Book Review: Something Other Than God

Jennifer Fulwiler grew up as a non-believer. When pressured at a church camp to accept Christ as her Savior and Lord, she didn't give in and go along with what everyone else was mindlessly doing. But once she encountered the reality of death, her heart and intellect struggled with the purpose and meaning of life. The struggle only intensified years later when she married her husband Joe and gave birth to a child of her own. Was her baby's life without meaning, as well? I loved her quote discussing her new discontent with atheism:

“Atheism could not account for the bond that Joe and I shared. It offered no lexicon for capturing what I saw in my child. An atheistic worldview could offer an accurate explanation of the way my brain chemistry had been altered to experience more of the sensation we label 'love', but I was certain now that that explanation would stop short of the full truth. It would be like confusing a picture of the Grand Canyon with the actual place; there’s nothing false about the picture, but it would be foolish to confuse the piece of paper with the real thing. There was more to human life than the atoms that made up our bodies – I was sure of it.”

Thus, feeling the God-shaped vacuum Blaise Pascal identified (full quote here), Fulwiler embarked on a search for meaning and happiness (her book is aptly titled, Something Other Than God: How I Passionately Sought Happiness and Accidentally Found It). She read the Bible in secret to make sense of all the fuss. Her book outlines the progression of her questions and dissatisfaction with the answers she had previously accepted. Hers was not a quick and easy conversion to Catholicism. As a pro-choice atheist, she deeply wrestled with the issues on the table. She read Lee Strobel's The Case for Christ and accepted Jesus was who he claimed to be. She also read apologist C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity.

At this point, I took issue with her process. Responding to a quote from Lewis about why some people accept God more easily than others, Fulwiler bought into the false notion we must somehow clean ourselves up before we can present ourselves to the Creator. I don't believe Lewis was arguing for a works-based salvation. He was correctly identifying the hindrance sin causes in blinding eyes to the truth of Christ's offer for salvation.

The important qualifier is that we cannot clean ourselves. We are helpless to remove the sin and doubt that shackles our lives to misperceptions of God and His ways. He must open our eyes to our sinfulness and the chasm separating us from Him before we can accept that our righteousness is as filthy rags. It is only through the atonement Christ offers through His death on the cross we can bridge the gap between a sinful man and a holy God to align our lives with His holiness and claim His salvation. We cannot clean the mirror to reflect His holiness.

I believe she missed the first sentences of Lewis' quote:

“When you come to know God, the initiative lies on His side. If He does not show Himself, nothing you can do will enable you to find Him… [God] shows much more of Himself to some people than to others – not because He has favourites, but because it is impossible for Him to show Himself to a man whose whole mind and character are in the wrong condition. Just as sunlight, though it has no favourites, cannot be reflected in a dusty mirror as clearly as in a clean one.” 

We are not saved through our alignment with the church, through our repetitious affirmations of Mary's actions, through the prayers of others for us during our life or after. We are saved only through the blood of Christ in his sacrifice for our sins on the cross. To seek salvation by making ourselves presentable (doing the right things, taking communion, going to confession, etc.) misses the mark, since it is Christ's initiative on our behalf that does the work. ("For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast." Ephesians 2:8-9 KJV)

So, while Fulwiler does an excellent job of outlining her questions and her struggles on her way to belief in God, I still wonder if her belief system is adequate. One can believe there is a God without putting faith in God's ability to save. It brings to mind the famous illustration of the man who pushes a barrel over a chasm on a tightrope. He asks if people believe he can make it across. The crowd heartily clamors belief in his ability, but are they willing to put themselves in the barrel? It is as J. Warner Wallace articulates in his excellent book, Cold-Case Christianity, a person must move from "belief that" to "belief in". Is Fulwiler putting herself in the barrel or is she merely articulating a belief that it can be done? I don't know. I guess I just wonder if she's relying on something other than God.

Yikes! Boys Will Be Boys?

Friday night, Sean was invited to a party at his friend's house. I'm pretty sure he knew, as soon as I picked him up, that I would discover the damage done, so he confessed all right away. I'm not pleased with what he had to report - both for his end and for the repercussions. Apparently, he and the other friends his age, were provoking the younger brother and that brother's friends by repeatedly going into the younger brother's room uninvited (and obviously, unwanted). A fight broke out.

