Do Angels really have wings?

Early Christian Art did not depict angels with wings. Often angels were not shown in human form at all but instead were illustrated as doves or even as the hand of God.
It would seem that the whole idea of showing angels with wings is simply a device in Art, especially in painting, so that the observer could distinguish between the earthly and celestial figures depicted.
It was after the Roman Emperor Constantine and the Council of Nicaea in 325 AD that angels were commonly shown as having wings in all forms of Art. This is not surprising for most observers of early art were illiterate so the symbolic use of wings and other images to denote spiritual or godly persons was a key element in reading the story in the painting. Haloes were used to depict holy people.
If you think about it, why would angels, who are spirit beings and therefore not subject to the elements of the universe, and in particular gravity, need wings to enable them to move. Angels after all are spirit beings and are not subject to ordinary matter as we mortals are.


When angels appear in scripture they are generally described as men, as in the passage in Genesis 18 where Abraham welcomes three angelic travelers. Later we read of two angels visiting Sodom and the people there assume them to be human.
Ancient gods of Babylonia and Egypt and other pagan deities often were shown in sculptured images or stele as having human form with wings or part human with a bird head and even as horses with wings; the familiar Pegasus of mythic tales. Other god like creatures such as Cupid, Hermes and Perseus all appear with wings.
In my books, following biblical truth, none of my characters who are angels or demons are ever described as having wings. It would be wrong I believe in Christian writing to continue the trend and artistic portrayal of angels having wings to propel themselves through space and time. To do so would be to sentimentalise the true nature of these celestial beings which would after all detract from the truth.

A Few Christmas Thoughts On Marketing

 

Would you trust a Christian?
How about a Puritan?
A Quaker then?
On cold winter mornings before I head out, I love a bowl of hot steaming porridge oats, with a dash of maple syrup.
With this in my belly, I am ready for anything the day may throw at me…well, at least until the mid-morning coffee break.
Look at the image of the Quaker man on the box. He’s adorable, trustworthy, decent, a law-abiding citizen. His smile is certainly reassuring. Admiring his rosy cheeks? Well, he could be Santa Claus.
His face says it all. Buy my products and you’ll feel as good as I look!

I was in my local supermarket recently, when my keen eye spotted a bargain. I saw an offer on the shelves that was just too good to miss. A double-size box of my favourite porridge oats, with twice the usual contents, for a knock-down, give-away price of 30% below normal cost. My hand flashed out quicker than lightning. The big box was in my cart. The next day, ready for breakfast, I broke into my double-sized box of….what? I was shocked, then embarrassed at being so gullible. I trusted the Quaker man to deliver on his promise. What I got was, yes, a double-sized box, but inside it was 60% air! The actual contents came up to the level (take a look at the first picture) of the top of the wooden post.
As we head towards to the Christmas season when billions of dollars change hands, maybe we should all take a step back and reflect upon the potential of marketing and its ability to persuade us to buy products that patently don’t live up to the advertising.
Just for the sheer sake of it, I did a trawl through Bible Gateway to check if the following words and phrases ever appeared in the Bible.

Marketing, Selling, Sales Strategy, Search Engine,

Keywords, Customer Centric, Optimization.

