30 Day Book Challenge--Day 6: What is a book that makes you sad?

There is a good kind of sad--a tragic but somehow redemptive sad.Those are the sad books that I like to read.

For example, the memoir, Falling into His Grace, by Rebecca Petrie is a desperately sad story except for one thing: Petrie isn't sad.

One ordinary day, after a women's Bible Study in her home, Rebecca trips down the stairs and finds her life forever changed. This beautiful, healthy, active missionary is suddenly paralyzed from the neck down and sentenced to a life of constant pain and discomfort. But through this seeming tragedy, Rebecca discovers hope and grace and love like never before.

 In  Falling into His Grace Rebecca Petrie shares her incredible story. She wrestles with hard questions, and comes out clinging fiercely to Jesus. I was deeply blessed by this sad, sad story.

30 Day Book Challenge--Day 1:What is the best book you read last year?

In the Name of Jesus, by Henri J. M.  Nouwen. When I turned the last page of this book in October of 2011, I actually announced, "This is the best book I've read all year!"

I will admit that the pronouncement was partly due to the fact that I had recently endured a long strain of mediocre literature. Nevertheless, In the Name of Jesus, is well worth the hour and a half it will take you to read it.

Nouwen, a Catholic priest, weaves insights about leadership and community together with stories from his own life, creating a work that is both practical and inspirational. Taking leadership back to basics, Nouwen's points are simple but profound.

After serving as an international missionary and then a professor at Notre Dame, Yale and Harvard, Nouwen became a sought-after conference speaker. He was living the high-life (for a priest that is!) when he was asked to join the the community of L'Arche Daybreak as a pastor for people with intellectual disabilities. Living in community with those he served, Nouwen learned to lead and love with compassion, humility, and vulnerability.

I would highly recommend  In the Name of Jesus, by Henri J. M.  Nouwen--you will be blessed if you read it.

The King's Cross

I first fell in love with Tim Keller as an author after reading his book, The Prodigal God. If you have not yet read that--let me implore you to make it the next book that you read, particularly if you, like me, were raised in the church. It will give you a fresh (but convicting) appreciation for the story about the prodigal son. That being said, Keller's latest book, The King's Cross, is well worth a read.

As a wanna-be Bible scholar that has never attended seminary, I look for books that feed my desire to better understand the Word of God. The King's Cross is a study of the book of Mark which I found both thought provoking and informative. As you may know King's Cross is the name of a major train station in London--in fact I was there just a few weeks ago! Keller took the title of his book from this station--a name which so perfectly encapsulates the deity and the servitude of Christ. 

Keller chose the book of Mark because, according to Papia (60-135 A.D.), a bishop of the early church, Mark was most likely the secretary and translator for the apostle Peter. Keller asserts that it is possible that the Gospel according to Mark was almost entirely based on the eye-witness accounts of Peter, which explains how this book contains testimony about events at which Mark himself was not present. 

Perhaps the most basic and profound idea in The King's Cross is this: Most religions are based on advice--and they give us a series of "to-dos" and "not to-dos;" but the Gospel is not advice, it is news--Good News. Keller writes:

 Most religions have the same logic: If I perform, if I obey, I'm accepted. The gospel of Jesus is ... diametrically opposed to it: I'm fully accepted in Jesus Christ, and therefore I obey. 

Evolving in Monkey Town

Rachel Held Evans was raised in an evangelical Christian family in Dayton Tennessee--home of the 1925 Scopes Monkey Trial. She knew the Four Spiritual Laws before she could read and she cried when she found out her grandfather had voted for Bill Clinton because she thought that surely he would go to hell for voting for a Democrat. When she went to Bryan Christian College, where her father is a professor, she began to have questions and doubts about her faith. Evolving in Monkey Town is an honest account of her on-going journey.

Evans does not arrive at answers as much as she learns to embrace the questions. My husband David says, "My theology say more about ME than it says about God." Along those lines, Evans writes:

Doubt is a difficult animal to master because it requires that we learn the difference between doubting God and doubting what we believe about God. The former has the potential to destroy faith; the latter has the power to enrich and refine it. The former is a vice; the latter is a virtue.

I appreciated the warm tone of the book, which invited me into a dialogue of thoughts. The author is humble in her struggle and genuine in her searching. She does not outline a new theology or propose an unorthodox doctrine, neither does she acquiesce to the traditional American interpretations of scripture.

After reading Evolving in Monkey Town, I am inspired to plunge deeper into the Word and to live more fully in obedience. I share the author's hunger for depth and meaning and her fatigue of pat answers and platitudes. But if you are one who does not want to wrestle with your dearly held beliefs, do not pick up this book. It will quickly reveal if your faith is rooted in your theology or in the person of  the God-man, Jesus Christ. Such a revelation can be scary, to say the least.

Young, fresh, and edgy without being bitter, Evolving in Monkey Town is easy to read, but deliciously difficult to process. I do not agree with all of her assertions, but I certainly wrestle with many of the same questions. I am thankful for the reminder that God is so much greater than my capacity to define Him.

Surprised by Oxford

When Carolyn Weber is awarded a scholarship to do her graduate studies at Oxford University, she sets off on what promises to be a life-changing adventure. Immersed in the the study of classic literature, surrounded by history, and enveloped by a richly diverse group of friends, she tries with all her might to hold unswervingly to her post-modern agnostic beliefs. Wrought with wit, her memoir is both intellectually stimulating and spiritually inspiring.

"Prayer is weird. There's no way around it. The concept of it seemed bizarre. Talking, possibly out loud, to Someone unseen who might or might not be listening? Weeeird."

Weaving words into narrative like a skilled artist weaves a tapestry, Weber recounts her journey to faith. She does not skip over the difficult themes that many Christians writers have either long forgotten or gingerly avoid. At the same time, she humbly submits to truth once it is revealed --and welcomes it as both a stranger and a friend.

"Then a story from the Gospel of Mark jumped into my head. Scripture has a way of working like that. Be forewarned."

My fellow forty-somethings will appreciate the author's references to current events during her formative years, which reveal that Weber is right about our age. She knits her story together with references from Milton and Donne, quotes from secular literature, and lyrics from contemporary music --demonstrating God's ability to work His redemptive power through--or perhaps despite--the brokenness that surrounds us.

"'Grace, the name of a girl', U2 later sang. And the name of a thought that changed the world."

Surprised by Oxford is for the believer who is sick and tired of the second-rate writing that typifies contemporary Christian literature. It is for the skeptic who is open to a challenge. As well written as it is thought provoking, this memoir reads like a novel. I tore through it in two days, but I have been ruminating on it for months. It is one of those rare books that leaves you feeling both smarter and happier for having read it.

"Just before going abroad on my scholarship, I came across an epigram by Alexander Pope, the eighteenth-century English poet famous for his clever wit and urbane satire. Pope engraved the verse on the collar of a dog, which he then gifted the king:

I am his Highness’ Dog at Kew:

Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

Granted, the dog image is not as elegant or politically correct as some might prefer, but it does effectively beg the question: just who is your master? For we all have one." 

 All quotes from of Surprised by Oxford, by Carolyn Weber