Reading Recap 2023: My Reading Life Needs Candy Too

It may be February, long after all the end of year wrap up posts have disappeared from the algorithms, yet here I am to highlight a few books from my 2023 reading life. In previous recaps, I’ve examined the breakdown between ebooks and print, the total number of books I’ve read, and the various categories my reading fell into. This time, I’ll just say that I read a lot of books in 2023, more than I have in several years, and a huge number of them were brain candy books, books gave me a spike of happiness and took little effort to read, because it was a difficult year. (Although most of the books I’m highlighting are the opposite and totally worth it.)

For me, brain candy books are essential to my reading life, just as heavy hitting nonfiction or tense survival stories are. I’m finally accepting that my real life affects my reading life, instead of trying so hard to push through a book that might not be right for my current state of being. I abandoned quite a few books, found several new authors whose backlists I’m still working through, and had some months where I roared through an astonishing number of books and other months where my reading pace was much more measured. Plus I moved at the end of 2022, so one of my great joys of 2023 was diving wholeheartedly into a new library and falling in love with it.

Longtime readers of my recaps will remember that I read a huge variety of books and therefore issue a blanket content warning for all of them, and that holds true, so if you have questions about a book, ask away!

The Best Survival Story:

The River by Peter Heller

Two college friends on a wilderness canoe trip soon find themselves racing a wildfire back to safety, while also encountering a man and woman under mysterious circumstances. This is a survival story, a man versus nature and man versus man story, but with a deep and powerful male friendship at its center. It’s short and beautifully written, filled with vivid word pictures of the river and Jack and Wynn’s fight to survive. I’ve never visited the Maskwa River in real life, but now I feel as though I’ve paddled the river myself.

The Best Non-Fiction:

Bloodlands: Europe Between Hitler and Stalin by Timothy Snyder

Millions of people were murdered in the lands between Germany and Russia before, during, and after World War II as Hitler and Stalin carried out their monstrous agendas. This book could also be the saddest book or the book I learned the most from, but it is truly an outstanding work of non-fiction. Most of the records and evidence of these genocides fell behind the Iron Curtain after the war, and Timothy Snyder pulls together the many threads to expose the killings for what they truly were and why they happened. Between Hitler and Stalin, no ethnicity or nationality was spared, and the devastation reverberates to this day.

Bonus: Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman

A productivity book unlike any you’ve read before that embraces finitude and the reality that the to do list will never be complete and we can never prioritize all of our priorities.

The Best Thriller:

The Lost Man by Jane Harper

In outback Queensland, two brothers meet at the stockman’s grave where their other brother fought to survive, and the family’s precarious stability disintegrates under their grief and questions. Nathan, the main character, isolated and struggling, begins piecing together what happened to his brother and long buried family secrets come to light in the process. The outback is central to this story, from the shape of the characters’ lives to the ways they think and behave. I love survival as a theme, and this book delivered in spades, but it’s also an family story laden with atmosphere and mystery.

Best Coming of Age Story:

Mary Jane by Jessica Anya Blau

Set in 1970s Baltimore, fourteen-year-old Mary Jane takes a summer job as a nanny for a psychiatrist only to discover a whole new world when a rock star moves into her employers’ house for treatment. She shows them the wonders of regular family dinners and a tidy house and they introduce her to rock-and-roll, group therapy, and ways of seeing the world that do not align with the neatly ordered, rigid life her parents lead. This is a beautiful slice of life story with messy, imperfect characters who (mostly) care deeply about each other, and by the end, Mary Jane has stepped out of girlhood and toward womanhood with a new perspective on life and being a person.

The Saddest Book:

Good Morning, Monster: A Therapist Shares Five Heroic Stories of Emotional Recovery by Catherine Gildiner

A therapist narrates the stories of five of her patients, who have experienced enormous traumas and yet have the courage to seek healing. Each patient comes to Catherine Gildiner with a specific issue they want to address, but over time the therapeutic process leads both therapist and patient to the deep, crippling emotional wounds that are the root of their struggles. Writing with compassion and clarity, Gildiner does not whitewash the sometimes brutally painful process of therapy and her own mistakes, yet showcases her patients’ tremendous efforts to overcome their struggles. The story I found most compelling was Danny’s, a First Nations man who survived a residential school and slowly reconnected with his community and indigenous identity. While this book needs a content warning for major childhood abuse, it also has hope woven into every story.

The Best Historical Fiction:

Here Be Dragons by Sharon Kay Penman

Joanna, illegitimate daughter of King John, marries Llewelyn, prince of thirteenth-century North Wales, to secure an uneasy truce and is then torn between the two powerful, charismatic men as they battle over Welsh independence. The turbulent era of King John’s reign is on full display on both a national scale and a personal, intimate level, through the eyes of his daughter. This book is meticulously researched, gorgeously crafted, and filled with brilliant characterization – and all of it is actual medieval history. Respected as a masterful historical fiction writer, Sharon Kay Penman takes the reader straight into the heart of medieval England and Wales in all their messy glory.

I also devoured Jill Duggar Dillard and Prince Harry’s memoirs and a thoughtful book dissecting purity culture and its impact, plus finally finished an epic fantasy series that I’d started several years ago. But if you want to know what else I’m reading, come find me on Goodreads! You’ll see a steady stream of books as I add to my infinite TBR as well as the books I read monthly, sometimes with a rave review, sometimes with a grumpy one, sometimes just handing out half stars (I refuse to be limited in my star ratings).

This year I’m experimenting with a new system for choosing my next reads, tackling Shakespeare’s earliest play, and trying to find the exact right translation of War and Peace without resorting to Amazon. Here’s to another year of finishing series and devouring books I fall in love with.

Happy reading!

Reading Recap 2022: In Which I Read Many Ebooks

It’s the time of year where I look back at the books I read before the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve and share the ones that stood out, in an effort to persuade you to read one or two.

Despite my resolution at the beginning of 2022 to read fewer ebooks, I read even more of them than in 2021. Que sera, sera. I enjoyed my reading life, so that’s what matters! I read 127 books, 81 ebooks and 46 print. Here’s where I tell you that I had a huge reading slump for the last two months of the year, due to moving stress and seasonal depression. But never fear, I still managed to devour two types of fiction: fanfiction and one particular author’s thriller/suspense books. In fact, I read 16 of her books within about 10 weeks (all ebooks). I call that binge reading, personally, especially as not one of those books received a place in this list, but I’ll take the reading where I can get it.

Usually I issue a blanket content warning for everything I read, which I still am (ask if you have questions!), but this year I’m also issuing a specific content warning for the suspense/thriller books, if you are inclined to seek them out. They contain many varieties of dark content, so ye be warned.

The Book I Learned the Most From:

The Jesus I Never Knew by Philip Yancey

Christians think we know Jesus, yet often we know a sanitized, vague version of God become man who turned the world upside down, and rarely do we truly understand the historical Jesus. He is God, and he also was a Jewish man who lived and died in a volatile, complex land and era in history. Two thousand years distant, we simply don’t understand the cultural elements and tensions that he spoke to specifically. Yet do we recognize what it means for him to be God, either? He is gentle and fierce, human and God, eternal and historical. Philip Yancey explores the Jesus of the New Testament, leaving preconceived churchy notions behind, and finds a complex man at the center of a religion that so often fails to follow him. As C.S. Lewis would say, he isn’t safe, but he is good.

Bonus: The Making of Biblical Womanhood: How the Subjugation of Women Became Gospel Truth by Beth Allison Barr

A medieval history scholar draws back the curtain on the modern concept of biblical womanhood through tracing its origin and bringing the history of women in the medieval church to light.

The Best Historical Fiction:

Queen of Swords by Judith Tarr

Seen through the eyes of the young noblewoman Richildis, Melisande, heir to the Crusader Kingdom because she has no brothers, fights to rule Jerusalem as queen despite the law that requires her marriage and subordination to her husband. This book’s plot follows the actual historical events of Melisande’s reign, from battles to the crusade of Louis VII of France and Eleanor of Aquitaine, but is narrated by fictional characters with a front row seat to history. I loved the stories of Bertrand and Richildis, a brother and sister who arrived in Jerusalem separately for reasons strongly at odds with each other, and delighted in learning the history of the Crusader Kingdom under the rule of Melisande and her son Baldwin III. Very much a character-driven story, with beautiful depictions of the Holy Land and Byzantium, I fell in love with this book.

The Most Fun Book:

Sorry I’m Late, I Didn’t Want to Come: An Introvert’s Year of Living Dangerously by Jessica Pan

A shy introverted writer decides to spend one year living like a gregarious extrovert and takes up various challenges such as improv classes, making friends while traveling, and hosting a dinner party. Along the way she discovers long stifled elements of her own personality and friendships in places she never dreamed of enjoying. Unlike Jessica Pan, I have never lived internationally, but I too am a shy introverted writer who sometimes has to fight my natural tendency to be a silent wallflower wishing for a dynamic social life. Reading about her bravery and panicked responses to some of the situations she ends up in made me laugh and cringe and nod enthusiastically. For me, this book was not only a fun read, but also motivating and inspiring.