When Sean's friend's younger brother jumped on him, Sean fought back. He claims he didn't want to be beaten by a fourth grader. I expressed, repeatedly, that he should have held his hands up and clearly articulated that he didn't wish to hurt the boy. Alas, he did hurt the boy, punching and scrabbling with him. And, of course, I had to call the mother to apologize for my son's errant and violent behavior and to make sure her younger son was okay (he was and she even stated that Sean immediately apologized and insisted on shaking hands with her son to smooth things over).

Still, I have no tolerance for this! After I spoke with Sean vehemently on Friday night (John was already in bed when I picked Sean up), his dad sat down with him on Saturday morning to eke out the story again and to clarify that violence is never the answer to conflict and that, really, he brought this on himself by his choice to provoke the younger boys.

While admitting that I am sorely disappointed in the choices my own son made, I am equally horrified by the choice that the younger brother's friend made when he saw Sean fighting back. This boy decided to jump into the fight and beat my son over the arm, not with his fist, but with some sort of wooden pipe or stick. I guess you could say Sean got his comeuppance, and then some:

May this teach Sean to bend over backwards to avoid violence in the future! I don't know the mother of the inflicting boy, but I sure hope she has a tough conversation with her son, as well. Boys!

Book Review: Hurricane of Love

I'm grateful to my library for their alert system informing patrons of newly acquired books. This book, Hurricane of Love: My Journey with Beth Wheeler, otherwise wouldn't have been on my radar. Although it was difficult to read (because the subject matter is hard and depressing), it was a blessing to catch of glimpse of this woman's life story and the author's perspective on loving and losing her.

Dan Wheeler works for QVC. In this quick, emotional read, he tells the story of meeting and marrying his wife, Beth. He shares an intimate look into their lives as they raise two daughters. Then, he details the journey that took them from an initial cancer diagnosis to her departure from this earth. He never holds back as he offers a window to his pain.

Although her family would have surely loved to have had more time with her, it was a blessing to know that throughout her sixty-some years on earth, she touched many lives. Dan calls her "a hurricane of love," because she embraced every individual she met and made them feel like they mattered. What a wonderful legacy to leave behind!

Wedding Dress Prior to Keepsake

Jen left a comment on the previous blog post requesting photos of the wedding dress in its original condition. Sadly, my scanner doesn't work, I don't know how to fix it, and the photos I do have are bound in an album. Thus, here are a few grainy images of the dress on our special day:

Meaningful Use of Once-in-a-Lifetime Finery

Scrolling along Facebook the other day, I came across a post from the daughter of a woman who assisted my parents in one of our Salvation Army corps assignments (a lovely woman with great skill in quilting and sewing). She posted pictures of a small Build-a-Bear bear wearing a mock wedding dress alongside tiny baby garments. Her mother, Betsy Cox, had taken her wedding dress and created a small keepsake bear in remembrance of her wedding day. Then, she used the remaining fabric to sew bereavement outfits for stillborn babies. The daughter works as an OB nurse at a nearby hospital and takes the garments there to offer to grieving parents in their time of loss.

I lost a baby to miscarriage prior to the births of my three sons. My dear cousin, Karin, lost her first son, Adam, as a stillborn. This ministry is dear to my heart and I approached Betsy to ask if she had enough time to do the same with my wedding dress. I told her I'd be happy to pay her for the task. She graciously accepted and I shipped my wedding dress off to her.

The dress hung in a closet all these 28 years since its one-day use on August 4th of 1990. I will certainly never fit into it again - ha - and hope to never have need of another wedding dress. Moreover, God blessed me with sons instead of daughters. Their future wives will surely not want my dress. What better way to put it to use and bless others with the fine material.

Since I have collected monkeys from age seven, I asked if she could find a monkey for the keepsake dress. Here are some photos of her finished products. I feel so blessed by her willingness to take on this project:

Book Review: Out of the Silent Planet

I'm generally a big fan of C.S. Lewis and his writing. I should be. I spent four years of my life helping to transcribe his personal letters at the Marion E. Wade Center on Wheaton College's campus. I have always felt he gets the heart of matters so well and eloquently turns a phrase to bring insight into difficult subjects of religious belief and philosophical understanding. Nonetheless, I'm not a big fan of space travel literature. Despite his skilled pen, I didn't fully appreciate this short novel, Out of the Silent Planet, the first in a trilogy. I know Lewis meant it to be an allegorical tale, but it didn't stir me in the same way his other works moved me.

