Starting a Business during a Pan-Demic

What astounding changes! The year 2020 brought unexpected shifts to every family. Health care workers, government budgets, and politicians forever seemed to be catching up to events as Covid-19 silently and invisibly spread sinister small spikes, triggering suffering and grief.

Before the end of the year, the digital world had zoomed itself into a preeminent position. Students study at home, slumping on couches, sandwiched between homework, social media, and songs sanctioned if listened to in a regular classroom. Working mothers at home bounce between work assignments and their young children’s demands for attention. Scientists’ sleepless nights supplied statistics that resulted in new vaccines, even as increasing opposition to vaccinations became a concern to health officials.

In February, I completed the banking requirements to sell books in the USA. My company, Century One Chronicles, was launched. In March, I uploaded my first novel onto Amazon, expecting that before the end of April, I would organize book-signing events in May and June.

But you know what happened! Plans to gather with friends were tossed from Windows 10. I entered the digital world—big time-for me. 

Century One Chronicles is a business that generally would demand face-to-face contact to show my books to interested persons.

Now, as we come to the last days of December, 

I have a Century One Chronicles store on Shopify.

I am organized to sell books on Facebook, eBay, Amazon, and Instagram. I aim to help other writers publish and get their books circulating without going through the demanding steep learning curve needed when forming a digital store.

Truth be told, I would far sooner write a 400-page historical novel with complex characters than face the daunting task of managing the radio buttons on Amazon’s Seller Central and other programs. After weeks of attempting to set things up on Amazon, I am still struggling to connect all the moving parts.

However, I fell blessed. Elizabeth, my daughter, has helped me set up Shopify, my digital shop. I feel like a baby just learning to crawl; such is the gap between my present knowledge of the digital world with its thousands of websites and my limited skill base.

I’m blessed to have the continuing help of three persons. A great illustrator, Dusan Arsenic, lives in Serbia, and he does fantastic things with his digital brushes. He has created the first three book covers and will continue with the next books. Jerry Whittaker is my primary editor, enhancing the story-line and making helpful suggestions. Daphne Parsekian is my final copy editor. Many people read pre-published copies of my novels. I see the Lord’s gracious hand in helping me connect with so many who have helped me at every step of the way.

Two books appeared online as e-Books and paperbacks and are being circulated:

Through the Fire: A Chronicle of Pergamum, Heartbeats of Courage, Book One, in April, and

Never Enough Gold: A Chronicle of Sardis, Heartbeats of Courage, Book Two, in November.

In 2021, Lord Willing, I have three more volumes ready to publish, and in 2022, the last two novels in the series of the Seven Churches of the Revelation.

Thanks for being a prayer partner in this enterprise. I hope to send the proceeds from the sale of these books to help widows and orphan children who need to learn to read in four of the developing countries.

Warmest regards on these chilly winter mornings! Love and prayers for the joy of it all, David 

A cold, delayed December funeral

The early December afternoon showed a cold face as we arrived at the cemetery. A chilly wind blew from the west, and the spacious parking lot was empty. A small gathering showed people standing close together down one of the hills but not touching each other—another funeral.

We waited in our car. Five minutes later, a blue Toyota came beside us. This was my first view of the lady who phoned me two days ago. She had come with her two daughters. She waved at me, and I motioned, indicating that I would follow their car to the site of the newly covered grave.

We followed the three mourners to the grave, recently closed and now covered high with colorful plastic flowers of every description. The light-brown earth was covered beneath an abundance of flowers. Many people loved this man who passed away before he could experience a mid-life crisis. But he had been buried without so much as a prayer.

The mother-in-law asked me two days ago to read three passages: Psalm 23, I Corinthians 13, and Revelation 21. I asked them where they wanted to stand, and they took their place at the foot of the grave. My wife stood with them. Normally, internment would be accompanied by a hug or something spontaneous like a kind word matched by a loving gesture. But this is the world made fearful by Covid-19. Even though the man died from a kidney problem, we are constantly impacted by the fear of spreading it or getting the disease.

As I led this unexpected service to commit the body to the grave and his spirit to the Lord, many things passed through my mind. After only a few minutes in the open air under a cloudless sky, the gusty wind had us all shivering. Moved by emotion, I proclaimed the Gospel in simple terms. I gulped for air and caught my breath as I imagined the beautiful young widow who has returned to her home for the last 32 days, struggling to bring up two young teens.

