Category Archives: recommendations

Knowing & Being Known: a book review

Posted in books, recommendations, singleness by

Last week I was walking in the snow with a friend and we were talking about the books we’ll read during Christmas break.

“Remind me of the title of the book you said everyone should read,” she said.

“Well, right now I have two books that I’m saying everyone should read,” I said. “Are you thinking of Relational Spirituality  or The Body Teaches the Soul?”

“No—there was one before those.”

I doubled over laughing.

I can’t help that I’m the enthusiast who is sure that of course everyone will love whatever I love. And that means that I make superlative statements sometimes. But yes. I read a lot and because reading time is limited, I work hard to read the best. Which of course means others will want to read them too.  

Then I remembered that before the last two books I really loved and enthused about, there was one a month earlier: Knowing and Being Known by Erin Moniz.

About once a year, I hear about a freshly-published book, and I know I need to read it right away and shouldn’t wait until I can buy it cheaply used, which is usually how I buy books. Last year, it was How To Know a Person by David Brooks. This spring Tyler Staton’s A Familiar Stranger was another one that I knew I couldn’t wait until I could buy a used copy. 

This makes two new books this year. No—there was also A Teachable Spirit by A. J. Swoboda that also everyone should read, but I digress. Another digression: I sometimes also read old books. On the Incarnation is perfect and lovely for this time of year.

Knowing and Being Known answered the sometimes-whispered, but often-silent questions about loneliness and ache for companionship. Erin speaks from the perspective of working with college students who are navigating relationships and find themselves floundering between their ideals and their gritty, disappointing reality.

She found that behavior modification wasn’t changing students’ lives in the ways they were longing for. She could tell them “Stop dating losers.” But while she could give solid advice, it didn’t address the deeper hunger driving the behavior. So she went on a search to explore the theology of intimacy: what is in the good news of Jesus that meets the universal hunger for intimacy? 

Other researchers have identified three essential building blocks for healthy, sustainable relationships: 

  • Self-giving love: reciprocity
  • Attention/curiosity: orientation toward and seeking the other
  • Commitment: choosing each other repeatedly; mutuality

Erin expands on these, and then broadens the points and finds them modeled perfectly in the Trinity. 

“…the revelation of mutuality and freedom in the Trinity challenges individual, entitled autonomy. The Trinity’s mutual love of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit defines for us the balance of interconnected love and freedom. 

That we are hardwired for intimacy harkens back to an origin story of intimacy that yields the eternal goodness, beauty, and abundance that existed before the dawn of time.”

This is the good news of the Gospel: that the magnet of our desire is pulled inexorably toward  the north star of God’s love, the model and perfection of intimacy.

And don’t think we’re talking only about sexual intimacy, although that’s a valid hunger. This north star is much, much wider and deeper than that one level of intimacy, and it is accessible to everyone everywhere. That’s good news!

I love how Erin addresses loneliness. She acknowledges the hard realities of extended singleness but goes on to name a deeper reality: loneliness is part of the human experience. Further, she says, “I do not believe it is loneliness we fear. What we actually fear is the things loneliness reveals….There are other things driving the pain we describe as loneliness.” 

I think she’s 200% right. I live alone and I love it most of the time. I’m not usually lonely, but when it does descend at odd times, I subconsciously get very creative at avoiding the discomfort. But even a healthy, life-giving marriage wouldn’t fix that. My married friends tell me this and I believe them.

It takes a ton of courage to sit with the questions that lie beneath loneliness. But when we find that courage and that silence, we discover what is under that angst and what we really believe about ourselves, our future, God, and those we love. If we can learn to steer our magnets toward our true north, many of our questions and longings will order themselves under that star, like iron filings tracing the path between strong magnets. 

I’m not saying it as well as Erin does, so get yourself a copy and read it and underline it and discuss it with your friends. I’m not getting paid to promote this. I just want others to  discover the richness of a message that has the potential to comfort and coach toward deeper peace and understanding of each other and of God. So go ahead and order a copy for yourself and a friend as a gift to both of you. It could be a great way to start a new year!

My book talks about loneliness too, and has suggestions for when you’re feeling left behind. You can buy it here.

Walk With Me For the Journey is Long

Posted in gratitude, Ireland, life, recommendations by

When I read Ultra-Processed People, (which every American should read, by the way) I was dismayed to find out that exercise doesn’t automatically burn up the calories I consume. For example, when I eat a Snickers bar then compute how long I need to walk to burn those calories, my walk will benefit me, but not by erasing those yummy junk calories. The math doesn’t math that way, which is deeply disappointing to me and also proves that numbers hate me.

