Sunday, March 6, 2011

The Practice of Repentance by Dr. Woody Wilson

Tour Date: March 9

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It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!


Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:


The Practice of Repentance

CrossHouse Publishing (October 15, 2010)

***Special thanks to Jennifer Nelson, PR Specialist, Hannibal Books for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:




Woody Wilson and his wife, Judy, live in McKinney, Texas, where he serves as senior pastor of Waddill Street Baptist Church. They have four grown children and two grandchildren. Woody received his M.Div. from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and his D.Min. from Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary.



SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

What does being sorry for one's sins truly mean? Why do many Christians regret their wrongdoings but never engage in true, utter, and complete repentance?

Pastor Woody Wilson contends that as believers we are content with what he calls "incomplete repentance" in our repetitive sin-struggles and never actually engage in the necessary practice of repenting of sin before we commit it--genuinely forsaking our tendency toward sin and turning away from it before it entangles us again.


Product Details:

List Price: $11.95
Paperback: 120 pages
Publisher: CrossHouse Publishing (October 15, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1934749877
ISBN-13: 978-1934749876

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


Introduction

The Enigma of Repentance


The first word of the gospel1 is in grave danger of becoming the last word of the church. Repentance is not a popular subject. True repentance is difficult to describe. Is it an emotion—feeling sorry for our sins? Is it an attitude—thinking positively about the human condition? Is it an act of will—promising never to commit a particular sin again? Is it a personal resolution—turning over a new leaf? Most of our thinking about repentance places it squarely in the domain of human activity. It is something we do.


Repentance is, in fact, a God-ward action, but this is only part of the story. Repentance begins and ends with God. In between, however, we are dynamically involved in the process. The enigma of repentance is that it is both a gift that God gives, a divine enabling of sinful man to turn his heart away from sin and toward God, and also a command to be obeyed, without which no one can approach God or find forgiveness for sins.


As central as repentance is to the gospel message, it has fallen on hard times. When Jonathan Edwards preached his famous sermon, Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God, on July 8, 1741, in Enfield,Connecticut, people literally held on to one another or to fence posts, in fear that the earth would open up and swallow them alive, taking them down to the pit of hell itself. The people, previously characterized as “thoughtless and vain,” were so changed before the sermon was ended that they were “bowed down with an awful conviction of their sin and danger.”2 No wonder that repentance was a mark of the First Great Awakening in America. In the words of W. G. T. Shedd, “All great religious awakenings begin in the dawning of the august and terrible aspects of the Deity upon the popular mind.”3


Times have changed; seldom do pastors today preach with such tones as did Edwards, George Whitefield, and other preachers of that day. The modern/postmodern preacher usually opts for a more positive approach to the gospel in his sermons, rarely mentioning either sin or repentance. One of those Great Awakening preachers was Aaron Burr Sr., who stood in stark contrast to many of the preachers of that day and this:


He was none of those downy doctors who soothe their hearers into delusive hopes of the divine acceptance, or substitute external morality for vital godliness. He scorned to proclaim the peace of God till the rebel had laid down his arms and returned to his allegiance. He searched the conscience with the terrors of the law, before he assuaged its anguish with the sweet emollients of a bleeding Deity.4


The accusation of soothing their hearers into delusive hopes should cause us to sit up and take notice. Preachers today want the power, popularity, and results of those renowned preachers but do not want to carry the message necessary to bring those results. We will not experience peace without preaching repentance, and we will not see repentance without preaching sin. We have become accustomed to—and prefer—a watered-down version of the gospel marked by an absence of the awe and fear of God. We have, consequently, lost the impetus of calling people to return to a holy and just God who will not leave sin unpunished. In response to the attitude of that former day, the preaching of “the Great Awakening was often alarming, and intentionally so.”5


Richard Owen Roberts sounds a renewed alarm for this current generation:


The biblical doctrine of repentance hinges on the fact that all sin is a grievous affront against God. None of us has a right to offend Him. We must turn from our sin in repentance. Thus, it is scarcely surprising that in a time of deep moral and spiritual decline, the world cares as little for the doctrine of repentance as it does for negative statements about sin. It is time for alarm, however, when the church that the Lord Jesus Christ established knows scarcely any more about repentance than does the sin-loving world. Tragically, that is the situation today. Granted, the word repentance is still in our religious vocabulary, but it is nonetheless a tragically misunderstood and carelessly disregarded term.6


One reason why repentance may be so neglected in many churches is that there is a general disregard for biblical doctrine. Christians have substituted slogans and philosophical ideas for God’s revealed truth. An example of such is the oft-quoted “God helps those who help themselves.” It is quoted as if it is a divinely inspired verse in the Bible. Of course, it is not—in fact, it is contrary to what the Bible teaches. This popular byword implies that God is a last resort—help yourself first and, if that does not work, then ask God to help.


