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The Face of God
“Strong writing, edgy…replete with action…Myers’s popular reputation and the book’s link to current events will likely woo readers.” -PUBLISHER’S WEEKLY
The Voice
“Bill Myers writes a crisp, express train read featuring 3D characters, cinematic settings and action, and, as usual, a premise I wish I’d thought of…” -FRANK E. PERETTI
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Bio
Best-selling author. Award-winning filmmaker. To date, Bill Myers’ books and videos have sold over 8 million copies. Not bad for a man who never wanted to be a writer.
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Commune: Rendezvous with God Volume Three
“Find out about prayer. Somebody must find out about prayer.”
– Albert Einstein
With the life of his niece’s newborn baby hanging in the balance, our hero continues his off-the-record conversations with Yeshua — sometimes visiting him in Bible times, sometimes amidst the baffling events of his own world. One way or another, through trial and error, and always with a touch of humor, he learns the life-changing truths about prayer.
Inside The Mind
One of the most original minds in supernatural suspense, Bill Myers deftly weaves timeless truths into incredible tales, powerful and thought provoking, his worlds have brought millions of readers not only amazement and entertainment, but also into a deeper encounter with God.
Here, new territories are explored. Old assumptions are tested. Comfort zones are stripped away. Characters are pushed past all imaginable limits as readers are drawn along a spine tingling tour that ultimately brings them face to face with the mystries of God.
Nearly all of Bill’s children’s series have made the bestseller list.
Visit Kids Site
Watch the Silver Dove Films Inter view with Bill Myers hosted by Michael Gier.
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Watch Bill Myers on Good Life, hosted by Dean Wilson.
Bill's Blog
How To Create Emotions in Your Stories
June 23, 2019
Powerful Stories Go Straight to the Heart
June 20, 2019
The Power of Storytelling
June 16, 2019
How To Create Emotions in Your Stories
June 23, 2019
Powerful Stories Go Straight to the Heart
June 20, 2019
The Power of Storytelling
June 16, 2019
Facebook Posts
Thanks for your great and humbling notes on how Rendezvous with God - Volumes One and Two are impacting lives. With Volume Three coming out in a few days, I thought I'd include the first chapter-- though I doubt the formatting will be the same. (By the way, Volume One is still for sale at 99 cents.). Thanks, as always! bill![]()
CHAPTER ONE ![]()
--Find out about prayer. Someone must find out about prayer." Albert Einstein![]()
“Oh, look at that. What a lovely surprise. You know, I bet not everyone can produce something like this. I mean, look at that. And the creamy smooth texture. That’s really something.” ![]()
Amber, my fourteen-year-old niece, and I were into Week Two of raising her newborn, little Billie-Jean. And we were following the baby books to the letter—well, what we managed to remember in our sleep-deprived states. And, “Since you can never start too early in deepening the child-parent bond and building your child’s self-esteem,” we celebrated each and every diaper disaster as if it were a major piece of art. ![]()
“You’ve really got a talent, young lady,” I said. “I couldn’t be prouder.” ![]()
Not only did this increase Billie-Jean’s self-esteem, but forcing myself to view her work with a positive spin had all but eliminated my rookie retchings. ![]()
The good news was by today I’d clearly managed to distinguish the front of the diaper from the back so do-overs were no longer an issue. Why they’re not clearly labeled with an F and B is beyond me. The bad news was as I removed the masterpiece and set it too close, her little hand darted into the goop. “Billie Je—” She flung it high into the air, “Bill—" and turned my white sweatshirt into modern, splatter-art. “Come on, are you serious?” ![]()
But as the devoted student, I immediately checked my tone and found something to praise. “That’s quite an arm you have there.” I smiled as I wiped my neck with the back of my ![]()
wrist—as she ran her hand through her hair. (Alright, this time I did throw up, but just a little in the mouth). ![]()
