Twofer book reviews

It's been a while since I've posted a book review. I'm typically a blazing-fast reader, and finished one of the two books I'll be reviewing today in a couple of nights. But N.D. Wilson's Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl forced me to suspend my Evelyn Wood-style speed-reading habits in favor of the kind of slow savor I reserve for stunning, poetic writing. I don't downshift into first gear very often as a reader. Wilson's arresting, lyrical prose left me no other option.

Wilson's artful exploration of creation and re-creation is light-years beyond the heavy-footed exposition most Christian authors use to invite people into a deeper understanding of the Gospel. His words are art. And they are surgery:

I know little, but I know this: When you have died and your leaves have been raked, when you have looked on the face of God and had your final conversation, exchanging words others may never know, you will be where you want to be. If you cannot let go of yourself, if you cling to the filth that you've loved so long, stroking the cherished scabs that line your soul - hates and bitternesses that you cannot lay down, an imagined mirror picturing a glorious self - then He will push you away. You will be sent out into the darkness, far from His presence. You will not like the darkness, but the other option seems worse. You couldn't bear to be without those scabs. You will be in good company, wandering with preachers, priests and kings, and every lofty human unable to live without themselves. Many "righteous" will crowd into that corner with you, people who cannot imagine themselves as anything other than good, who cannot bend to a God who will not bend to them.

He references philosphy, art, science and literature in 14 chapters that are simultaneously raw and polished as sapphire. The book would make a wonderful gift for a literate friend who has weaned himself from sentimental, formulaic evangelical pulp. It is my new favorite book. Please buy it.

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Journalist Warren Cole Smith writes from a theological corner (Reformed) of the church adjacent to that of Wilson, and his book, A Lover's Quarrel with the Evangelical Church covers a small bit of overlapping territory. However, Smith's work is diagnostic in nature, and focuses, as the title implies, on the woes of modern evangelicalism.

Those woes are not breaking news to anyone who has been involved in the evangelical world: provincialism, sentimentality, the merchandising of faith, media, decisions instead of disciples, megachurches. Smith is a seasoned reporter, and illustrates each of his points with solid, supportive stories.

Though he occasionally offers some prescriptions for these woes (church multiplication by church-planting congregations instead of the bigger/better/more of mega-church addition, for instance) the book's focus leans toward thoughtful lament. He doesn't offer many solutions for the problems he describes.

Five or ten years ago, this book would have been cutting edge critique. But there has been soooo much written about the often-unlovable evangelical church during the last decade that it didn't feel like much new ground was covered in this volume. It would be a quick primer for someone new to the subject matter, and I hope that Smith considers penning a follow-up that offers a way forward from this sad, hurty place in which we find ourselves.

Primary-colored promises

I admit it. I love the sight of school supplies making their yearly center-stage appearance. Blank pages and unsharpened pencils await their call to duty for everything from the circle-stick-hook of a wobbly first ABC on through spelling tests, crush notes, algebra equations and first-day essays that always begin, "I spent my summer vacation..."

School supplies are primary-colored promises: something magical will happen if I open a box of brand-new crayons. I even wrote about my yearly Crayola jones in Uprooted:

Every August, school supplies blossom in the aisle of Target and Walgreens like sunflowers. Packages of wide-ruled filler paper. Eight solid ovals of watercolor paint toeing the line in a narrow plastic container. Glue sticks. Octagon-sided yellow #2 pencils.

This past August was the first time in a couple of decades that I couldn’t think of a single reason to buy some new crayons. No one in my family needed Raw Sienna, Carnation Pink or Teal Green for their school projects. It made me feel so sad.

Young adults, which is what our kids have become, don’t really think much about crayons until the time comes to buy them for their own kids. Every house needs a freshly painted wall adorned with Violet Red scrawls like ours once was. During my crayon mourning period, I was talking to an acquaintance named Tammy who mentioned that she was going to be taking her elementary-age kids for the traditional Buying Of The School Supplies that afternoon. I told Tammy that I felt sad that I didn’t have to buy crayons for anyone at my house.

When I saw her a few days after that conversation, she handed me a sky blue 2-pocket folder and a box of 24 brand-new crayons. I didn’t mention my crayon jones to anyone else that I can think of. Yet not more than a week after Tammy handed me those crayons and bonus folder, I discovered that someone had put 3 packages of colored pencils and another box of crayons in my mailbox at work. No one could explain why I’d received this anonymous gift...

I wrote those words a couple of years ago. Fast forward to July, 2009: To supplement my free-lance writing life, experience and income, I recently began a new part-time position as Communications Director for Catalyst Lake County. (My other new part-time job is as a caregiver for Visiting Angels, a home health care agency.) Catalyst coodinates a wonderful ministry initiative each summer called the ShareFest Backpack Drive. Click here to read a local paper's coverage of this summer's drive.

As I read the article, it struck me - a Neon Green ah ha!

I once again have a perfect excuse to buy some crayons.

What's a nice Jewish girl...?

Though I felt like I washed ashore schlepping my meager possessions and broken heart on the door step of our church a couple of years ago, more refugee than pilgrim, I am hardly alone.

"One of the more interesting of many religious movements taking place in this country today is the quiet movement of many evangelical leaders...away from evangelical churches to more historical and liturgical expressions of faith. Billy Graham was a counder of Christianity Today magazine, but today many of its editors and contributors are Anglican or Orthodox. Some of those on staff of Chuck Colson's organization are Anglican or Roman Catholic." (from A Lover's Quarrel with the Evangelical Church)

Robert Webber wrote persuasively about the Evangelical-to-Anglican trend several years ago in his book Evangelicals On The Canterbury Trail. There has been coverage recently of the very high profile leader Todd Hunter (Vineyard, Alpha) becoming the newest bishop in the Anglican Mission in America, the same Rwanda-led branch of the Anglican communion of which our church is a part.

I occasionally find myself astonished during a Sunday morning service and want to turn to ask those around me: What's a nice Jewish Fundy/Evangelical/Charismatic girl like me doing saying the Nicene Creed every week with all y'all?

I would love to hear from you if you have made a journey from one corner of the church to another (far-flung) corner, especially if you find yourself asking a variant of the question above. I'm brooding over a possible writing idea. Please feel free to e-mail me at mishvl@yahoo.com to share a bit of your experience.