Another factor is that churches have preached a brand of salvation that requires no repentance. We call people to “walk the aisle,” “to say a prayer,” and “to invite Jesus into their hearts.” If there is no repentance that accompanies these acts, then we are calling people to turn to Christ without turning from sin—an incomplete repentance at best. No wonder so many who call themselves Christian today are merely nominal believers7 who persist in the same sins they committed before their so-called salvation.


Many view repentance as a one-time event (as a synonym for salvation) rather than as a continuing response to God’s grace. The Bible calls us to be repenting repenters. As I typed this line, the spell check on my computer underlined the word repenter as a misspelled word. I clicked on the word to see what the suggested spelling was and found two possible substitutes: reenters and repeaters. At first, I chuckled at the suggestions, but then I realized that this is exactly what we do. We are “repenting repeaters,” never truly turning away from sin, often repeating the same old sins without ever truly repenting of them.


The end result of these factors may very well be a “repentanceless” church. That specter begs the question: Can such an entity truly be called church? One may also ask whether a Christian life void of repentance can truly be called Christian.


Where does repentance fit into the Christian experience? Jesus came preaching, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15).8 For the gospel to be the good news that it is, it must always remain “repent and believe.” Jesus joined these two aspects of our salvation in what Roberts called the “irrevocable link … between repentance and faith.”9 To separate these concepts is to destroy the essence of the gospel. To abandon repentance proves extremely detrimental to the life of the Christian and to the church.


Nevertheless, repentance has fallen into misuse and disuse in the church today. My first encounter with an erroneous view of repentance came in the days of my youth. I lived in a central Illinois town that tended to be predominantly Catholic. My Catholic friends found it strange that I was a Baptist; I was equally bewildered by their practices. Without launching into the theological explanations of why they did what they did, suffice it to say that their practice of visiting the confessional on Saturdays and being given some penance to do by the priest did not alter their lifestyle one iota. They sinned with impunity, confessed their sins by rote recitation, and returned to their sins as quickly as they could. There was absolutely no concept of life-transforming repentance, even less any vital commitment to the Lordship of Jesus.


I have learned, however, that Baptists and other evangelical groups have equally misshapen views of repentance. Most, if pressed to describe their own repentance, would relegate it to an entrance event. To them, repentance is synonymous with their conversion experience. They “repented” by asking Jesus to forgive their sins. Years later, if you asked them about repentance, they would say they had already done that and had no need to repeat it.


Others who are more serious about their Christian life and are struggling against some persistent sin also focus on repentance as a one-time event. They are tired of some specific sin affecting their life and want to be done with it once for all. They seek a repentance that will rid their life of the problem for good. I have found in my own experience that it does not happen that way. I will treat the issue of habitual sin and our struggle with sin in a later chapter, but for now I confess that I, too, wish I could leave some sins behind and never be troubled by them again. In the moments of my deepest regret over repeating the same sin, having again turned my heart and will back to the Lordship of Jesus, I know that even though I am forgiven, I am not through with the sin. It will rear its ugly head again and again. What I do with that temptation is the subject of this book. Moving beyond the concept of a repentance that removes sin and temptation out of our way once for all, we embrace the truth that repentance is intended to be the constant companion of the dedicated Christian. It is one of the Christian disciplines (even though many books treating the subject of spiritual disciplines fail to recognize it as such). Just as we abide in God’s Word on a daily basis and maintain an attitude of prayer throughout the day, so we seek to practice repentance as a matter of daily discipline.


