conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled The Reluctant Prophet about Georgia, South, Carolina with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The author has an extensive background in writing and publishing in the fields of manufacturing, the economy and religion. He has served as a reporter, editor and columnist for newspapers and magazines in Georgia and South Carolina. As a book author, he has published works on subjects as diverse as business/industry, personal finance, and health. Prior to his recent retirement, he was editor-in-chief of Hume Publishing, Inc. Atlanta and Toronto.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Reluctant Prophet
  That day, in my usual third-row-from-the-back pew in Flagler Community Church, I started into what I called Allison Chamberlain's Pathetic Pleading Prayer: "Come on—I get it already. But what am I supposed to be doing about it?"
  I had the usual undeniable sense that God was listening, probably leaning over to Jesus and saying, "There she goes with the badgering, Son." What I couldn't sense was his adding, "What do you say we throw her a bone?"
  I recrossed my legs and tugged my uniform jacket over my hips and noticed that it didn't quite shimmy down like it used to. Too much time spent sitting in a carriage waiting for a fare. I folded my hands, angelically prayerlike in my lap, and refixed my gaze on the Reverend J. Garrett Howard, who was holding forth from the center aisle. This was his first Sunday not preaching from the cantilevered pulpit that hovered above us like Care Flight from Heaven. He said at the beginning of the service that he wanted to be closer to us as he brought forth the Word.
  Joshie McElhinney's towhead bobbed into my line of vision, blocking out Rev. Garry and giving me full view of his seven-year-old self. He appeared to be doing a 360-degree survey of the congregation, finger inserted into left nostril. Was he looking for the foot of the cross? For a second I thought he was about to raise his hand and ask for coordinates. The seven-year-old in me wanted to ask the same thing.
  I followed his gaze until his mother put her hand on top of his head and twisted it forward like she was turning a jar lid. Once again I tried to focus on the Reverend Garry, but my glance snagged on Frank Parker, a fellow small-group member, who wore a puckered expression. Was he looking for the cross too? Or was that just acid reflux? Probably not the latter. Frank was far too much the Southern gentleman for indigestion.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Reluctant Prophet
  That day, in my usual third-row-from-the-back pew in Flagler Community Church, I started into what I called Allison Chamberlain's Pathetic Pleading Prayer: "Come on—I get it already. But what am I supposed to be doing about it?"
  I had the usual undeniable sense that God was listening, probably leaning over to Jesus and saying, "There she goes with the badgering, Son." What I couldn't sense was his adding, "What do you say we throw her a bone?"
  I recrossed my legs and tugged my uniform jacket over my hips and noticed that it didn't quite shimmy down like it used to. Too much time spent sitting in a carriage waiting for a fare. I folded my hands, angelically prayerlike in my lap, and refixed my gaze on the Reverend J. Garrett Howard, who was holding forth from the center aisle. This was his first Sunday not preaching from the cantilevered pulpit that hovered above us like Care Flight from Heaven. He said at the beginning of the service that he wanted to be closer to us as he brought forth the Word.
  Joshie McElhinney's towhead bobbed into my line of vision, blocking out Rev. Garry and giving me full view of his seven-year-old self. He appeared to be doing a 360-degree survey of the congregation, finger inserted into left nostril. Was he looking for the foot of the cross? For a second I thought he was about to raise his hand and ask for coordinates. The seven-year-old in me wanted to ask the same thing.
  I followed his gaze until his mother put her hand on top of his head and twisted it forward like she was turning a jar lid. Once again I tried to focus on the Reverend Garry, but my glance snagged on Frank Parker, a fellow small-group member, who wore a puckered expression. Was he looking for the cross too? Or was that just acid reflux? Probably not the latter.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me another paragraph.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Chief looked up from his cell phone screen. "He said, 'I seen her wasted before, but never this bad. She gone.'"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A few thoughts to spur discussion. Should your conversation lead to questions for me, I would love to hear from you: nnrue@att.net.
  My inspiration for Allison's Sacrament House comes from a real ministry in Nashville, Tennessee, called Magdalene. Founded in 1997, Magdalene is a two-year residential community for women with a history of prostitution and drug addiction. As the women say in their mission statement, "We stand in solidarity with women who are recovering from sexual abuse, violence, and life on the streets."
  At no cost to them, Magdalene offers women a safe, disciplined, and compassionate community paid for by gifts from individuals and private grants. The ministry is also supported by Thistle Farms, a nonprofit business operated by the women who create handmade natural bath and body products. "Our dream," they say, "is that people will come to see Thistle Farms as a humble but powerful business synonymous with women's freedom."
  While the fictional Sacrament House in is not precisely patterned after this living, breathing ministry, I hope that it sends the same message: the message of Christ Jesus.
  To learn more about Magdalene, including how you can help financially support it, visit www.thistlefarms.org/donate.html.