Dr. Elwin Ransom is on a walking tour when he stumbles onto the house of a former schoolmate and a famous physicist. The two men abduct Ransom and take him on a spaceship to the planet Malacandra. Upon their arrival, Ransom is about to be sacrificed to an alien life form called the "sorns" when he flees and encounters other species of life on the planet. He is eventually drawn to the highest life form on the planet and must plead his cause hoping to escape back to earth.

The inside cover of the Scribner Classics edition I read touted, "In the many layers of its allegory, and the sophistication and piercing brilliance of its insights into the human condition, it occupies a place among the English language's most extraordinary works for any age, and for all time." It also says, "the Space Trilogy is rivaled in this century only by Tolkien's trilogy The Lord of the Rings." Hmm. Wishing I loved it as much as that.

The book held my attention and was accessible but didn't seem to get anywhere, apart from drawing conclusions about the opposition of good versus evil and the problem of sin (or "bent" individuals). Perhaps I was simply not in a good frame of mind to dig deeper, but the story left me as cold as the space Dr. Ransom encountered. I read the book to take part in The Deliberate Reader's on-line book club, so I will be interested to read the reactions of fellow readers in that group. Hopefully, they extracted much more from it than I did and will lead me to see the value of the book. Several Amazon reviewers indicated that the third book is the best by far, but do I have it in me to continue with the series long enough to get to book three? We shall see.

Book Review: The Stranger in the Woods

Fascinating! Unique! Thought-provoking! This non-fiction book swept me into its tale and into the life and mindset of a wholly alien personality. While I hope and dream of more opportunities to fill my emotional tank and meet my inner needs for socialization, Michael Finkel shares the story of an individual who went to great extremes to avoid social interaction, meeting his intensely foreign need to be alone. I continue to think about the issues and ideas arising from this biography, The Stranger in the Woods: The Extraordinary Story of the Last True Hermit.

The back cover copy reads: "In 1986, a shy and intelligent twenty-year-old named Christopher Knight left his home in Massachusetts, drove to Maine, and disappeared into the forest. He would not have a conversation with another human being until nearly three decades later, when he was arrested for stealing food. Living in a tent even through brutal winters, he survived by his wits and courage, developing ingenious ways to store edibles and water, and to avoid freezing to death. He broke into nearby cottages for food, clothing, reading material, and other provisions, taking only what he needed but terrifying a community never able to solve the mysterious burglaries.

"Based on extensive interviews with Knight himself, this is a vividly detailed account of his secluded life - why did he leave? what did he learn? - as well as the challenges he has faced since returning to the world. It is a gripping story of survival that asks fundamental questions about solitude, community, and what makes a good life, as well as a deeply moving portrait of a man who was determined to live his own way, and succeeded."

I was thoroughly intrigued by this modern-day hermit. Even walking a few days (literally walking, while listening) in Knight's shoes left me confounded by his choices. I recall a silence test I had to take once for passage into a particular group (Black Arrow, for any Salvation Army readers). Going 24 hours without speaking to another individual made me more than uncomfortable - it was almost an impossibility for me. Of course, I was at camp, among people, attempting to hold my tongue. I cannot fathom what it would be like to isolate to the point of no contact with another human being for decades.

Finkel addresses all the appropriate questions: Was Knight autistic? psychologically disturbed? did his conscience prick at the crimes he committed for survival? It is clear, he would have continued to subsist in that manner if not caught and arrested. Even now, he continues to struggle with his reintegration into society. Was his lifestyle better than our constant rat race in pursuit of wealth, information, security, and purpose? Uncomfortable with eye contact and the myriad of nuances in conversation, Knight much preferred communing with nature instead of people. As I concluded the book, I almost wished I could assist to give this man back the most basic things he required - isolation and privacy. The author contemplated offering to purchase a stretch of land for Knight, but didn't pursue it in the end. After all, what Knight really wants most of all is simply to be left ... alone.

