I was speaking to the medical staff at our Southern Baptist International Mission Board at the request of one of their physicians. She asked that I talk about how cartooning figures into the ministry to which God called me..
“Since we have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us exercise them accordingly….” (Romans 12:6).
As a young pastor I drew a sharp line to distinguish between natural talents and spiritual gifts. The first you are born with; the second reborn with. The first might involve talents for music, art, science, math, etc. But spiritual gifts–those strengths in our heavenly DNA–would be more along the lines of preaching, teaching, service, prayer, witnessing, and such.
I’ve altered that a little….
It’s all His. And whatever natural talents and gifts He gave us can be given back to Him and used for His glory.
I began drawing at the age of 5 when Mom put me and my 3-year-old sister at the table with pencil and paper and told us to draw. I learned immediately that I loved to draw. The next year, the first graders at Nauvoo (AL) Elementary School would gather around and watch as I sketched.
As a 16-year-old, I took a correspondence course in cartooning. But mostly I was self-taught.
“And when He comes, He will guide you into all truth…” (John 16:13)
A publisher once sent me a book to review for unknown reasons. The writer at one time had belonged to a church I had pastored, so maybe that was it. (Later, I was to learn that publishers ask authors to give them a list of people they want to review their book and comment. So, clearly, it was the writer’s idea.)
My review was not what they had wanted. I said, “He had a great idea. He makes some excellent points. But he desperately needed an editor.”
They never replied and never again asked me to review anything.
An editor can be a writer’s best friend. It is not politeness that prompts authors to praise their editor in the preface of their books. A good editor can cut through the verbiage, point out flaws in reasoning, find inaccuracies, and question claims. A good editor can spot a weakness in the plot and suggest a dozen ways to make the book better.
Most of us who try to write and then self-publish (which is what we are doing on the internet) serve as our own editors.
The result is often embarrassingly bad. I will read something from this blog written weeks earlier and spot typos or awkward sentences (the result of my attempts at self-editing, when I tried to cut out excess verbiage or redundancies by combining sentences and made a mess of it).
I read those and think, “I wrote that? Man, I need an editor. Or a wife.” (Please smile.)
Several years ago a friend who works for one of the online preachers’ magazines and I were having a conversation about what works for pastor-blogs and what doesn’t.
Anyone reading sermoncentral.com and churchleaders.com and such has observed that these programs prefer essays which offer ‘Seven ways to do this” or “Five ways to do that.” A close second would be “How I learned to love (something we normally despise)” or “Why I came to reject (something we do all the time).” That sort of thing.
I said my goal for the next year was to write something that went viral.
I was being silly.
But it happened.
One of our colleagues in the ministry has collated a list of the 100 best Christian blogs. Here is his announcement:
Last year, ours did not make his list. This year, we showed up at 39.
Okay, it’s nice, and we’re flattered. But who really knows? And does it really matter?
Personally, I dislike lists of the 100 biggest, 100 greatest, 100 most. The upside is that such a list might alert readers to some good blogs they had missed. The downside is the pride. “Let me add that to my resume.’ His blog was voted among the most popular!”
The pastor said to me, “When I retire, I’m going to write a book. I have all these great stories and experiences I’m itching to tell. That’s what I’m going to do.”
I said, “No, you won’t.”
He was taken aback.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’ve heard it too many times. Preachers who have not written anything more than copy for the church sign think that when they hang it up, they’re suddenly going to transform themselves into authors. And it’s not going to happen. It never happens.”
“Why do you think that is?” he asked.
“No one can go a lifetime without writing and suddenly flip a switch and write an entire book. Especially one worth reading.”
He agreed to give that some thought.
He who would write humorously should spend an hour at Walmart people-watching. She who would write creatively might wish to do the same thing, preferably with laptop or phone in hand for note-taking.
Anyone hoping to write creatively and freshly should take the advice of movie-maker Harold Ramis. “I tell students (on arriving at a party or similar type gathering) to identify the most talented person in the room. And if it isn’t you, go stand next to him.”
Absorb. Listen. Remember. (And above all, be quiet. You’re there to observe.)
I’ve heard of a workshop for creative thinking among executives where the participants play paintball for an hour, then brainstorm on some topic. They are given a stack of magazines of any and all kinds and given 30 minutes to find every creative slogan or motto, and to jot it down. At the conclusion, they are thrown into small groups and told to adapt the best of those mottos to their own industry.