And in between so many other thoughts, I returned to a growing awareness. Many of us have been commenting on this common thread: During a time of a public health crisis, the power of the Gospel has not been curtailed. Last night on a zoom call, we heard people saying they are praying more and reflecting more on the path their lives are taking. This morning, on another zoom meeting, we received repeated words of comfort, songs, news of creative ministries of feeding the poor in our area, the beginning of a read-through of the Book of John, and opportunities for sharing and receiving prayers. And this delayed funeral, requested by an unknown widow for her widowed daughter, is one more evidence that the Lord is with us, always the same, yesterday, today, and forever.

And more than that, we returned home having made three new friends. There was something very warming in the early winter winds of December.

An Unexpected Phone Call

 

The cell phone rings just as I park the car in front of a multi-story building. Few things in life are as difficult as the sudden news of a person dying. It's all so opposite from the entrance of life, coming through the long, slow, welcome swelling of a mother's stomach that promises a new life. A birth brings the joy of family members gathered around, the sudden laugher, and sometimes tears of overwhelming emotion, like touching the soft, smooth skin of a healthy newborn.

Tears at the time of death are so different. They hide many complex emotions. A mother grieves for her son, who has passed prematurely. She stumbles from the memories of the past to the agony of her daughter, who now is a single mother. She tells me of the man, whom I had never met. He leaves a young daughter and a son, two years younger.

Her daughter is grieving and upset and unable to sleep, but she is now the family's breadwinner. The boy attempts to shrug off his pain. When she asked, "How are you?" he answers his grandmother, "I'm fine." Nothing more. We all know he's not fine, but where is the key to open this lovely young boy's heart so that he can share the pain and loss of his dad. Who has that key hidden away?

The phone call came while driving, while we were delivering Christmas cheer. My wife has made several batches of her famous granola, the breakfast I never get tired of eating. We are delivering bottles to many people we've come to know in our community over the previous two years, up until when the Gathering Place had to shut down like everything else during the Covid-19 crisis. And I'm speaking with a grieving mother.

Inside the building, my wife is passing a Christmas gift into the hands of a lovely young woman from Africa. She saw family members being brutally killed in a war no one knows about or wants to hear of. It seems that no one in our land has time to hear about Africans having been killed in uprisings. In this case, over one million persons. We have enough of death here. I can't imagine the anguish resulting from a complete breakdown of governments. A million people, actually far more than that...my mind goes numb. I can't imagine the faces or any details.

But I can imagine a widow's pain. This phone call brings me close to a woman who has experienced too much in her life. Those of her husband and two children were too many deaths, infants who left short memories before being laid to rest in the black earth. For half an hour, I listen and ask a few questions, and gradually the story comes out of her son-in-law's sickness. Her questions never stop. "Should we have done this? Could we have done more?"

And the dreaded questions and doubts gradually shed more light on the situation as trust is built over the invisible network of radio signals between her phone and mine. "There were no prayers. No Bible reading. Just dust sprinkled over his feet. Will he be judged by God because the ashes were not sprinkled on the casket over his head? I shared with my son-in-law how he could come to know God, to kneel beside his bed and ask for forgiveness for his sins."

Details flow out, sadness filling the space between us, the love and comfort of the Holy Spirit beginning to flow as a tiny stream of peace that will bind us, who until half an hour ago, were strangers. Now we are sharing deeply, thanking the Lord for the common friend who wanted her to phone me.

A rush of holy awe overwhelms me. The mystery of faith. The conviction of eternal life. The welcome invasion into my time table, my schedule open to His leading, to His call to share and minister. And we begin to think of what a funeral might look like under the circumstances. My wife closes the door, having delivered words of comfort and the best granola on this side of excellence. Tomorrow we'll plan the funeral, wondering how to celebrate a life taken away after a year of declining health.

The Comfort of Prayers

The early December afternoon showed a cold face as we arrived at the cemetery. A chilly wind blew from the west, and the spacious parking lot was empty. A small gathering showed people standing close together down one of the hills but not touching each other—another funeral. 

We waited in our car. Five minutes later, a blue Toyota came beside us. This was my first view of the lady who phoned me two days ago. She had come with her two daughters. She waved at me, and I motioned, indicating that I would follow their car to the site of the newly covered grave. 

