Bridging The GAP vol 2 issue 1 2017 by Bridging The GAP Magazine

ission of Bridging The Gap Magazine:

*The Mission of Bridging The Gap Magazine, is to showcase Christian Authors who are

Inside This Issue: Vol. 2, Issue 1, 2017

writing to glorify the Kingdom of God, while calling Others out from the secular realm and into the Spiritual realm to use their gifts and talents that they Have been equipped to use by God.

*The Theme of Bridging The Gap Magazine, is Recognizing the elements of truth that leads to GOD through literature.

*Bridging The Gap Magazine’s Foundation scripture is based from Jeremiah chapter 30, verse two, which says: “Thus says the Lord, God of Israel: W rite all the words that I have spoken to you in a book.” (Amplified Version).

Page 2- Mission of BTG & MORE!!!!!!!!!! Page 3– Are You Radical for Christ? Page 4– Book Review Author’s Corner/ Excerpts:

Page 6 Ann Marie Bryant Page 9 Avalon Brown Page 12 Sarah Smith Page 15 Dana Pratola

*Connect with us on Facebook at:

Page 19 Feature :

https://www.facebook.com/GODSAUTHORSPROSPER2/

Annabelle Garcia

*Email us at: bridgingthegapmag2016@gmail.com

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Are You Radical for Christ? Byâ&#x20AC;&#x201C; Deborah Dunson

Are you radical for Christ? No, this is not a trick question. I ask because some writers have said their writing is not edgy. But, if your writing is redemptive then you are edgy and radical. I'm not talking about preachy writing. I'm talking about writing that cause readers to pause and think about their relationship with Christ or lack of a relationship with Him. I have always said that a book can have all the elements of being edgy; (foul language, graphic violence, sex and much more), but lack the call of Christ. Recently I read a book that one would not consider edgy. It didn't have foul language, sex scenes, graphic violence or any other elements that one would consider edgy. However, it was radical because it attempted to tell the reader about the little foxes who come in to steal our joy, who destroy our marriages, bring about addictions and give us soul wounds. To me, this was a book that was edgy and radical. So I ask again, are you radical for Christ?

Is your writing radical for Christ?

Book Review: The Forgotten Spirit By Author Evie Rhodes (Review Written by Deborah Dunson)

oh my! This story made me want to be a character in this book. I wanted to know Jamie Lynn Brooks. The Forgotten Spirit reminds me of Matthew 18:2-4, "And said, Verily I say unto you, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven." Jamie Lynn Brooks' faith, joy and love were contagious. She believed in the promises of the Lord and did not waver. Her faith shined so brightly that it touched others and made the enemy so angry, that he used all of his weapons of warfare against her. But, thank God for a praying grandmother because when one solider has been afflicted by the enemy, God will raise another one up to stand in the gap. What the enemy meant for evil, God turned it around for good. I could shout and dance at the way the author showed how much God loves us; how something may seem dire but God is really using it to heal, redeem and restore. That His desire is to see us have a relationship with Him. And it was good to have a story set around Christmas, the season of peace, hope and joy. There are angels, Awesome wonder angels in this story who minister to God's people. If you don't know that Jesus will pursue you and court you as His bride, then you need to read this story. My only regret is that I didn't read this story sooner.

http://www.evierhodes.com/

Interview with Author Ann Marie Bryan Author of the Book: Shades of My Heart 1. How long have you been writing? My first book, Unforgettable, My Love Has Come Along, was published on July 31, 2012.

2. Who or what inspires you to write? Writing is a natural way for me to process my emotions and a conduit to inspire those around me. My inspiration to write comes from God, my family, friends, readers and fellow authors. As a Christian fiction author, I write to educate, inspire and empower others. I desire to tell great stories with fascinating characters to show the awesome power of God in the lives of people and places. It was during my childhood that I discovered the joys of creative writing. My sister, who was a teacher, suggested that I write stories on weekends during my early childhood years. I remember her using a red inked pen to put a line through what she thought was irrelevant in my stories. She also praised me for the excellent parts. Above all, my sister encouraged me to continue writing. As you can tell, my sister was the first to witness my work back then, and I am happy to report she is still doing so today. 3. What is your definition of secular writing and Kingdom writing? There are huge differences between secular writing and kingdom writing in terms of the purpose of the stories, the messages being conveyed, the style of writing and the language used. However, a major difference is that Christian Fiction should be consistent with Scripture. Kingdom writing is faith-based and should move the reader towards our Lord, Jesus Christ, using scriptural content. It doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have to be overly preachy, but it should be obvious that the book is a Christian Fiction, by its tone, theme and dialogues. Usually, some of the characters are Christians and quite often, there is a character who becomes a Christian during the course of the story. There are no curse words or overly descriptive intimate scenes in the story. With secular Fiction, the plots and themes of the story are not faith-based, but some authors may have lightly infused elements of Christianity.

