.  He must be stopped.  And…I have not been able to stop thinking about the princess.”

The king nodded, comprehending what the young man was saying.  “Well, my attempts thus far have failed.  This you have no doubt heard.  But come with me, my boy, and we will make this the best rescue mission in all of history.”

 

Josiah had been a shepherd all his life.  It was pretty much all he knew.  He used to go out and “help” his dad and older brothers, when he would actually be doing more harm than good.  But he had learned the importance of keeping every one of his sheep safe.  Even if only one wandered off, he would go and look for that very one.  Josiah had been young when the princess had been taken, but it was talk for some time.  He had learned of her, and seen pictures of her as a babe.  He didn’t even know her.  But he found he was willing to give his life for her.  After consulting with his father, he knew what he must do.  So he had brought his plan before the king.  Since then, he had learned much and together, he and the king had indeed formed the rescue mission.  And he, a shepherd, would save Princess Naava.

 

Wasaki’s land was one parallel opposite of that which was his home.  Where goodness and grace reigned at home stood despair and dispute.  The list of differences went on, and Josiah found himself wondering what he got himself into.  The people were speaking, but no sense came from their mouths.  “Teach them,” had been his king’s instruction.  And so he did.  He began to speak of the way he grew up knowing and understanding things—the way of his homeland.  He found a group of friends who were happy to learn what he had to say.  Not everybody liked his teachings, but some were intrigued.  And one of those who was intrigued, Josiah eventually identified as Naava, although she didn’t know herself by that name.  So Josiah kept teaching, aware that when his mission was complete, Naava would find a new identity that was hers all along and be reunited with her father, who loved her more than any love he could see here.

The time came when Josiah knew he must finish the final task of the mission.  The act that would save not only Naava, but all who inhabited this land, from Wasaki and his evil ways.  His friends disapproved of it, but it had already been decided.  Once more, he checked in with his king, to ensure that this was the only way, for if another option had been found, he would prefer to take that instead.

 

The betrayal of one of his friends led to an arrest.  The arrest produced a death sentence, but it was a death sentence for Naava and the others, that they might be free.  And as J.C. hung on the cross, he cried, “It is finished!”  And then he died.  He was taken away and buried in a borrowed tomb.  Naava was among the women who went back after a day or two to go and clean the body.  She was also among one of the first to discover that he was no longer there!  He had risen!

 

Josiah took Naava by the hand and brought her home.  The kingdom was happy to have their princess back.  They rejoiced with a party that is still going on today.  Wasaki still has power over his land, but it won’t be long until the king will be back for an epic battle.  People taken by Wasaki are being returned home all the time; ordinary people who do extraordinary things.  They help missing sons and daughters find their true identity.  And eventually they all find what Josiah and Naava found…their happily ever after.

A Radical Vision

And then the images flashed before me:

Jesus, the Son of God, holding out his arms, waiting for me with a hug full of love.

God the Father, the Creator of the universe, holding me, his precious child, and gazing into my eyes, telling me so.

The Holy Spirit, who is in us all, surrounding me and filling me with peace.

Then I saw myself holding onto a rope above a vast of water.  There stood Jesus, holding the rope above me.  I grew tired.  Finally, I scurried up the rope and embraced my Savior.  “You don’t need to strive anymore,” he told me.  “What will you give me instead?”  I asked.  “Do you even have to ask?  You are here, in my arms.”  And he smiled at me.

I saw my fear, especially that of the future and of what MS could do to me.  I nailed it on the cross, with Jesus, the sacrifice and advocate of all.  I asked him what he would give me to hold onto instead.  And he gave me hope.

I saw my grandpa, crying on his knees because he lost his love, his wife of so many years.  “Be patient,” I heard.  “Wait for this.”  And the Lord promised to help me with patience.

I asked God for the healing of my body, and he has already shown me truth to beset the lies I was believing.  I remember an earlier image, one of Jesus and I fighting side by side against the enemy who so diligently tried to take control over my body’s health.  “I will never leave you,” my Jesus said to me.  And so I will keep fighting.  I will keep praying.  And I will keep in the sweet fellowship of the Spirit forever.

The Case of the Speech Writer

So, I was thinking back to my past stories, and I thought this one deserved to be shared.  Some of you may have heard this many times….but others haven’t heard it at all.

NOTE: As you read this, think of different voices for each of the characters.  This was my creative expression speech 2009.  Took me to sections!

 

                She came to me with a case.  They usually do.  Said a girl had been causing a ruckus in the neighborhood, which was hard, because she lived in the country.  At least four people had been mentally troubled as of late because of the happenings. Five, including herself, a counselor who saw these things everyday.  Said the girl had not meant trouble, but was merely writing her speech.  But I thought otherwise.  It’s my job.  I’m – a private eye.