Ultra-Processed People shook me for other reasons too, which I won’t go into here except to say that after you read it, you will often ask yourself as you eat, “Was this food made with love to nourish me or made by a company that wants to make money off me?”

Back to NOT walking off the calories from a Snickers bar: the author says walking has many benefits even if it doesn’t consume the calories I wish it would. Even though I’m mad at numbers, I absolutely agree that walking benefits me in many ways.

When I think back to very dark seasons of distress, I remember that the times I was most calm and at peace were when I walked down the road to the sea or when I went swimming in a cove. Back then, I thought it was the sea that calmed me. But now, connecting the dots in retrospect, I know it was the physical movement of walking or swimming that ultimately regulated me, and my body knew what it needed more than I did. This is the road with the sea at my back:

Years later, when I was new to northwestern Pennsylvania, I was telling a friend how hard it is to survive the long dark winter. (In dramatic moments, I know we have nine months of winter in the year.) She suggested I take 15-20 minutes to walk right after lunch when the sun is at its highest. It was the advice I needed, and it has served me enormously. Most days, I’d invite my co-worker friend across the hall to go with me. Sometimes, when I knew she was having a stressful day, I used stronger language and insisted she walk with me. We’d walk in all weather except rain.

When we were scrambling to begin working from home during COVID, the first thing I put in my schedule was two walks a day: one with my co-worker and one alone. Two daily walks was the best decision I made in that season.

For years, lower back pain bothered me. Sometimes it was better, then worse. One chiropractor said firmly, “You could walk this off.” I was glad to know, and walking regularly is probably why my back doesn’t give me trouble now.

In another difficult, overwhelming season, my doctor (and I) didn’t want to put me on anti-depressants, but she suggested daily walks. I told her I already walk, and she cheered. “And look up as you walk—45 degrees slanted up toward the sky. There’s a reason the good book says to lift your eyes to the hills!” and she swept her arm up from the horizon. I try to remember her advice when I walk. Looking up exposes my eyes to more light and Vitamin D. But I suspect Psalm 121 intended even more than those physical benefits.

I’m the pal who drags her people out for a walk after a meal even in the middle of winter. You don’t feel like going, it’s true, but after approximately five steps, you already feel better. You take longer, deeper breaths, you notice birdsong and the sky even if it’s gray, and when you get back you never wish you’d have stayed inside. Never. For real.

Walking rests my brain. Some of my best ideas come on a walk. It’s probably something about the cross-pattern or rhythmic movement or not needing to concentrate or increased oxygen or change of scenery.

My current walking place is nothing like where I walked in Ireland, and this is sad. But it’s green and has wildflowers in every season and wild apples and white aspens. Sometimes I do a color walk, which gives me new eyes to see the ordinary.

Silence is a practice I stack with walking. In the morning, if I’ve been listening to podcast or audio book as I fix my bed and pack my bag, I turn off the audio at my door. I step out the door in silence, walk through the morning in silence, walk the scenic route to my office in silence, stop to see the sun and sky and trees in silence. In the evening, I might listen to or send voice messages as I walk, but not more. I need silence to give a chance for some of the open tabs in my brain to close. I need silence for thinking space and for rest. Deep work calls for deep rest, Aundi Colber says, and silence is restful. If it’s not, it’s probably time to sit with it and ask it why.

Because I benefit from the social, emotional, physical, and spiritual results of daily walks, I think everyone else should walk too. If it’s too warm to walk at noon, walk at golden hour when the sun is less direct. Or walk in starlight, which is its own magic and calm and wonder. And if you can’t walk, do stretches. If you can’t stretch, do deep breathing. Or sing. The breathing, rhythm, and focus on something outside yourself will benefit you in surprising ways.

If it doesn’t, come talk to me! You know we’ll go on a walk to figure it out.

 

What I Wish I Would’ve Said

Posted in life, love, recommendations, women's stuff by

Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash

Last month I gave a talk on Strength to Strength Sisters about God’s design for older women to teach the younger. You can call it mentoring or teaching or friendship or influencing. One Biblical term is “discipleship.” It was for women who want to live with eternal purpose, but don’t have 10,000 followers on Instagram like big influencers do. I didn’t talk about following a particular mentoring program, but about ordinary women connecting in ordinary ways.

I gave the talk via Zoom, which I don’t love. Physical presence matters enormously to me, so it was hard to speak alone in my empty office. But this technological platform gives the possibility to cross time zones without anyone needing to leave their couch, plus it preserves the words for people to access afterwards (as a YouTube and podcast recording) but still, I don’t love Zoom.

And as always, after speaking, there were details I wish I could do over, or examples I wish I could’ve added or reworded. That’s what this blog post is, which is another benefit of technology.