The Best Fantasy:

The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold

A former soldier returns to the court where he spent his boyhood and ultimately finds himself in the center of a deadly intrigue that transcends the physical world to the realm of the divine. Cazaril is a broken man after his experiences as a prisoner, but when the Royesse Iselle needs his service, he comes face to face with the darkest of magic and terrible treachery. This book stands out in the epic fantasy genre because the characters carry incredible depth and their relationships feel so true. Cazaril himself is an unusual fantasy hero; his strength lies in his humility, compassion, and loyalty, and he is not cynical or brutal, because this is not an action story. Beautifully written with powerful explorations of love, faith, and religion, this book ought to be a fantasy classic.

Bonus: The Witness for the Dead by Katherine Addison

In this stand-alone sequel to The Goblin Emperor, Thara Celehar uses his small ability to speak to the recent dead to serve the common people of his city, which soon puts him squarely in the center of several treacherous mysteries.

The Best Spiritual Book:

Simply Tuesday: Small-Moment Living in a Fast-Moving World by Emily P. Freeman

Life happens most on the Tuesdays that are ordinary and small, which so often feel pointless and too slow for the fast paced hustle of our world, but Emily P. Freeman calls us to meet Jesus in the quiet simplicity of the ordinary. In church, on social media, in conversation with friends, the push for bigger and bolder and faster living leans heavy on our souls. It’s easy to feel that doing the dishes or running errands or volunteering for kid’s ministry again doesn’t mean much and that we should probably do something radical for God. Yet what if we meet Jesus and further his kingdom most in these quiet ordinary moments? Reading this book was a breath of fresh air and good for my soul.

The Best Memoir:

Crossing the Line: A Fearless Team of Brothers and the Sport That Changed Their Lives Forever by Kareem Rosser

A Black boy and his brothers living in Philadelphia find a riding stable in the heart of the hood and dive into the sport of polo, changing their lives forever. In America, polo is a sport typically reserved for wealthy white people, due to the sheer amount of money and access it takes to pursue. Yet Kareem, a boy struggling to hold his family together despite the poverty and violence of their neighborhood, leads his team to become the first all-black squad to win the National Interscholastic Polo championship. As a Certified Horse Lover™, I’m a total sap for any true story involving horses. Kareem tells his story and his family’s story so well, from the tragedy to the long, hard struggle to the sheer joy of riding. My life has never been anything like Kareem’s, but I deeply resonate with his experience of the power of a horse to fill in the cracks in one’s soul.

Other books I enjoyed last year include one on sleep that guilted me into going to bed early for about five nights, an old favorite by L.M. Montgomery that is sheer wish fulfillment, and a small philosophical book on self-deception in the Christian life.

Come join me on Goodreads so that I can haunt your reading life with the desperation of someone who has 1600+ books on her TBR and yet is always searching for more. Or, you know, so you can read my sometimes gushing and often snarky reviews, usually posted at the beginning of each month.

I’m jumpstarting my 2023 reading life by finally finishing the four library books I’ve had checked out for almost two months, and maybe this will be the year I read the last book in seven different series I’ve been in the middle of for years. Or War and Peace. You know, dreaming big.

Happy reading!

A Review, Part V: The Explicit Gospel and Church Authority

See Parts I, II, III, and IV.

Chandler’s brief discussion of church covenants is concerning: “I am in a covenant relationship with the other members of The Village Church…we’ve been given the covenant community because we need each other, and together we’ll be more mature, experience more life, and know more joy than we ever would apart from one another.” (143-144) (See The Village Church’s covenant and statement of faith here.)

While the idea of a covenant relationship between the members of a church sounds good and very spiritual, the churches who practice this extra-biblical doctrine by having their members sign a covenant (which is actually a legal document) also have a pattern of high degrees of control over their members, including harsh church discipline.

This also plays into the alarming statement Chandler makes in chapter ten: “If there isn’t in the end a need to be sanctified by the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit, there certainly isn’t a need to be under the authority of a Bible-holding governing body of elders or pastors who can exercise church discipline, watch carefully over your soul, and make sure you are growing in your relationship with God.” (198)

Equating being under the authority of pastors or elders as equivalent to being sanctified by the Holy Spirit is disturbing. Being under the authority of sinful humans is not remotely the same as being transformed from the inside out by the Holy Spirit. It is not the responsibility of pastors or elders to exercise authority in making sure Christians are growing in their faith or watching over their souls or monitoring their relationship with God. Pastors are shepherds, not hall monitors or police officers. This directly contradicts the Protestant doctrine of the priesthood of all believers (1 Peter 2:4-5), and contradicts Matthew 20:25-28, where Jesus tells his disciples that there shall be no authority among them.

The Village Church itself has a history of problematic church discipline and authoritarianism, encapsulated in the story that made headlines in 2015. A church member annulled her marriage after her husband confessed to viewing child pornography (more accurately known as child sexual abuse material).

The church then placed her under church discipline because she annulled her marriage without consulting church leadership and because she resigned her membership. Her former husband was never put under discipline, despite committing actual crimes, and church leadership declared him repentant, disregarding entirely how mentally disturbed a person must be in order to consume child sexual abuse material. It is absolutely inappropriate for church leadership to evaluate the psychological state of an individual with a long history of secrecy around his criminal actions and declare him “repentant.”

It was not until the entire situation was made public that Chandler and the church leadership backed down and apologized to the former member. This type of situation is often handled terribly when church covenants are in play: Chandler’s “covenant relationship” with the other members of his church led to this outcome as he and other church leaders assumed that the member’s marriage status was theirs to dictate.

It’s easy and convenient to say “we should not discount truth because of the existence of abuses” (201), and much more difficult to face the fact that some Christian “truths” are a matter of interpretation and opinion and actually produce great harm, let alone investigate how you yourself may have contributed to such abuses.

Conclusion

In 1 John, the Bible explicitly tells us that God is love. Not merely that God loves us or that love pleases God or that he is loving, but that God cannot be separated from love because love is his very identity. 1 Corinthians tells us what love is: patient, kind, protective, trusting, persevering, hopeful, and unfailing. This is who God is. Love is not self-seeking, easily angered, dishonoring to others, or proud. This is not who God is.

I cannot find patience, kindness, protection, trust, or hope in this book. That alone makes its portrayal of the gospel suspect, regardless of the many other problems I’ve described, and the ones I did not. I cannot emphasize enough the omnipresence of God’s wrath and the total depravity of humanity throughout this entire book. Without love, Paul says, we are nothing. Without love, the gospel is not the gospel at all.

The classic verse that simplifies the gospel into its essential components, the first verse many of us learned as kids, John 3:16, is not referenced once. I speculate that verse was left out because it is thematically focused on God’s love and the eternal life he offers to us, with nary a mention of wrath or hell.

The appalling reductionist theology featured in this book is far from unique; if you do find it meaningful, I recommend “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” by Jonathan Edwards as far more eloquent and concise.

If you find the theology in this book abhorrent, as I do, I recommend the Gospel of John, filled with the words and the love of Christ.

Find other (much shorter and sometimes much snarkier) book reviews I’ve written over on Goodreads!

A Review, Part IV: The Explicit Gospel and an Attitude in Opposition to Christ

See Parts I, II, III, and V.

Some might argue that my issues with this book can be chalked up to theological differences. So let’s delve into the concerning parts of the book that aren’t solely theological, that reflect a tone and attitude at odds with the way Jesus treated people.

On page 100, Chandler quotes his “good friend Mark Driscoll,” demonstrating an utter lack of discernment in citing as a theological authority a man who had a long history even in 2012 of abusive behavior as a pastor and of making other disgusting comments about both women and men, dating back to 2001 when he called women “penis homes.” The same Mark Driscoll who is even now terrorizing another congregation, to whom Christianity Today devoted an entire podcast detailing the destruction he caused.

The book is filled with unpleasant gendered analogies and anecdotes, with women on the losing end every time. From referring to those who studied Koine Greek together as a brotherhood (147) to crass jokes such as “Now, there isn’t any way to keep seven women happy, much less seven hundred” (124), Chandler treats half of his readership as inferior and outside the inner circle of theological knowledge. This book is not targeted toward men; it is addressed to both genders. What is the purpose of these demeaning jokes? When is it ever acceptable to treat women this way?

Page 200 has a long rambling section discussing people more theologically aligned with the gospel in the air versus people more theologically aligned with the gospel on the ground, except that every reference to people uses the words “brothers” and “guys.” This section leaves women out of the theological conversation entirely, with the implication that women do not have thoughts and opinions on the tension between the gospel in the air and the gospel on the ground, or if they do, that they are not worth addressing or considering.

Isaiah 6:8 is referred to as “gutsy, masculine. We can hear Braveheart’s guttural yawp in there.” (72) I have no idea what is masculine about saying to the Lord, “Here am I. Send me!”

Then there is this dreadful section: “Somehow Psalm 139 got hijacked by women’s ministries, and although I think it’s important for women to understand they are fearfully and wonderfully made and not get into the silly game of comparing themselves to everyone around them, I think this text is far weightier than that.” (178) Declaring that women’s ministries hijacked Psalm 139 implies that women’s ministries do not have the same full and equal right to Scripture that any other type of ministry or Bible study has.

He paraphrases Solomon in Ecclesiastes 1:16 as saying “In case you think I’m a liar, let me remind you of this. I’m smarter than you, more powerful than you, and have more women than you.” (119) Solomon makes no reference to having any women in this verse. That gross addition is all Chandler’s emphasis. Women are not possessions to have. They are people. Any reference to women as objects or possessions has no place in a book representing the gospel.

Is this how Jesus spoke to and about women?

