Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Books Make Wonderful Gifts—They Don’t Break, Need to be Updated, Crash or Frustrate You




Books make wonderful gifts—they don’t break, need to be updated, crash, or frustrate you. But they do grow in terms of endearment. From September 8 through October 7, John 3:16 author Laura Davis has put together a great savings opportunity for readers looking to get started early on their holiday shopping.

I have been busy packing up books to take to the orphans of Nepal in October. Since I homeschooled for many years I have books in every room, in every corner and on every table, with bookcases far too full. I could never seem to part with them. I didn’t want them to just collect dust somewhere in a used bookstore. Too many memories were attached to them—reading to my daughters when I put them to bed, or Joy and Manisha reading to me when we homeschooled, and so I figured I’d save them for my grandkids.

When we decided to make the trip to Nepal with Child Hope International, I pulled out a lot of those books and put them in the two suitcases. What great gifts to give to orphans who don’t own a single book and who have never even seen a Christian book outside the Bible.

Of course, the most precious ones to me, I  couldn’t  part with, and there were far too many of those, too. Still, I had over a hundred books in the suitcases just from my own collection of buying books through the years.

When Manisha, my oldest daughter who is now twenty-three, saw the suitcases, she opened them up and admired all the books that would be going to the orphans—until she saw some of her favorites. “No, you can't send my George Mueller book to Nepal. I remember when you read that one to me. No, you can’t take the Hugh Ross book. I remember when the Davis’s gave you that book. No, you can’t take—I remember—and she emptied out both suitcases and culled the ones I couldn’t take. They weren’t my favorites, but they were her favorites. It never occurred to me that she had any favorites.

“Honey, I asked her, ‘Don’t you want to give these to the orphans?’”

She replied, “It’s not so much the books themselves, it’s the memory of reading those books. It’s like you are giving away a part of me, moments I treasure.”

I reflected on her words later. I had no idea those books meant so much to her. Many of those times when I read to her in bed, I was dead tired, as she lay in bed beside me. Oftentimes I wondered if she was even listening.

But she was. And she remembers. Why not this Christmas instead of buying the latest electronic gadget, buy a book for a loved one? Or your boss. Or a teacher. Buy several books.

I don’t remember what sites I visited on my computer last week, but I can tell you what book I was reading. I oftentimes can’t even remember what I had for breakfast, but I can tell you what book I read on vacation. 

As I take two hundred Christian books to Nepal next month, many of which have been donated by John 3:16 authors, I like to think about what memories we will be making for these kids, the impact we can have on the teens who were once abandoned, and the difference we can make on the future leaders of the country, ten or twenty years from now. Books change lives. They build character. Christian books bring light to darkness. They encourage, build up, instruct. They become a part of us. They are treasures—forever!



Please check out the offerings for the next thirty days by our authors. Not only will you encourage John 3:16 authors to keep writing more books, but you can give a gift that will keep on giving—memories for a lifetime. I remember reading The Great Divorce and The Exodus and Pilgrim’s Progress like it was yesterday. Two of those books were given to me as gifts.

Who needs a good book to read? Maybe you deserve to treat yourself. Listed below are thirty opportunities to get brand new books—not books published three years ago, but hot-off-the-press books. The first one on the list, The King, is mine. I just received my print copy three days ago. Be the first to read it of your friends and post a review on Amazon. Then pass it along to someone who you think will enjoy it.

Our writings are a labor of love for Christ—and we want to share them with you. Most of these opportunities won’t be repeated, so take advantage of the savings now while you can.




Lorilyn Roberts
Sept. 8
Michelle D. Evans
Sept. 9
Cheryl Cowell
Sept. 10
Laura J. Davis
Sept. 11
Judy Lair
Sept. 12
Krystal Kuehn
Sept. 13
Violet James
Sept. 14
Emma Right
Sept. 15
Pearl Nsiah-Kumi
Sept. 16
Randy Kirk
Sept. 17
William Burt
Sept. 18
Kimberley Payne
Sept. 19
Cheryl Colwell
Sept. 20
D.K. Drake 
Sept. 21
Jill Richardson
Sept. 22
Dana Rongione
Sept. 23
Robin Johns Grant
Sept. 24
Elizabeth Paige
Sept. 25
L. Shoshana Rhodes
Sept. 26
Michelle D. Evans
Sept. 27
Sharon A. Lavy
Sept. 28
Lorilyn Roberts
Sept. 29
Dana Rongione
Sept.30
William Burt
Oct. 1
Laura J. Davis
Oct. 2
Kimberley Payne
Oct. 3
Emma Right
Oct. 4
Val Newton Knowles
Oct. 5
Elizabeth Paige
Oct. 6
Jilll Richardson
Oct. 7

