Walk Worthy Press: Boaz Brown by Michelle Stimpson

Author Testimony

" I grew up in a Dallas suburb with parents who loved me and did their best to make sure that I had every chance in life. My father worked two 8-hour jobs until I finished college so that we could have the opportunities he didn't. My mother is a nurse who often worked odd hours, but she made time to do the Lord's work as a musician. My maternal side of the family (from the great-grands on down) has always been active in the church. Thus, as a child and an adolescent, I got the message: "You might as well be saved 'cause as long as you're under my roof, you're gonna act saved." The good thing about living under my mother's roof was that I was trained up in the way that I should go. I figured that whenever I got "old" (maybe 30) I would follow it.

The summer before my seventh grade year, my mother had a car accident, which rendered her physically and emotionally unable to care for my two younger brothers and me. During her 18-month recovery, my father continued to work two jobs to keep the family afloat. As the oldest child, I was left to fill in gap created by my mother's involuntary absence: signing report cards, putting money under their pillows when they lost teeth.

It was a tough task for a 12-year old, and I needed an outlet. That outlet would either be sex, drugs, and R&B or writing. Praise God, writing prevailed. Though I had written short stories for my classes at school, I needed something more personal. Little did I know that God was taking that bad situation and honing me for a work He had destined for me. I started keeping a journal on my 13th birthday and I've been writing regularly every since.

I look back now in awe of how He so carefully orchestrated my life and gave me the gift of writing to carry me through some of the most difficult times in my life. About five years ago, I sat down to write about a treacherous situation. Just as I was about to pick up a pen and break down over this issue, I got the revelation: "You've been here and done this before." I recalled the many times over the years that I'd been distraught over something only to look back over my entry days, weeks, or months later and write about how things had turned out okay after all. That was when Romans 8:28 came alive for me (I knew it by heart from being raised under that "roof," you see). I started to think: maybe all these verses really do mean something to me. Maybe there is something to all this prayer and fasting and listening to God that the "old folks" do.

Shortly thereafter, a friend gave me my first devotional book: 15 Minutes Alone With God (Emilie Barnes). That title would be the first of many books that God placed in my hands in my quest to know Him intimately. [For the record, I was in my late twenties.] I went from devotionals to books on how to pray with purpose, fine-tuning my ear for God's voice, using my mouth to build and confess rather than destroy and curse. I formed a prayer group with a close friend, and we agreed to prod each other along, interceding when necessary. It has been and continues to be a process of continual growth. Through God's word and the guidance of the Holy Spirit, He has come to be the love of my life.

One of the problem areas that God continues to deal with me about is the issue of race. I'm a southerner and I can attest to the fact that much of the old south is still alive and kickin', with all the implications therein. Like the main character in Boaz Brown (LaShondra Smith), I had begun to feel uneasy about the jokes and laughs that my girlfriends and I shared as African-American women in today's society. I had that "Christian" side, which claimed to love all people and embrace the idea of acceptance; and that detestable but profitable "professional" side with its bubbly high-pitched office laugh; and finally that "Black" side, which really didn't care too much for white folks to begin with and would rather not deal with them after business hours. But as I began to spend more time with God, I realized that the "Black" side of me rarely came before God. Girlfriend simply didn't show up. Why? Because she wasn't in line with His word.

I started writing Boaz Brown in September of 2001, shortly after the terrorist attacks. Many of the images we saw across the country were of people covered in a thick coat of gray ash. As awful as those images were, I saw a beauty in them. I saw people, for the first time in my life. When I the survivors' races were concealed in ash, I could only see that they were human beings who had suffered through a terrible situation. I could only pray, "Lord, help those people." Once again, God took something awful and left me with a rainbow.

It occurred to me, in the initial stages of writing this novel, that the idea was a bit controversial. It scared me to write about racism on the "black" side of the fence for a couple of reasons: 1) exposing our side would mean that we're accountable to some degree for the perpetuation of racism; and 2) this whole idea of truly loving beyond racial boundaries was uncharted territory for me. I had no problem pegging people according to their skin color. But let somebody tell me I had to work on the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday and I would have hit the roof!