Chandler’s atrocious attitude toward people is not limited to gendered remarks, however. He says, “The Psalms, one of my personal favorites, features some of the writings of the great schizophrenic king, David. (I think he’s schizophrenic, because in one line he will say, ‘How long, Oh Lord, will you forsake me?’ And then two lines later he will say something like, ‘How great you are to be so near to me.’)” (114)

Schizophrenia is a serious mental illness that severely impacts people’s experiences of reality. Casually assigning that label to David treats schizophrenia as a stereotype and an adjective rather than a devastating condition. This also twists David’s genuine expression of emotion into something abnormal, when it is perfectly normal to have conflicting experiences and emotions in close proximity to each other. This is not an accurate description of schizophrenia, let alone mental illness as a whole. Such things should not be treated so flippantly or used as humor. Imagine if someone battling schizophrenia read this passage!

On page 115, Chandler says, “People who have Job-like experiences may moan, ‘Well, if life wasn’t like this, if I had more money, if I had more power, if I had more friends, if I had better religion…’ or, ‘If my parents weren’t so mean, if I had grown up in a different place…’ What they begin to create in their minds is the idea that a better existence exists somewhere over the rainbow.”

Job lost everything he had – his home, his wealth, his health, his children – and then had to listen to lectures by his friends just like the one Chandler delivers here. God certainly is not impressed by his friends’ comments. Imagine saying to someone who just lost their entire home in a wildfire or their child to cancer that they are moaning and should not be dissatisfied with the suffering they’re experiencing. A Job-like experience is one where someone experiences absolute devastation, not one where they are unhappy and wishing for a different life.

“Keep reading, dummies; it goes poorly,” Chandler says at one point (50). Where is the respect for fellow image-bearers? Where is the humble kindness of a shepherd? It is not Christlike to condescend to your audience. Humor is not antithetical to the gospel. The sort of humor that is disrespectful and condescending, however, has no place in a book claiming to describe the explicit gospel.

And then there is this appalling paragraph: “At the end of the day our hope is not that all the poor on earth will be fed. That’s simply not going to happen. I’m not saying we shouldn’t feed and rescue the poor; I’m saying that salvation isn’t having a full belly or a college education or whatever. Making people comfortable on earth before an eternity in hell is wasteful.” (83)

Honestly, I wrote this review because of this passage. Nowhere in Scripture does Jesus teach this. No, salvation isn’t “having a full belly or college education or whatever,” but only people who have a full belly or a college education can so casually dismiss the importance of these things to the millions of people on this earth who are starving or desperately trying to lift their family out of poverty through gaining an education.

If making people comfortable on earth regardless of their eternal destination is wasteful, then why did Jesus spend so much time doing exactly that? He healed many people without asking them to confess him as Messiah. Why does the Bible tell us over and over to care for the poor, the widows, and the orphans? To stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves? God condemned Israel and Judah because of their refusal to care for the poor and their rejection of Him (see the books of Amos, Isaiah, Ezekiel, Micah, etc.). He saw those two decisions as inextricably linked – to disregard the needs of the people who did not have full bellies was to reject God.

This attitude, that making life comfortable on earth is wasteful, is actually a Gnostic way of thinking. Gnosticism is a heresy from the early days of Christianity, rooted in the dualistic belief that the world is divided into physical and spiritual realms. Only the spiritual realm is good; the physical, material world is evil. Therefore only the spirit matters and the physical reality of a person’s body and life are not important, and are in fact a distraction from spiritual matters because we are trapped in our bodies.

Chandler cites Matthew 25:31-46, Jesus’ teaching that whatever we do for the least of our brothers and sisters we do for Him, saying, “What becomes of those committed to the belittlement of God’s name?” (46). He uses this passage to reinforce his emphasis on humanity deserving hell for seeking our own glory, which is frankly the strangest emphasis I’ve ever heard taught from this passage. Jesus’ emphasis is on feeding the hungry, visiting the prisoner, and caring for the sick, and does not reference his glory once. Instead, he identifies himself as the hungry, the prisoner, and the sick, as the least of these. Eternal punishment is reserved for those who do not care for the least of these.

The most condescending anecdote in the book is too long for me to quote in its entirety (107-109), so I will summarize. At the end of chapter five (Creation), Chandler tells the story of a time he was preaching from Ephesians 2 on the doctrine of total depravity, once again disregarding the nuance of normal childhood development and declaring that “children are horrifically selfish; they don’t have to be taught that…we are born, in essence, evil.” He notes that he is preaching in front of twelve hundred people, and that a young woman interrupts him to ask if he has any children, and when he says no, she responds, “Then don’t tell me my baby’s evil.”

Chandler questions her and leads her to the conclusion that because “her son consistently chose to inflict harm on others and disobey her rules… [he has] a rebellious spirit that’s intrinsic within him.” Babies literally do not have the ability to understand morality. So yes, while babies will inevitably sin, a baby hits or pinches or screams because they are learning to communicate with the world and are discovering cause and effect. As Kyle J. Howard says, “Total depravity does not mean babies are evil. The doctrine, better expressed as “total inability” teaches that all of humanity is impacted by [the] Fall to such a degree that they’re unable to come to God & live righteously [without] God converting & sanctifying.”

Christian teachings on children having naturally “rebellious spirits” have directly led to children being abused and sometimes killed. Is that the norm for most Christian parents? No, but a lack of understanding of child development combined with this theology can be very dangerous even in the hands of well-meaning parents.

After Chandler “lovingly” rebuts the young woman, he continues preaching until an older woman interrupts to say that she agrees with the young woman. Chandler “couldn’t believe it” and delivers this lecture: “If anyone can give me any verse in the Bible that supports the default innocence of human beings, let’s talk about it. But there is a way that seems right to you that in the end leads to death (Prov. 14:12; 16:25). So if you want to talk about what the Bible teaches, we can have that conversation all day. But if you’re saying, ‘I don’t care what the Bible teaches,’ then we can’t really have that conversation, because you and I see the world through completely different lenses. You’re arguing upon what you think, and I’m arguing on thousands upon thousands of years of theology and God’s self-revealed will. But if you want to talk Scripture, let’s talk Scripture.”

Once again, just because Chandler holds strongly to this one-dimensional view of humanity does not mean he has the only revealed interpretation, particularly since he is once more being intellectually dishonest. (The doctrine of total depravity, developed during the Protestant Reformation in the sixteenth century, stems from the concept of original sin, which was fully formulated by Augustine in the 300s A.D. It is a nuanced interpretation of Scripture, not a black-and-white fact.) Just because he is a pastor preaching to a crowd of over one thousand does not mean he speaks for God. Telling a woman in front of a crowd that “there is a way that seems right to you that in the end leads to death” because she disagrees with him is using Scripture as a weapon and is spiritually abusive. Disagreeing with Chandler is not saying “I don’t care what the Bible teaches.”

I do not care what Chandler has to say about theology and doctrine if this is the way he manipulates and hammers it into people. Jesus did not teach this way. If your pastor behaves this way when you disagree with him in public, be wary of private disagreements with him. Leaders who use spiritually abusive tactics in front of a crowd will not hesitate to use them in private to an even greater extent.

The story has a somewhat less horrific ending, although the bar is on the floor by this point. Chandler “start[s] to prepare [his] defenses” and the woman responds to his challenge, “That’s easy. Genesis 1 says God made it and it was good.” Chandler acknowledges that she is right, and then plays his trump card of Genesis 3, which changed everything. And he’s not wrong! But his road to that place, and the bodies he left on the side of that road, speak volumes about his attitude toward his flock.

Attitudes and behavior like this are absolutely unacceptable in any pastor.

A Review, Part III: The Explicit Gospel and the Role of Women

See Parts I, II, IV, and V.

I am not debating the role of women in the church, society, or the family in this review. But I take major issue with the way Chandler handles this entire topic.

He begins with, “Just consider the slide on this slope within mainline Protestantism in the West when it comes to the issue of women in church leadership. The issue has been viewed basically the same way for two thousand years of church history, a view that can summarize this way: Men and women have been created equal and yet distinct by God. Men are charged with leading in the home and the church and women have been given to men as helpmates. However, as the church began to engage a modern culture, we began to hear questions such as, ‘Aren’t women just as gifted as men? Surely those texts in the Bible can’t mean what they appear to say, because, I mean, look at our culture.’ The frame of reference shifts. The culture begins to define the Scriptures instead of the Scriptures defining the culture.” (194)

Contrary to what Chandler says, the issue of women in church leadership has not been viewed basically the same way for the past two thousand years of church history. This assertion is factually inaccurate. Prominent early church fathers viewed women as inferior to men rather than equal, a view that persisted for centuries of church history. Women were public ministry leaders and preachers in eras when women’s leadership and teaching in mixed-gender Western circles was countercultural. Baptist denominations themselves have a long history of female preachers, including female pastors, dating back to colonial America.