But before I say what I’d change about the talk, I want to say what I liked about it. I loved that I could see a few dear faces on the screen–especially friends who never turn on their cameras, but they did so for me, and it was super sweet of them. It’s why I rarely looked up at my computer camera, but always just below it at the faces I wanted to see.

I also loved telling the women “You are a tree!” and the simple interactive assignment that came out of that–a fun, meaningful exercise for all of us. And I loved telling the story at the end of what Pastor John told me when I didn’t know how to make a decision. His words to me that day were so confident and strong and simple that I could believe what he said. In turn, I can hand those words to others. It’s my favorite, beautiful part of giving away what I’ve been given.

The Q&A at the end of the talk was the hardest part for me. I felt self-conscious because I wanted to give good advice but didn’t have time to offer something thoughtful, and wasn’t at all sure that I answered carefully or sensitively.

Finding a mentor you can trust

One of the questions was about how to find a mentor you can trust, “who will keep things confidential.” I hear this question often. I never know if the question comes because some women can’t trust, or because some women aren’t trustworthy.

If you’re looking for a mentor you can trust, you need to risk exposing your soul, and you need to know that no mentor will be perfect.

I wish I would have said: If you want be a mentor, you don’t need to overthink it. It’s not complicated. All you need is to love God supremely and your neighbor as yourself. The shape of your life will influence others whether or not you intend that it does. That’s why friendship and conversation is so powerful. But it’s also why gossip is so devastating. It should never be said of you that you passed on carelessly what someone confided in you (except the threat of harming someone).

Most women, for whatever reason, love to be the first to tell a piece of news. But usually the most loving thing you can do for someone is to hold their confidence as sacred. Not even share it as a sanctified-sounding prayer request.

You don’t actually pop.

The soul is very elastic and can hold quite a lot of words and feelings, and it doesn’t explode.

We should work hard to be safe women for each other. When there are interpersonal problems and questions, we should be careful to talk only with the people who are part of the problem or the solution. I wish I would have said that because it’s what my parents taught me and it works for me.

Recommended reading

Someone asked for recommended reading on mentoring. I love talking about books! But I hesitate to recommend specific titles for specific purposes, because reading is so subjective. What is meaningful and helpful to me might not connect with you, and vice versa.

But I do recommend Getting to Know a Person by David Brooks. He writes for a secular audience but holds strong Judeo-Christian values. He says when we listen to people talking, we should listen so hard that we burn calories as we listen. Sounds like a good weight reduction plan! Seriously, if we would all follow Brook’s advice, we would be better people and able to mentor/influence/friend/disciple better.

I wish I would’ve said that.

But it’s ok. I keep learning. And keep taking in. And giving away. It’s the rhythm of a good life, the shape of a flourishing tree.

Our Trip to Savannah

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Back in May, I flew to Georgia to visit Lolita for a weekend. In the first hour, I knew she and Michelle and I needed to spend a weekend together. They had both been through traumatic years: caring for Ukranian refugees in Poland, re-entry to the US after 20+ years, a teen son with recurring osteosarcoma. They were still living in the ragged stages of recovery and survival and I knew in my soul we needed time to talk, breathe slow, and be present with each other. “We three should get together in—Savannah,” I said rashly, because I felt it deeply but didn’t have a plan.

They didn’t dismiss the idea, even though it felt impossible. How could it be possible, two homeschooling moms leaving for a weekend? We kept hinting at the dream throughout the summer, waited for  CT scan results, and when they were (miraculously!) clear, we started planning in earnest.

We would stay on Tybee Island. Michelle would drive 9 hours from VA. I would fly in late after teaching that day at Ministry Training Center. Lolita would have the shortest drive and would bring the essential food items: coffee, cream, and scone ingredients for me to bake.

They settled into our un-luxurious but clean condo and had the evening together on the beach and picked me up at the airport after 10:00. Each night was so funny. We had all these things we wanted to do and talk about, (including a blind date they’re thinking about for me) but after about 10:30, we discovered we weren’t teenagers anymore, and we’d struggle on until we hit a wall at midnight and call it a day. I spent the next week trying to catch up on the lost sleep. I wonder if this proves my age more than anything else about me.

We didn’t sleep late, and sipped our coffee on the balcony in the glorious sunshine. I mixed up the scones and made a mistake and they became a fluffy cakey thing that we nibbled the rest of the day. We wanted to name this new creation but couldn’t settle on a name that suited us.

The beach wasn’t hot, but it was sand and water and scattered sunshine. And it was space to talk and talk and listen and listen and laugh and cry. We found our way to the city and the river front, and got carried away with the elegant, weathered, old-world vibe.

