Book Review: The Gospel According to LOST

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THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO LOST
by Chris Seay

When Thomas Nelson Publishers offered a free review copy of "The Gospel According to LOST" by Chris Seay, I was at the same time tempted and repulsed. But I couldn't help myself--I requested the book.

I've been hooked on the TV show LOST since the opening scene of the premier episode, and I consider myself as one of its biggest fans. I'm also a "fan" of, and believer in, the real Gospel (according to God). I was sure this book would either reveal truths behind the mysterious and muddled plot of LOST or distort the true Gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ.

I was wrong on both accounts.

Mr. Seay doesn't reveal any information that wasn't previously known; he simply (or complexly, perhaps?) takes what IS known, and digs deep into it. And he isn't sparing with using Scripture, either.

When I was reading the first couple chapters, I grew disappointed in the sparsity of Biblical relevance and was afraid my fears about skewering, or mocking, the Gospel had been realized. As I read on, I realized that it was merely a lengthy introduction--a warm-up for what was to come.

Each chapter thereon (with one exception) focuses on a single character, and each takes you deeper and deeper into the spiritual parallels and the hidden allegories woven into the storyline of LOST. Not only does Mr. Seay plunge you into the television show and its characters, he dives into scripture and reveals truths that literally make you stop reading and think for hours. (Well me anyway. I don't think I could be the only one.)

I mentioned an exception. Mr. Seay fittingly devotes a chapter in the middle of his book to the central character of a believer's life-Jesus--focusing on Chapter 15 of the Gospel according to Luke and to the "lost" parables, ably comparing them to the plight of the lost survivors of Oceanic Flight 815.

I marked too many passages in this book to quote all of them in this review, so I chose one at random, which happens to be from that middle chapter:

Christianity (that is, the devotion to following the ways of Jesus) is about love, forgiveness, and reconciliation. Religion is about celebrating the knowledge that you are right, reveling in self-satisfaction, enjoying your superiority, and looking down on the unenlightened. It may seem a bit of an understatement to say that the world needs more Christianity and less religion, but it is such a valid and bold assertion that it can never be uttered enough.

This us-versus-them mentality, this adherence to segregation, is another example of the kind of duality the runs through the stories that we know collectively as Lost. It was common to the Pharisees and remains prevalent for and relevant to all of us, even to the Losties who see themselves as completely different from the Others.

I can't recommend this book highly enough for fellow LOST fans who, like me, have perceived underlying themes (whether intentioned or not) that align with Scripture. I am viewing the current, and final, season of LOST with opened eyes. I can't wait to watch the entire series again, starting with season one, to find out what I missed the first time around.

My rating: 5 out of 5 stars.


Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Friday Fiction: I Lay Me Down in Peace, and Sleep

Ok, so this story isn't EXACTLY fiction, but so be it. It's my choice to post today for Fiction Friday.I don't THINK I've shared this one yet. It was my 2nd Editor's Choice winner at FaithWriters in November of 2007, for the topic "Calm". Enjoy, be blessed, and relax - Jesus is your rest.
Love,
Cat

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I LAY ME DOWN IN PEACE, AND SLEEP

I turn off the light, plunging the bathroom into darkness. I ease the door open, careful not to make a sound. My feet shuffle blindly and silently across the bedroom carpet until my toes find Lady’s doggie bed. I bend down and whisper loving nighty-nights to her as I stroke her silky fur.

My Jesus, You are the Light of Love, ever shining in the darkness. Even when I can’t see You, I can reach out in confidence to touch You, knowing You are there.

Warm and drowsy from the bath, I let the silky robe fall to the floor and I slip between the freshly laundered sheets. The cool, smooth cotton is a soothing balm to my flushed, damp skin. Musk and sandlewood fill my nostrils; the heady scents of bath oil permeate my senses.

Jesus, You are my cool refreshment, soothing me when I fall into You. I breathe You in; Your perfume fills me.