4. What kind of audience do you attract? My readership includes mainly females, 18 years old and above. 5. What would you like to see within the literary area amongst Christian Authors? I would like to see love being expressed God’s way in Christian Fiction. That is, the way the Bible defines love in 1 Corinthians 13:4-6, “Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth;” Further, I would like to see a bit more intimacy between married couples. No, I don’t want to go in the bedroom, but I wish more Christian Fiction authors would find a way to tactful display the beautiful, physical component of love, which is important in a marriage. 6. Is there anyone whom you would like to collaborate with? In terms of writing, I am a member of the Tallahassee Authors Network (TAN) Christian Sub-group and we collaborated to write an anthology about the consequences of sin. Also, I do promotional activities with other authors. But at this time, I would not attempt any writing collaborations until I’ve completed the Encounters of the Heart series. 7. How did the storyline for Shades of the Heart come about? As I indicated above, TAN Christian Sub-group decided to write an anthology. As I wrote my short story for the anthology, the story took on legs of its own, and became the first book in the Encounters of the Heart series. The series is based on Proverbs 4:23 (KJV) – “Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life.” Book 1 - Shades of the Heart is a novel about the courage to love in the midst of broken promises, and ultimately, about the healing power of forgiveness. 8. A word of encouragement to other Christian writers? Write on! Writing is a discipline so keep at it, day by day. Pray about your writing and continue to write great, life-changing stories that will show the striking differences between walking in the Spirit and walking in the flesh. Let your stories testify of God’s goodness and faithfulness through fascinating characters and the promoting of Christian values. Do not put God in a box. Remember that sometimes He takes us out of our comfort zone to stretch us and show us that we can accomplish far more than we think. He blesses us to reach and empower others. So, write on, and show the awesome nature of God. www.annmariebryan.com 7

Ann Marie Bryan 8

It Was the Devil All Along Book Excerpt by Author Avalon Brown

Since I already worked at the hospital and I knew they were hiring LPNs, I went up to the nursing office to put in my application for a position. This short, little lady with a fake grin greeted me. She brought me into the office and proceeded to interview me. After my interview, she told me, “Well, since you already work in the hospital, it shouldn’t be a problem. We will call as soon as a position opens. What shift are you looking for?” I told her any shift. She said, “All right, we will call you.” Now this was in November. December rolled around, and I saw one of the men who was in my class orientation on the fifth floor. I began to wonder. I was right in the hospital, and I hadn’t received a call. So I went to see this supervisor who interviewed me to find out if there were any openings yet. Again, she told me, “Not yet. We will call you.” It was the end of December and rolling into January. No call yet. And what did I see but another student from my class. I was infuriated. This was the second person from my class to get hired, and I was still in Dietary, waiting to get hired upstairs. Wait a minute. Something was not right here. Then someone said, “You’re the reason you didn’t get hired. They don’t want anyone from Dietary upstairs, especially if you’re black. They want to keep you in the kitchen.” I thought to myself, Here we go with this prejudice mess again. It’s has to be because I’m in Dietary because one of the students is black. Now every time I was on the floor delivering trays, I started talking to the nurses’ aides. Then one day I was standing by this elevator and talking to one of my coworkers about how I’d been trying to get upstairs and they kept telling me there was no opening. This aide who overheard my conversation told me, “You should have never gone to that supervisor. That lady is so prejudiced. She’s always got her nose up in the air. You know who you should go and see? This other supervisor. She has a black husband, and I bet you’ll get hired.” She gave her name, and this was in February already. I went to see her, and the next week I was on orientation just like that. When I started orientation, I had to go to the nursing office. Don’t you know, that other supervisor looked at me and rolled her eyes. I knew the supervisor who hired me had called her and told her to send my folder to her. So I gave her a smirk because I knew she didn’t like the fact that I’d gone to someone else and got hired after three months of her telling me there were no positions. “See what I mean about the devil being busy? Order NOW on www.Amazon.com 9