I’d like to say Amber and I had settled into a routine. But that would imply we had goals and knew what we were doing. We didn’t. Not in the slightest. For me, success was getting more than two hours sleep at a time, any time, day or night. And, yes, I’ll admit Amber and I both played possum, pretending to be asleep so the other would have to come to Billie-Jean’s rescue. Unfortunately, Amber wasn’t pretending. The poor kid was beyond exhaustion. Me, too. I don’t want to trivialize the tortures of water-boarding, but force any Enemy of the State to spend two weeks taking care of a newborn and let’s see how soon they start talking. ![]()
When it came to crying, there was no end to the baby books’ advice—and to their contradictions. Some said, pick her up when she’s crying. Other’s said, leave her and teach her independence. Others insisted the child should be rocked. While others said, scoop her up every time she whimpers and lay her down every time she stops. Following that last piece of advice meant I could cancel my gym membership which I never use anyway. ![]()
Amber, for her part, took to parenting like a duck to water. For the first time in her adolescent life, she realized there was someone in the world other than herself. That didn’t mean she didn’t slack when she could, but for the first time since she moved in with me last Christmas I saw the faintest seeds of responsibility taking root. ![]()
And breast feeding? She loved it. And not just because she now had a “hot figure,” to show off. She loved the whole process. While I—well let’s just say there were times my middle- aged sensibilities redefined the term, awkward. ![]()
To my credit, just once and only once I ventured to ask, “Have you ever thought of bottle feeding?” ![]()
“You’re kidding me,” she scorned. “You know the trauma, the emotional scaring that causes and how it follows a person through their whole, entire life?” ![]()
“I was bottle fed.”![]()
She gave me a look. Point made.![]()
Anyway, after cleaning up Billie-Jean, “Wasn’t that exciting? Aren’t we having fun?” the next step involved getting her into her little outfit—hand-me-down pajamas courtesy of an infant daughter Darlene had two decades earlier. It was a touching gift and much appreciated, except for the dozen microscopic snaps that have to be snapped in exactly the right order. Like the diapers, labeling would be appreciated, maybe color coding, anything to prevent us sausage-finger-types from finally completing the task only to discover we were off by one snap and would have to start over. ![]()
I don’t want to say Billie-Jean had taken over my life. That ship sailed last Christmas when Amber moved in. Now I was just looking for scraps of wreckage to cling to: ![]()
--Moments I could collapse onto the sofa, or chair (or floor).![]()
--Finding respite in my treasured, first edition books . . . though it meant climbing ![]()
across the mountains of unused baby gifts that had taken over my library/ex-bedroom. --Or just finding a job. Not that losing work was the baby’s fault. I managed to accomplish that all on my own shooting my mouth off to a press that twisted my words to sound as if I blamed the victim of an alleged rape. ![]()
After the campus demonstration against me—and yes, there was a demonstration—the University was smart enough to put me on a leave of absence until things cooled down. The problem was, things weren’t cooling down. After Sean’s suicide (the alleged perpetrator and my best friend), things only grew worse. Student protests grew louder and larger. Within days I’d not only become Sean’s proxy for their outrage, but the poster child for every sexist/misogynist of my generation. In short, I’d put my foot in it—all the way to my neck. Earlier, when Yeshua said he would free me of finding self-worth in what people thought, he wasn’t kidding. It’s hard to find self-worth when you have zero market value as a human being. ![]()
And my work? ![]()
“We’ve seen the news footage, we’ve read the transcripts,” Dr. DeVos, the Vice- Chancellor had said earlier by phone. By phone, because my presence on campus was too hot of an issue. “And since you’ve broken no law or morality clause, the tenure committee feels there are no grounds for dismissal—technically.” ![]()
“Technically?” I said. ![]()
“Will, the media isn’t letting go of this one. Nor, is the academic community. I’m receiving calls and e-mails from universities across the country. And from more than one local politician.” ![]()
“What exactly are you saying?” ![]()