I inch upward until my heavy head finds the hollow in the pillow. With my head cradled, the tension in my neck is eased. Tendons and sinew unwind, my shoulders relax, vertebrae align.

Oh, Jesus, in You is all true alignment.

I snuggle down into the pillowy mattress. It conforms to my curves, creating a nest for my tired body. My limbs start to relax. My muscles begin to unknot.

Jesus, I am being molded into Your image, and it is Heavenly.

I fumble for the blanket, pull it up to my neck, then around my ears. Not quite warm enough, I grope for the quilt, find it at the foot of the bed, and add its comforting weight. Like a cat, I luxuriously arch my back, straighten my knees; my bare legs glide between the layers of satiny smooth cotton. I sigh in contentment.

Jesus, You are my covering. In You I am safe and warm. Without You, I would be exposed and ashamed, cold and lost.

One foot ventures across the expanse of the king-sized bed until it encounters his warmth on the sheets. My ever-cold toes are in ecstasy. Just a bit farther, and I feel his calf. I relish that simple touch.

Jesus, You are my inner fire. Burn brightly in me.

All sounds, save for his snores, are extinguished by the white-noise of the fan. I concentrate on clearing my mind of the inner cacophony resounding in the silence. I concentrate on Him.

”Be still, and know that I am God.”

The whirlwind of thoughts in my head does not cease, but does fade into the shadow of His presence

I am secure. I am at peace. As I talk with God, I drift off to sleep.

Jesus, You are my rest


”I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, LORD, only makest me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8

© 2007

We'd love you to join us for Friday Fiction!
Our host today is Joanne Sher at An Open Book.
Pop on over and add your own link, or just read some fiction by the best Christian writers I know.

Book Review: Listen

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LISTEN
by Rene Gutteridge

Listen... They're talking about you. Do you hear them?

Imagine if you could eavesdrop on the private conversations of your neighbors and friends, your city officials, and pastors, your family. Would you be able to resist the temptation?

Imagine that your own closed-door conversations were transcribed to a blog for anyone to read. What would your words say about you?

In "Listen", the residents of fictional Marlo find the answers to both questions when they discover just such a blog. The tens of thousands of hits prove that they're reading, and the sudden crime spree in this sleepy town proves how they are reacting.

Who is writing this blog? How does this person know what is said in the privacy of home and hearth? And what is the motivation behind publicizing private conversations?

Our hero is pulled into the drama professionally and personally, and, as the mystery builds, then unfolds to its satisfying conclusion, he discovers not only who and how, but why.

Rene Gutteridge explores the power that words hold over man - the power to bless, or to curse - and the effect they can have, whether spoken or not. After reading this novel, I was found myself paying closer attention to not only the words that came out of my mouth, but the ones I thought as well. "Listen" is not only an entertaining novel, it's a thought-provoking one as well.


Tyndale House Publishers provided a complimentary copy of this book for review.

Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

He Became Sin

I started hearing this song in my head again today as I thought about Jesus in the grave, and this post I wrote a couple of years ago came to mind, also. Deep thoughts.

Cat

Now playing! in my head! Chris Tomlin!

The song playing in my head this week is “Jesus Messiah” by Chris Tomlin. The line “He became sin who knew no sin.” is on repeat.

I’ve learned to meditate on those earworms that won’t go away – well the ones worthy of my quiet time contemplation anyway. So this week I’ve been pondering the moment when “He became sin.” and what “becoming sin” was like for Jesus.

Jesus did not “know” sin on a personal level, because He never disobeyed. He never experienced the consequences of sin I'm on a first name basis with - the queasy, uneasy, anxiety that accompanies saying “no” to God, and the guilt, despair, and worthlessness that follow serious backsliding and willful sin.

For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. 2 Cor 5:21 NKJV

In a flash, this sinless Man was flooded with unfamiliar, alien emotional agitation. He must have suffered anguish as anxiety pounded on His heart and guilt rent his gut. Did the sin’s pain cripple His already beaten and bloody body?