Chandler claims “that Paul never uses a cultural argument in declaring God’s design for gender roles; rather, he always points back to God’s creative work. Paul shows us how God’s design can be applied to cultural environs, but he doesn’t establish the distinct genders and their distinct roles by the cultural environs…So Paul doesn’t argue culture. He doesn’t think the role of women in the church is a cultural issue. He doesn’t think the problem is the result of some kind of patriarchal brokenness, a rigid system that, in the end, needs to be adhered to in order for men to hold on to power.” (195)

I will point out that Chandler does not reference any Scripture, Biblical scholars, belief statements from mainline Protestant denominations, or anything at all other than his own opinions, which are insufficient commentary on the complex topic he is delving into. Insisting that Paul is not using a cultural argument defies basic literary and Biblical analysis. The reader can either analyze or interpret the text with the author and their historical and cultural context as part of the frame of reference, or the reader can take the text standing alone and interpret it without any context whatsoever. There is nuance to both approaches, but no writer writes in a black void and no writer can separate themselves from the cultural context they write within, including Chandler himself.

This is true for divinely inspired Scripture as well as secular literature; basic Biblical exegesis and hermeneutics demand that the original context of the passage be considered in order to understand and interpret it properly. A particular passage of Scripture may very well transcend its original author and readers’ cultural and historical context and be applicable in a literal sense to Christians throughout time, such as Paul’s many exhortations for unity among the church. But this is not what Chandler argues. Additionally, any Scriptures he may be thinking of when making these assertions (1 Corinthians, Ephesians, and 1 Timothy, probably) are in fact letters Paul wrote to specific audiences in response to previous correspondence and communication. That is as far from writing in a black void as one could get.

None of us can escape our cultural context, either secular or Christian, and we must always be mindful of that when interpreting Scripture. Christianity is not defined by what it opposes in secular culture. We look to Jesus to define the truth we stand firm in, instead of doubling down on whatever viewpoint might be the opposite of current secular culture.

Gender roles are not part of the gospel. These roles are an integral part of many Christians’ faith and practice of Christianity, but Chandler attaches a specific set of gender beliefs to the gospel and insists that despite this being a secondary issue, if we disagree “our trust in Scripture gets rattled and we start to become our own authority—or worse, we let culture dictate to us what’s true—and in the end, we begin to slide away from what is clear in Scripture and justify how we read the Scriptures in order to say what we want it to say and make it more palatable to the world around us.” (195)

His logical progression is that if a Christian disagrees with his view on gender roles, then that Christian necessarily is letting their own cultural context dictate their interpretation and trust of Scripture, which leads directly to dilution of the gospel message, which has implications for one’s salvation.

This raises gender roles to, in fact, be part of the Gospel, rather than a secondary issue. The slippery slope argument is disrespectful to the many theologically conservative Bible scholars and theologians and faithful ordinary Christians who hold Scripture in high regard, yet have views on women’s roles in the church and the family that differ from what Chandler presents here, and it is intellectually lazy. Rather than proving his views with Scripture and sound exegesis, Chandler presents himself as a foremost authority on God’s design and equates disagreeing with him with disagreeing with God. This behavior is not Christlike and is unacceptable.

Pastors are not God and their interpretation of Scripture is not somehow more accurate or holier than other Christians’ interpretations merely because they are pastors. As believers, we must be like the Bereans and measure everything presented to us as Biblical and spiritually correct against Scripture and the Holy Spirit dwelling within us.

If someone who presents themselves as a spiritual authority fails to respect those they are teaching by presenting the information that led them to a particular interpretation, and instead insists that disagreement with them equals disagreement with God, they should likewise not be respected as a spiritual authority, because this behavior in any other context is rightfully seen as manipulative.

I welcome a thoughtful, researched discussion of women’s roles in the church, society, and the family in theological books, but you will not find that in The Explicit Gospel.

A Review, Part II: The Explicit Gospel? Not Likely.

See Parts I, III, IV, and V.

The Gospel in the Air

After wading through the first four chapters describing the gospel on the ground, I was surprised to find that the next four chapters, focused on the gospel in the air, were less appalling. All of the issues with the gospel on the ground are present in the gospel in the air, but since there are fewer references to God’s wrath, the reader can take a breath and hope for mercy. At least, until she runs into total depravity again.

In chapter five, Chandler examines creation. He spends four pages discussing science and six pages on a cursory examination of the various views Christians have of how God created the universe and why his view (historical creationism) makes the most sense. Is this a good discussion Christians ought to have? Of course. But does it belong in a book describing the gospel? Not when it tries to deride Christians who do not hold to young earth creationism as “naturalists” accommodating science. (100)

Ironically, Chandler dismisses science as “ever-changing” (96) and says that it’s “demand for trust requires at least as much faith as God’s demand” (95), then appeals to science using the first and second laws of thermodynamics as evidence that theistic evolution is impossible. (98) This is not an intellectually sound discussion of the various views of creation.

The manner in which God spun the universe into motion is not part of the gospel. If holding to a specific viewpoint of creation were integral to following Christ, it would be negligent of Jesus to simply not mention this important element during his time on earth.

This issue is very important to many Christians, but it is a secondary issue. Faithful Christians can disagree and still hold fast to the gospel. If we need to be certain of God’s method of creation in order to consider ourselves truly a Christian, then our faith is weaker than that of all the Christians throughout history who were not having these debates and yet believed.

Chapter five also contains the most condescending anecdote in the entire book, where Chandler tells a story about a time he lectured two women about total depravity, but we will get to that later.

Chapter six focuses on the Fall, primarily through the lens of Ecclesiastes – without God, our existence is meaningless, not merely on an individual level, but on a cosmic level. Chandler is not wrong that this world is broken, that we are searching for, in the words of Plumb, something to fill the God-shaped hole in all of us.

But once again, we come back to total depravity. Chandler asserts that from the beginning of our existence, we are demanding and selfish, saying that “from the second we are born, we seek our own happiness, don’t we? At 4:00 a.m., in the middle of the night, the middle of the afternoon, in a church service, or during Grandma’s funeral, it doesn’t matter: ‘Give me a bottle. Give me my thumb. Give me some food. Entertain me. Dance for me. Make those funny faces.’ We pop out snapping our fingers for satisfaction, and we never really stop.” (125-126)

The problems with this one-dimensional view of total depravity are legion (not to mention the problems with categorizing a baby’s need for food and affection and comfort as sinful). Yes, humanity is broken, fallen, and searching for purpose, and no one is without sin. But we are made in the image of God. He breathed life into us, knit us together before we were born, and delights in us as his creation. I only found three references to imago dei in the entire book: twice in one paragraph in chapter six (111) and once more in reference to the nation of Israel failing to walk with God (160). This focus on total depravity as humanity’s essence is inadequate, incomplete, and inaccurate.

Chapter seven discusses reconciliation: “From the ground we see the cross as our bridge to God. From the air, the cross is our bridge to the restoration of all things.” (142) At last Jesus’ full life and ministry is acknowledged (136-139) as Chandler describes the work of Christ in cosmic terms, that “when Jesus forgives sin and raises the dead, he is saying the gospel is about individuals being born again, but he’s also saying that the gospel is about his conquest of sin and death.” (138) Naturally the cosmic scale of the gospel has immense implications for the shape and mission of the church. I was happy to see that the hope and purpose for the church laid out in this chapter align much more closely to the gospel than anything previously described in the book.

In chapter eight, focused on consummation, Chandler talks about the new heaven and new earth that is yet to come, about the resurrected bodies Jesus’ followers will have, how everything will be made new. He touches the topic of end times analysis, but says that “the Bible would have us look forward to our destination and think about the wonders of that city to come” rather than obsess over the details (157), and I think he’s right. The details of the end times aren’t something that anyone can know with certainty, and are not part of the gospel that Chandler is trying to present.

I have to wonder why Chandler’s description of the gospel as it applies to individuals is so flawed and incomplete, yet his explanation of the gospel as God’s great plan of redemption and reconciliation for creation is less horrific. Is it because God reconciling creation to himself consists of mostly abstract ideas, things that will happen in the future and have not yet come to pass?

The Dangers of the Gospel on the Ground and in the Air

After thoroughly examining both the gospel on the ground and the gospel in the air, Chandler turns to the dangers on focusing too strongly on either. Ironically, when discussing too strong a focus on the gospel on the ground, he warns against doctrinal arrogance (185), an error he himself commits as he insists that his depiction is the only doctrinally correct gospel. If this book intends to present the gospel, it ought to present the entire gospel rather than a one-dimensional Calvinistic view of it.

This warped and limited understanding is made clear in the next chapter, where Chandler says, “Those who hate the true gospel and love themselves always insist that the atoning work of Christ is a secondary issue. This is how the doctrine of penal substitution has come to be considered a secondary issue” (193) and later claims that “where the substitutionary atoning work of Jesus Christ on the cross is preached and proclaimed, missions will not spin off to a liberal shell of a lifeless message but will stay true to what God has commanded the church to be in the Scriptures.” (198)

To be clear, penal substitutionary atonement is only one of many theories of the atonement, and it was not fully formulated until the Protestant Reformation. For fifteen hundred years, Christianity managed to survive without this particular piece of doctrine, and still does in many corners of the world. It is a valid doctrine, but to assert that the true church must believe it or become “a liberal shell,” that this exact doctrine is necessary for true salvation, is laughable. One can hardly accuse the Eastern Orthodox church of liberalism.

The gospel is far more than a set of doctrinal beliefs specific to a subset of Christianity.

A Review, Part I: The Explicit Gospel? Not Likely.

See Parts II, III, IV, and V.

Two years ago my small group attempted to read The Explicit Gospel by Matt Chandler. I say attempted, because we voted to abandon it halfway through. The book upset me on many levels: as a Christian, as a writer, as someone trained in literary analysis, and as a woman. Hence the existence of this thorough and lengthy book review. Does this book have good qualities? Perhaps, but the bad heavily outweighs the good. This book is not the explicit gospel and will do more harm than good to those who read it.

