Pronunciation Guide

Friday, April 18, 2014

“A” is for Azcmavel (az-muh-vehl)

Still alive!

Quick updates (I’ll try to get deeper into these in future posts):
~I finished MarNo and hit my goal of 50k.
~I’ve backed off with April, setting my goal at 25k instead of 50.
~I have decided to make the story five books instead of four.
~This means book one will now be book two, and I will be writing a new book one about what happened leading up to the start of my girl getting to the inn.
~So far, the plan is for new book one will be told from alternating perspectives – my main girl, and her sister. (You didn’t even know she had a sister did you? There’s a reason for that…)

I am going to do an A-Z blogging challenge. It was supposed to run through the month of April, but I’m doing it anyway. =)

So, without further ado, here are my thoughts for my “A” topic.

“A” is for Azcmavel (az-muh-vehl)

I’ve wanted to write about this character for a while now. Let’s hope I do my heart justice.

Azcmavel is the proper name for Des, from this post.

He imprisons an innocent girl for over a year and a half. During that time, he manipulates, abuses, rapes, tortures, beats, and ultimately murders their unborn child.

He is CRUEL.
He is HORRIBLE to her.

And I love him.

Don’t get me wrong – I hate everything he does to her. It makes me sick.

But I love him.

I read a thing a while back that asked something like, “If you could bring one of your characters to life, which one would it be and why?”

My answer?

“Azcmavel. So I could hug him and tell him it’s going to be okay.”

I’m serious. Words cannot express how much I ache for that.

…What is that?

Azcmavel is one of the worst of the worst. If he were a living person, nearly everyone on the planet would probably be calling for his violent, equally-as-cruel-as-his-own-actions death. Seriously.

…And there I am.

Heart breaking because of the fact that it is hurt people who hurt people.

Wishing he could be real so I could hug him.

Aching because there are so many real-live people like him, written off as “scum” because of their actions/crimes.

It is hard for me to believe that God loves me. I am intensely critical of myself, and I naturally view God as angry with me, frustrated, mere seconds away from throwing his hands up in disgust and exasperation. That is how I often feel toward myself – so why wouldn’t God feel that way too? (Bad theology here!) In fact, why wouldn’t he feel MORE that way, since he is perfect and knows my failures even more than I do?

Yet in my heart toward Azcmavel (and the real-live people like him), I see a different God, weaving his heart into mine.

Showing me a hint of the love he longs to pour out on me.

When I read the scenes I’ve written where Azcmavel is at his absolute worst, I don’t hate him. In fact, in every single moment since I created him, there has not been one drop of anger, hatred, or a desire to punish.

There is only compassion.
Only love.
Only grace.
Only a desire to heal, to redeem, to scoop up out of the darkness and EMBRACE.

How can I – a frail, dust-born human – believe for a second that I can love a made-up character more than the God of the universe loves me?

How can I believe that I am kinder, more compassionate, and more understanding than the God who knew me before the foundations of the world?

How can I believe that God is angry with me when I cannot even muster anger toward that horrible character?

…How indeed.

Sunday is Easter. Resurrection day. Jesus was crucified with a thief on either side of him. One was saved in that moment, one was not.

Many people may look at that – him reaching out to the thief – as a small part of the story. Or even as hard to believe. Or as silly that he would care, in that moment, for a legit criminal.

It is one of my favorite parts.
Of the entire Bible.

Because that is my heart.

While it aches for those who have suffered loss and pain and death, it shatters for others.

The thieves. The criminals. The liars. The abusers. The murderers. The rapists. The desperately broken…who turn around and break.

I know that this is my heart toward others.

What I believe God is trying to show me is that it is HIS heart toward me.
That I am not the innocent girl being held prisoner – I am Azcmavel.
Deserving of everything coming to me.

I could kill Azcmavel. I’m the author. I have that power.

God could kill me. He’s God. He has that power.

But in his eyes – if I would just look – there is only compassion.
Only love.
Only grace.
Only a desire to heal, to redeem, to scoop up out of the darkness and EMBRACE.

If I would just have eyes to see, I would see a God who is shattered by my brokenness.

A God who doesn’t scream at me, but screams for me.

A God who doesn’t despise me at my darkest, but loves me despite it.

Just. Loves. Me.

…Is that not the cry of every heart?