Friday, September 5, 2014

A Taste of Lorilyn Roberts' Seventh Dimension - The King, Book 2, A Young Adult Fantasy

Seventh Dimension – The King, Book Two, A Young Adult Fantasy
by Lorilyn Roberts

After a series of devastating events, Daniel Sperling, a gifted seventeen-year-old Israeli boy becomes the focus of a wager between good and evil. Marked by one, he travels to first century Israel and meets a doctor who becomes his mentor
When he unwittingly makes a pact with the devil and the girl he loves is betrothed to another, his life takes a different course. Trapped in the seventh dimension, how far will God go to save him?





“Please, God, don’t let him die!” I cried.
General Goren’s face turned blue as the medic and nurse rushed into the room.
The nurse barked orders. “Start chest compressions. One, two, three, four—” seconds passed.
“No pulse,” the medic said.
After applying gel, the nurse placed the defibrillator pads on his bare chest.
“All clear,” she yelled.
We stepped back and waited.
The heart monitor remained flat.
“Again,” the medic said.
On the second attempt, General Goren’s eyes fluttered open.
A faint hope stirred in the room.
The death cat stood in the doorway. The nursing home mascot had never been wrong—maybe just this once. I wanted to yell at the cat to go away.
“Daniel,” a voice said faintly.
I leaned over and squeezed the General’s hand. “Yes, I am here.”
His eyes met mine. I drew nearer, avoiding the wires leading to the equipment. His breathing was labored. I was thankful the nurse and medic didn’t insist I leave.
“There is something I need to tell you,” he said faintly.
I shook my head. “No, save your energy. You don’t need to tell me now.”
“I must,” he pleaded. “You must know.”
I glanced at the medic and nurse. He was in no condition to talk. “Know—what?”
He squeezed my hand reassuringly. “You saved my life at Synagogue Hall.”
“What?” The man must be hallucinating.
The General continued. “May, 1948—hospital in Jewish Quarter.”
“No. It was someone else. I’m Daniel Sperling, son of Aviv, a volunteer at the Beth Hillel Nursing Home. I’m seventeen years old.” 
“Let him talk,” said the medic. He lowered his voice, “In case he dies.”
“Don’t say that,” I whispered.
The cat stood in the doorway—watching.
General Goren pulled me closer. “No, Son. It was you. They carried me in on a stretcher. I had a collapsed lung. The Arabs had burned everything but the hospital. The flames—cries of children—horrible. Mothers and fathers—all gone. The children—” he stopped, unable to continue.
I reassured him. “You did the best you could. Everyone did.”
General Goren flinched. “Dr. Laufer and Dr. Riss had a flashlight. Nurse Tzviah tried—” his voiced cracked again. “I told them not to waste any more time on me, to help the others.”
I’d never heard this story. The war hero rarely talked about those weeks in Jerusalem. Despite his successes many years later, he apparently never forgot that night.
“The reinforcements didn’t arrive in time. We held out as long as we could.”
“Forgive yourself.”
Tears welled up and he coughed. His eyes stared and the medic shocked him again.
“We have a heartbeat, a faint one,” the nurse said.
Should I leave so he could save his strength or stay and let him finish?
General Goren said, “I must tell you this before I’m gone.”
“I’m listening.”
The room became quiet. The only sound was his weak, raspy voice.
“You had a scar on your forehead. You walked over and touched me. The pain left. I cried out to the nurse—I wanted to know who you were—but you were gone.”
My hero had mistaken me for someone else.
“Thank you for saving my life,” the General said. “I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t think you would believe me.”
I squeezed his hand.
“God has great plans for you. You’re an angel.” The old man stopped breathing.
“He’s gone,” said the medic.
We checked the monitor. The war hero who had survived so many battles was no longer with us.
I ran out the door, tripping over the cat. I stopped and turned to face the poor creature. “Sorry,” I muttered.
His gray eyes stared into space, but the cat’s purrs reached my ears. I reached down and picked him up. Stroking his head gently, I leaned over and kissed him. Couldn’t the blind animal have been wrong just this once?

*~*~*~*


John 3:16 Books donated to orphans and library in Nepal