An intricate and perplexing state of affairs. That is the definition of the title of my book, but the irony with its regard is that it is exactly what I went through while writing the story.
Imbroglio weaves the beginning tale of a woman traveling along an emotional, moral, spiritual, and political journey among a crowd of others in need of deliverance. I wrote as I was lead, not eschewing sinful aspects of the characters in the story, but taking the reader through their human choices and the consequences of those choices as it relates to God’s design and moral standards. However, as I was trying to write the story the Lord was unfolding before me, the reality is I grappled with doing so.
I was conflicted about the concerns that certain Christians might have about the content. You know, the ones who may not see the vision God had given me or understand the book’s purpose. I was concerned about inciting the reader to sin. I kept questioning, should I include the sinful elements of the world? What about showing the struggles with such? Should I tell this romantic suspense? Now, don’t get me wrong. Imbroglio is not erotica, nor is it a gory war chronicle, but it does contain real life experiences, and even with the knowledge that no novel—regardless of the premise—will ever please everyone, I still shied away from wanting to tell the story.
It was truly an interpersonal battle, until the day the Lord reminded me that in His Word, inside the greatest love story ever created, where the beauty of romance and sensuality is nestled within, are all sorts of sinful conditions––violence, immorality, and immense wickedness. So, I revisited such passages, paying close attention to the seemingly unnecessary mentions in scripture that for me incited the question of why God saw fit to include them, like the numerous accounts of rape and depravity, Onan spilling his seed on the ground (Gen. 38:9), Rahab’s mere mention as a prostitute (Josh 2:1), the graphic story of the two prostitute sisters in Ezekiel 23, and even the heated romance in the Song of Solomon. Admittedly, I’d reread those passages countless times, but the question remained until finally, I got it––the “why” of why He included it. I understood that the lucid descriptions of people’s sin the Bible are there to show us, the readers, ourselves—what we look, behave, and desire to be like. I saw that the accounts were never to glorify the acts, but rather to show how far we are from righteousness and in need of his mercy. I also saw in the Song of Solomon how the Originator of romance intends for it to be.
God turned my focus back to intention. I then asked myself, “Is my intention to glorify those elements or to send a message?” In resounding fashion, my answer was the latter. It was then God confirmed for me what I had known all along: I cannot tell a complete story without the good and the bad, and the only way we as people change is if we can see ourselves. If I was going to stay true to who my target audience is—those who need or desire something different, meaningful and thought–provoking—then I would have to stay the course.
How good it felt to gain peace! I could finally move forward through the labor pains. The result is this book, with thoughtfully selected content and carefully chosen words. Through my own imbroglio, Imbroglio was born. So, when you open the book and turn the pages, get ready.