                The name’s Thursday.  JoAnne Thursday, but around here, I’m known as detective 09072454.  This was a tough case, but I knew one like this would come my way one of these days.  This was, THE CASE OF THE SPEECH WRITER.

It started out with her first attempt:

It was a dark and scary night . . . (dark because it was 10:30 and the lights were off, scary for effect).  I sat in the basement, notebook and pen in hand, trying to write a speech.  I jumped as I heard the step creak, and I looked over to see a shadow descending down the stairs.  Some suspenseful music started to play, and suddenly, out jumped—my sister?  I mean, MY SISTER!

“Ahhh!” I screamed.

“Ahhh!” she screamed.

“Ahhh!” I screamed.

“Why are we screaming?” she screamed.

“For effect,” I shrugged, using my non-screaming voice.

“Why?” she asked, also in her non-screaming voice.

“I’m trying to write a ‘Horror Speech.”

“Um, Anna,” she said, “try again.”

From there, things got worse.

Once upon a time, in a land not too far away, there lived a girl who was 5’5” AND A HALF, had blondish hair, bluish eyes, and was a senior in high school.  She must be an extraordinary girl, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing my “Fairytale Speech” about her.

So anyway, she was sitting in her tower one day, trying to write her speech, when the evil dragon came barging in, demanding a walk.  Rolling her eyes, the girl went to get the leash, but was stopped by an evil witch.

“Where are you going, my dear?” the witch asked, evilly.

“Oh, you know, to get the leash to walk the dragon.”

“Would you like a snack first? You must be hungry after thinking so hard in your tower.  Would you like an apple?”

“No thanks.”

“How about a banana?”

“Pass.”

“Orange?  Melon?  Grapes?”

“Sorry—I’m a vegetarian.”

It was then that I noticed a troubling trend.

“Are we on third street or are we on fourth street?” an old lady asked her husband.

“I don’t know.  Let’s look at the map,” he replied.  He got out the map, and then proceeded to check all of his pockets.  “It looks like I forgot my reading glasses . . .”

“Oh, dear, how will we ever find our way?”

THIS LOOKS LIKE A JOB FOR . . . (duh, duh, DAH!)  CAPTAIN OBVIOUS!

“Oh, Captain, can you help us?  We’re trying to find our house.  It’s blue with white shutters, and it says ‘Hanson’ on the mailbox.”

The Captain looked around for awhile until he figured it out. “Right this way, Lady,” he said, escorting her back up her driveway.  “Home sweet home!”

“Oh, Captain Obvious, thank you!  How can we ever repay you!?”

“No need, old lady.  I am merely doing my heroic duty, making sure the people of this town are safe from being lost and confused.  Making sure all the people are safe from being robbed…and…other bad stuff.  Making sure all the people—(a scream is heard)—and I’m off!”

Then, the unthinkable happened.

“But, Anna, how could you leave me?” cried out the blue-ink pen.

“I’m sorry, but I had to.”

“How could you?  How could you ever write another speech without my smear-less, water-saleable ink?”

“I’m sorry, but the black-ink pen is –“

“BLACK-INK PEN? You’re leaving me for THAT?”

“I’m sorry, but it just looks nicer on the page.”

“What?  I thought blue was your favorite!”

“It was, but . . . I’ve moved on.”

“Moved on!?  What about me?  I will never again let my ink write for another soul!”

“I’m still sorry, but the black-ink pen is more dramatic— perfect for my ‘Soap Opera Speech!’”

“Never again . . . never again. . . NEVER AGAIN!”

Finally, it got to a point, where things could not get any worse.

“So tell me, sister, what exactly happened?”

Sister: “I was so scared!  She was sitting in the basement, lights off, and she just started screaming!  I didn’t know what happened!”

“Do you think there’s a reasonable explanation for this?”

Sister: “All I can think of is . . . her speech.”

“What about you, witch?”

Witch: “She was fantasizing in her tower again.  Wouldn’t even stop for a snack!”

“And then what happened? Why?”

Witch: “She even made the ‘walk’ with the dragon more of a run because . . . she wanted to get back to her . . . SPEECH!”

“How about you, old lady?”

Old Lady: “Well, she ensured the introduction of the Captain and myself, but then she had to cut it short by screaming.  And we were just starting to hit it off!”

“Wasn’t your husband standing nearby?”

Old Lady: “Well, sure, but that doesn’t mean anything.  She just wanted to move on to the next genre of her speech!”