From Revelation Special Ops: Book 1 The Elite of the Weak (Book Excerpt) By Author Precarious Yates (Sarah Smith)

Hadassah sighed, pressing her lips together. “I know it’s unconventional, Dad, but I want to do it. I feel like I was made for this.” She slid the envelope to him. “Ever since you had Mack MacArthur come to the church four months ago, I can’t think about anything else. All those kids sold as slaves across the globe—it’s horrible!” “I know, Haddy. I think about it a lot, too; so does your mom.” As he opened the contents of the envelope his eyebrows narrowed at the “CONFIDENTIAL” stamp on the top and subsequent pages. “Whenever I thought about what happens to children sold as slaves, I wanted to hit something. Or someone. You know me, Dad, nothing stirs my emotions—not like this. I felt like a fire had been lit within my bones. The fire is still there, stronger than ever, but I feel such peace now too.” His lips pursed and his forehead wrinkled as he read. After a few minutes of trying to interpret his expression, all the while hoping it would change, she asked, “Can I apply?” He looked up at her. “You’re only sixteen, Hadassah.” “I’ll be seventeen in two and a half weeks.” “The training starts in January; you don’t graduate until June.” “I know, but I was going to talk to the principal about that since I’ll have completed all my requirements by December.” “If anyone talks to your principal, it’ll be your mom or me. You are more independent than any sixteen year old—” “Seventeen.” “Still, let me be your dad a little while longer.” “You’ll always be my dad. But I know I’m made for this. Think of all the self-defense lessons Mom has given me for how many years now? Both of you have trained me to take care of myself.” He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips and sighed. “Have you talked to your mother about this?” “I was going to tonight. I just... I wanted to talk to you first because I have a feeling Mom will say yes.” “I do, too.” “Will you?” Their coffee cups began to rattle on the counter, and they stared at them until the rattling stopped. She rested her eyes and mind in a long blink then took a deep breath. Dad glanced at her knowingly. He looked through the packet further. “Huh. It’s connected with Ronny Gibbons in Greensboro.” Ronny Gibbons was one of his favorite teachers. Her smile returned. “If you look at the fourth page, they discuss their guiding principles.” “They teach the exact same things you do, that the church will be on the earth during the tribulation and we need to prepare now. 12

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The Covering: Book Excerpt By Author Dana Pratola

Aren’t you cold?” Tessa stuffed the piece of clock into the pocket of her slicker. “I’m hot blooded.” No doubt. He wore the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, revealing powerful forearms shaded by dark hairs. A closer look at his face revealed the shadows under his eyes. “What are you doing out here?” she asked. “Wish I could tell you.” It was a strange answer even for him. When he didn’t elaborate, she kicked a small rock into the grass. “Do you want to come inside? It’s a good day for tea.” When Gunnar pushed off the car and walked past her up the path, Tessa rolled her eyes at his back. She didn’t know what to make of him. Or herself for that matter. The “bad boy” type didn’t usually attract her, but she could hardly deny his allure. Her mother would have a stroke if she knew; her father might raise a disapproving brow, and her brother…she already knew how Dominic felt. Inside the foyer, Tessa pulled off the slicker and draped it on the newel post. “Would you rather have coffee?” she asked, leading the way to the kitchen. “Yeah, whatever.” Gunnar sat at the end of the counter letting the muscular bulk of his back slouch onto the wall. He looked drained. As she made the coffee, the silence descended once again, and her nerves drew taut. He wasn’t much for socializing but if he didn’t say something soon— “I need a place to stay.” She managed to bank the zip of elation and keep it from her voice. “You know you could have called instead of standing in the rain. What if I hadn’t come out?” “I may need a week.” When she met his gaze, he held it, waiting. “That’s fine. I mean it’s up to Dominic, but…yes, it’ll be all right.” “I caught him on his way out before,” Gunnar said. “He’s OK with it if you are.” Tessa wondered how long Gunnar had been waiting in the rain. Dominic left nearly an hour ago, and he could have been out there even before that. Weird. “Well of course,” Tessa said. Gunnar didn’t answer, but pulled a roll of bills from his pocket and presented it to her. “Put your money away,” she said. “This isn’t an inn.” She also wondered, since he seemed OK financially, why he didn’t go to an inn or stay at a hotel until his house was finished. It would be rude to ask. “I don’t feel right staying here for nothing.” 16