You guessed it. None of them have a place in the Good Book. As writers, of course, we need marketing to get our message out there and reach communities, whether they be local or global. But we need to be discerning and careful to avoid the trap of believing and buying into the same secular trickery that sells anything to everyone. We should not be inveigled by the World, the Flesh and the Devil. Not be seduced to sell our sacred message by secular means.
I have often pondered this: What would I say, if God said these words to me?
”Fred, your book is great, but it will only sell one copy. The person who reads it will be changed and will become my servant and take the Gospel to millions of people all around the world, and all because he read your book. Alternatively, I can have your book sell millions of copies, you will be rich beyond your dreams, but only a few will be saved. My son, it’s your free choice.”
What do we ultimately want from writing books? Fame and fortune? Or to be walking in God’s will?
Of course, the Lord has a strategy to communicate his message to the world. Undeniably, he uses the power of the Word to get the message across to the greatest number in the most effective way. And he uses great orators to reach the lost, but persuasion is not their business. Their business is communicating the truth about the Son. The way God markets his message turns human wisdom and cleverness on its head.
When God wanted to free the Israelites from Pharaoh’s tyranny he sent a guilt-ridden, reticent, stuttering, fearful man called Moses to get the job done.
When God wanted to proclaim the coming of Jesus Christ he used an eccentric wild man, dressed in animal skins, eating locusts and honey in the desert.
When God wanted to save the world, he sent his all-powerful and eternal Son to be born naked in a stable for animals. As a human child he was vulnerable, weak, dependent and unable to live without his mother and father’s protection and care.
When God wanted to reconcile us to him, he allowed his Son be crucified, killed on a cross of wood, dying as a common criminal rejected and alone.
I wonder what the top marketing gurus and the best advertising companies would have come up with, if God had asked them to create a package to ‘sell salvation to sinners?’
They might have come up with a great sales strategy and a winning message to achieve customer optimization, perhaps throwing in an unforgettable slogan, an amusing jingle too… yet somehow, like the Quaker box of porridge oats I bought, I think it would fallen short, been so much air and less substance. I think their sales plan would have missed the target, somehow betrayed the truth, don’t you?

Eternity

Allow the tide to flow

Inwards once more

Let the waters slowly rise

Filling the channels

Covering the dry causeway

Finally to obscure the foot prints

Left by solitary souls.

Let the clouds roll across

The clear night sky

Hiding the brilliant stars

Bringing the shadows upon the land

Shuttering the moon's light

Leaving only darkness to

Draw the veil over creation.

And in the morning let

The first snow fall relentless,

Becoming a thickening blanket

Of pure whiteness bringing

A painful, grip of sudden silence

That steals the fire from every

Living thing, plant, beast and man.

Let the mind cease to struggle

Let barren thoughts expand

Let the vacant spaces be filled

With an urgent sense of nothing

And let the deep shadows of the soul

Have freedom to rise, to sweep

Across the intellect and face the eyes.

In the quiet morning of your

Dreams let your spirit ride the waters

As the tide returns to the deep

And like a sleek ship trusting the wind

Be carried away to a new universe

To a certain eternity where no fear is

And love grows like scented blossoms.

Posted on July 25, 2012 by authorfredhurr

Do we modern civilized westerners really know what it is to travel along a rocky road?
I have just finished reading a book called The Friar of Carcassonne. It is a terrible tale of religious persecution and the horrors of the Catholic Church Inquisition in 13^th century Languedoc, a region of southern France, and the famed land of the Cathars.
One very common feature of medieval life was that if you wanted to get from Rome to Paris or Paris to Carcassonne, your choices of transport were few. Horse and cart, riding a horse or donkey, or going by Shanks’s pony–in other words, foot-slogging weariness for hundreds of miles. And the highways and byways were either hard, rocky, dusty roads in summer or icy, frozen lanes and quagmires in winter. Both descriptions could be understood to be a rocky road.

Can I seriously liken my journey in becoming a writer to a rocky road experience? Honestly, I don’t think I can. Sitting in a comfortable study, shelves full of reference books to consult with and now in these, our marvelous times, having a window onto everything through the screen of my PC. A good wife to provide cups of coffee and hand-made sandwiches at my request, a safe environment outside should I want a breather, and even a tender mattress to lie upon should I get overworked and need a nap.
What can I say on this subject?
My second thought took me back to a summer morning twenty-five years ago. Slipping out of the English Lakes holiday cottage at five a.m., I was bound for Scafell Pike, England’s highest mountain. I had planned the trip many months before, pored over the ordnance survey maps to find the best way up to the summit while avoiding any obvious hazards and dangers en-route. I had planned it well. Made a list of all the equipment I needed, and not just needed for the climb, but also in case of emergency, accident, or injury. I wrote a route map and planned to give a copy to a responsible person who knew where I was going and what time I was expected to return and who also would know what to do in the unlikely event I didn’t come back at the appointed time.
The night before my intrepid adventure, I checked my equipment against the list. I made doubly sure that everything was in good order especially my handy fell walkers compass. Triple checked that I had enough food and drink. Had I packed a whistle to raise the alarm and a camera to record the good bits and a pair of binoculars to see what was up ahead?
It was a great day out. All was well. I got to the summit late morning, and there was no one else about. Most importantly, I got back safely and on time, so thankfully the mountain rescue folks weren’t needed.
For sake of argument, disregard the comfortable study and the peripheral luxuries that often accompany the writer’s life. Consider the following circumstances in comparison. If a writer starts out his or her journey in a lackadaisical fashion, then only failure can be the result. If I had started out on the climb up Scafell Pike without proper planning or management or the right equipment then perhaps I might not have returned. I might have encountered many pitfalls on the way for which I had made no contingency plans and thus suffered the consequences.