To begin, some facts about the book: it was published in 2012 by Crossway; endorsed by James MacDonald, Mark Dever, Ed Stetzer, and Rick Warren, among others; and is 240 pages. Matt Chandler is the lead pastor at The Village Church in Flower Mound, Texas (a Southern Baptist church), and president of the Acts 29 Network.

Chandler looks at the gospel from two vantage points, which he calls the gospel on the ground and the gospel in the air. The gospel on the ground “traces the Biblical narrative of God, Man, Christ, Response…we see clearly the work of the cross in our lives and the lives of those around us.” (16) The gospel in the air is the meta-narrative, “reveal[ing] to us the big picture of God’s plan of restoration from the beginning of time to the end of time and the redemption of his creation.” (16)

The Gospel on the Ground

Chapter one’s focus is God, who is depicted as a terrifying, narcissistic glory hound, the focus on his power and sovereignty. Chandler writes, “From beginning to end, the Scriptures reveal that the foremost desire of God’s heart is not our salvation but rather the glory of his own name.” (33-34) How does he define glory? He doesn’t. He tells us about God’s transcendent creativity, his sovereign knowing, his perfect self-sufficiency, and his glorious self-regard, but he does not define glory. God doesn’t need us; God reigns supreme, he says. “This world is not present…so that you and I might be saved or lost but so that God might be glorified in his infinite perfections.” (34)

But this depiction of God is incomplete and therefore terribly warped. God says of himself in Exodus 34 that he is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion, and sin while punishing the guilty, yet Chandler mentions none of these attributes.

After describing God’s power, creativity, and sovereignty, he provides a list of Bible verses to prove that God’s glory is his chief concern (34-35). Yet the Psalms tell us over and over that God is worthy of praise and glory because he is good, because he is love, because of his great deeds, and because he is sovereign. Describing only the omnipotence and glorious self-regard of God reduces our majestic loving Father to a monstrous deity who regards us as insignificant gnats next to his own glory.

How can this book explain the explicit gospel when it does not tell the whole truth of who God is?

Chapter two focuses on man – our belittlement of his name and turning away from him and God’s severity toward us as a result. Chandler introduces the idea of humanity’s total depravity, which colors every chapter in the rest of the book.

Rather than give equal emphasis to God’s kindness toward fallen humanity and his severity toward us, as Paul does in Romans 11:22, Chandler brushes by God’s kindness with a few quick words about how we “get that stuff somewhat readily” (40) and then spends page after page describing God’s severity and wrath and the horrors of hell (41-51).

Ironically, given the preceding pages, he says, “You cannot scare anyone into heaven. Heaven is not a place for those who are afraid of hell; it’s a place for those who love God.” (49) Yet two pages prior, he paraphrases Jesus as saying in Luke 12:4-5, “Seriously? You’re afraid of what people think of you more than you’re afraid of me? You’re afraid of what people can do to you rather than what I can do to you? You’re more afraid of how people might perceive you than how I perceive you? Are you serious? Listen, the worst they can do is kill you.” (47)

If that is not scaring people into heaven, I don’t know what is. Chapter two contains not a single reference to imago dei, that we are image-bearers of God, not a single mention that we are beloved by him. In Luke 12:6-7, Jesus tells his disciples not to be afraid, that they are more valuable to God than the sparrows that He cares for. Divorcing verses 4 and 5 from verses 6 and 7 paints a false picture of God’s love. Do we deserve that love? The answer is both yes and no: we are fallen sinners who have wandered far from God, and yet God has said we are precious and worth the sacrifice of his son, therefore by his decree we are worthy.

Christianity is full of paradoxes: humanity is broken and depraved and made in the image of God; God is holy and mighty and love; God knows every choice every human will make and humans are free to make those choices; we are distanced from God because of our brokenness and he bridged that distance with his great love.

How can this book explain the explicit gospel when it does not tell the whole truth of who humanity is?

Chapter three is centered on Christ the sacrificial lamb. After a brief discussion of the horror of the crucifixion, Chandler wades through the Old Testament and the sacrifices God required of Israel: “And in the tent of meetings and in Jerusalem, blood was always flowing. Blood constantly coursed out of slashed arteries and flowed from the temple. Can you imagine the stench in Jerusalem? Can you imagine hundreds and thousands of people regularly carrying a goat, a lamb, a chicken, or a dove into the place of sacrifice and cutting its throat and draining its blood? A river of blood is flowing out of the temple.” (60-61)

Jesus was the perfect sacrifice, the sacrifice to end all others, to appease God’s wrath. How odd that in a chapter titled “Jesus,” the only description of Jesus is as a bloody sacrifice, e.g., “The blade of God’s wrath penetrates the Son and bleeds him, and he absorbs the wrath of God toward mankind.” (62)

Jesus is a person, who lived and breathed and had an entire life and ministry before his death. Jesus is God, Jesus is Messiah, Jesus is active and present and real. He is not a bleating sheep helplessly sent off to be sacrificed to a vengeful God on behalf of mewling humanity. He walked among us and chose to give himself up. He is Lord. Jesus’ life and ministry are vital to his message; treating the cross as the only event in Jesus’ life relevant to the gospel is cherry picking.

Equally disturbing as the way Jesus is treated in this chapter is the way Chandler fixates on the cross as the entire gospel. “The cross now stands as the central tenet of all we believe about salvation,” he says. (58) But without the resurrection, without Jesus conquering death and rising again, the cross means nothing. As Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15, “And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith…And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins.”

A gospel without the resurrection is not the gospel at all. Jesus defeated sin and death by dying and rising again, not by sacrificing himself on the cross alone. The cross and the resurrection cannot be separated; to ignore the resurrection is to preach a false gospel. In this entire book, the resurrection is mentioned only eight times, always as a brief aside, and not once in this chapter.

This chapter is full of heavy-handed, twisted penal substitutionary atonement theology. Penal substitutionary atonement is defined as the atonement theory that Jesus died on the cross as a substitute for sinners. God directed his wrath at Jesus, who bore the guilt of our sins and the weight of our punishment on our behalf. God’s wrath was satisfied by Jesus’ sacrifice and God now forgives sinners freely without compromising his righteousness.

This doctrine as depicted in this book is horrifying. Kyle J. Howard points out that without the unity of the Trinity, the Godhead acting with one will, this doctrine is abusive. God pouring wrath onto Jesus as his hapless victim is not the same thing as “the Godhead working together to accomplish a goal.” He says, “When preachers & theologians discuss the Cross, & do so [through] personally punitive language [between] The Father & The Son; they are misrepresenting Trinitarian relations that lead to blasphemy & profound harm.”

Chandler pays lip service to this issue and cites John 10:18 (58), yet uses “personally punitive language” throughout the book, including mere paragraphs prior to his caveat: “The cross of Christ was God’s idea. The death of Jesus was God’s idea…the cross of Christ cast its shadow across all of eternity. It was the predetermined plan of God. The death of Jesus, the wrath-absorbing cross of Christ, was the plan of God before creation.” (57-58)

The Trinity is a minor detail in this depiction of the cross, mentioned in two sentences in this chapter, and not even listed in the book’s index. Nor is there any discussion of Jesus as our Savior and Messiah, also missing from the index.

How can this book explain the explicit gospel when it ignores the resurrection and reduces Jesus to a bloody sacrifice subject to divine punishment rather than one member of the Godhead choosing to give himself up for humanity?

Chapter four looks at humanity’s response to everything that Chandler has described so far: God, Man, and Christ. Our response, Chandler says, is far too often a works-based faith, “people who have been conformed to a pattern of religious behavior but not transformed by the Holy Spirit of God.” (72)

The response he chooses to focus on is based in Isaiah 6, where God instructs Isaiah to tell the people their hearts will be dull and unresponsive to the Lord, and backed up by Matthew 13, the parable of the sower, and Acts 2, Peter’s sermon on the day of Pentecost. He uses these texts to prove his point that the gospel is not seeker-sensitive, that “we are never, ever, ever going to make Christianity so cool that everybody wants it.” (80)

This leads directly to the idea that God hardens hearts (71), that “the hearer of the gospel is responsible for his response, but God is responsible for his ability to do so,” that “blessed are the eyes that see and the ears that hear because the Spirit of God has opened them to do so.” (77)

Let’s be clear: this is only one theological perspective among many that Christians throughout history and throughout the world have held to. The idea that God chooses who will be saved and who will not respond to the gospel is unconditional election, the U in the acronym TULIP, which sums up the basic doctrines of Calvinism. This flows directly into the L for limited atonement – Christ died only for the sins of the elect, or those chosen by God for saving.

These doctrines pop up throughout the entire book, despite Chandler mentioning nowhere that the gospel he is presenting is rooted in a twisted version of Calvinism. This chapter includes only a brief mention of irresistible grace (I): “It is all of grace that some do hear” (77) and of course always comes back to total depravity (T): “Because we are stained with sin from conception, we are rushing headlong into the fires of hell before we can even walk.” (64) This assertion leaves no room for the concept of the age of accountability.

The book does not even mention the extraordinary beauty of the gospel, the love and forgiveness and new life Christ offers us that draw us to the gospel. It instead implies that because the gospel is offensive and bloody, only through God choosing to soften hearts will anyone respond to it. Certainly no one would be drawn to respond to this version of the gospel of their own accord!

