This year I haven’t had the chance to read as much as I’d like to, but I am approaching thirty books for the year. Since it’s the end of the year and everyone else is writing year-end and decade-end lists, I thought I’d add my own humble voice to the cacophony. So here, dear reader, are my favorite books of 2009. To clarify, these are the books I read in 2009–not books that were published in 2009. That sort of list would be far too relevant.

Runner-up: The Undertaking by Thomas Lynch. ★★★★ (finished April 18).

I don’t generally go in for nonfiction, but Lynch’s work is thought-provoking and poetic. He is a poet who also runs a cemetery, so death and dying are concepts that he lives with daily. It is no surprise that he has much to say on the subject.  The chapter “Uncle Eddie, Inc.” is a tour-de-force wherein Lynch asks a lot of questions about death, abortion, and suicide:

For if we live in a world where birth is suspect, where the value of of life is relative, and death is welcomed and well regarded, we live in a world vastly more shameful, abundantly sadder, and ever more perilous than all the primitive generations of our species before us who were sufficiently civilized to fill with wonder at the birth of a new life, dance with the living, and weep for the dead.

The book is easy to read, profound, and even funny at times. I got a lot out of it.
10. The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene. ★★★★ (finished April 23).

The Power and the Glory is the tale of a “whiskey priest” in 1930s anti-Catholic Mexico, who is hunted simply for being a priest. The irony (and power) of the book lies in the priest’s struggle to understand his faith vis-a-vis his overwhelming sense of shame. He has to fall to understand grace and love. The next best thing was the way Greene weaves minor characters in the plot throughout the book and then brings them all back in the end, showing how their lives have altered after their encounters with the whiskey priest. It shows the caliber of Greene’s writing ability and vision. This was my second trip through a Greene novel, and I will be back for more.

9.The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle. ★★★★ (December 5).

Having just finished reading Ovid (you’ll notice its absence from this list), I was in the mood for a page turner. I had been meaning to read Doyle for a long time, and I’m glad I spent some time with him and his famous sleuth. No, Baskervilles is not a perfect novel by any means, but it is engaging, gripping and–dare I say it–fun! My only complaint is that Holmes isn’t around enough in this one. The story is always better when Holmes is front and center. There were enough characters to keep one guessing, at least for a little while, and even after you find out who the guilty party is, Doyle has one or two more tricks up his sleeve.

8. A Room with a View by E. M. Forster. ★★★★ 1/2 (March 8).

I remember this book fondly. Room is a terrific novel that is executed extraordinarily well. Forster’s plot is well structured, and his prose–his prose!–is superb. He is able to render scenes, dialogue, and description with equal alacrity and depth. The characters are all very intriguing, especially Lucy, the protagonist. Forster’s stylistic prowess is even more enjoyable because with it he takes the reader to beautiful places (Florence and rural England), and the reader absolutely sees what he evokes. Forster also employs narrational flourishes I’ve never seen before and liked.
All this excellent workmanship carries a simple love triangle plot. Bonus: it’s only 199 pages!

7. The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. ★★★★ 1/2 (August 11).

This book is wonderfully conceived, well written, and enthralling. The time travel element automatically makes a book more challenging to organize and arrange well; Niffenegger orchestrates her novel brilliantly. There are so many beautiful, poignant moments. The relationship between Clare and Henry is always powerfully and movingly evoked. Niffenegger’s style is lush and deep. The characterization is excellent. The plot is complex and gripping. I loved reading this book and was always loath to put it down. There are a few regrettable elements, but overall it is fantastic.

6. The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis. ★★★★★ (June 7).

I read The Imitation for ten months, so I’m afraid I lost a lot of my sense of the totality of the book. I can say that God met me several times in its pages, and what is better than that?It was my devotional reading for most of that time, and it serves that purpose fairly well. There is a special blessing that comes with reading the works of authors from centuries past. Their world was so different from yours, so they have thoughts and ways of putting things that you do not. Thomas à Kempis is supremely devout and humble in his approach to God, which I need a lot more of. I learned a lot from his example and passion for the faith.

5. The Seven Storey Mountain by Thomas Merton. ★★★★★ (July 30).

This will sound weird for nonbelievers, but I reread Merton because God told me to. I didn’t know what to read, so I prayed about it. “Read Thomas Merton,” said the voice in my mind.

“I meant what novel should I read,” I clarified.

“Why did you ask if you weren’t going to listen?” So I read Merton, and I am so glad I did.  This is a powerful memoir recounting Merton’s coming to Catholicism and then a Trappist monastery, but it is also so much more. Merton writes about Spiritual matters with clarity, depth, and power because he knows the Lord God and knows Him well.

More importantly (for me anyway) was that God had a lot to tell me in those pages. I was frustrated by life at the time, and I desperately wanted direction. I remember reading one passage where Merton writes about how God guided him via a path he couldn’t understand so Merton would learn to trust. I knew I was going through exactly the same thing.