 

Vic’s on the River was a elegant place that served food flavored to perfection. We moaned and swooned over my shrimp and grits and Lolita’s she-crab soup. I was going to be good and order water, but how could I not enjoy sweet tea while in the south? The sweet tea was perfection. The wait staff were elegant and personable and we felt like princesses.

At the end of our meal, the lady beside us asked if we’d recommend the shrimp and grits. We got into a conversation when she asked where we’re from. We explained that we’ve been close friends for years at a distance, and have never been together with just the three of us. “This is a story,” our new friend said. “You could write a book about how you all got together!”

It’s true. Way back in our Voxer days, I created our chat group so that we could stay connected over all our drama. These were the friends who knew me the longest and we’ve stayed connected by that bond that comes from years of shared history. A book would make a good story about strong, enduring friendship across many miles and years. And the wonder is that it’s not a story, but a beautiful friendship of three.

For the rest of the glorious afternoon, we ambled the beautiful old streets marked by restful squares filled with giant live oaks, benches, and paths. We moved slow, took lots of pictures, oohed and ahhhed over anything and everything, and laughed often, because there were always big feelings.

 

In one deserted square, it was golden hour and Michelle was taking lots of pictures and the fountain was calling my name. I sat on its edge, swung my feet into the water, and asked Michelle to take a picture of me splashing. But on the second kick, my sandal strap broke. This is maybe one reason  moms don’t let their children splash in public fountains, but I say when you’re nearly 50, the rules change. Even so, I knew as I was kicking that the sandals weren’t made for this kind of fun, and I should’ve taken them off first. We laughed and wailed at my thoughtlessness, and I walked for hours with one sandal. Eventually, we passed a CVS where I found cheap flip flops to wear back to the house. I still don’t regret splashing in the fountain. I’ll splash barefoot next time.

.    

We watched art students sketch and sat long at Forsyth Square. We kept thinking we were back in Europe and it felt surreal. We got snacks and headed back to the condo and couldn’t manage to stay awake and coherent past midnight.

 

The next morning, we savored coffee on the balcony again and packed up. The beach was  cool and windy, so we headed to the city. The drive in, across green swamps, was like moving through a painting. We found Savannah Coffee Roasters, a place that ticks all the boxes for a coffee shop you could stay at for a long time or keep coming back to. One of the owners is Australian, which may account for that flair of menu choice and extraordinary service.

  

We took our coffee and pastries to a shaded square and sat on a park bench and talked for a long, long time. We had to watch the clock because we had miles to go that day, but we didn’t move fast. We found a Churchill pub with she-crab soup and sweet tea and it was wonderful. Then we had to say goodbye. Michelle hit the road and Lolita dropped me off at the airport.

I had a very long, lonely, late trip home and fell into bed in the wee hours of Monday morning with no regrets.

This tells what we did, in broad strokes. Michelle was the unofficial professional photographer and all the stellar shots here are hers. Photos are wonderful to document the sights. But what we heard, felt, said, saw, stays with us beyond what photos convey. All we can say is we’re much better  for this sweet, beautiful break in an old southern city.

Look For a Lovely Thing

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I took a walk this evening. I was sleepy after supper and didn’t feel like walking, but I told myself, “If you don’t take a walk, you’ll die.” It’s not that dire, of course, but I was feeling melodramatic, and when the sky is clear and the next half hour is free, a walk is always the best idea.

When I crossed the road in front of my house, I saw this leaf in the grass and it gave me an idea:

Dr. Elissa Weichbrodt, on Instagram, does what she calls “color walking.” I heard her speak earlier this year, and was so moved with the way she sees the world and the Christian’s place in it that I’ve never been quite the same since. I read her new book, Redeeming Vision, and love how she unpacks art and its back stories. When I saw how she does color walks, I felt cynical because in my neighborhood, there’s never anything as exciting or dramatic as the vibrant colors she finds. So I never tried color walking, even in the summer.

But this evening, this faded leaf pushed me into trying something new. I decided to call it contemplative walking, like Dr. Weichbrodt does sometimes, and took pictures of all the yellow I could see.

It pushed me to walk faster, toward the next yellow thing because I didn’t know what it would be.

I saw shades that tended toward tan and orange, and the sun was setting in glorious clouds, but I was focused.

Look for a (yellow) thing and you will find it.

I kept thinking of Sara Teasdale’s lines,

“Look for a lovely thing and you will find it,
It is not far——
It never will be far.”

Lucky I was looking for yellow. Pink or purple is going to be a harder search.

 

Summer Pieces

Posted in community, food, gratitude, life, love, music, recommendations, Sunday School by

Well. It’s been summer of staying local, not buzzing away to see far-flung people. It’s been good, even though I’m feeling antsy. My summer priorities were to plug in where my feet are, and I have no regrets. But yes, I’m ready to go somewhere. Meanwhile, I’ll recommend bits and pieces that have fed me and kept me from getting bored and stagnant.