The truth that I am seeking to declare is that we will never understand true repentance until we comprehend that repentance is not merely an act of turning away from sins already committed but is, more importantly, an act of turning away from our proclivity toward sin. The thirteenth-century Jewish teacher Rabbeinu Yonah refers to the highest level of repentance as “shunning a sin when faced with it and still fully craving it and fully capable of committing it again.”10 Most people see repentance as something they do only after they have sinned. I am suggesting that true repentance is primarily something we do before we sin, which keeps us from straying into that sin again. It is turning away from the temptation to sin. In this sense, then, repentance not only releases us from sin’s guilt but also from sin’s power. This truth transforms repentance from a past action (I have repented) to a present action (I am repenting).


Let us not confuse our terms here. There is an entrance-level repentance when we first come by faith to Jesus. In that moment, we can say without hesitation, “I have repented of my sins.” There are also those times when, under conviction of some sin committed, we turn back to God in godly sorrow. We can, at these times, also say, “I have repented of sin.” For the follower of Jesus, however, it cannot stop there if we are to have victory over sin’s sway in our lives. We must practice repentance preemptively. I referred to this earlier as being a “repenting repenter”—that is, one who, having repented of sin and placed his faith in Jesus, is actively repenting, turning away from sin one temptation at a time. W. T. Conner explains,


The initial act of repentance is the beginning of a life of repentance. Jesus says we should take up the Cross daily (Luke 9:23). … The sinful self has to be crucified daily. The old man, as Paul calls him (Col. 3:9), has more lives than the proverbial cat. He will not stay dead when killed. Oftentimes the deepest repentance does not come at the beginning of the Christian life.11


In his Institutes of the Christian Religion, John Calvin says that the one who has placed his faith in Jesus “must depart from the errors of his former life, enter into the right way, and devote all his attention to the exercise of repentance” (emphasis added).12 Calvin explains further:


This restoration is not accomplished in a single moment, or day, or year; but by continual, and sometimes even tardy advances, the Lord destroys the carnal corruptions of his chosen, purifies them from all pollution, and consecrates them as temples to himself; renewing all their senses to real purity, that they may employ their whole life in the exercise of repentance, and know that this warfare will be terminated only by death. … There still remains in a regenerate man a fountain of evil, continually producing irregular desires, which allure and stimulate him to the commission of sin.13


In the first of his ninety-five theses, Martin Luther states, “When our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, said ‘repent,’ he meant that the entire life of believers should be one of repentance.”14 Luther taught that penance, the way the Catholic Church of his day practiced it, had little, if anything, to do with true repentance. He was convinced that “the Gospel called not for an act of penance but for a radical change of mind that would lead to a deep transformation of life” and that “repentance is a characteristic of the whole life, not the action of a single moment.”15


Reflecting upon the theological approach to repentance of Calvin and Luther, one may conclude that “true repentance can never be reduced to a single act found only at the beginning of the Christian life. … Since its goal is our restoration into the image of Christ, it involves the ongoing practical outworking of our union with Christ.”16 This truth refers to repentance as a “lifelong process of the restoration of sinners,” which is “an inescapable, ongoing, and permanent necessity.”17


The practice of repentance is therefore the ongoing, continual exercise of resisting temptation and turning our hearts toward the Lord in renewed and steadfast commitment. The enigma of it is that many Christians are content with an incomplete repentance. They repent of sins committed but never learn how to repent of sin before they commit it. That sounds absurd! How can you repent of something you have not done? This is exactly the point. Repentance is misunderstood by most. Repentance is far more than feeling sorry for sins committed; it is the forsaking of our tendency toward sin, turning away from it before it entangles us again. I want you to learn the practice of repentance—to become “a repenting repenter.” The purpose of this book is to teach you how you can live this truth: “I am repenting of my sin.” This is the path to victory over sin.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Patchwork Dreams (Amish of Seymour V1) (Amish of Seymour County) by Laura Hilton

Tour Date: March 7

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It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!


Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:


Patchwork Dreams (Amish of Seymour V1) (Amish of Seymour County)

Whitaker House (April 5, 2011)

***Special thanks to Cathy Hickling of Whitaker House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Laura V. Hilton is a pastor’s wife, mother of five, author, and book reviewer. Although for her formal education she studied business, books have long been Laura’s passion. Her first two novels, Shadows of the Past and Hot Chocolate, were published by Treble Heart Books; she’s also a contributor to Zondervan’s It’s The Year Life Verse Devotional. A member of American Christian Fiction Writers, Laura reviews primarily Amish fiction for the ACFW ezine Afictionado. She also serves as a staff reviewer for the Christian Suspense Zone. At last count she’d published over 1,000 reviews appearing on her book review site, http://lighthouse-academy.blogspot.com/, as well as Dancing Word, Faith Webbin, A Romance Review, and Christian Review of Books among others. A stay-at-home mom who home schools her children, Laura lives in Arkansas with her family.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Since returning from her rumspringa pregnant and unwed, Becky Troyer has been a pariah in her Seymour, Missouri Amish community, shunned by her peers. Her world changes when Jacob Miller arrives from Pennsylvania to work at her family’s farm for the summer. What Jacob doesn’t know is that his father, who disapproves of Jacob’s sweetheart, Susie, sent him away with the hopes he’ll find a more suitable mate.


Product Details:

List Price: $6.99
Paperback: 144 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (April 5, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603742557
ISBN-13: 978-1603742559

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


Jacob Miller hunkered on the middle seat of a white van. He wasn’t a prisoner, but he might as well have been.

Could he say, “I quit”?

Could he say, “Stop this ride, I want to get off”?

No, to both questions.

Despair roiled in his gut as the van passed a McDonald’s on the right, then pulled off the southbound lane of Highway 60, turned left at the light, and continued down a road covered with snow. The ice-laden trees, while beautiful to behold, did nothing to settle his inner turmoil. The heat from the van’s air vents only dispelled the outer chill. This was possibly the worst thing that ever happened to him—having to leave his girl as he was tossed out like an old copy of the Amish newspaper, The Budget.

Jacob leaned forward, his black felt hat clutched in his hands, as the vehicle lurched over a bump. Or something. Seymour, Missouri, wasn’t too far from Springfield, which the driver called the “Queen City of the Ozarks.” But the trip dragged by as if in slow motion. Maybe because he’d been dreading it for so long.

Fearing it.

Having nightmares about it.

Mama’s fourth cousin twice removed lived somewhere in this rural Missouri town. What would his family be like? Would Cousin Daniel be a harsh disciplinarian like Daed? Or would he be more easygoing, like Mamm? Jacob blinked hard, remembering Mamm’s tears when he’d boarded the transport driver’s van for a ride to the bus station.

He wished he could use his contraband cell phone to call home to talk to Mamm. But his parents didn’t own a phone; there was only the community one in a shack a couple of miles down the road.

Jacob grimaced as the van rumbled past several small businesses and then turned down a narrow dirt road.

“Not too far now. A bit anxious, are you?” The driver glanced at Jacob in the rearview mirror, then reached forward and adjusted the heat. “Getting a mite warm in here.”

Jacob made a noncommittal grunt and looked away. The driver had made a couple of attempts at conversation since picking him up at the bus station, but with nausea clogging his throat, he didn’t want to risk opening his mouth to speak.

How could Daed do this to him? It seemed wrong in so many ways.

Instead of building his farm in Pennsylvania, Jacob would be working the rocky red clay of southern Missouri. If he were home, he could be drinking a mugful of hot apple cider made from the family’s orchard and then going out to prune the fruit trees, working alongside his brothers—something he’d always imagined himself doing for life.

Jacob pushed that thought away. Better not to think of what might have been.

Instead of marrying sweet Susie during wedding season, he’d be spending a year helping out a distant cousin he’d never met. Susie’s warm, brown eyes flashed in his mind. Her quick laugh. Her willingness to try new things, never content to settle for the old. Ach, he already missed her. He reached for his cell phone to send her a text message but couldn’t get a signal. No coverage.

Well, if Daed thought this would destroy their love for each other, he had another thing coming. Jacob couldn’t imagine living without Susie for a week, let alone a year.

Bare trees dotted the edges of someone’s property, and in the distance, the rolling hills made a rather hazy background picture. Pretty, though not at all like home.

Would he be able to get past the homesickness—and this streak of bitterness toward Daed—to embrace this as an adventure? A chance to learn about another part of the country, to expand his boundaries, and, more important, to minister to this needy relative and his family?