To avoid the rocky road, the apprentice writer must plan ahead carefully.
A daily timetable is a very good idea. Work out which part of the day is the most creative and productive for you. Don’t fall for the ‘you must get up at dawn to be a serious writer’ jab. If you are a nocturnal creature, write at night. But remember most bad novels were written just after a good lunch.
If you must, put a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door, so you can concentrate while you are being productive.
Make sure your ‘climbing’ materials are all in good working condition and you have all of the necessities.
Here’s a last tip. A trio of guys, Dibell, Scott Card, & Turco, wrote a book called How to Write a Million and it has helped me a lot over my years as a writer. Check it out!
How have you overcome ‘rocky road’ experiences as a writer? In life?

Against the Clouds

The mourners gathered in the street and onlookers held curtains
back or clicked the plastic blinds to see but not to be seen. Others stood
at open doorways watching silently. He must have been a wealthy man. Four
black Mercedes, long limousines and a score of undertakers.

The light faded and the sun obscured by grey clouds and the rain, the rain
fell hard and swift. The clouds rolled by heading south into the land of the
living.

The chief undertaker and elderly man himself, not far from death, black
top-hatted in velvet, walked slowly ahead of the shining cavalcade. In his
right hand he held the black umbrella aloft and in his left hand he swung a
silver topped black Malacca cane. It moved cleverly in the funeral manager's
hand, tapping out a slow rhythm on the wet shining asphalt like a beat on a
muffled drum.

A flock of funereal crows circled overhead.

The sleek cars followed the engines whirring silently. The mourners
ensconced on leather seats held hands, and slipped comfort words easily off
their lips to one another. The children dressed in black rode along squeezed
in between the adults feeling small and watching the eyes of living for
clues.

The leading hearse halted at the cross road to let the chief get in out of
the rain.

The driver commented to his colleague 'It's a perfect day for a funeral. I
hate sunny days.'

The last car followed. Not a limousine. An old car, not black, belonging to
a poor relative, it had a little flag on the bonnet flying precariously
against the wind, the magnet just holding fast on the rusting metal.

The limousines sped along the highway gathering speed. The routine of
observing death could not wait.

The route took them away from the clouds, to the dark vale of the north. The
deceased's eyes closed, not wishing to see anymore, headed the way of
passing, now passed away. The coffin always heading forward, not back, there
is no coming back for the dead.

The long line of stately vehicles, the dignified drove on, living souls
contemplating the end of things searched for platitudes to share with the
Minister or God always seeking absolution or instead hiding behind the eyes
of fear.

The cavalcade of black shining cars, the occupants enclosed, trying out just
what it feels like to take the final journey, against the passing clouds.