Then, at that time Jesus called out with a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?" which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"* Mark 13:54

He looked to His Father, as was His custom, but for the first time, God didn’t answer. At the moment of His deepest need, God wasn’t listening. His daddy had disowned Him.

And in that state of abandonment, He died.

My contemplations resulted in a revelation (yet to be fully accepted by me): Because Jesus died in that condition, separated from the Father, bearing the sins of the world IN Him, the Son of God descended into hell. (Is that different from the grave?) Because He was “uredeemed,” He experienced the death experience of an unbeliever.

Was He still fully God even when separated from the Godhead?

So many queries....

These things happened in fulfillment of the Scriptures that say, "Not one of his bones will be broken," John 19:36

Was a broken heart was his final undoing? Did the emotional torture and the anguish of unforgiven sin strain His unblemished heart to the point of premature death, before those crucified with Him, resulting in His bones being left unbroken?

And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost. Luke 23:46

And just what does “give up the ghost” mean? Three of the gospels use those words (or “spirit” in some translations.) The phrase is also used to describe the death of Abraham, Ishmael, Isaac, and Jacob, and Job lamented that had not given up the ghost as he came from the womb. Was it just a figure of speech, or were those words used for a purpose?

Lord, may my hunger to know you through your word never end, but may I also be satisfied knowing I have hope of knowing all of the answers someday. Thank you for artists who drive home the truth of your gospel in amazing ways that make me stop and think of you in new light.. Thank you for giving us music for worshipping you,. Lord, help me to never take the sacrifice of your son, Jesus, lightly or for granted. In His Name I pray.

Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Friday Fiction: Chosen

Wow. It's Friday. And what a GOOD Friday it was! In celebration of Good Friday, and in honor of our Saviour and Lord, I've resurrected and overhauled an old challenge entry. It was a different type of fiction for me, so bear with me. :)  I DO hope this story makes you stop and think. I know it did me when It made me write It.

God Bless,

Cat

_____

Chosen

The dark squeezed Katie like a vice. Behind her, somewhere, an orchestra of wails and screeches squalled in a symphony of terror that chased her on. She didn’t know what horror was concealed in the inky murk, what could be making those sounds, but she knew she had to escape from it. Tethers of fear constricted her lungs, but her legs propelled her. Her arms scrabbled into the black air as she careened forward over the cobbled surface.

Her outstretched hands met a wall, and her frantic fingers traced the outline of a door.

The icy doorknob burned Katie’s feverish palm, but she gripped it like a life preserver nonetheless. Her hand slipped on the metal as she twisted and yanked the door toward her. Blinding light flooded the passageway, and she threw her forearm across her eyes before lurching through the doorway. Her lungs were freed from their tethers, and she sucked in air, then released it with a groan and a whimper. In and out. Again and again, she filled, and emptied, her aching lungs. Behind her was blessed silence, her unseen tormenters banished by the light.

The door swung closed behind her.

In moments, her eyes grew accustomed to the light, and she was able to take in her surroundings. She sank to her knees and let out a wail.

She was back where she started; this was where her nightmare flight through the dark had begun.

The circular room was empty, save for the gleaming, throne-like structure in the center, and its occupant. The light permeated every corner leaving nary a shadow. She could see no source for the brilliance illuminating the burnished floor and opalescent walls, but it seemed to be emanating from the one seated on the throne. The one who had sent her on her trek through that hellish tunnel.

No, I sent you not. You chose your own way.

Katie gasped at the intrusion into her thoughts. She sprang to her feet and thrust a finger toward him. “You tricked me!”

How so? I simply gave you a choice. His kind eyes were clouded with sorrow.

“Some choice. Who wouldn’t have picked Door Number One?” she said, turning and gesturing toward the shimmering door she had just stumbled through. Light prismed off its bejeweled surface like a beacon, beguiling her, seducing her again to seek out what treasures it might conceal.

Before Katie could take a step in answer to its siren call, His hand embraced her arm, filling her body with warmth and her mind with sudden clarity.