He paused, then continued. “We can’t fire you. We don’t want to fire you. But every day you stay on faculty, our reputation is dragged further into the mud. The registrar’s office says we’re already experiencing a decrease in next year’s enrollment.” ![]()
“Because of me?”![]()
More silence.![]()
“So,” I tried keeping an even voice, “you’re suggesting what? That I should quit?” “That’s your decision, Will. We’ll do all we can for you at this end. But I know you love and believe in this institution as much as we do. So, I—well, as I said, it’s your decision.”![]()
The conversation had been last Tuesday. And forty-eight hours ago I sent in my letter of resignation, complete with sleep-depraved typos. It was a grand gesture which everyone applauded and thought noble. It was also foolish, leaving me no source of income or unemployment insurance—something that would come in handy for my mortgage, the alimony to Cindy (as she and her boy toy continued touring the world), and the astronomical medical bills for Billie-Jean’s dramatic entrance into the world. ![]()
Yeshua also said I’d be free of defining myself through what I did for a living and how much money I made. So far, he was three for three. ![]()
And maybe he had a point. Because at this moment, none of those mattered. Not in comparison to this amazing new life gurgling and cooing at me from the changing table. I was working on my third round of aligning the snaps when my cell rang. Caller ID said it was Patricia Swenson, the faculty member who along with Darlene helped me deliver Billie-Jean in Amber’s wrecked car. ![]()
“Do you mind if I get that?” I asked.![]()
Billie-Jean blew a snot bubble as consent.![]()
I checked my hands, pulled out the phone, and wedged it against my shoulder. “Hey, Patricia.” ![]()
“Hello, Will. How are we today?” ![]()
“Oh, pretty good. I think I squeezed in a couple hours of sleep since we last spoke. What was that, yesterday? Hard to keep track of time with all the—” ![]()
“I meant the baby, Will.” ![]()
“Oh, right. She’s doing fine, too.” I scooted the used diaper just a little further from Billie’s Jean’s reach. “She does a lot of fussing, but I guess that’s normal.” ![]()
“How’s she eating?”![]()
“Like a horse. Poor thing can’t decide whether to eat or breathe.”![]()
“What does that mean?”![]()
“After a gulp or two she comes up gasping.”![]()
There was no response.![]()
“That’s normal, too,” I said. “Right?”![]()
“How’s her color?”![]()
“Always the doctor,” I joked.![]()
“How’s her color?”![]()
“Funny you should ask.” I reached for Billie-Jean’s tiny hand. “This morning I noticed her fingernails were kind of purple.” “Purple?” ![]()
“Yes. I just figured—”![]()
“And her lips? Their color?”![]()
I looked down at her. “Mostly white.” I leaned closer. “Actually, they’re more a faint blue. Is that a problem?”![]()
“Alright,” she said, “There’s no need to panic, but I want you to bundle Billie-Jean up and catch the next ferry to the mainland.” “You want me to—” ![]()
“Tell Ambrosia not to worry, but you two need to get the baby to a doctor. Today.” “We don’t have an appointment.”![]()
“I’ll make sure you get in.”![]()
“It’s that serious?” ![]()
“Not yet.”![]()
“Then—”![]()
“Do it, Will. Trust me. Just do it.”![]()
Commune: Rendezvous with God (3)
www.amazon.com
“Find out about prayer. Somebody must find out about prayer.” —Albert Einstein With the life of his niece’s newborn baby hanging in the balance, our hero continues his off-the-record conversat...
In my entire career no book has had the impact on my life as this Rendezvous with God series. (If I could, I would give it away for free.) One dear reader just wrote: "My mom was completely unresponsive for about 3 days, showing signs of what we call in hospice a 7 day watch. That means the patient will likely pass away within 7 days. I was reading Temptation {where Jesus is telling the modern man) “Don’t you know you’re my favorite child?” (Because God is infinite and can do that). I said to my mom with tears brimming my eyes, “Do you hear that mom? You’re His favorite child.” For the first time in days and the very last time in her life she opened her eyes and said, “I am?” And I laughed and said, “yes, you are!” Your writing is changing lives, in so many different ways including some of the last words my mom ever heard and responded to.![]()
www.amazon.com/Rendezvous-God-Novel-Bill-Myers/dp/1735428582/ref=sr_1_1?