In the spring, I was telling a friend that I’m not going anywhere because I don’t have international travel plans this year. “Yeah, you’re not going anywhere. You’re just going to New York,” she joked. She had a point. “Going somewhere” is fairly subjective.

I went to Brooklyn for my summer break in June. Before I went, I was scared I’d be lonely, but in some mysterious alchemy, that didn’t happen until the very last day. The break in the city was everything I needed it to be: books, socializing, solitude, exploring, favorite haunts, new friends, a few ESL lessons. Next year year, I’ll turn 50, and I intend to celebrate all year, starting now, and I felt that a concert would be a good way to start. I dithered for days. Was it too much money? And who goes to a concert alone? But I got a ticket to listen to the Met Orchestra and Choir sing Brahm’s Ein deutsches Requiem at Carnegie Hall, and in the first 30 seconds, I knew this was the right decision. The music was exquisite and glorious, and I’ll always be glad I went. And it turns out lots of people go to concerts alone. Here is the recording that I listen to often, which is wonderful, but nothing like hearing it live.

Earlier in the year, I had the opportunity to be present for a talk that moved me so deeply that I’ve listened to the recording multiple times. Charles Cotherman spoke on Becoming Human. He suggested that efficiency doesn’t help us be more human, but close community does. And he said we can only serve God in the place where our feet are, a truism that hit me hard. He’s researched the story of Christian study centers such as L’Abri, where Christians formed communities centered around education, and he wrote about them in Thinking Christianly. After his talk, I told him how much I admired the Schaeffers’ work at L’Abri, but he reminded me that they had a work at a particular time and place, and our work in this time and place is going to look different.

I listened to an audio book on Hoopla that had me grinning often and I still live in its aura. This is Happiness is set in Ireland in the 1950’s when the villages were “getting the electricity.” I’ve never enjoyed descriptions of rain so much. The narrator was Irish, which added to the nostalgia, and I was sorry when the story ended. However, the title and its meaning stays with me, and I hope it always will.

In a round-about, God-led way, I came across a podcast that was so gripping and beautiful, I gave it as a listening assignment to the women’s Sunday school class I’m teaching. We’re studying John, and this sermon, “I Am The Bread” by Tyler Stanton, fed me profoundly. It’s on Spotify here and on his church’s website here. I usually listen to books and podcasts at 1.3 or 1.4 times the normal speed, which helps keep me focused. But not this speaker! I also loved his sermon on Theology of the Body. And I’m reading his book Praying Like Monks, Living Like Fools, which is solid and convicting.

Another book I just finished is Holy Unhappiness by Amanda Held Opelt. I really agree with her premise: that the prosperity gospel has seeped into our theology and made us feel more entitled than we realize. Her insights about satisfaction in marriage and work seem sound and realistic, which was refreshing, and made me wish I’d read this a long time ago. However, I felt very disturbed at her personal story of medical crisis and how God miraculously healed her after four days. I don’t want to minimize her trauma and suffering, but really? Four days? It felt dismissive of anyone who has wept and suffered and begged God for healing for months and years. I struggled to take her seriously after that, and I need to discuss the book’s message with someone else who’s read it.

This summer, besides good things to listen to and read, there have also been guests hosted and mini celebrations, simple and happy and not overwhelming to plan and carry out.

I hosted a small party to celebrate my healed wrist, and it included pavolova with chocolate and raspberries, which always makes the angels sing.

There was fresh basil to make pesto for a tomato salad at our book club’s picnic.

There were scones to celebrate one friend’s birthday,

and Strawberry Brita cake for another friend’s birthday.

There has been Bible study at jail to prep and lead, and exquisite moments with those strong, brave women in hard places. There have been beautiful choirs that made me cry and worship. There have been meaningful lunch conversations and prayers and Literature Camp with more beautiful conversations and friends. There was an evening of solitude by Lake Erie where I made a piece of art with stones and sand as an act of slowing down and talking with God.

I’m still glad that Guys Mills has roads leading out of it. My feet are still itchy and probably always will be, but it’s been a good summer of serving where my feet are.

Are You a Theologian?

Posted in community, recommendations, women's stuff, words by

My friends and I used to amuse ourselves by inventing cutesy, cringy names for women’s devotionals:

  • Coffee Time with God
  • Puppy Snuggles with God
  • Tea Cups and Promises

Our amusement came from what we saw as fluffy women’s devotionals that were packaged to make the content as winsome and inviting as possible, and we had no time for it.

I still don’t.