I am not debating Calvinism in this review. Many Christians hold fast to these doctrines and it is no reflection either positive or negative on their commitment to Jesus, particularly since the Calvinist theology within this book is so one-dimensional and limited. But I find Chandler to be intellectually dishonest because he fails entirely to acknowledge that he is presenting one specific theological tradition as the gospel and insisting that only this theological tradition in all its minutia is the real gospel.

Now, if your heart is not hardened to the gospel but is instead softened, this chapter does not allow you to rest in and be transformed by Christ’s magnificent love for you and completed work through his death and resurrection. Instead, “we must test ourselves to see if we are in the faith” (84) and “be very careful about going to church, reading [our] Bible[s], saying prayers, doing good deeds, and reading books like this through anything but faith in the living Lord.” (85)

How utterly exhausting. There is no joy, no life, no freedom in this response to the gospel. Did Jesus not say that he came so that we would have abundant life? Did Paul not say that it is for freedom that Christ has set us free? Focusing intently on your motivations for doing good works should not be your primary response to the Good News.

How can this book explain the explicit gospel when it describes a response to the gospel completely devoid of transformation and new life in Christ?

Reading Recap 2021: Three Stars All Around

Last year was a strange reading year. I enjoyed most of the books I read, but didn’t love very many of them. I read 121 books and while I’m glad I read nearly all of them, I’m not sure how many will stick with me. Fiction particularly took a hit, which is sad because I love novels! How this happened, I’m not sure, although perhaps I read too many ebooks (59), which tend to be books I’m not quite as excited about. Of course, we can always blame it on the pandemic! To reinvigorate my reading life, my only reading goal for 2022 is to read a lot of books that make me love them (definitely fewer ebooks).

But never fear, I still have some standout books to highlight. As always, keep in mind that I read a wide variety of books with a wide variety of content, so here’s your blanket content warning for any books you see from me. If you have questions about a specific book, ask away!

The Most Fun Book:

Nothing to See Here by Kevin Wilson

A young woman accepts a job as caretaker to her old schoolmate’s twin stepchildren, who burst into flames when they get agitated. Lillian doesn’t really believe Madison when she says the kids spontaneously combust, but it’s true, and very inconvenient for Madison’s husband’s political ambitions. So Lillian leaves her dead-end job behind and spends the summer bonding with a pair of kids as lonely as she is, putting out fires both real and emotional. With the wild premise and Lillian’s strong character voice, I’ve never had so much fun reading about humans doing the best they can with what they’ve got.

The Best Non-Fiction:

Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: A Therapist, Her Therapist, and Our Lives Revealed by Lori Gottlieb

A therapist tells the stories of four of her patients as she also grapples with a devastating breakup and her own journey through therapy. Lori Gottlieb pulls back the curtain on the experience of therapy, offering an intimate look into one therapist’s personal and professional life and four ordinary people’s private worlds. I was particularly moved by John’s story, a man deeply reluctant to face the pain buried deep in his life, who frustrates Gottlieb with his well honed aversion tactics until he at last begins to reveal himself. Life isn’t easy, even for a therapist, but we all can face it better with someone who walks with us through what we struggle with most.

Bonus: Talking Back to Purity Culture: Rediscovering Faithful Christian Sexuality by Rachel Joy Welcher

Rachel Welcher examines the complex and heavy legacy of purity culture that framed the way an entire generation of evangelicals saw lust, modesty, sex, dating, marriage, and God.

The Best Memoir:

The Sun Does Shine: How I Found Life and Freedom on Death Row by Anthony Ray Hinton

Anthony Ray Hinton was convicted in 1985 of two murders he did not commit, and spent 30 years on death row before finally winning his freedom. He fought the absolute injustice of his imprisonment through silence, through the legal system, through building relationships with the other prisoners on death row, and through his faith. The total lack of control he had over his situation would be enough to drive anyone mad, particularly as he faced blatant racism in the legal system again and again. Yet his story is one of choosing hope, even through the grief and anger and despair. His writing is raw and powerful and gave me chills.

The Book That Kinda Exploded My Head:

God’s Word to Women by Katharine C. Bushnell

Originally published in 1921, this groundbreaking work of theology thoroughly exposits Scripture regarding women and the many ways those same scriptures have been twisted to oppress women. Katharine Bushnell spent years working for reform on behalf of trafficked women, fighting the men who brutalized them in India, in logging camps across the US, and throughout East Asia. She could not reconcile these men’s professed Christianity with what they did to women, and finally concluded that Christianity itself was distorted through the lens of patriarchy. This book is the culmination of her years of studying the Bible in its original languages and its historical context, and I could read it fifty times without fully understanding everything in it. One major area of Scripture she delves into is what it means to take God’s command that “man should leave his father and mother and cleave to his wife” literally. I promise, you’ve never heard any of this in church or Bible study.

Bonus: Jesus and John Wayne: How Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation by Kristin Kobes Du Mez

Seventy-five years of evangelical culture and theology crescendoed in the 2016 presidential election, the emphasis on militancy and patriarchy embedded in evangelicalism since its very beginning.

The Book I Learned the Most From: Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland by Patrick Radden Keefe

In 1972, as a bloody sectarian war raged in Northern Ireland, a mother of ten was dragged from her home, and her children never saw her again. The violent thirty-year conflict known as the Troubles turned city blocks into war zones and ordinary citizens into terrorists and martyrs. Patrick Keefe traces the history of this war through bombings, hunger strikes, the fierce loyalty of the IRA to their cause, to finally the uneasy peace in 1998. Impeccably researched, his sources hammer home just how recent this history truly is, and how it affects Northern Ireland and its people to this day. Riveting, tragic, and brutal – if you like history, you must read this book.

Bonus: Can’t Even: How Millennials Became the Burnout Generation by Anne Helen Petersen

While millennials were maligned for years as lazy kids living in their parents’ basements, the truth involves far more hustle and student loans and productivity and exhaustion than older generations gave them credit for, as the drastic shifts in the American employment landscape made the very nature of work inescapable.

The Other Best Memoir: What is a Girl Worth: My Story of Breaking the Silence and Exposing the Truth about Larry Nassar and USA Gymnastics by Rachael Denhollander

In 2017, Larry Nassar was convicted of sexual assault, but it took years and hundreds of victims before Rachael Denhollander and other survivors finally won their fight for justice. Now Denhollander is an incredible advocate for survivors of sexual abuse, but her story begins as she herself is abused as a child. Most of us have no idea how difficult it is to report abuse or assault, let alone face the incompetence and hostility of the very institutions that should keep us safe. This book describes that battle in painstaking detail, from the powerful moment when Nassar is sentenced to the horrific personal toll Denhollander experienced. As story after story of abuse emerges from all corners of our society, this book is a must read for anyone who cares about victims of abuse.

I still happily recommend the books that I rated three stars, because even if I didn’t love them, you might! Come join me on Goodreads and check them out! At the beginning of each month I update with my reads from the previous month, and I’m always adding to my TBR. And I do enjoy writing snarky or gushing reviews for books that irritated me or made me fall in love.

Other reads I enjoyed were the several urban fantasy series I devoured, the Israeli spy series that I’ve almost caught up with, the mermaid horror novel, the middle grade novel tackling very heavy themes, and the lovely book on writing and faith by Madeleine L’Engle.

My 2022 reading life is already off to a good start, with five library books in my possession that range in topic from the enneagram to historical fiction to a horse biography. I’m also about to jump into a memoir by someone who grew up in foster care. I’m definitely biased, but I think there’s no better way to spend a cold winter evening than curled up under a blanket with a good book.

Happy reading!

Modesty: From Anxiety to Freedom

It’s 2017, and I’m standing in a Target fitting room, checking the shorts I’m trying on. I turn from side to side, looking at the mirror. These shorts are so comfortable. They fit great. But they don’t come down to my fingertips when I hold my arms at my sides. I know they’ll be even shorter when I sit down.

These shorts.

I study my reflection for a few minutes, chewing my lip. These shorts look so good! They’re so cute! Then I change back into my own clothes and go to check out, where I buy not just one pair, but three pairs.

I’ve worn shorts that didn’t come down to my fingertips before, but this is different. Those shorts were hand-me-downs or didn’t fit comfortably or just worn for bumming around; I had one nicer pair I loved that I always wore with guilt, because they definitely weren’t fingertip length. The shorts I’m buying now are for me to wear anywhere and everywhere I want, and I’m buying them on purpose.

It’s hard to describe, four years later, how that decision would send me on a journey to feeling comfortable in my body, comfortable in my clothes, in ways I didn’t know I wasn’t. I was tired of hunting for cute shorts that fit and also were long enough. I was tired of feeling like I couldn’t wear anything mainstream fashion had to offer because it wasn’t modest. I was tired of always figuring out how to wear cute clothes in ways that covered enough of my body.

I grew up knowing that good Christian girls were modest. The message came up regularly in youth group, in books and magazines and anything and everything directed at Christian teen girls. What I wore mattered a lot to God, I understood. What I should wear was also clear: long shorts, nothing that showed cleavage, nothing that was too tight or too short or showed my bra, and absolutely no bikinis or spaghetti straps or leggings-as-pants, ever.

