When I became a Christian, I couldn’t write. Then, later, God opened the door through the story of Hosea. I could almost hear Him saying, “You’ve been writing about ‘love’ for years. So, write about love – MY kind of love.” It was a year of hard work and revelation. My desk faced a wall with the living/family room behind me. God taught me how to focus in chaos, to open my ears to His voice and not all the other voices surrounding me, real and from the talking box in the corner.
It was an honor and eye-and-heart-opening experience to write Redeeming Love, and I thought that was the end of my writing career. It shut more doors than it opened, and I thought it was my one and only message to those who had followed my steamy, historical romance career in the secular market. “You asked what happened. Here’s the answer. Jesus happened.”
But God had other ideas. He has a way of prodding us gently toward what He wants us to do. He gave me talent and He didn’t want it wasted. He wanted it used for His good purpose. He didn’t allow me to wander and make big messes without the power He employed to redeem them, too, and turn the worst into something good for His purpose in comforting and making Himself known to others. All I had to do was place my burdens at His feet. God can use anything – even fiction – if He wants. He can use a rock to cry out His Name.
Every book is a quest and a journey. I’m still looking for answers to questions and I’m still walking along that Emmaus Road. Sometimes I just don’t recognize Jesus. Until dinner is over and He holds out His hands and makes Himself known. And, oh, what a joy it is – every time it happens.