We followed the three mourners to the grave, recently closed and now covered high with colorful plastic flowers of every description. The light-brown earth was covered beneath an abundance of flowers. Many people loved this man who passed away before he could experience a mid-life crisis. But he had been buried without so much as a prayer.

The mother-in-law asked me two days ago to read three passages: Psalm 23, I Corinthians 13, and Revelation 21. I asked them where they wanted to stand, and they took their place at the foot of the grave. My wife stood with them. Normally, an internment would be accompanied by a hug or something spontaneous like a kind word matched by a loving gesture. But this is the world made fearful by Covid-19. Even though the man died from a kidney problem, we are constantly impacted by the fear of spreading it or getting the disease. 

As I led this unexpected service to commit the body to the grave and his spirit to the Lord, many things passed through my mind. After only a few minutes in the open air under a cloudless sky, the gusty wind had us all shivering. Moved by emotion, I proclaimed the Gospel in simple terms. I gulped for air and caught my breath as I imagined the beautiful young widow who has returned to her home for the last 32 days, struggling to bring up two young teens. 

And in between so many other thoughts, I returned to a growing awareness. Many of us have been commenting on this common thread: During a time of a public health crisis, the power of the Gospel has not been curtailed. Last night on a zoom call, we heard people saying they are praying more and reflecting more on the path their lives are taking. This morning, on another zoom meeting, we received repeated words of comfort, songs, news of creative ministries of feeding the poor in our area, the beginning of a read-through of the Book of John, and opportunities for sharing and receiving prayers. And this delayed funeral, requested by an unknown widow for her widowed daughter, is one more evidence that the Lord is with us, always the same, yesterday, today, and forever. 

And more than that, we returned home having made three new friends. There was something very warming in the early winter winds of December. 

Nation at Prayer

 

Living the Power of God's Presence

“When will this be over?” - one of those simple yet impossible questions asked of a politician in a recent media scrum. Obviously surprised by the question that is on everyone’s mind, his immediate response was “Only God knows!” In that short answer is the profound truth that the challenges facing elected representatives at this time are so far beyond human capability and limitation that only God does know and beyond that, only God has the wisdom and the power to meet and overcome every challenge. For over 17 years now, Nation At Prayer continues to witness the impact when the Holy Spirit infuses the lives of elected representatives and the lives of those who lift them in prayer. Refreshing winds of the Holy Spirit are blowing across the nation and around the globe in amazing ways. It is our great privilege and joy to witness and be in the midst. Today is an opportunity for you to share in this exceptional time of ministry: as we continue to actively engage and pray with politicians at every level as the Lord continues to open new initiatives with Indigenous leaders  as we witness a deepening of faith and expressed need for God’s presence and power by politicians at every level as we witness the expanding numbers of those responding to the call to pray for the Lord’s Power and Presence in the lives of elected leaders and nations as the necessity to gather virtually has led to our involvement in innovative and powerful events for worship and prayer for our nation and for the world as we engage in exciting initiatives uniting the full body of believers across the nation and around the globe as the Lord extends our global reach   As we live to the full the truth that “the light shines in the darkness and the darkness can never extinguish it” (John 1:5 NLT) may the Lord’s transforming Presence and Power infuse you this Christmas season. Thanks to Mel and Sue Finlay for this letter and their ongoing, amazing work in Ottawa, and across our nation, bringing us to pray together with Christians who believe God is at work in Canada!

When Death Comes Knocking

The cell phone rings just as I park the car in front of a multi-story building. Few things in life are as difficult as the sudden news of a person dying. It's all so opposite from the entrance of life, coming through the long, slow, welcome swelling of a mother's stomach that promises a new life. A birth brings the joy of family members gathered around, the sudden laugher, and sometimes tears of overwhelming emotion, like touching the soft smooth skin of a healthy newborn.

Tears at the time of death are so different. They hide many complex emotions. A mother grieves for her son, who has passed prematurely. She stumbles from the memories of the past to the agony of her daughter, who now is a single mother. She tells me of the man, whom I had never met. He leaves a young daughter and a son, two years younger. 

