At some point I wandered down to the bookshelves in our basement. I noticed this Charles Dickens book propped up against the top shelf (I think it was a gift from my mother-in-law after she learned of my love of Dickens). This was a lovely retelling of the life of Jesus Christ. How thrilling to view the pages of Dickens's actual manuscript, written for his children in 1849 and never intended for public consumption! Indeed, only after his son, Henry, died did other family members allow publication. While it was a little weak on theology (presents Jesus as a good person and emphasizes being good over the gift of salvation through Christ's sacrifice on our behalf), I loved this beautifully done Thomas Nelson gift book. Dickens was not only a brilliant writer but also a devoted father who intensely desired his children to know about the Savior (not necessarily to know his saving grace, but to know who he was and emulate his character).
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