4. Perelandra by C. S. Lewis. ★★★★★ (February 28).

Perelandra blindsided me. It is the second in Lewis’ space trilogy, and I definitely did not expect it to be so spectacular. There are two things that make Perelandra exceptional in my view. The first is the world Lewis evokes in the book. It is incredibly creative, well thought-out, and complete. It is also extraordinarily vivid.

The second, and best, aspect of the book is its philosophical and religious engagement. The protagonist, Ransom, travels to Perelandra (Venus) while its still in its Edenic state. He eventually realizes he’s been sent there to keep it from falling into sin. There are several compelling sections where Ransom argues against the Unman about good and evil that held me spellbound. There is also an amazing passage that bridges the gap between Calvinism and Armenianism, which I loved. Lewis has a mind that can grasp at the enormity and complexity of God better than any author I’ve read.

3. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. ★★★★★ (February 18).

Yes, I read it. All of it. War and Peace is renowned as one of the greatest novels for good reason. I was most impressed with the novel’s scope and characterization. This novel is immense, and I’m not talking about pagination only. Tolstoy takes on so many disparate topics and somehow manages to fuse them into a cohesive book. Amazing. As for the people who live in these pages, they are myriad and deep. Sure, there are a few flat characters, but many characters are engaging because they are in flux constantly. You like and dislike the main characters as they change, but they do not bore.

Is every page exciting? Certainly not. Tolstoy goes on about history far too much for my taste, especially at the end. However, the novel is on par with the best books of all time, and it was on my “lifetime reads” list. It’s rewarding to finish a book like that, even if it did take me three months.

2. Slaughterhouse-five by Kurt Vonnegut. ★★★★★ (June 9).

Had it not been for Chambers, this would have been my best read of the year. Vonnegut melds humor, gravitas, entertainment, and meaning in an astounding and complex way. I’ve read nothing like it.

The story is of Billy Pilgrim, a WWII veteran who comes unstuck in time. The narrative jumps around in Billy’s lifespan, and he experiences different moments in his life and jumps to others. Billy’s life is an interesting one: he is in WWII at the bombing of Dresden, gets unstuck in time, is abducted by aliens (the Tralfamadorians) and put in their zoo. Vonnegut uses all these disparate experiences (and some other, more pedestrian ones) to make profound insights and humorous commentary alternately.

Fascinating, funny, engaging, and never dull. I loved it. I wanted to reread it as soon as I turned the final page.

1. My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers. ★★★★★ (still reading).

It is somewhat of a surprise to me that a book of devotions is the best book I’ve read this year, but I couldn’t choose any other. Chambers is my daily companion in my walk with God. He is the sort of companion who keeps saying things I need to hear but don’t want to. He challenges me almost every day. Time and time again, he has convicted me of wrong in my own life, shown me who God is, shed light on complex topics, and given comfort. He is imminently quotable; I’ve underlined practically every other line.

My Utmost came recommended to me by everyone who had ever read it. Now I add my voice to the choir of people who cherish this book. I’ve used Chambers as inspiration for writing in my class, and he has been my masthead quote on this blog several times. I’ll finish the book on December 31, as each day has its own devotion. I know I’ll return to it soon.

And now, one of hundreds of highlighted passages from my copy: “There is only one relationship that matters, and that is your personal relationship to a personal Redeemer and Lord. Let everything else go, but maintain that at all costs, and God will fulfill His purpose through your life. One individual life may be of priceless value to God’s purposes, and yours may be that life.”

There you have it. If you’ve read this entire blog post, I salute you! I hope these recommendations are of use to you, and I look forward to more reading in 2010.

It is no secret that the world and faith often conflict, and it is the same in the realm of literature. Many of the best books humanity has produced have parts in them that run counter to the will of God. Several are written to defy him. Others promote (or at least do not condemn) all sorts of sordid, injurious actions and mindsets. But in the midst of all this darkness, there is dazzling light to be found as well. Sometimes the author plunges her reader into the dark only to bring the reader back out. Plumbing the depths of humanity often brings understanding. All of this is to say that literature is complex and a mixed bag. Although there are passages and entire works that run contrary to the nature of God, it is my job as a Christian reader work out how to react to them.

While I’ve often thought about what a Christian’s relationship to literature should be, reading Lolita really returned the issue to the front of my mind. Just about every novel has characters in it who are guilty of vices (we all are), but Nabokov’s novel is uniquely challenging for me for two reasons. First, pedophilia is an especially revolting transgression; second, the novel is written from Humbert’s perspective, and he constantly tries to persuade the reader that what he did isn’t so bad. At times he is almost convincing. Moments like those made me consider putting down the novel, and I wondered again if there are certain books a Christian should avoid. If so, which? If not, how should the believer approach such books?