Too bad his pep talk wasn’t working. He didn’t like his bad attitude, but it seemed impossible to get rid of it.

All too soon, the van arrived in the gravel driveway of a large two-story farmhouse. The trees surrounding the house would provide plenty of shade during the hot summer months, though now they were decorated with dripping icicles. Jacob imagined the wide front porch would be a good place for shelling peas or shucking corn for the womenfolk during the harvest. A porch swing hung at one end, possibly a silent testament to a courtship from days gone by.

A whitewashed barn stood sentry several yards away. With a casual glance around, Jacob noted cows, horses, chickens, goats, and pigs, plus the usual array of dogs and cats.

The driver pulled to a stop in front of the house. Almost immediately, the front door opened, and a woman appeared, her honey-blonde hair pulled back into a bun and tucked under a prayer kapp.

She peered out at the van, then disappeared behind the door before reappearing with a wrap tossed over her slim shoulders.

Jacob opened the sliding door and clambered out of the vehicle as the driver went around to the back to get his luggage.

“Hello, Tony.” The woman stopped on the porch. She spoke to the driver, but her blue eyes were fixed on Jacob.

“Miz Becky.” The driver bumped his hat in what Jacob took as a greeting. “Brought your cousin by.”

Becky nodded. “Jah. That I see. Welkum, Jacob.”

She didn’t smile, and her eyes remained somber. Distant. As cold as the wind that howled around the corner of the house.

Jacob hoped the rest of the family wasn’t as distant. Maybe she wanted him here as much he wanted to be here.

Not so much.

Jacob straightened his shoulders. Like it or not, he was here. He pulled in a deep breath, trying to get the nausea under control. “Hello, Becky.” He hoped that the smile he aimed in her direction would convey excitement about this new venture. Might as well turn on the charm and start making the best of a bad situation.

***

Becky Troyer didn’t want to look at this Jacob. She didn’t want him here. Not now. Not ever. Besides, she thought the bishop had said that they were sending several boys—not just one—down from Pennsylvania to settle in this area, bringing new blood to the small district. And not the middle of February. In the spring, sometime. Or maybe early summer.

Maybe the rest were coming later. Or maybe not. All Becky knew was that Mamm had gotten letters from her family in Pennsylvania saying that they were sending Jacob out. Now. In February. Made her wonder what this man did to make his family send him away so soon. And did they really want him here, potentially defiling the community?

Ach, her attitude. Becky thought she’d gotten it all worked through, but seeing this stranger brought it all back.

Still, she couldn’t keep her eyes off this man. He was tall, even standing next to Tony, and she’d thought Tony was big. Jacob stood at least half a head higher. And he was very handsome, with sandy blond hair and eyes that were so blue, he might have fallen straight from heaven and soaked up the color from the skies as he passed through on his way to earth. He was clean shaven, too, a sign he wasn’t married. Broad shoulders. A dimple in the left cheek.

Her stomach flipped.

There was a spark of something in his eyes, a glint that reminded Becky of the mischievous boy who used to sit across from her at the one-room schoolhouse when she was young enough to go, right before he reached forward and stabbed Lindy Beuler’s braid to the wood desk with his pocketknife.

Jah, this one was trouble. Too cute for his own good, and dangerous underneath.

Becky straightened, realizing she was being rude, staring like she was. The driver had unloaded the van of luggage, along with a blue bicycle, and now he and Jacob stood there next to the vehicle, both of them staring up at her. Behind her, her younger sisters jockeyed for position, trying to move her out of the doorway so they could see.

Becky forced herself to move and felt the hem of her skirt brushing against her bare ankles. “Ach, sorry. Please, welkum, welkum. Won’t you kum in? Daed is in the barn, and Mamm has gone to a quilting, but she should be home soon.” She gripped the shoulder of whichever sister was pressed up against her and looked down. “Abbie, run to the barn and tell Daed that Jacob has kum.”

Abbie twirled a lock of hair around her finger, stared at Jacob for a second longer, then took off at a run toward the barn.

Jacob reached down and picked up some of his bags with one hand while removing his felt hat with the other. “Nice to meet you, Becky.” His accent was different from those around here. As he climbed the steps, Becky moved further from the door, allowing him access to the house. He’d be sleeping in the dawdi-haus next door, in the spare room upstairs across from Grossmammi and Grossdaedi’s room, but Grossmammi had gone to the quilting bee with Mamm, and Grossdaedi had taken the buggy to the store an hour ago. She didn’t feel comfortable sending him over there for the first time when no one was home.