Book Review: Last Christmas in Paris

This fun book had so much appeal: Christmas, Paris, an epistolary novel. The cover alone would have compelled me to bite. I enjoyed Last Christmas in Paris immensely. It intrigued me to learn that it was co-written by two women who met and became friends through the suggestion of their mutual agent. I would love to be introduced to a kindred spirit, find a fast and easy friendship, and collaborate on an epistolary novel (you write the letters from your character and I'll write the letters from mine and it will have a natural flow of realistic progression). Heck, I'd even just like to find a kindred spirit with whom to correspond. Or, even better, to have an agent in the first place, ha!

The tag line for this book is perfect: "When war pulled them apart, their words brought them together." An elderly Thomas Harding returns to Paris with a handful of wartime letters. The story that unfolds through the letters not only gives a glimpse into life during WWI but also provides a love story to letters, an expose' on the power of words in wartime, and a stirring connection between young friends.

This was a quick and easy read at the tail end of a holiday. Since I love the epistolary style, I knew I'd appreciate this book. The characters were warm and endearing. The plot unfolded at a leisurely pace. My only regret was that the final letter (the one Thomas is returning to Paris to open) wasn't quite a stunning as the build-up promised. Still, I loved the process of getting from the first letter to the final one. I recommend this book to anyone who loves novels in a letter-style, anyone who loves Paris at Christmas-time, and anyone searching for an engaging historical holiday book.

Book Review: Every Breath

I always worry when approaching a romance novel. Will it be a clean read or full of sex scenes? Will the author portray love as something feeling-oriented, intensely powerful, and often transitory or portray it as an action more than a feeling, reflecting commitment more than passion? Nonetheless, I eagerly anticipated this new romance novel by Nicholas Sparks - if anyone can ignite a spark of love in a story, it would be him. While Every Breath won't make any top ten list (if I can garner more than six best books this year), it was still a somewhat satisfying audio experience.

The story lured me in and kept me committed, but I found my head arguing with my heart about whether the story was laudable. The difficulty is that Sparks initially portrays it as a true story fictionalized (he both introduces and concludes the novel with author input). While I'm sure similar experiences play out these days, I've never fallen for someone in the space of a few hours or days, jumped into bed, and discovered a love so intense it can withstand years of separation.

When the main character contemplates marriage (to the man she had been with for six years, instead of the man she fell for in one day) the author writes, "She had no desire to smile through the faux romance of a fairy tale wedding. By then, after all, she understood the nature of romance, and knew it had little to do with trying to create a fantasy. Real romance was spontaneous, unpredictable, and could be as simple as listening to a man read a love letter found in a lonely mailbox on a stormy September afternoon." I don't buy it. Real love, for me anyway, is not spontaneous, unpredictable, and simple; it is, instead, covenant-oriented, stable, and often quite difficult to live out well. And then I think, "I'm over thinking this whole thing - the author simply meant it to be a stirring love story - why can't I enjoy going along for the ride?"

So, if you're up for an intense ride of passionate love at first sight, and you have no problem with knee-jerk sexuality, you might be swept away by this love story. Hope Anderson wonders whether her surgeon boyfriend of six years will ever be ready to commit, settle down, and provide her with much-longed-for children. Then, on a solitary stay at her parent's Sunset Beach cottage, she meets Tru Walls, a beautiful man from Zimbabwe and, in short order, falls in love. Their time together is intensely romantic (and the intimacy expressed in great detail). But at the end of the week, Hope attends her girlfriend's wedding, her boyfriend makes a surprise appearance, and Hope must decide whether she will follow duty or passion (perhaps that was where I bristled, too).

The book wasn't a clean read, and it didn't align with my personal values, but it was well-written. I still think of Nicholas Sparks as an outstanding storyteller and I wouldn't shy away from his future books because this one didn't gel for me. Certain elements were incredibly enticing - the idea of the letter repository at Kindred Spirits, contemplating the life of a safari guide, the desire for children overpowering the desire for romance, etc. I would love a girlfriend trek (since my husband is travel-averse) to visit and deposit a letter in this real-life mysterious mailbox on Bird Island or to cross oceans for a safari experience. I could even see someone making a movie from this novel. It would, no doubt, be a beautiful cinematic experience (especially given the idyllic locations on the coast of North Carolina and the bush regions of Africa). Although it is not a book I would read again, it seems to garner sufficient praise from other readers.