Observation 1: The devotional guides I’ve seen for women have disappointed me by being consumer-driven, comfy platitudes that try to make readers feel better. If you’re partial to a book or writer, and if you’ve found life in that content, I’m happy for you. There are some good writers out there but exceptional women’s devotional guides are rare.

Observation 2: Women need life-giving, rich input from God in order to fill their responsibilities well. I look at moms and the ways they see after their children, household, and neighbors with deep love, wisdom, and skills, and I think “How does she does she do it? She’s heroic!” Singles have other ways in which they give and feel depleted, but we all need so much more goodness and light than we can produce on our own.

This why I’m SO excited about the new Bible study guide, Kingdom of Priests! And until December 8, you can use a discount code to pre-order it: FRIENDS&FAMILY10. Run and get it for yourself and your friends, your small group, your neighbors. This is a meaty, serious, solid guide that you can take with you and be fed. A bonus for me is that my good friend Kristi wrote it, so I loved hearing her voice in it!

As a pilot tester, I got to do five of the ten lessons in the book. I loved the scope of the study, and how it explores the theme of priests from Genesis to Revelation. For years, I’ve been been thinking about the theme of temple—the places where we meet God—so studying priests fit perfectly into my line of interest.

The last few weeks, I began each day doing part of a lesson, and later, in the cracks of the day, my brain was pinging with ideas and words and concepts about priests and temples, the ways God shows His glory, the ways fallible humans represent God to their world. How does He trust us with so much! I kept thinking how much dignity and worth this calling of priesthood gives every person, how much responsibility women carry to represent God well regardless of their life calling.

In addition to probing the specific subject of priesthood, each chapter/lesson introduces a tool or a lens for exploring any Scripture passage. This gives readers ways to study themes and passages of their interest, ways to teach Sunday school, and methods to study or lead Bible studies.

Probably the biggest weakness with women’s Bible studies is that we rush from the text to ourselves. We think “What’s in it for me? How does this speak to my situation?” I think that’s why those cutesy titles are wrong: they serve the reader who loves coffee or puppies instead of calling the reader to serve the text and its intentions.

Instead, we need to come to Scripture asking “Where is God here, and how is He revealing Himself? What is the author’s intent? How can I align my life with the ways God reveals His heart in His story?”

Imagine the results if women would sit in circles to explore these questions instead of talking about recipes and décor and gardening—all worthy topics in their places—but let’s not give ourselves a pass from studying Scripture, shrug, and say we’re not theologians or leaders. We ARE theologians—priests—in all the ways and places that we represent God to our world.

He doesn’t require us to be perfect, silver-tongued teachers, but shouldn’t we aim to be the best representatives of God we can be?

Why I Read Novels

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Last Saturday night, my friends at The Curator asked me to roundtable a discussion on Why I Read Novels. It was a fun thing to think about and organize some of my scattered, simple thoughts about it. Here are some of the ideas I put out there.

Kafka said, “We ought to read only books that stab or wound us. A book must be an ax for the frozen sea within us.”

Well. I agree that books can uncover what’s inside us, but I don’t read books to be stabbed or wounded.

On the other hand, Flannery O’Connor said, “People without hope not only don’t write novels, but what is more to the point, they don’t read them. They don’t take long looks at anything, because they lack courage. The way to despair is to refuse to have any kind of experience, and the novel, of course, is a way to have experience.”

I agree with Flannery. Hope is a rare treasure these days, and reading and writing can be acts of defying cynicism and despair, because words can declare truth and light beyond the present.

In The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction, Alan Jacobs writes, “It should be normal for us to read what we want to read, to read what we truly enjoy reading.” He expects, of course, that we want to read what is true, good, and beautiful.

Why I Read Novels

  • For pleasure and whim, as Alan Jacob’s book encourages.
    • The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society,  Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
    • Hannah Coulter, Wendell Berry
    • My Antonia, Willa Cather
  • For curiosity and vicarious experience. I read a lot of memoir and biography for the same reasons.
    • Transcendent Kingdom, Yaa Gyasi
    • We Are Completely Beside Ourselves, Karen Joy Fowler
    • A Gentleman in Moscow, Amor Towles
    • A Father’s Tale, Michael O’Brien
    • The Secret Life of Bees, Sue Monk Kidd
    • Still Alice, Lisa Genova
  • Because I like the author’s voice and skill with words
    • Les Miserables, Victor Hugo
    • Island of the World, Michael O’Brien
    • Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
    • Gilead, Lila, Home, Jack, a series by Marilyn Robinson
  • They help me understand the marginalized and characters I don’t usually cross paths with.
    • The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver
    • Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine, Gail Honeyman
    • A Man Called Ove, Britt Marie was Here, both by Fredrik Backman
  • Novels give words for a common experience and understanding, such as eating the fruit in Perelandra or when the children shook snow off their boots and coats in the Narnian beavers’ house.
  • Novels give shape and color to important values and ways of living.
    • Strangers and Sojourners, Michael O’Brien
    • The Shepherd’s Castle, The Baronette’s Song, The Fisherman’s Lady, The Curate’s Awakening, George MacDonald
    • The Dean’s Watch, Green Dolphin Street, Elizabeth Goudge

