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Charles Martin Books

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Long Way Gone

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Wrapped in Rain

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“I'm no expert, but in my limited experience, women aren't born women. They start out as girls. And every girl, from the moment they can dream, imagines the rescue. The knight. The castle. Life in a fairy tale. If you don't believe me, watch boys and girls on a playground. No one teaches us to do this. The kid in us actually believes in things that are too good to be true. Before life convinces us we can't and they're not. Then life kicks in. Boys become men. Girls become women. For any number of reasons we are wounded and, sadly, wounded people wound people. So many of us grow into doubting, hopeless, callous adults protecting hardened hearts. Medicating the pain. Life isn't what we imagined. Nor are we. And we didn't start out trying to get there. Far from it. But it's who we've become. One day we turn around, and what we once dreamed or hoped is a distant echo. We've forgotten what it sounded like. Once pure and unadulterated, the voice of hope is now muted by all the stuff we've crammed on top of it. And we're okay with that. For some illogical reason, we stand atop the mine shaft of ourselves, shoving stuff into the pipe that is us, telling our very soul, 'Shut up. Not another word.' Why? Because the cry of our heart hurts when unanswered. And the longer it remains unanswered, the deeper the hurt. In self-protection we inhale resignation and exhale indifference. [Murphy Shepherd]”

Growing UpIndifferenceResignationDisillusionmentSelf ProtectionWoundednessBeing Wounded
Book:The Letter Keeper
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“...I've come to understand, no...to know...that nothing matters more than a name....A name establishes a record. Drives a stake in the ground. Shouts across the stratosphere, 'I'm here! I matter! I'm not invisible!' And while you make think very little of me, God himself actually thought me up. What you see in the lens of your eye, this thing we call 'me,' started in his mind. He actually took the time to think me up. Imagine....God thought of me. Molded my bones like a potter. And if that's true, and he thought of me, and then made me, and then named me, then there's a record of my existence. Evidence that I'm real....When you're in hell, slavery, nothing matters more than a name. Because with it, someone can walk up to the bars that shackle you, point at you among the many, and call you out--by name. A name is the singular thing that separates us from the ninety-nine. A name makes us the one....Without a name...there is no record. [Bones]”

IndividualityNameGod S Creation
Book:The Record Keeper
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“...despite the mask we are all so good at wearing, we somehow manage to wake up every day hoping there's still a chance. That maybe, somehow, we can balance the debt ledger we carry in our hearts. That maybe God is offering a special that week and one good equals two bad. But then there are the lies that the memories whisper.' Her tears were flowing freely now. She asked, 'What do they say?' 'They say we are alone. That bad choices and mistakes have drained the value out of us. And that we are not worth the cost of getting to us.”

GodMemoriesLiesMercyMasks
Book:The Water Keeper
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“There's a thing that happens when we start to believe the lies about ourselves, and when we think other people believe them too. Those lies become our prison. The bars we see through. They hold us captive. It's like some giant hand holding our head beneath the surface of the water, Every few minutes it'll let us up, only to sink us farther the next go-round. A vicious cycle. In my experience, only one thing on planet earth breaks the power of that hand and flings open wide the prison doors....And until you speak it [the truth] with your mouth, out loud, you're bound. [Murphy Shepherd]”

TruthLiesSelf Image
Book:The Letter Keeper
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“Every morning, I eat this dish called -hope-. Crumbs mostly, but without it, I'm not even human.' A long pause while her mind spun. 'But that's just it. There are no guarantees. Because if you can guarantee it, it's not hope.' [Joe] ... He [Pockets] adjusted his feet. 'I've been in some places where there is no hope, and yet somehow it swims through the cracks. Rises to the surface. I've found hope staring me in the face when reason screamed I had non. No matter what you do--ignore it, shove it in a closet, drown it with drink and pill, or stab it with science, experts, and talking heads--you can't kill hope. Not in all of human history has hope ever been laid to rest. When we breathe in, it's the stuff that expands our lungs. It's the reason we're not just dust.' She tried to laugh. 'I thought love did all that.' He sucked through his teeth. 'It's tough to tell those two apart, mum. But if you press me, love is what makes us who we are. Hope is how we express us. Hope is love with legs.”