Her daughter is grieving and upset and unable to sleep, but she is now the family's breadwinner. The boy attempts to shrug off his pain. When she asked, "How are you?" he answers his grandmother, "I'm fine." Nothing more. We all know he's not fine, but where is the key to open this lovely young boy's heart so that he can share the pain and loss of his dad. Who has that key hidden away?

The phone call came while driving, while we were delivering Christmas cheer. My wife has made several batches of her famous granola, the breakfast I never get tired of eating. We are delivering bottles to many people we've come to know in our community over the previous two years, up until when the Gathering Place had to shut down like everything else during the Covid-19 crisis. And I'm speaking with a grieving mother. 

Inside the building, my wife is passing a Christmas gift into the hands of a lovely young woman from Africa. She saw family members being brutally killed in a war no one knows about or wants to hear of. It seems that no one in our land has time to hear about Africans having been killed in uprisings. In this case, over one million persons. We have enough of death here. I can't imagine the anguish resulting from a complete breakdown of governments. A million people, actually far more than that...my mind goes numb. I can't imagine the faces or any details.

But I can imagine a widow's pain. This phone call brings me close to a woman who has experienced too much in her life. Those of her husband and two children were too many deaths, infants who left short memories before being laid to rest in the black earth. For half an hour, I listen and ask a few questions, and gradually the story comes out of her son-in-law's sickness. Her questions never stop. "Should we have done this? Could we have done more?"

And the dreaded questions and doubts gradually shed more light on the situation as trust is built over the invisible network of radio signals between her phone and mine. "There were no prayers. No Bible reading. Just dust sprinkled over his feet. Will he be judged by God because the ashes were not sprinkled on the casket over his head? I shared with my son-in-law how he could come to know God, to kneel beside his bed and ask for forgiveness for his sins." 

Details flow out, sadness filling the space between us, the love and comfort of the Holy Spirit beginning to flow as a tiny stream of peace that will bind us, who until half an hour ago, were strangers. Now we are sharing deeply, thanking the Lord for the common friend who wanted her to phone me. 

A rush of holy awe overwhelms me. The mystery of faith. The conviction of eternal life. The welcome invasion into my time table, my schedule open to His leading, to His call to share and minister. And we begin to think of what a funeral might look like under the circumstances. My wife closes the door, having delivered words of comfort and the best granola this side of excellence. Tomorrow we'll plan the funeral, wondering how to celebrate a life taken away after a year of declining health. 

Standing Together While Physically Apart

The Coronavirus Covid-19 has caused us to think aloud about a truth we don't often dwell on. Our normal tendency is to think locally, not globally. However, this health crisis is forcing us to reconsider the nature of human interactions across national boundaries. This is precious. We are not alone. Our actions in one place can influence the health of others far away. That's how the virus spread from China to Italy, the USA, and every country globally. 

Jesus Christ, the Messiah, is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Thanks be to God! We come from many traditions. The Bible teaches us that there is "One Lord, one faith, one body..." With our eyes, we cannot see the Church how the Lord sees it through time and space. We often disagree, and sometimes these disagreements throughout history have turned violent. Nevertheless, your church is part of a wider body of believers. 

Roman Catholics are grouped in the largest body of believers in the world. The Orthodox churches are next in size. Anglican churches also baptize infants. Both these churches count men and women, boys and girls, all those baptized at birth, which is different from "Believers' churches." 

The next largest grouping is found in those churches organized around New Testament principles, in which adults are baptized members. The Baptist World Alliance is one grouping that brings believers together. The BWA is found in every country. In a year with unprecedented disruptions, God’s global mission is unchanging, as is the BWA mission.

 Despite isolation and separation, the Baptist movement worldwide has found ways to stand together, creatively adapting, compassionately caring, and continuing to minister throughout this year. These three examples represent hundreds, no thousands, of ways Christians have been sharing with one another.

 

• In Mexico, Baptists partnered to send medicine to rural areas with limited healthcare.

• In the Democratic Republic of Congo, Baptists purchased their first radio airtime to broadcast messages of help and hope in Christ.

• In Bangladesh, Baptists built public hand-washing stations outside of their churches in areas where up to 25 families share a single water tap.

 

You are a key part of this global missional movement. In fact, you helped financially empower every one of these ministries. If you represent another group of Christians, be thankful for the worldwide body of believers through whom you can fellowship and worship our Lord.