From stone tablet to e-book

“There’s always room at the top,” said Daniel Webster. But who exactly he was addressing in his famous quote is up for discussion, seeing that he was a thorough-going elitist and excelled at being at the top.
However, it is true that there is always room at the top for those who set their sights on lofty peaks even if they come from lowly beginnings. For example, just look at the history of the Presidents of the USA including the present incumbent in the White House.
And there’s always a demand for talented, gifted writers, with relevant things to say.
These are challenging times for publishers, even perhaps the hardest times ever for traditional publishers. Remarkably it is only one generation ago that books and publishing had not really undergone significant change since the time of Caxton.
We, however, are already living in future-shock!
Nowadays it is fair to ask who or what is a publisher.
In times gone by, the publishing world was dominated by the big boys. The likes of Oxford University Press, Doubleday, Hodder Stoughton, Penguin Books, Faber and Faber, and Thomas Nelson to name but a few.
Now it is more likely to be ‘johndoepublishing.com’.
In the 19th century a whole new era in publishing began. A series of technical developments, in the book trade as in other industries, dramatically raised output and lowered costs. Stereotyping, the iron press, the application of steam power, mechanical typecasting and typesetting, new methods of reproducing illustrations—these inventions, developed through the century and often resisted by the printer, amounted to a revolution in book production.
Today a brave new world technological revolution has transformed the industry. We are on the verge of such dramatic and irreversible change that could effectively mean the demise of the printed, hold-in-your-hand, paper book.
Ray Bradbury’s book, Fahrenheit 451, depicted a society where books were systematically burned. In our society we simply don’t need them (printed books that is) anymore. We may see the end of the printed book in our own lifetime. Like Winston Smith in George Orwell’s 1984 we may need to search furtively in the backstreets and alleys of proletariat towns to find copies of old decaying books.
Publishing is about to take a leap into the future. The word out on the streets is change or die. Those who are always looking into the past are often blind to the present.
We can now read books on our laptops, iPads, and cell phones. It is so convenient. I can sit on train and carry a thousand books on my Kindle and access, read, interrogate, highlight, or listen to any of them within seconds.
Public libraries will one day no longer have books on shelves; instead, there will be terminals where we can ‘plug’ in and download any and every book ever written into our own personal private mini-chip. No matter what your point of view is, such a prospect is mind-blowingly amazing.
But where does all that leave publishing?
We have gone from the stone tablet to wax impressions, from papyrus to parchment, from paper to the e-book. It is difficult to predict the future of the printed book, but publishing and publishers will remain. They will, I am sure, change to meet the demands and the fashions of the times we live in. The ability to adapt is, after all, the difference between commercial success and bankruptcy.
To end my blog here’s an excerpt from Wikipedia:
“Although electronic books, or e-books, had limited success in the early years, and readers were resistant at the outset, the demand for books in this format has grown dramatically, primarily because of the popularity of e-reader devices and as the number of available titles in this format has increased. Another important factor in the increasing popularity of the e-reader is its continuous diversification. Many e-readers now support basic operating systems, which facilitate email and other simple functions. The i-pad is the most obvious example of this trend, but even mobile phones can host e-reading software now.”
I love the touch, the smell, the sound of turning a page in the candlelight when I am reading a real book in bed, but the future is at hand.
In the not too distant future, our children’s children may well ask, “Grandma what was a book?”

But writers will always be needed…
Won’t they?
And of course there will always be room at the e-Top.
What is your view of the changing publishing industry?

Some brief thoughts on marriage

This blog comes from someone who fails miserably most of the time at ensuring a trouble-free relationship for my spouse.  Flowers and chocolates as gifts to say ‘I’m sorry’ are pretty transparent these days, even when the chocolate delicacies come in a cute little box tied with ribbons and cost £1 a sweet.

Is forgiveness infinite just like Jesus said or does patience of the spouse finally run out when you find yourselves in an emotional cul-de-sac?

It would be miraculous to have a spouse who has the patience of a saint; but alas we are after all human aren’t we?

In the area of conflict resolution marriages are like battlefields where both sides believe they are in the right and the other is wrong.  But those who resolve serious conflicts know that there is always a middle ground, a place where opposing parties can meet, shake hands and finally begin to appreciate the other party’s viewpoint.

That’s where reconciliation, peace and love begin to happen albeit slowly at times.

For Christians, Jesus is a mediator and peace maker. He doesn’t just deal with the superficial issues but gets right down deep into our souls where the hurt is, where misunderstanding is rife, where disagreement is often allowed to fester into something bigger.

How do we book an appointment with Jesus? We ask, we pray. His diary is always open to us and there’s no charge.