LoveHopeHuman Nature
Book:The Last Exchange
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“There's hope for the broken, and this is true even if it's our own choices that broke us. Our hope, the very anchor of our souls, is standing on the porch. And His eyes are stretching out through time and space and they are singularly focused on you. On me. Here's the deal--only Jesus gets to tell you who you are. Period. Any other voice is a lie from the pit of hell. When Jesus said, 'It is finished,' He wasn't kidding. Then and there, death and sin lost all legal claim over you.”

TruthHopeSinIdentityProdigals
Book:Long Way Gone
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“The Father is about total restoration. A complete returning to son-ship. An heir with all rights and privileges thereof. Maybe you're the prodigal. Surrounded by pigs and staring at the pods. Let me say this to you--I don't care what you've done, where you've gone, where you are, or who you've become, the truth is this: the sanctifying, redeeming, justifying, snatching-back-out-of-the-hand-of-the-devil blood of Jesus reaches to the far ends of the earth.”

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Book:Long Way Gone
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“While a deep need in each of us is to know and be known, there is one deeper. One that undergirds everything else. It's the stuff of us. Out of it, we breathe, or not. We wander the earth like shipwrecked castaways, intersecting other island dwellers, and when we meet them, we hold ourselves out in offering and grant them a chance to accept or reject us. With our souls held together with twine and tape and glue, we bounce from rejection to rejection until we find the one who accepts us. This is the thirst of the human soul, and only one thing satisfies it: to be accepted in the knowing.”

AcceptanceSelf DisclosureDeepest Needs
Book:The Letter Keeper
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“While a deep need in each of us is to know and be known, there is one deeper. One that undergirds everything else. It's the stuff of us. Out of it, we breathe, or not. We wander the earth like shipwrecked castaways, intersecting other island dwellers, and when we meet them, we hold ourselves out in offering and grant them a chance to accept or reject us. With our souls held together with twine and tape and glue, we bounce from rejection to rejection until we find the one who accepts us. This is the thirst of the human soul, and only one thing satisfies it: to be accepted in the knowing. [Murphy Shepherd]”

AcceptanceSelf DisclosureDeepest Needs
Book:The Letter Keeper
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“Here's the truth: No matter what happened on the stage tonight, no matter where you went when you drove out of here, no matter where you end up, no matter what happens, what you become, what you gain, what you lose, whether you succeed or fail, stand or fall, no matter what you dip your hands into...no gone is too far gone. You can always come home. And when you do, you'll find me standing right here, arms wide, eyes searching for your return. I love you.”

LoveGraceAcceptanceMercyLife ChoicesLong SufferingReturning Home
Book:Long Way Gone
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“...the soul is like Velcro, and when you brush up against someone else, especially when there are no clothes to separate you, part of you clings to them and part of them clings to you. Soon you find yourself carrying pieces of souls that you don't want and don't want you. But you can't help it. It's like being handcuffed to a stranger on the subway and your stop never comes. [Casey]”

RelationshipsSexual Relationships
Book:The Record Keeper
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“He [MacThomas Pockets] leaned his head back. Chose his words. 'In my line of work, I've bet people. All kinds. All walks. Some up. Some down. One thing is true of all of us: nobody has their stuff together. Not presidents. Nor paupers. Not soldiers. Not actors.' He glanced at her [Maybe Joe Sue]. 'We are all a mess. And no amount of money, and no amount of drugs, changes that. When you're broken, life is about finding the beauty in the mess. And then holding on for dear life. And there's no shame in that. Provided we're honest about it.”

Finding BeautyMessy Lives
Book:The Last Exchange
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“Я такой, каким сделал меня отец. Это он меня выковал, я знаю. Но отец избавлял меня от боли через боль. Это делало меня опустошенным и больным. А ты влилась в меня и наполнила до краев. Я впервые перестал чувствовать боль. Ты дала мне то, чего не мог дать он, - любовь без секундомера.”

LoveLifeHurt
Book:The Mountain Between Us
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