Creativity can be manipulated. The juices can be made to flow.
Don’t try too hard to be funny.
Don’t announce that you are now being funny.
Do not force it if this does not come naturally to you.
Find your own way of expressing the humor you feel in life.
Remembering that the best laugh comes from the surprise at the end of a good story, therefore, experiment with the best way to say that.
That’s also how to remember a good joke or story you’ve heard: Remember the punch line. If you remember that exactly right, you can recall the rest of the story by working backward in it. But the greatest single thing about telling a joke is getting the punch line right.
Again, though, surprise your hearers with it.
My granddaughter was six and we were at the swing in her front yard, doing what grandpas and little darlings do. We were singing and laughing and cutting up. At one point she said, “We’re being silly, aren’t we, grandpa.” I said, “Yes, we are. Why do we like to be so silly?”
In an effort to learn something beneficial to share with my class in 10 days at the Southern Christian Writers Conference in Tuscaloosa, I’ve been working and reading and thinking and worrying.
Here is what I have figured out so far.
I do not know how to write humor.
But I’m not telling that to Dr. David and Mrs. Joanne Sloan who invited me. I plan to stand up straight and act like I know what I’m doing, and hopefully fool them. Hey, it has happened before. I pastored six churches for 42 years. I know a lot about sucking it up and acting like I’m capable.
By now you’re wondering why I was invited to teach this class when so many “real” writers with impressive resumes are available. You’re not alone. I’m wondering the same thing.
The short answer is that I come cheap. The longer answer is that I come really, really cheap. Like, I’d do it for nothing, you know?
Erma Bombeck and Art Buchwald couldn’t come, tied up as they are teaching similar classes on a much higher level. In heaven, actually.
“For we did not follow cunningly devised fables when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but were eyewitnesses….” “For prophecy never came by the will of man, but holy men of God spoke as they were moved by the Holy Spirit” (2 Peter 1:16,21).
I’ve been reading books again.
That explains a lot of things. It explains where my mind is these days, what’s been bugging me, and where I’ve been searching the Word.
I’ve been reading “The Story of Ain’t.” This is mostly the story of struggles to decide what goes into dictionaries, culminating in Webster’s Third Edition. Author David Skinner brings us into the inner offices of G. and C. Merriam Company and tells how decisions are made concerning the English language. If you like that, you’d love watching sausage being made. (It’s a difficult book to read and only the wordsmiths among us should “rush out and buy this book.”)
“For we did not follow cleverly contrived myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ….” (2 Peter 1:16).
In the public library this week, it occurred to me that this vast collection of writings is divided into two primary sections: fiction and non-fiction. And that started me thinking. Wonder why the basic section is fiction and the “reality” section, if we want to call it that, is labeled “non-fiction”? Wonder why it’s not the other way around, that the primary part is “Real” or “True” and the secondary part is “fiction” or even “contrived?”
I’m not anti-fiction, incidentally.
I love novels, and read many each year.
My favorites are westerns. Before dismissing this as shallow and unworthy, the reader might be interested in knowing that a lot of important people have loved a good western (in addition to moi–lol). General Dwight Eisenhower, busily planning the invasion of Europe to drive the Nazis out of power, read western novels at night (and later in the White House) before retiring. I expect Ike did it for the same reason I do, as a little escape. Sort of a two hour vacation for the brain.
Westerns are fictions. People sat down and made up these stories. And even though Louis L’Amour boasted that his novels were all fact-based (“if I say there is a creek there and a cave next to it, you can find a creek there with a cave next to it”), it’s been proven that he was embellishing the truth. If anyone cares, I’ve not found them. Yet L’Amour sold over 200 million copies of his novels and they continue to fly off the bookstore shelves.
A German guy named Karl May wrote a ton of western novels without ever having visited the United States. All he knew was what he had read, yet he concocted characters and plots and scenes and convinced a lot of people. His books sold over 50 million copies, became the basis for a number of Hollywood movies, and are still available. May did visit the U.S. once in his life, toward the end. A reviewer said much of what Karl May wrote was interesting and believable, although in more than one story, he spoke of his characters coming up against an “impenetrable cactus forest,” something no one ever found.