“And blue-ink pen? Why, you look like you’ve been crying!”

Blue-ink pen:  “She set me down, and picked up . . . the BLACK-INK PEN!  How could she?”

“Why? What was the reason for all this?”

Blue-ink pen: “She wanted to be more dramatic when she was writing . . . HER SPEECH!”

Witch: “Yes, it’s her fault!  All because she wanted to write that stupid speech!”

Sister: “Why did she have to write a speech about that?  Couldn’t she have picked one topic and have stuck to it?”

Old Lady: “You’re supposed to be nice to the elderly, not set them up just to knock them down again! Dumb speech!”

Blue-ink pen: “Never again . . . never again. . . NEVER AGAIN!”

It was then that I stepped in.  I would not let this speech writer make another move.  I finally found her in her room, laughing, with the black-ink pen in hand.  She had meant trouble the whole time, just as I had suspected.  She would never again mentally trouble someone because of her writing.  At least not in this speech.  But I knew that all along.  After all, I’m—a private-eye.

Chivalry

“Whatever happened to chivalry? Does it only exist in 80’s movies? I want John Cusack holding a boombox outside my window. I wanna ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I want Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for me. I want Judd Nelson thrusting his fist into the air because he knows he got me. Just once I want my life to be like an 80’s movie, preferably one with a really awesome musical number for no apparent reason. But no, no, John Hughes did not direct my life.”  –Olivia, Easy A

 

Guess what everybody.  Chivalry still exists.  In real life, even.  I don’t think John Cusack holding a boombox outside her window or any of the other described scenes Olivia desires are actually chivalrous.  Just sexy.  However, holding a door, letting you sit in the front seat, jumping to make sure you’re okay when you trip over your feet, and dropping you off by your dorm so you don’t have to walk all the way from the parking lot ARE chivalrous.  I have always had issues with accepting help from other people when MS limits me.  I remember embarrassment after I fall and scrape the palm of my hands and quickly covering up with a frantic “I’m fine!”  However, in the last few weeks, I have needed the extra help, and I have become better at asking for it.  The MS in me isn’t very nice at times.  A lot of the time, especially when I’m not nice to it (I figured it out: it’s in my brain, right, so my sass stems and it has taken some—maybe).  And the “help” I have been receiving, chivalry, is nice.  It’s still there!  When I was dating my first boyfriend, my mom instructed me to LET him be chivalrous, to get the doors and help me in the truck, even if I didn’t need it.  And I have remembered the advice.

 

“Chivalry is nothing but the desire to be helpful, to express respect through deference, and to break out of the ‘it’s all about me’ mode and see what you can do to help other people.” –Scott Farrell, Chivalry Today

 

So.  Thinking about chivalry.  It isn’t just a romantic-thing, as Olivia in Easy A makes it out to be—it’s an everybody-thing.   Like my sister carrying the heavy stuff or a girlfriend willing to run grab something for me in a building across campus.  And I don’t think I’m an outlier here with chivalrous friends.  Chivalry goes way back.  I have heard of elderly gentlemen angry at a young lady for not letting him be chivalrous.

 

To everybody who has shown someone chivalry, thank you.  I’m pretty sure that means all of you.  You would have to be pretty conceded to never show anyone chivalry.  To all my friends, thank you.

 

Challenge: Go out and show somebody some chivalry and make somebody’s day.  (Making people smile is pretty much my goal in life, so I’m passing on the commission, if you will.)

 

Smiling Happily, Anna =)^2 (Smiles Squared)

Superheroes for Christ

Once, there were a fleet of superheroes that roamed a city and kept it safer than it would be.  All of the bad guys learned about God and were pursued and loved on until they broke down and realized that there was more to life than religion or immoral attitudes.  That God had a purpose for them and that Satan was just using them.  That while Satan hated them, yet filled their heads with any lie he could get them to believe, God loved them and wanted to have a personal relationship with them.  He was truth, through and through, and would comfort and love and desire them forever.

We join two such superheroes on a random sunny day in the city.

“Hey,” a menacing-looking bad guy said as he turned toward the two normal-looking young ladies and eyed their purses.

“Hello,” said one of the two in a cheerful tone, smiling.

All of a sudden the bad guy saw their protector and realized who they were.  He slowly backed away and ducked in between two buildings.

When the girls got back to HQ, they related the incident.  One of the guys started pulling out his armor.  “Aw, he’s arming up faster than me,” he said, referring to another of the guys in the back room.