The issue was even tougher to grapple with on the spiritual level. I grew up under the impression that there's a "white" Christianity where you sing "Hosanna" from a hymnbook and clap to the wrong beat - if you clap at all. Then there's a "black" Christianity where you let the Spirit take control and sing whatever you feel, clapping to the right beat - maybe even cutting a step. My bottom line: white Christians weren't like us because . . . well . . . they're just different. They don't know God like we do and He's certainly not on their side, since we're the oppressed ones.

But as I got to know my Father more intimately, I realized that none of my reasoning made sense. Who He is and what He did in my life transcended color. It was beyond blackness, it was beyond America, and it was before slavery. His love is timeless and limitless. I'm not so naïve as to think that everybody will embrace the idea of racial harmony. For some I'm sure the term is an oxymoron. But the thought of it has freed me and quelled my fears about people of other races; fear that someone out there doesn't see me as an equal which, in turn, builds up a wall of counter-resistance. Through His word, I know that God already has plans for me (Jeremiah 29:11) and that no man or circumstance has the power to override His plan for my life. That assurance means that I don't have to be reluctant in dealing with certain people. Bottom line: it means that I can show the love of God to every person on the planet.

Boaz Brown is about reconciling the body of Christ. It takes one to forgive, but it takes two to reconcile. I believe that reconciliation for the body of Christ represents the most efficient and worthwhile method of spreading the gospel. As long as we're divided up into our separate churches with our separate agendas and our separate bank accounts, we limit our productivity. And if the church, the very body of Christ, can't see past color, we can't dare ask the world's businesses, entertainment entities, or educational / financial institutions to do so. It's gonna be tough. It's gonna take all of us loving harder than we've ever loved before. But I believe that He will do the work in us if we allow Him the opportunity.

Aside from the spiritual focus of the novel, I took delight in the fact that I could really have a lot of fun with LaShondra's family and friends. I think that most readers will find someone in there that they already know. When I write fiction, I feel as though I'm sitting down, talking with my characters. Thus, I have to like them or at least be interested in them enough to spend hours on end with them just talking, laughing, and listening to their stories. I enjoy reading novels about people that I'd invite over for dinner, and I think that many readers will find that LaShondra and her acquaintances fit the bill.

I wrote the original manuscript (originally titled Dealin' With Our Own Kind) in three months. In retrospect, I don't know where I found the time or energy to write this novel. I was busy teaching full time, tutoring after school, going to graduate school, and taking care of two kids and a husband. It was just one of those situations where I knew that this had to be done. Father took the little energy I had and matched it night after night. I finished the manuscript and sent it off in prayer and confession. Roughly a month later, I got a phone call from Denise Stinson of Walk Worthy Press. Finally, a publisher was seriously interested in my work. Denise and I, along with my editor Monica Harris, worked on the organization of this novel for over a year. It was a lesson in perseverance!

The title, Boaz Brown, was one that Denise suggested. I had no idea that there were so many parallels between the characters in the novel and the story of Ruth and Boaz. The more I studied and learned about Ruth & Boaz in the Old Testament, the more the message was confirmed in this novel. Despite their differences (Boaz and Ruth were of different nationalities), these two believed upon the same God and followed His will. They went on to become David's great-grandparents, hence they are in the lineage of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. When I came across that information, I gasped, "Father, You had this novel worked out a long time ago, didn't You?"

I believe that Father has a lot to say to us in Boaz Brown. As a mother, I know that I would never want to see my children separated. God wants to see His children living in peace, as any loving parent does. I feel honored that He used somebody like me (who's still coming to grips with my own issues of race) to write this novel. Then again, it's not the first time He's used the most unlikely vessel to get a message across. That's all right, Father. Keep using me!"

Michelle Stimpson

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