The stories I write launch modern characters into ancient adventures. Impossible premises captured my attention years ago when I heard the Christmas story for the first time.
When I was two years old, my mother cast me as the angel who announced Christ’s birth in her annual children’s Christmas show.
“Do not be afraid,” I shouted from my perch above the nativity scene. “I bring you good news of great joy. For unto you this day, a Savior is born who is Christ the Lord.”
As I looked down at the teenager wearing a bath robe and holding my baby brother, I wondered how tossing a modern girl into so much trouble would fix an ancient problem. The story didn’t make sense. How did Christ’s arrival in the first century bridge the spiritual divide that took place back in the Garden of Eden?
The same way Jesus’ death on a cross 2,000 years ago covers my sins today.
Living our lives on a linear timeline makes it’s hard to wrap our minds around the concept of a divine being who was, who is, and who is yet to come.
If we can accept the premise of a boy stranded in a boat with a tiger, or that a red-nosed reindeer saved Christmas, isn’t it possible that 2,000 years ago God asked a modern girl to confront the past to change our future?