How I Read Novels

Books are for seasons. I tried four times to read Gilead, and gave up. It moves very slowly, like all of Marilyn Robinson, and never suited me, until, in the right season, my mind slowed down enough to savor the message, and I could take it in and love it. To read the emotionally grueling but deeply impactful Island of the World, I need to be in the right season, which probably happens roughly once every ten years. (I also felt like I needed a support group as I read.) If everyone around me enjoys a novel but I don’t, this might not be the season for it. (Except for WWII novels, which have no viable season for me.)

My friend Marlene introduced me to the idea of  “cluster reading” which I aspire to, and have only briefly dabbled in, and would love to do more. Read several books around one theme or time period from various perspectives. Last year my cluster reading was:

  • A Gentleman in Moscow
  • Agent Sonya (a biography)
  • The Brothers Karamazov (which I didn’t finish–yet)

Another idea for cluster reading could be:

  • The Chronicles of Narnia
  • The Narnian (a biography)

How I Find Novels

Goodreads keeps my reading life organized, lets me see what friends are reading and what they’re saying about them. I write a review of most of the books I read, and friends can see what I put out there. I shelve books on To Be Read, Read, and Currently Reading. When someone recommends a book, I put it on my To Read list and don’t have to keep a mental list. I LOVE Goodreads! It’s an old app, loads slowly, and isn’t super user-friendly, but I still like it.

I get newsletters from my favorite contemporary Christian writers like Philip Yancey, Jen Pollock Michel, and Lore Ferguson Wilbert. Good writers are good readers, and when they recommend books that they’re reading, I listen up. I also watch what Christianity Today  says about the newest titles coming out.

I don’t know how many disclaimers I should make here. We all know there’s a lot of rubbish out there, and novels get a bad rap for being sensuous and escapist, because many are that. I try hard to not read any books I wouldn’t want to recommend to friends. There are too many good books out there to waste time on less than great stories.

Story is a powerful form of communication that can set a reader’s compass and turn them to a positive direction. Jesus must have thought so too. Reading a good novel is a way to engage in hope, declaring that today’s devastation is not the only reality and there good things to reach for. Truth, goodness, and beauty will always have the last word. Because of this, I believe good stories will change the world.

Advent Jewels

Posted in Art, books, gratitude, life, poetry, recommendations, words by

This gentle turning of the season into gray and cold and sometimes snow has been lightened now with words and music and berry trees. I want to share the wealth, be the town crier, tell you about the gems that sparkle for me. If they don’t shine for you, it’s ok. Words, and songs, like books, are for seasons that are not always now.

Poetry
These mornings, I’m paging through Circle of Grace by Jan Richardson: a book of blessings for the seasons of Advent, Lent, and Epiphany. I find the verses thoughtful, infused with Jan’s experience of deep grief and hope.

I come back again and again to this favorite from Malcolm Guite: “O Emmanuel.” Guite plays with words and allusions with holy playfulness. The layered meanings of each word and line slows me down and fills me with awe at his skill. My favorite line is the second line: O long-sought With-ness for a world without. I love hearing artists talk about their work, and this podcast on Spotify has the author reading all seven of his Advent poems and some of the backstory of each. Go to 30:00 to hear him read this one:

O come, O come, and be our God-with-us
O long-sought With-ness for a world without,
O secret seed, O hidden spring of light.
Come to us Wisdom, come unspoken Name
Come Root, and Key, and King, and holy Flame,
O quickened little wick so tightly curled,
Be folded with us into time and place,
Unfold for us the mystery of grace
And make a womb of all this wounded world.
O heart of heaven beating in the earth,
O tiny hope within our hopelessness
Come to be born, to bear us to our birth,
To touch a dying world with new-made hands
And make these rags of time our swaddling bands.

Music
While I love all the carols of the season, (not the chintzy songs about chestnuts or holly!) Advent songs meet me right now like nothing else. I’d like to sing #121 in the Mennonite Hymnal every Sunday: “Comfort, Comfort Ye, My People.” For the glory of the Lord now on earth is shed abroad/And all flesh shall see the token that His word is never broken.