There’s nothing wrong with any of those standards by themselves. But I’ve realized that rather than make me more holy, more pleasing to God, those standards made me anxious and uncomfortable in my own body and frankly, judgmental of myself and others.

I wore camisoles under v-neck T-shirts, tanktops under tanktops that cut low under my arms, always thinking in layers, always worrying that my camisole would slide too low. I had a freckle on my chest that I kept an eye out for, because if I could see the freckle when I looked down, I knew I needed to pull up my shirt. Some of my friends and I watched out for each other in social situations; if someone’s shirt was too low or her bra strap was showing, we would let each other know.

Once again, there’s nothing inherently wrong with girls looking out for each other regarding wardrobe malfunctions. But we were policing each other’s bodies, making sure we were modest at all times, in all ways. I can’t speak for anyone else, but when I needed to pull my shirt up or tuck a bra strap away, I felt anxious and ashamed that I had let that happen, that I had failed to live up to those standards even for a moment, that people might have seen what I should never have let them see.

I wore crew neck T-shirts and jeans all the time as a teenager. They were comfortable and easy to move in, and I didn’t have to worry about what I was or wasn’t revealing because all of me was covered. It was easier that way, but I wished I could dress like the stylish girls I knew. I liked my T-shirts and jeans, because I didn’t have to be anxious when I wore them, but they weren’t exactly the image I would have always chosen.

When skinny jeans came along, they posed a conundrum for me. I remember one book discussing modesty with the specific example of immodest jeans that were so tight the girl had to lie down on her bed and suck in her stomach to get them zipped. I didn’t know anyone who wore jeans that tight, because how could you even move in them? And then skinny jeans appeared, and everyone was wearing them. But were skinny jeans modest? They fit the book’s example better than any jeans I’d ever worn, so I wore my looser flared jeans for several more years before uneasily joining that trend.

Swimsuits were the most stressful piece of clothing of all. I spent most of my time keeping my thighs covered and monitoring the length of my shorts, but if I put on a swimsuit I could suddenly bare my entire leg? It was uncomfortable and confusing. Plus, while a swimsuit may fit great in the fitting room at the store, it’s impossible to know how actually swimming in it will change the fit. Wet swimsuits stretch, slide, and sag, which is a big deal if you need to stay modest and keep certain inches of skin from showing. Shopping for a swimsuit was always an ordeal. Wearing one was even more nerve-racking.

I knew some people wore skirts to be modest, who felt that God had convicted them that skirts should be their standard. It seemed that they were better, more godly Christians than I was because of the skirts. But I hated skirts; I felt vulnerable and uneasy when I wore them, and the idea of wearing them every day, all day, sounded terrible. Did that mean I wasn’t willing to be convicted that skirts were more modest than pants? Clothing apparently had a godliness scale; I was a better Christian than some people because I never wore a bikini, but other people were better Christians than me because they never wore pants.

The most confusing part of modesty standards, however, was how they weren’t the same for everyone. Skirts versus pants, obviously, but also I had friends who wore swimsuits that showed their bellies or their cleavage, and I knew for a fact they loved God and had faith stronger than mine. Other people always wore shirts that came up to their collarbones or only wore swimsuits with shorts or skirts to cover their bottom half. The church would issue a dress code for youth retreats or VBS, and then people didn’t follow it and no one seemed to care.

I know now that enforcing modesty-focused dress codes is often more damaging to teenage girls than ignoring them, but it was very frustrating to me then. If modesty was so important, then why didn’t the youth leaders make sure everyone followed the dress code? If the standards that pleased God were so clear, then why didn’t we all have the same standards? And if Christians had different standards, then which ones were most pleasing to God?

I wish I could say that resolving the inconsistencies and digging deep into what God actually said about modesty is what prompted me to buy those shorts. But that actually happened later, when I was figuring out why I was so much more comfortable in my clothes and body when I wasn’t even trying to be modest.

It’s practically a requirement for youth groups to teach a lesson based on 1 Samuel 16:7 at some point, and I heard more than one. But if that verse is true, that man looks at the outward appearance but the Lord looks at the heart, God does not care at all if my shorts come down to my fingertips or if I wear a tank top with straps narrower than my finger. If my heart is modest and my intentions honorable, then what I wear is not important to God. Of course my clothes should still be appropriate for the situation, the culture, the era in history I move through.

But walking around deeply self-conscious and anxious about my body and my clothing does not honor God, and it does not honor me. The way modesty was taught in Christian culture objectified me; it objectified all teenage girls. It did exactly what we were told boys would do if we wore short shorts or let our shirts dip too low. It looked at my body and my clothes and decided those spoke louder than me the person.

Deciding if a girl is modest based on the clothes she is wearing is the very definition of looking at the outward appearance. God sees that girl’s heart, not the length of her skirt or the type of tank top straps she’s wearing. This doesn’t mean a girl should wear whatever she wants whenever she wants; clothes need to fit the situation she’s dressing for. But measuring someone’s godliness based on their adherence to a specific set of modesty standards is the opposite of how God instructs us to see people, the opposite of how God sees people.

All of this emphasis on modesty, on making certain I only showed the acceptable amount of skin, led to an inevitable conclusion: I was always on guard against my own body.

I could never relax in my own skin because my skin was the enemy. Unless I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, I had to always be aware of how I moved, how my clothes shifted, if I was revealing something that I shouldn’t.

The modesty message for teenage girls always came hand in hand with the stumbling block message: we needed to dress modestly so that boys and men who saw us wouldn’t be tempted to lust because of the leggings or low-cut shirts we might wear. Thankfully, I somehow never internalized that message very deeply and was always more concerned about pleasing God rather than hiding my body from men.

This message has done enormous damage to thousands and thousands of women and been used to justify sexual assault and abuse. I’m a best case scenario for someone who had the modesty and stumbling block messages drummed into my head over years and years of church life, but it wasn’t until I left those messages behind that I could truly begin to feel comfortable in my own body.

The Bible only talks about modesty a couple of times; it spends a lot more words on concepts like following Jesus and how to treat other people. The targeting of teenage girls for modesty messages during my years growing up in the church is actually quite upsetting, in retrospect – either modesty applies to everyone or it applies to no one. I’ve never once heard a Sunday sermon on modesty, even though no age group or gender is immune from showing off via their clothing, which is what 1 Timothy 2:9 actually addresses.

Those who taught me the modesty standards, whether in person or via a book or a study, had good intentions. No one meant for me to be stressed and anxious and self-conscious about my body. But if we judge the modesty teachings by their fruit, the fruit is rotten. My story is just the tip of the iceberg. Much to my own shame, I perpetuated some of these teachings with teenage girls I knew, until I picked up that pair of shorts in Target and decided it was time for a different way.

I don’t choose my clothes based on modesty anymore. Now I choose clothes that I feel comfortable in, that make me feel like myself, that make me feel pretty and strong, that I feel respect myself and my body. I no longer rely on my clothing to prove that I care about honoring God. (And I have removed just about everything from my closet that could possibly need a camisole layered under it – I’m done with that forever.)

My journey isn’t over. I imagine it will be ongoing for years to come. But I’m free from constant anxiety and discomfort as I go through my days and choose what to wear each morning, and it’s impossible to describe the relief. I feel settled and calm in my body rather than uneasy. My hope is that younger generations of Christian women don’t have to struggle the way I did, that they have learned a much healthier message in church around modesty and their clothing. For anyone who understands what it is like to never be comfortable in your own skin: It doesn’t have to be that way. You can be free.

Reading Recap 2020: When the Library is Closed

Welcome to my annual recap of what I read last year! Despite the title of this post, I did read a great many library books in 2020, but for someone who uses the library constantly, being without it for two months due to the pandemic was an Experience, in more ways than one.

I had plenty of time to read, since I was home so much, and it was good to sink into the rhythm of carrying a book around my apartment with me from room to room, to stash a book in the car when I did go somewhere. Unfortunately, I read a lot of two and three star books in 2020, for reasons that I’ll get to shortly.

First, the numbers: in 2020, I read 128 books, a 13% decrease from 2019. While I did not set a numeric goal for my books and am happy with that number, I was curious about the decrease. It turns out that working from home dropped my audiobook hours significantly – I only listened to 17 audiobooks in 2020, almost entirely in the first half of the year.

Quantity does not trump quality, though, and I wish I’d had more five star reads last year. Unfortunately, I did that to myself. When the library shut down from March through May, I was limited to the books in my apartment and the ebooks I could access through the library’s app. Reading through some of the books on my shelves and in my roommate’s collection was fantastic, since I tend to check out library books like some people shop at Target. I found several new favorites that had been in the same apartment as me all along, including one that inspired me to finish writing my first novel.

But I’m very picky about which books I read as ebooks and which books I read in print, and I don’t like reading books that I suspect I’ll love as ebooks. Reading on my phone messes with my experience of the book. (Just try reading a 500 page fantasy novel on your phone and see how you feel about that.) So although I did want to read the ebooks I borrowed, I only picked books I didn’t expect to love and was rarely proven wrong. Then when the library reopened for me to request physical books, I ended up with still more mediocre reads, because it’s tricky to pull myself out of a book slump once it’s started.

Never fear, though. Despite the so-so ebooks that litter my 2020 book list, I did read some amazing books and am thrilled to share them. A quick note: I read a wide variety of books that have all kinds of content, so this is a blanket content warning for any and all books I mention. If you have questions about a particular book, just ask!