It was getting hard to breathe with Jacob standing so close to her. She backed up another step and noticed that her fourteen-year-old sister, Katie, held the front door open. “Go on in. I’ll make you some tea. Or coffee. Whichever you’d like.” She looked back at Tony, who had followed Jacob with another bag. “Can you stay for lunch?” she asked him.

“Oh, no, no. Have to get back to the missus. Thanks for the offer. We’ll be seeing you, Miz Becky.” He placed the rest of Jacob’s luggage inside the door.

Following Abbie, Daed approached from the barn, so Tony turned away to speak to him. Becky followed Abbie, Katie, and Jacob inside to the warm kitchen. The scent of bread baking filled the air. Pans of cookies waited to go into the oven as soon as the bread was done. Daed’s sweet tooth always expected a couple cookies when he came in from the fields, and their supply had run low.

Katie had already seated Jacob at the long table and had filled the kettle with water, putting it on the stove to heat. Becky grabbed some potholders, peeked inside the oven, and checked the bread. It was nicely browned, so she opened the door and removed the five pans one at a time.

“Care for a crust, Jacob?” Katie lifted a knife.

“Jah, sounds good.”

Becky glanced around in time to see his nod. But his eyes weren’t on Katie. Instead, they were locked on her.

Her heart pounded. Could he feel the strong attraction that made her almost forget to breathe? She told herself to concentrate on the cookies so that she wouldn’t drop them or burn herself on the hot oven rack. But she couldn’t look away. Instead, she wished she could pull up a chair, plunge into his friendship, and delay the inevitable.

The door banged open. Cold wind swirled in with her father.

“So, Jacob. You have arrived. You had a gut trip, jah?”

“Jah.” Jacob’s jaw lifted, his gaze still holding Becky’s. Then he glanced away. She looked at the open oven door and silently slid the tray of cookies inside the oven. She knew Daed had seen the whole exchange. And she knew what he thought.

She didn’t turn to check. After all, he’d be wrong. No man would want her. Not when he learned the truth.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Iris: Trophy of Grace by Ron Owens with Iris Blue

Tour Date: March 4

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It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!


Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:


Iris: Trophy of Grace

CrossHouse Publishing (September 15, 2010)

***Special thanks to Jennifer Nelson, PR Specialist, Hannibal Books for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:



Ron Owens--born in Canada, son of missionary parents to Europe--has multifaceted ministries. These include teaching, preaching, and music ministry in North America and beyond. He has authored other books and articles and has composed, recorded, and had published many songs in collaboration with his wife, Patricia. The Owens have one son, Jeff, a daughter-in-law, Jessica, and two grandson, Ethan and Evan.


Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Iris Urrey was raised in a middle-class Christian home, but she was rebellious almost from the start. Running away at the age of thirteen, she became involved with drugs and prostitution, and at seventeen was arrested for armed robbery. Once released from prison, she continued down a path of self-destruction. From numerous abortions to using heroin, to managing a topless bar, Iris turned from God's calling again and again.

But God, who in eternity past had devised a plan for this "incorrigible" rebel, didn't give up on Iris. He had work for her to do, and would one day turn this "incorrigible" rebel into one of His beautiful trophies of grace.


Product Details:

List Price: $14.95
Paperback: 194 pages
Publisher: CrossHouse Publishing (September 15, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1934749915
ISBN-13: 978-1934749913

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


Introduction


This is the story of one of God’s children who truly understands the meaning of what John Newton wrote many years ago, “I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.” Though reared in a Christian home and being expected to do all the things that a “church family” child should do, rebellion was simmering just below the surface. At the age of thirteen it erupted—Iris Urrey ran away from home. This was but the beginning of a life that would become increasingly involved in drugs, prostitution and other criminal activities. Being arrested, jailed and released, had become routine for this teenager until, at the age of seventeen, she was arrested for armed robbery. With her history of drugs and crime, the authorities worked the system and were able to hold her over until her 18th birthday so she could be tried as an adult.