Book Review: Little Big Love

Although Katy Regan has written four books published in the UK, Little Big Love is her US debut. I will look for more from this author. She deftly portrays the emotional struggle of weight issues for women and their children. Since I have a son whose BMI indicates he is heavily overweight, I could relate to Juliet Hutchinson's angst concerning her son's size and the ensuing bullying. Even when a parent longs for a healthier lifestyle and choices for an overweight child, it is often difficult to implement because food is more than simply what we put in our bodies. It comes with emotional associations and it often plays a role in relationship-building.

Zac Hutchinson is frustrated with his family. Everyone seems to conspire to keep him from the truth about his father and his father's whereabouts. Plus, he can sense the tensions surrounding the issue. When his mother admits to lingering feelings for his father, Zac is more determined than ever to play detective, along with his neighboring best friend Teagan, to find Liam and establish a relationship with him. In Juliet's bid to increase her son's happiness and self-esteem, they begin to tackle his weight issue and to talk more about the taboo subject of his father.

Despite being slow in parts, I eagerly awaited the final word on why Liam disappeared from their lives and whether he would step in and father his son now. The novel, told from three distinct voices (the grandfather, the mother, and the son), creates realistic characters facing an event from a decade ago still impacting their relationships in the present. Regan does a great job of stirring the reader to root for the little guy (or would that be the big guy). Little or big, love comes in different forms and sizes and has the potential to create both moments of simple joy and moments of substantial grief.

Resolution Review and Recalibration

Photo by Estée Janssens on Unsplash

My 2018 resolutions were a bust - I cannot spin it differently (much though I might wish). Since I set both conservative and optimistic goals, I expected to at least reach the moderate goals. Alas, I barely scratched the surface of my intentions. I only excelled at things I do naturally with ease, reading and writing. I wrote every single day of 2018 and read half a dozen books on writing.

My first goal was to attend a writing conference, and while I fulfilled that goal, it left me more distraught than encouraged. I netted three manuscript requests, but ignored one because criticism received at the conference convinced me that the manuscript required further revision. The other requests (for my Probability Code manuscript) led to nothing; although in one case, the editor who requested it then reviewed it as if submitted for her romance imprint instead of her YA imprint.

Every goal aimed at reaching the elusive end of publication. Yet, I didn't really pursue it rigorously. Like many would-be writers, I enjoy talking and reading about writing far more than I enjoy putting my words out there for critique. Emotionally, I allow minor setbacks to block my efforts. Despite reading a book on writing resilience, I did not stay determined.

My biggest failure? I intended to send out ten queries, and I didn't send one. Not one. My gears are always spinning with the idea that the work requires more tweaking, deeper revision. Thus, I am revising three or four manuscripts but never querying. I didn't even glance at the one manuscript I intended to revise (my travel memoir - no longer on my radar).

The biggest accomplishment? I broke out of my self-imposed mold of novel writing, daring to attempt something new. In penning a short story called "Stolen for Good," I attempted and succeeded in writing a surprise ending. I even submitted it to a contest. While it didn't win (it was a highly competitive competition - Glimmer Train), I learned much.

Still, I believe in nothing wasted. Even when tempted to consider myself a hamster on a wheel, I am practicing the trade and putting my butt in the chair, regardless of outcomes. If anything, I think I should take my eyes off the outcomes and simply focus on enjoying the ride. When I allow discouragement over lack of publication to cloud my vision, I lose energy and enjoyment in the writing. Viewing the success of others, I grow discouraged and wish to quit trying. As Theodore Roosevelt observed, "Comparison is the thief of joy." I spend too much time naval-gazing. To accept that I'm a work in progress, I need Jon Accuf's reminder, "Don't compare your beginning to someone else's middle."

For now, I am hard at work researching a fascinating topic. My focus has shifted from fiction to non-fiction, something I never envisioned. I will continue to pursue 2 daily pages of free-association writing and at least a half hour to an hour per day in other writing. I will seek more titles on the craft because I can always stand to improve. After a writing sabbatical and 5 weeks of tithing my talents, I'm ready to recalibrate my efforts, to focus more on the joy of writing than success or failure. I want 2019 to be a year free of assessment. Indeed, I'm more than ready for my creativity to blossom for creativity's sake alone. To hell with platform and publication. Instead of discouragement, I want to regain delight in my writing. To do that, I must stop seeking validation and value the work for myself alone.