Do you truly want to return there? I say to you again, choose wisely. Take heed: things are not always as they outwardly appear.

Her chin fell to her chest and her eyes squinched closed.

Look at me, Katie, and listen closely. How many times have you chosen that way?

She jerked her head up and she eyed Him, finally. “How many times!  What’re you…?”

This is not your first test.

“I don’t…” Her indignance was choked off by a surge of visions. Visions that didn’t make sense, but evoked familiar emotions...familiar fears. Evil chasing her through sunny, wide-open gateways and into darkness beyond, talons clawing into her, infecting her, with guilt, despair, melancholy. Hideous laughter echoing in her ears and her heart. And of herself, never stopping, never giving in, never giving up.

“I don’t remember…”

No, you remember those trials differently. You did not have my eyes, but now you see what I remember.

Katie pressed her palms to her eyes and fell to the floor. “Make it stop!”

I am able to stop your visions for you, but only you can stop me from seeing them. Only you can.

Katie’s mind was next flooded with minutiae of her past: her shunning the stuttering new girl in 7th grade in order to be popular; her not stopping her 12th grade boyfriend when he said, “If you love me you will;” her accepting the corporate position with a fancy-schmancy hotel because it came with a tidy salary and her own office, instead of following her dream to open a homeless shelter and soup kitchen.

Deep in her consciousness, Katie heard His words echo, like an unremembered memory tickling her mind.

I offer you a choice. Two doors. Choose wisely.

She turned and cast a longing gaze at the bejeweled door, then circled around to eye its counterpart on the opposite side of the circle. This door’s frame was narrow, and peeling paint adorned its weathered boards. Its doorknob and hinges were rusted from disuse.

She turned to look again at her new friend. “You said you’ll go with me?”

I’ll never leave you.

Katie took a faltering step toward the creaky old door…then another. When she looked back, for the first time, the Man was not seated on His throne.

He was standing at her side, smiling.


© 2010

We'd love you to join us for Friday Fiction!
Karlene Jacobson is our hostess today. She'd LOVE you to Pay her a visit at Homespun Expressions.
PLEASE come join the party! :) You can add a link, or just read more short fiction by some of today's best Christian writer.

He is RISEN! Jesus is risen indeed!

Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Friday Fiction: Genesis: Morning Has Broken Me

Welcome to Friday Fiction! Today, I'm sharing my most recent FaithWriters.com entry, a fiction genre I like to call "Happy Sappy". If you wanna feel good story, read on.

Genesis:
Morning Has Broken Me

"Mommy, come look!" Bounce. "You gotta come see." Bounce bounce. "Come on Mommy, Get up," bounce, "get up," bounce, "get up!"

Grrr. Seriously, God? My grand plan to sleep in on my Saturday off had been thwarted. It appeared my exuberant five-year old was causing a small earthquake in the region of MaBedville.

I pulled the covers over my head and growled for real. "What little Bear is bouncing on Mamma Bear's bed?" My attempt at a roar was cut off when Beatrice squealed and plopped her entire 24 pounds on top of me.

"MomMY! Come ON!" She yanked at the covers, eliciting a wrestling match that, of course, I let my Beatle-Bear win. How could I not? Losing meant I got to look upon those big brown eyes swimming inside that swarming halo of golden tresses?

"Why?" I whined, "I don't wanna get up. Come on, snuggle with me, Beatle-Bear." I tried to pull her into a spoon, but she wouldn't have it.

"No, Mommy, you gotta come see. I found you a wow."

She hopped off the bed and tugged on my hand until I tumbled after her with a flop and let her drag me to her room. She pranced to the window and pointed. "See? See the wow?"

I stood beside her and gazed out at the morning. The sun had just peeped over the trees, painting a pastel backdrop on the sky, and dew sparkled like a web of diamonds spun over creation. God had, indeed, painted a wow.

I ran my hand over her tousled hair. "Thank you for showing me the sunrise, Beatrice. That's a pretty good wow." I bent down and kissed the top of her head, stifling a yawn.