Two pieces on repeat these days:

  1. “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” by Voces 8.
    LIsten to the long, plaintive first “O,” how the tenor voices shimmer throughout the song, and the strong, desperate quality of the voices calling.
  2. “O Radiant Dawn” by The Sixteen
    I heard this live twice last week, and each time, I couldn’t stop the tears. It’s raw, longs for light and justice, and calls COME because there’s nothing else to say.

Art
A friend gave me this card, a painting by Liz Hess, because she knew I’d like it. I keep it on my desk because so much love how the kings of the earth are bringing their glory to the lion and the lamb at the manger.

Last year pastor John showed me what he was making for his daughters and I was cheeky enough to say I’d love one too. Soon one morning, I found this on my desk and of course I cried. I love its simplicity and these days, Mary’s arms are empty.

Blog post
Every year about this time, I reread and share this blog post by Lanier Ivester. I found it years ago during an especially dark season, and it gave me hope and light and a giant shift in perspective.

The sorrow had just never been so tangible, so odiously unavoidable. And my thorn had such an ugly name: Barrenness. It takes a good, stout Old Testament word to express the arid disgrace of it: the Bible is painfully good at looking things in the eye and calling them what they are, and those first faithful ones certainly knew a desert when they saw one.

The blog post also introduced me to the beautiful words attributed to Fra Giovanni in 1513: There is glory and beauty in the darkness, could we but see! And to see, we have only to look.

Advent is a season of waiting, watching, preparing. We light pink and purple and white Advent candles every week, and we wait for many things but I often think we know nothing of waiting like the Jews did for their Messiah and deliverance, or like refugees wait for their papers. But we still wait. The whole earth waits, weeping for justice and goodness and beauty.

This year, more than I could last year, I can enter into the season of hope in waiting. I’m ready for light to seep up from the horizon, ready for smiles to grow strong and confident, ready for faith to become sight. Ready.

Life is for Living

Posted in books, My Book, recommendations, singleness by

I was always going to write a book, but this one wasn’t in the plans. I thought I was going to write about an American Mennonite’s experience of living in Ireland, but I don’t think that one’s going to ever make it, which is very ok.

I remember hearing about a girl who was planning her wedding but her sisters (older and younger than her) could hardly be civil to her, consumed with their losses and desire to be brides. I felt sad for them, knowing some of their pain, but I felt strongly that they weren’t on Earth to be bitter about what they didn’t have.

What IS our greatest purpose? What ARE we here for?

If it’s to be happy brides and wives, some of us have failed our purpose.

If it’s to love and worship God, that option is open to anyone, anyone.

That was my driving motivation in writing the book: what were we created for, and how can we enter into it now, without a romance story? I wrote out of my experience and my hope. I wrote about what I knew and dreamed of. Looking back now, I think it was kinda audacious of me to start writing a book at age 30, and parts of it seem chirpier than I am now, but the premise hasn’t changed.

We were created for a vast, endless, creative love, and there’s no limit to entering into it and letting it transform our lives.

I wrote for singles ages 20-30 because that’s what I knew and had experienced. But often moms and pastors’ wives come up to me to say how the book meets them. I’m deeply honored that they read it, and am learning not to be surprised that it connects with them because we are, all of us, living in Plan B. None of is now where we thought ten years ago we’d be, are we? Unless you’re sitting at the same place you were, eating PopTarts™ slathered with marshmallow creme.

It seems that living well means figuring out how to thrive in Plan B. I’m still learning, steadily by jerks.

Singles don’t have a monopoly on disappointment, ambiguous grief, or unrequited love. We don’t suffer more than others, but we do live with a specific loss that deserves some attention sometimes.

You’ve probably heard a talkative mother say she was never going to marry, but here she is, with a house and family because some man came out of nowhere and swept her off her feet. She’s grinning as she says it, and people chuckle. She’s allowed to joke about her Plan B.

But a single lady isn’t allowed to say she was never going to be single at 26 or 46, but here she is, all dressed up with no date. Her Plan B is real, but not one people chuckle about.

We’re ALL in Plan B and for some it’s socially acceptable to talk/groan/chuckle about it, and for others of us, it’s not something we bring up at a fellowship dinner table.

I hope my book provides a safe, understanding place to name the Plan Bs readers find themselves in, and that it gives them ways to look at themselves, the future, and God–our generous, wise, gentle, lavish Creator. The book is a practical, realistic invitation to the love and worship we were all created for. My premise is that we thrive when we enter into that love and worship.

Gearing up for Cyber Monday, you can buy a digital copy of the book on  Amazon or hard copy here at Christian Learning Resources.  Under the banner of my blogsite’s home page, click on the book title and find the drop-down list of each chapter and you can read the first page of each. After you read it, I’d love to hear what you think!