The Book I Finally Read:

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke

During the early 19th century, England’s magic revives in the form of two magicians, whose very different ideas about magic lead both to a final reckoning with the legend of the Raven King and the dark magic of the fairies. Readers who prefer fast paced plots need not tackle this book; topping out at over 800 pages, the novel is subtle and slow, layer upon layer of plot and character elements rising quietly to its climax. The beautifully crafted prose pays homage to classic British literature; the meticulously researched historical context provides an incredible backdrop to characters flawed yet sympathetic; deep reflections on myths, magic, history, warfare, politics, and mundane life are woven throughout the story. While the two main characters are British gentlemen, subplots focused on women, servants, and minority characters also provide clever social critique to contrast the central narratives. While I’ve owned this book for at least six years, I had no clue how enthralling it would turn out to be.

The Saddest Book:

Irena’s Children: The Extraordinary Story of the Woman Who Saved 2,500 Children from the Warsaw Ghetto by Tilar J. Mazzeo

A young Polish social worker risked her life to save 2,500 children from the Warsaw ghetto during the Nazi occupation. Sometimes called the female Oskar Schindler, Irena Sendler was deeply concerned about poor Jewish families and the strong anti-Semitism in Poland prior to the Nazi invasion. When the Nazis herded Warsaw’s Jewish population into the ghetto, Irena began knocking on doors and convincing Jewish parents to entrust their children to her. She enlisted a network of ordinary people to help her smuggle children out of the ghetto and hide them with Polish families, at extreme risk for everyone involved. But not only did Irena save the children, she also saved their identities, keeping records of each child in the hopes of reuniting them with their families after the war. This book chronicles the absolute decimation of the Warsaw Jews, the devastation of Warsaw, and the heartbreak of a war that ended with Poland in the hands of the Soviets and children with their entire families dead. I rarely cry while reading, but this book left tears streaming down my face more than once.

The Best Non-Fiction:

Factory Girls: From Village to City in a Changing China by Leslie T. Chang

China’s factories are powered by millions of young migrant workers from rural regions, a sociologically significant movement of epic proportions illustrated by the stories of two young women. We all know what “Made in China” means when we see it, but who are the people manufacturing these items? The factory cities are complex and fast-paced, places where ambitious workers can get three different jobs in two months and each time gain better wages and positions simply through a few English classes, places where losing a cell phone severs all connection with friends and boyfriends since no one stays in the same place long enough to be found again, places where many workers endure abysmal working conditions because it’s still better than being jobless back home. Leslie Chang provides the historical context for China’s great migration through tracing her family history and shares the intimate stories of two modern young women through three years in Dongguan. My life is nothing like these women’s, but I saw pieces of myself in their hopes and dreams and struggles, as Chang offers a glimpse into the individual lives of the flood of workers who powered China’s economic rise.

The Other Best Non-Fiction:

Prairie Fires: The American Dreams of Laura Ingalls Wilder by Caroline Fraser

While the Little House books are beloved to generations of readers, Laura Ingalls Wilder’s life was far more complicated than her books portray. The Little House books were the foundational books of my childhood: they’re the first chapter books my mom read to me, and the first book I ever read myself was Little House in the Big Woods as a picture book. This book lifts the curtain and places Laura’s story in the context of history and reality, not only tracing her life and those of her parents and daughter, but also diving into the many forces that shaped the Ingalls and Wilder families. I had never thought much about the immense poverty, tragedy, and suffering Laura and her family experienced when I remember the Little House books, but this book will never allow me to forget again. From the actual chronology of Laura’s life to the parts she left out of her books to her adulthood and her daughter’s wild and fascinating life, no stone is left unturned, including the complex process of writing the books themselves. A brilliant, must read book, for anyone who has ever loved the Little House books or is fascinated by the history of the American West.

The Best Historical Fiction:

Genghis: Birth of an Empire by Conn Iggulden

Before he was Genghis Khan, he was Temujin, a boy of the steppes surviving a brutally difficult adolescence while dreaming of uniting the Mongol tribes. Book one of five, it covers the first two decades of Temujin’s life in vivid, painfully sharp detail. The characterization is absolutely top notch, particularly for Temujin’s brothers, wife, and mother. Historical fiction sometimes has trouble with depicting real historical figures as fully rounded characters rather than stereotypes or cardboard cutouts, but Temujin always felt like a living, breathing person who might walk off the page at any moment. The steppes and Mongol tribal culture came to life through the rich, powerful descriptions. I devoured this book in two sittings, loved experiencing a culture and worldview vastly unlike mine, and am fully invested in reading the rest of the series as well as picking up nonfiction about Genghis Khan and the Mongol empire.

The Book I Learned the Most From:

Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson

Through the story of the Equal Justice Initiative, the many horrendously unjust pieces of America’s justice system are unveiled, embodied in the lives of the many people trapped within that system, such as Walter McMillian. I’ve never personally encountered the justice system, so this book was a revelation to me. The devastating cases of people who have lost everything due to false convictions, including their freedom and their dignity as human beings, the absolute injustice of a system that penalizes poor people for being poor and Black people for being black, and the unbelievable callousness of judges, juries, and prison officials have forever changed my my understanding of justice. Bryan Stevenson lays bare the desperate situations of thousands of prisoners and death row inhabitants, the fierce opposition against his pursuit of truth for his clients, and EJI’s fight to save children sentenced to life in prison. Every page I read horrified me more – it’s not an easy book, but it is vitally important.

Bonus: When Everything Changed: The Amazing Journey of American Women from 1960 to the Present by Gail Collins

Gail Collins chronicles the sweeping societal changes American women experienced over the fifty years from 1960 to 2008, illustrating those changes through the lives of the dozens of women she interviewed.

The Most Powerful Novel:

Beartown by Fredrick Backman

A small, fading town’s hopes rest on the junior hockey team’s performance in the national semi-finals, but when a young girl is violently assaulted, every person in town must reckon with their own darkness and motivations. This book is incredible: powerful storytelling, heartbreaking themes, and wonderful prose. Fredrik Bachman’s characters are astonishingly real; he refused to let me paint anyone with a good/bad paradigm and instead delves into each character’s motivations and experiences with such depth and clarity that I understood each of them, including the antagonists, even as he never condones all of their actions and behavior. It’s rare that I encounter characters this compelling and true to the human experience. The story addresses really hard issues of responsibility, power, courage, and friendship, yet it never preaches and instead lets the characters do the talking. I couldn’t put the book down and the ending just blew me away.

The Best Spiritual Memoir:

Resurrection Year: Turning Broken Dreams into New Beginnings by Sheridan Voysey

After a decade of unsuccessfully trying to have children, Sheridan and Merryn Voysey close the door on their hopes of parenthood and spend a year reimagining their lives and wrestling with the pain of shattered dreams. Simple, quiet prose paints a clear picture of how deeply their faith was shaken when God did not answer their prayers for children and the long journey they take to find God’s goodness in the midst of the pain. While Merryn resurrects her career aspirations and takes a prestigious job in Oxford, England, Sheridan gives up his career and his identity as a radio host to support his wife as they move from Australia to England. This book spoke to my soul, and is for anyone who has carried the pain of broken dreams, for anyone who has questions for God and isn’t finding answers in the rote platitudes the church so often offers, for anyone who has given up their identity, and for anyone who is asking what happens now.

The Book That Restored My Faith In Humanity:

The Day the World Came to Town: 9/11 in Gander, Newfoundland by Jim DeFede

On 9/11, thirty-eight jets en route to the US were forced to land on Newfoundland Island, flooding the small town of Gander with nearly 7,000 exhausted and scared passengers. Over the next four days, the people of Gander threw open their homes and their hearts, caring for the passengers as if they were family. From collecting toys for the children to respectfully accommodating passengers from other cultures to helping passengers get in contact with family members across the world, the kindness and generosity of the townspeople made an enormous impact on the people stranded there. No detail was too small to care for, no person too unimportant for gentle generosity, including the pets trapped aboard the planes. In a year when fear and suffering seem to be overwhelming the world, this book helped me remember that when we as humans are kind and generous with each other, we can help carry each other’s burdens and bring a little goodness into dark places.

Then there was a backlist fantasy title by one of my favorite authors, several powerful memoirs, and a hilariously specific alternate history novel. I’m still devouring an Israeli spy series I started last year, and went deep into a heavy tome about the enneagram. I also did more rereading more than I usually do, and was thrilled to find that one of the books I loved as a teenager stood the test of time and was as good as I remembered.

Come find me on Goodreads so you can see me review books all year long with two word reviews for the books I loved and five paragraph reviews for the books I didn’t! Convincing other people to hang out on Goodreads with me is one of my favorite things – Instagram’s got nothing compared to my favorite social media app. Why would I stalk your stories when I can stalk your books?

I have a long list of books I’m excited to read in 2021, including lots of sequels in fantasy series I’ve already started, A Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard, the story of a terrible blizzard, and Rachael Denhollander’s memoir. Hopefully I’ll also pick up a C.S. Lewis book or two and a few rereads. Will this be the year I attempt War and Peace? We shall see!

I’m currently on a library fast, because why not, and am looking forward to the end of February when I will be requesting books like there’s no tomorrow. Right now I’m reading about a Jewish couple in Germany just prior to WWII and am excited to pick up a biography of Secretariat next. When it’s cold outside, there’s no better place to be than curled up indoors with a book.

Happy reading, everyone!