“So what,” was her attitude. “If this is to be part of the life I’ve chosen to live—no big deal.” Iris found herself heading down the wide road that leads to destruction and she couldn’t get off. She was unable to resist temptation, she was living only for the moment, without any thought of her future. A casual observer would have written her off. “No hope for that girl.” But God was not a casual observer. He had already written the future chapters of Iris’ life; chapters that she would never have thought to write herself; chapters she would never have even dared to dream.


Years in prison, solitary confinements, released back into society to immediately return to the lifestyle that had led to her incarceration, she was headed toward the same tragic ending so many of her friends would meet. But this was not to be for Iris Urrey. Pursuing her, every step of the way, in and out of prison, in the middle of heroine highs and robberies, was her Creator, who in eternity past had devised a plan that would eventually turn this “incorrigible rebel” into one of His beautiful trophies of grace. As hard as she tried, she could not hide from Him. He was always there.


But this is not only a story of grace and redemption, it is the story of a world-wide ministry that has found this longest serving Mission Service Corps Volunteer with the Southern Baptist North American Mission Board, sitting beside top military brass at a NATO function one day, then serving tea and cookies to German prostitutes on a cold wintry afternoon, the next. It is the story of perseverance in the face of obstacles placed in her way by well-meaning fellow believers who sometimes had difficulty in accepting her non-traditional approaches to reaching the disenfranchised. Through discouragements and failures, through losses and gains, this unconventional “saint” pressed on, and still presses on, by faith, toward the prize of her high calling in Christ Jesus.


Finally, this book is more than a history of Iris, it addresses many of life’s issues that are common to us all, and in her unique way, Iris provides answers out of her own personal experiences. The impact she has had on countless lives over the years is affirmed in the tributes and testimonies recorded in these pages.

—Ron Owens

January, 2010










Prelude


My life’s message is faith. That’s why I am excited to have my story follow Bro. Manley Beasley’s biography because he is the person God brought into my life when I was a very young believer, to teach me and show me by his life what living by faith really is.


A lot of people talk and preach the faith life but they don’t practice it because it’s a lot easier to just talk about it. The walk of faith is a choice. There are times that I get in the flesh and begin worrying about tomorrow, especially when we are facing major financial challenges. All I know to do then is to confess it to the Lord and go back to trusting Him with tomorrow.


If God can take someone like us—me and Blue—not educated and not smart like a lot of people think is important or necessary to accomplish anything, and use us however He’s been able to, it has to be Him doing it. When you look at our lives there is absolutely no explanation for how far we’ve come. When it comes to finances, which is so much a part of life, you can’t say we’ve been good managers or that we’ve figured out how to do things, or that we’ve made good investments. I admit that we’ve tried several “tent-making” things on the side, in order to help our ministry, and though that may be alright for others to do, we found that while everyone else was making money, we were going in the hole. So, we’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that the Lord is going to honor our faith and nothing else. It hasn’t been easy because we’ve been led through some very deep valleys and we’ve had to climb some high mountains, but we can testify that He has never failed to see us through.


We’ve traveled around the world without any visible means of income. We have never had our way paid for any of our overseas trips. All the times we worked with Bro. Manley we had to trust the Lord for our own finances. One of my early learning experiences was when he said he would like me to go on a mission trip to Alaska. I had not been saved that long and was still crawling in the kind of faith walk Bro. Manley taught, but I thought I’d try to trust the Lord for the money to make the trip.


I was directing the girl’s home in Houston, Texas at that time, and with all I was having to trust the Lord for there, I began wondering if I would really get to go to Alaska. Then one day a lady brought me a pair of “long-handles” (thermal underwear) with little pink bows on them. If they had been “long-handles” for men I wouldn’t have thought anything about it, but those pink bows? It suddenly dawned on me that I would never wear “long-handles” in Houston, so I called Bro. Manley immediately and shouted into the phone, “I’m going to Alaska.” He asked: “How do you know, sister?” He probably thought I was going to say, “I’m really hoping to go,” like I had told him at other times. He would always answer, “Well, you’re not going because it’s going to take more than hope.” This time I said: “Bro. Manley, I don’t need ‘long-handles’ in Houston!” I went to Alaska.


