ASSURANCE E-MAGAZINE

Assurance, Stories of Faith magazine is e-zine for Christian writers designed to not only showcase their short stories and books but also to reach the lost, strengthen those who are hurting, and demonstrate how God's people are at work. It is also for readers of all levels of faith.  Here is the first cover:  

Assurance e-zine will have these basic segments:  Feature story on a Christ-based/centered organization, a bible study, 2 maybe more short stories, a human interest interview, an article written by young person age 10-18, possibly younger, an occasional photo essay, and advertisement for authors.  The editorial calendar tentatively will include:  Celebrate recovery, adoption, keeping Christ in Christmas, Missions, and homelessness.

The submission process is now open for all writers who fit these above genre. 

Guidelines are as follows:

Short stories: 1200 words or less.  May include one photograph.  You, the author, must hold legal copyright to the writing submitted.  You give permission to the editor of this magazine to edit and publish.  Content must be approved by the publisher (The story must have some faith aspect, pointing to God either directly or indirectly.  It does not have to be “squeaky clean”.  No profanity, erotic love scenes, excessive violence, zombies, or vampires.  The story will be proofread and edited. It can be based on personal experience or fantasy, for children, teens, or adults.  It can have people or animals as the characters.)

Feature articles: 2500 words or less.  May include photograph(s).  Organization must be faith-based, use Biblical principles, serve God's people. Personal interview preferably of someone unknown. The woman who cleans your building and no one knows about, the man who mows the yards of the elderly, the family who serves the homeless every week-end, the retired person who teaches Bible/English/cooking/math, etc. to the underprivileged, homeless, or perhaps the young person who spends their free time working at a homeless shelter, retirement home, or has started a Bible study at school or home.  This section is for the unsung hero doing God's work.  

Bible study: 1200 words. To be written by a current or retired minister, pastor's wife, or Sunday School teacher. It must be Biblically based.   Facts and doctrine will be checked. 

Photo essay: Tell a story of how God works through pictures.

Youth Submission: Must be written by persons 18 years or younger.  Include a short bio and photograph (state whether or not it may be used).  Same requirements as adult short stories. May include photos or drawings.  

Submission must be in Word document format .doc or .docx, photographs in .jpeg format.  There is no charge for submission.  Please include a link where your full-length books can be purchased, if applicable.  

ADVERTISEMENTS: 

Guideline:  Submit a word document, .doc or .docx that includes embedded .jpeg, text only, or text with a separate .jpeg. Submit ad for approval to AssuranceSoF@yahoo.com with "ad" in the subject line.  Ads must fit magazine format.  Acceptance is per publisher discretion.  

Price packages:   Contact AssuranceSoF@yahoo.com for more information.

Submit your articles and short stories to:

AssuranceSoF@yahoo.com with "article" in the subject line.

purchase ad here

(PayPal steps: Create an account, go to send money, in the ‘To:’ section type in freedspirit05@me.com, select ‘services’, ‘USD’, enter the correct dollar amount.)

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Running with armor

In the heat of mid summer, the best time to run is predawn.  The moon is high, the stars are just beginning to fade, and can I hear the crickets chirping on this particularly warm morning when I step out of my car.  Keeping safety in mind on this run in the dark through the wooded trail, I loosely hang my headphones around my neck.  Music will have to wait for the sun.  Besides, I like the peace and quiet as I make my way through the stillness of the moon-lit running trail with only the sounds of my footsteps and my prayers for company.  On long runs like this one, I always start with prayer.  It keeps me focused not only on God but also on my surroundings.  

Rounding the corner behind the golf course and into a clearing at mile 5, I reach for my phone which I keep zipped up in my fuel belt.  Music time.  Something in the distance catches my eye.  Something isn't right.  I pick up speed.  Two people are struggling in the cemetery.

"God, help," I pray.

I dial 911, replace my phone sideways in my fuel belt, bend down and scoop up several large rocks from the side of the trail.  

"Let her go!" I scream while sprinting forward.  "What are you doing in the cemetery?" I ask for the 911 operator's benefit. "The cars on the toll road can see you."

A large man dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt is dragging a woman in her pajamas through the grass towards a coffin storage shed.  He has something, a weapon perhaps, in his left hand. 

"Be true," I pray out loud then hurl a rock towards them.

The man, seconds later, jerks his head up to face me.  He mutters profanities while the woman continues to kick and scream.  He touches the side of his head with his hand then covers the woman's mouth and keeps dragging her.

Still running in their direction, I hurl another rock with the same prayer, "Be true."

This time, the rock causes the man to stop and drop the woman. 

"Let her go!" I order, still running, now within yards of them.  

The man kicks the still form laying in the grass, turns and takes off running down the trail. I make the snap decision to leave the woman and focus on the man. 

"Stop and give up!" I yell.

The man shouts obscenities at me while aiming for the woods.  He tosses the weapon into a bush and keeps running.

"You may as well give up now," I tell him.  I'm only several yards behind now.  "I'm a marathon runner, a black belt, and a Christian.  I'm dressed in the full armor of the Lord and with wings like eagles."

The man snaps his head around and looks at me like I'm crazy, trips, then falls flat on his face.  Less than a second later, I jump on his back, grab my headphones with my left hand, his right arm with my right hand.  Before he has a chance to react, his hands are tied securely.  All my self-defense training comes flooding back to me.  With his belt in one hand I grab his pinky with the other and bend it backwards. 

"Stand up," I order.

"What the hell?" the man mumbles.  "You broke my nose."  He then lets loose another string of expletives while trying to struggle free.  

"Stand up and walk back to the woman you left in the cemetery off the running trail."

Still struggling, but in tremendous pain, the man stands up.  Compared to me, he's a giant.  Pinky firmly in hand and as much pressure on it as I can, I push the man towards the woman.    When we reach her, she is still laying in the grass in the fetal position with her face hidden in the grass.

"Down on your face," I order the man.  I give him a push so falls prone, face down in the grass next to her.   "Miss, are you all right?"  I gently roll her onto her back.  "Are you hurt?"  

The answer is obvious.  Her neck is red and there is a gash on her tear-stained cheek.   

"I'm okay," she whispers. "Now."

"What is your name?"

"Nancy.  Nancy Murray."

"Nancy Murray," I repeat in a louder voice.  "Where do you live?"

"Over there," she says, motioning to the neighborhood behind the cemetery.

"Behind the cemetery next to the toll road," I repeat.  "Did he rape you?"

"No," she said in a hushed voice, "but he was going to."

Sounds from above made us all stop and look up.

"Cops!" the man says in between more expletives.   He struggles to try to get free but I reach back and grab his pinky again.  "I swear I'll kill you both!" he yells, subdued by the pain in his hand.  

"Where did you come from?" says the woman who begins to sob.   She rolls over and places her head on my knee as the sounds of sirens grow louder.  

"You're safe now," I say to the woman while a flurry of activity begins all around us.

Two policemen, with guns drawn rush towards the man. I let go of his pinky. They latch onto  the man and drag him to his feet.  The man snaps his head around and looks at me with wild confusion in his eyes.

"You're crazy!  Possessed!!" he yells as he is drug away.

I simply nod and smile.  Yes, possessed by the Holy Spirit and proud of it, I think to myself while I stand up and back away from the woman who is being tended to by the police and EMS.  "He threw a weapon, a knife I think, into the bushes over there," I say to a policeman who is walking towards me.  He turns and motions for another officer to join him in the search.  I back slowly away, hang up the phone, view the scene for a moment, then I resume my run and my running prayer with, "Thank you Lord for being my hero."