In the back room, another of the guys was indeed arming up faster.  He fastened the belt of truth and put on the breastplate of righteousness.  The shoes on his feet made him ready to proclaim the gospel of peace.  He took the shield of faith, with which he would be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one.  He took the helmet of salvation.  As he came into the front room again, the armor was not visible to the human eye.  He grabbed the Bible, which was his sword, and nodded to the other guys in the room.

“Go tell him about Jesus!” waved the girls as the guys left the building.

 

Superheroes.  Many of us.  Our powers?  Christ-supplied.  Our mission?  To live out the gospel and advance it.  Whatever the cost.  Our weapons?  We gear up with the whole armor of God daily.  Because the devil is lurking everywhere.  The Bible is our sword and our source of energy.  Prayer is one of the most powerful weapons we have.  We pray as if it all depends on God and we can do nothing on our own.  The absolute, most powerful weapon?  We have Christ living through us.  And he is the biggest superhero our world has ever known.

Walking down the street, gang-members and muggers back away because we have something different.  We don’t look like superheroes, but we have a power and a presence among us that one needs to experience to understand.  And in our time of crisis, Jesus is our protector.

It is the power of the devil verses the power of Christ.  And Christ always wins.  The devil can only draw out the battle a little longer.

We bring Jesus to save girls from trafficking and boys from the pressures of gang involvement.  The love that we share lures people away from suicide leaps and out of the deadly isolation that Satan takes hold of.  We find darkness so that we may shine light and bring the hope of Christ into it, making it dark no more.  We need not be identified by fame or names—we need only our identity in Christ.

Our relationship with God is the most important thing in the world to us.  We are suspended by it when we have nothing else.  We are radical for God.  Together, Christ radiates through this army, drawing more and more souls to himself.  We don’t care what others think of us—we do a kingdom dance whenever another spiritually orphaned child returns to the Father, no matter how terrible of dancers we are.  We sing and shout at the top of our lungs with praises.  Because God is just that miraculous!

To become one of us isn’t that hard.  The number one thing is to ask Christ to transform you like we did.  You have to be willing; you have to let Christ live through you and learn to not fight it, even if you want to.  And even after you have joined our team, you have to be careful.  The devil will fight you, testing your commitment to Christ and seeing if he can get in, anyway.  He will do anything to get in.  You must be on the lookout at all times.

We still struggle, too.  But to us, to live is Christ and to die is gain!

Unboring Action-Packed Blog, Take One

Unboring is me, writing this story on the way to SuFu the other day.  Prepare for awesomeness:

Once upon a time, there was a giant evil chicken.  The Giant Evil Chicken would sneak up (as much as he could sneak up) and peck at the little people, causing them to run around frantically like…chickens.  One day, the Giant Evil Chicken hid on an empty trailer and disguised himself as a Giant Chicken Mascot—you know, the ones that stand in front of some restaurant and say, “We serve chicken!” or in front of a school and say, “Go Fighting Chickens!”  You get the idea.  Well, the Giant Evil Chicken waited to make his move until the truck that was pulling the trailer was on the interstate.  His evil chicken eyes followed the minivan that they were passing, already coming up with a perfect  pecking plan.

MEANWHILE…on a farm not too far from said interstate…the Giant Awesome Puppy Dog’s ears perked up—he smelled scheming.  Tongue lapping, he ran to the interstate and leaped over it.

(By now, just so you know, all residents of said minivan are pretty much freaking out)

As the Giant Evil Chicken lifted his beak to gain momentum to peck through the minivan to get to the people, he saw the Giant Awesome Puppy Dog out of the corner of his eye.  Just so happened, that the Giant Awesome Puppy Dog saw the Giant Evil Chicken as well.  Giant Awesome Puppy Dog landed.  Turned.  Started growling.  Giant Evil Chicken flapped to get out of the trailer.  Got out.  Got on the other side of the interstate.  Cars slowed.  Traffic stopped to watch the battle of Giant Evil Chicken versus Giant Awesome Puppy Dog.

[battle scene]

Here are the highlights for those of you who missed the televised broadcast:

–      Giant Evil Chicken challenged Giant Awesome Puppy Dog.  Giant Awesome Puppy Dog jumped.  Giant Evil Chicken flapped.

–      Giant Awesome Puppy Dog barked.  Giant Evil Chicken flacked, pecked.  Giant Awesome Puppy Dog bit.

–      Giant Evil Chicken ran away.  Giant Awesome Puppy Dog followed.  Much faster, I might add.

–      Giant Awesome Puppy Dog won.  Giant Evil Chicken lost.

And all lived in perfect harmony and enjoyed Giant Evil Chicken Wings.

But not before an unknown egg hatched, a brother to Giant Evil Chicken.  But that’s for another story.

AKA: TO BE CONTINUED…