"NO, Mommy, over there. See?" She was jumping up and down and pointing past me to the right.

I sidled over to stand behind her so I could see what her pudgy little finger was pointing at.

"See the wow?"

"Oh, wow! Yeah, Bea-Bea, I do, now."

I pulled her warm little body into my arms and was hypnotized by the sight. A dancing prism of colors spanned the dew-bejeweled trees at the side of the yard, creating a glittery rainbow across the windbreak.

My little Beatle-Bear spun around to face me. "You always show me the wows, Mommy. I wanna show you this time, kay?"

She grabbed my hand again and twisted around to point out the window again. "Now, look, Mommy. See it? Wow! It's the raimbove God's promise." She turned and looked up. "Now, I'm gonna pray just like you do, 'kay? Bow your head, Mommy." She took my other hand and watched to make sure I followed her command.

Tears dripped onto the front of my rumpled sleepshirt as my little one led me in prayer for the first time.

"Dear God,Thank you for wows. Thank you for painting raimboves and for promises and for loving us. Thank you for Mommy. Please tell Daddy I love him. And thank you for Jesus.Amen."

Wow, God. I snuffled in and swallowed. That's my girl. That's Your girl. Thank you.

I squeezed her hands.

"Dear God, Thank you painting sunrises and rainbows for us, because sometimes we need a "wow" to remind us how very much you love us. Thank you for Beatrice, God, my precious little Beatle-Bear. Please take care of Daddy. And thank you for Jesus and for our home with You in Heaven, the forever treasure at the end of your rainbow. Amen."

***

"Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth." Genesis 9:16 (NIV)


© 2010

We'd love you to join us for Friday Fiction!
Our host today is
Rick Higginson at Pod Tales and Ponderings.
Swim on over and add your own link, or just read some fiction by the best Christian writers I know.

Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Friday Fiction: Goodbye, I Missed You

The Faithwriters.com writing challenge is on break, and, as always, someone was quick to post a mini-challenge.

Homonym Mini-Challenge:

Choose at least five sets of homonyms (most have two words, but some have a few).

Once you have your minimum of five sets of homonyms, write something using every word from each of those groups, making sure that it does all make sense.

This quick little story has the feel, to me, of potential. I welcome "red ink" (helpful critiques).


---

Goodbye, I Missed You

The river of light trailing the moon across the sea transfixes the tow-headed boy. He dangles his legs over the end of the pier, and the tips of his toes skim the murky surface of the water, sending ever-expanding rings sailing down the river. Their journey to the horizon is broken by a bobbing buoy suspended mid-stream.

He pretends not to hear the flap flap of my bare soles the boards as I come up behind him.

"Joey?" I squat down and rest a hand on his shoulder. "Your mom's here."

His shoulders fall, but his eyes don't leave the waterscape in front of him. I peer into the moonlight, and give him a minute.

"I don't see why I can't stay. I can help out. You can train me to be a counselor."

"Sorry, buddy, that'd be cool, and in a couple years you'll be old enough, and you can train to be a camp counselor. But, right now, your mom misses you. Come on, you ready?"

"Wait - one more second....there, see?"

He points into the moonlight at a sole gull lighting atop the bobbing buoy.

"They like to sit out there all alone. I feel like that sometimes. Just want to go sit alone somewhere and think."

"Jesus did that a lot, ya know. So it must be a good thing." I ruffle his sun-bleached hair. "Now let's go, your mom's waiting."

Joey swings his toes through the water one more time before scrambling to his feet. His narrow shoulders lift and his chest fills as he breathes deep of the sea air. Finally, he turns around to look at me. I wink and stand to the side to let him pass. At the other end of the pier, his mother dances in anticipation of reunion with her son. And Joey smiles.

© 2010

Join the Friday Fiction fun! Our hostess today is Christina Banks at "With Pen in Hand" Add your own link, or just read some fiction by the best Christian writers I know.

Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)