I pray that this book will be a help and encouragement to you in your own walk of faith and that, as you read about my early years when I was running away from God, you will see how faithful He was, even then, to not let me destroy myself. Most people had given up on me, but God didn’t. I am living proof that, “…He who hath begun a good work in you (and in me) will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ (Philippians 1:6). Amen!

—Iris Blue

January, 2010











Part One


The

Rebellious

Years



“Those who rebel against the light;

They do not know its ways

or abide in its paths.”

(Job 24:13)






1

Texas Department of Corrections,

Goree Unit, Huntsville


“But Mama’s not going to be able to come way up here to Goree”


It’s about a ninety minute drive north on Interstate 45 from the south side of Houston to Huntsville, Texas—ninety minutes from the Harris County Courthouse to the Goree Unit of the Texas Department of Corrections. She had just been sentenced, shackled by handcuffs and leg irons and pushed into a paddy wagon. Now, convicted felon, Iris Urrey, would have 90 minutes to reflect on what had been happening during the nine months since her arrest for armed robbery. There was one thing for certain; she was glad the Harris County Jail experience was behind her.


From the time they’d locked her up to the time she heard the judge sentence her to seven more years, Iris had had a running battle with the jail guards who tried to control her. She was constantly fighting. The truth was, she never backed down from a good fight, she looked for fights, and in her own words, “was so ornery that it was not long before they began putting me in the “hole.”


“This next place can’t be as bad as where I’ve been,” she thought, as the paddy wagon drove north on Interstate 45. She remembered how hard it had been to sleep in “the hole,” curling her 6' 3" body around the 4' square space that had no mat, no blanket and no pillow. Now, as they approached Huntsville and were turning on to Hwy 75 where the Goree women’s prison unit was located, Iris began wondering how often her Daddy would be willing to make the 150 mile roundtrip to visit her. The last thing he had said as he watched his daughter being led off in shackles, was; “I’ll be coming to see you as soon as I get the visitation schedule.” She figured he would at least try. He had never missed a visitation day during the nine months she’d been in the Harris County jail, though on many of those visits, when she was in segregation, he was not able to see her. That had not deterred him, however. Every week on visitation day Pat Urrey had been there with the exact items he was permitted to bring his daughter, including $18.00 every second visit. “But now…will he…?


Iris thought of her mother and how badly she had treated her. When she was in the Harris County jail, her mother, Mama, would ride the bus all the way across town to often be told that her daughter was in segregation and could not be seen. One time, as her mother was walking toward the jail, she heard Iris shouting through the bars of her 4th floor cell window asking her to go to Foleys to buy some crazy game and to pick up as many Edgar Casey books as she could find. Her mother walked 16 blocks, each way, to do what Iris had asked her to do. “But Mama’s not going to be able to come way up here to Goree.”


Her father had not let Iris’ mother attend the sentencing. He felt it would be too hard on her. He did, however, take her younger sister, Punkin,1 with him, hoping it would put a scare into his youngest daughter who was already following in her big sister’s footsteps. What Iris didn’t know was that her mother would live in denial for the next seven years, doing her best to keep what was happening to Iris a secret from her friends, her church, and even relatives. When asked what Iris was doing, she’d tell people that she had moved to San Antonio to work in the Coca Cola Bottling Company. They would not press her for more information as they all knew the truth. They had read about it in the newspapers.


Goree was at that time an all-female unit, originally established in the early 1900’s. Twenty years prior to Iris’ arrival it had become famous, from coast to coast, when eight women inmates, all under the age of thirty, put together a Country Western singing group that became known as The Goree Girls. Fort Worth radio station, WBAP, heard about them and arranged to use them on a public service program called, Thirty Minutes Behind the Walls. The Goree Girls2 became an overnight sensation as they were broadcast on the Ft. Worth clear channel station all across America. For the next three years, every Wednesday night from ten to ten-thirty, central time, the program averaged a weekly radio audience of over 7 million listeners, while in excess of 100,000 letters a year poured into the Goree prison office.


Who knows but that Iris might have fit in with the Goree Girls back then. She was born with a strong, beautiful, God-given singing voice, but now, as she was about to drive through the prison gate, she had no song to sing. She would not find the song she was born to sing for another nine years, and Goree was to become anything but a place of music for her.