Wings of Eagles: Book Excerpt By Author ANNABELLE GARCIA Chapter 1

It was a cold, dreary November morning; colder than normal for South Texas. The ominous storm clouds rolled in all night and now; just as the sun should have been showering the earth with bright light and embracing it with warmth, the first icy drops of rain began to fall. I heaved a sigh, grabbed my ratty knapsack and pulled my threadbare hoodie up over my matted hair. It was time to find cover a bit more substantial than the cardboard box I normally called home, and fast. I was already chilled to the bone and I knew better than most how being out in the cold could prove to be more than simply dangerous. Soon it would be deadly. My hands and feet were numb, lack of gloves and shoes with holes in them were not the ideal thing for freak winter storms. Most of the time, when the weather got bad I tried to wander about at the mall or at one of the super stores in the area. I’d managed to stay at the Ever-Mart for most of the night by moving around and hiding in the bathrooms; that is until the security guards caught on to what I was doing. Unfortunately for me, this particular night, the store was virtually empty because of the foul weather. When they found me, the rent-a-cops escorted me into the security office to search my knapsack and pockets for any stolen merchandise. Had I not been so filthy I’d have been strip searched for sure. When it was clear I hadn’t lifted anything they invited me to vacate the premises. “You should be grateful I’m not calling the cops and pressing charges against you.” The store manager snapped at me. I simply nodded. “Get her out of here.” He told the rent-a-cops. So at two in the morning I was, with much pomp and circumstance, escorted out of the store with a stern warning to not make my presence known unless it was to purchase something. One of the guards looked at me with a sad and sympathetic smile. A lot of good that did me. It wouldn’t keep me warm. Not knowing what else to do, I wandered out into the sub-freezing temperatures. (Continue p. 21) 20

The previous nights had been clear and that was a problem. The more stars I saw, the colder it seemed. This night found the thick black storm clouds rolling in quickly and covering the light of the stars. As the thunder rolled, a blast of freezing wind hit me; chilling me to the bone. I thought back to the day I’d left the local shelter; the sudden shift in the weather came as a surprise. It was more than a little chilly but I had no idea there would be rain. Still, even if I’d known about it, there was no way I was going to stay in that horrible place; I shuddered remembering the inhumane conditions in the shelter. I was no millionaire to be wanting to live in a mansion, but I refused to share an area with perverts, drug addicts, and vomiting drunks. The fact I’d sunken low was obvious, but I hoped to never sink that low. I wasn’t being judgmental at all, it was just a fact. Then again, I knew people looked at me and saw a druggie or maybe even worse. It hurt how no one even bothered to find out what my story was before putting me in a category. With no other choice I wandered through the cold wet streets thinking of my past; remembering how once upon a time I had been in the popular crowd. Cheerleader, homecoming queen and easily winning prom queen senior year; those were the accomplishments I’d been so proud of. It had gone to my head and I looked down on those who were weren’t with the “in” crowd. Oh how quickly the tables had turned. Once I’d been so high and mighty, now I was lower than low. The once graceful and confident girl was long gone and the insecure klutz took her place. I no longer walked proudly with my head held high, I stared at the ground instead, hoping to never run into anyone from my former life. So far it had worked. Frequenting my old stomping grounds was not an option, even if I’d wanted to. Having no money or the appropriate attire condemned me to wander on the wrong side of the tracks; I was going nowhere fast. Going to college and having a career were now only dreams that wouldn’t come true. The harsh reality of what was, edged out all those dreams of what might be. My life consisted of staying alive one more day and finding somewhere safe to sleep, there was no time for dreaming now. I moved from place to place, broken and in fear of discovery. I was not a good person and deserved nothing better than what I had. My mom had told me so and the voices in my head had echoed it so many times I had started to believe it. Right after graduation I’d been chased from my own home with a butcher knife. My step-father was a pervert and a predator; my skin crawled just remembering how his breath reeked of alcohol when he pawed at me. Night after night I’d taken scalding showers, rubbing my skin raw trying to wash away what he did to me. Wishing the memories and his actions would go down the drain with the water. I finally got up the nerve to tell my mother and she was outraged; outraged I could make up such a horrible story about the man she loved, the man who had cared for me all my life. He was the good guy in all this. He made up a story about me seducing him; 21

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