The relationship between morality and literature is far from a new issue. Samuel Johnson thought that all reading material ought to both delight and instruct, and much of literary scholarship incorporated that idea for a century or two. Now, of course, the literati glower at any mention of instruction being an important part of reading because it brings up other ugly words like “didacticism” and “close-mindedness.” Worse, it runs counter to the primary literary dogma of our time: it doesn’t encourage diversity! Why? Johnson’s idea is inherently linked with his very strict Protestant ethics, and that’s just not okay.

However, much is lost by repudiating Johnson’s rule entirely. I freely admit that all literature will not conform to Christian ideals; we would be foolish to expect otherwise. Indeed, Johnson’s scruples when it comes to literature are too much even for me (read Rambler 4 sometime). Still, if a book does not impart something to the reader, I submit that said book has failed at least in part. I like to read things just for fun, but if a work is to affect readers in this generation and those to come, it must have something profitable to impart.

Since I expect to find meaning in a critically acclaimed work, I do not read things without interacting with them. Myriad are the books that challenge our perspectives, beliefs, creeds, and observations, and I welcome those books. I should be challenged. I do not know everything. Some works, however, evoke a world or situation that goes too far for me. I try to read with a critical yet open mind regarding these books because I want to get something of value from them if possible, but I approach each read as a Christian, too.

For me, the debate surrounding my choices in reading secular literature* come down to two passages of Scripture. The first is the injunction one finds in Philippians 4:8 to think about things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent and praiseworthy. That is quite a litany of adjectives. I highly doubt that most books I read measure up to that high standard, though every book I’ve read is at least a few of those things. On the other hand, there is 1 Thessalonians 5:21, which reads, “Test everything. Hold on to the good.” This verse has served as my motto in approaching literature. Adjusting a bit, I apply this verse as “Read everything. Hold on to what is good.” If I hear that a book is worth my while to imbibe, I read it, even if it runs counter to my faith. I suppose there are many believers out there who disapprove of this approach (some deplore it), but I have found that this approach has enormous benefits.

One of reading’s most important functions is its capability to expand one’s knowledge of life and permit one to see from another’s viewpoint. Many Christians today suffer from an inability to understand how nonbelievers interpret things. In fact, the increasing polarization of our culture is an enormous and growing threat to our society’s ability to communicate. We need to be able to step outside of ourselves and look at issues from as many sides as we can. This does not mean a Christian should abandon squi’s faith, but one must be willing to appraise what the other side believes, thinks and feels. Literature is a most effective means of drawing one out of one’s self and into the viewpoint of another. Frequently, readers see aspects of existence from a point of view entirely dissimilar to their own. Viewing life through the eyes of murderers, pedophiles, mad people, cheats, liars, adulterers, and all other sorts of scoundrels shows me their humanity. Are they so unlike me? Sure, the vices vary, but I have no leg to stand on if it comes to condemning them. The knowledge I’ve gained from reading these “immoral” books has been invaluable because it helps me better understand others.

The danger of entering into the (fictional) minds of these people is, of course, that one could get sucked in. It’s not a stupid concept. People looking to justify their actions often find vindication in literature (think of Hitler and Nietzsche, for example). I suppose this danger is one of the objections other Christians might raise to my approach to reading. Perhaps they’d allude to the “glove and puddle” concept as well: when you throw a white glove into a dirty puddle, the glove gets dirty—the puddle does not become clean. This odious example would have us believe that purity is inherently fragile, and all contact with the world should be avoided. Is this the gospel we’ve heard? It does not sound like setting your light on a stand so others can see. If Christ has overcome the world, why are so afraid of being tainted? Indeed, darkness flees from the light because it has to, and in Christ, there are many dirty puddles being purified.

Non-Christians reading this post may find it overwhelmingly naive and perhaps prudish. I know this because I’ve been in classes with extremely intelligent and good people who find nothing of worth in Christianity. Morality in literature is most certainly not a literary field of study right now; one would be laughed at if any such suggestion were made. That’s okay. I do not expect to change anyone’s mind regarding squi’s approach to reading. However, I will continue to read in the effort to balance my search for understanding with Christian principles. Dr. Johnson is too severe in his efforts to make literature entirely moral, but there’s something to be gleaned from his ideas yet. Literature ought to delight and instruct, and let the instruction come in as many forms as possible. 

*The reader is to understand that by no means do all works of literary merit take an aggressively anti-Christian stance. Often, the reverse is true; one finds that many books put forward Christian truths under other guises, whether the author knows it or not. This is one of the best reasons to read literature.

As you probably already know, yesterday was Ash Wednesday, which means that Lent is officially upon us again. One of these years, I’d really like to attend and Ash Wednesday service. I think it would be neat to wear the ashes on my head for a day. Anyhoo, once again J and I are participating in the Lenten tradition of changing your life a bit in memory of Jesus’ fasting in the desert. J has decided to abstain from pop this year. I, on the other hand, have decided to add something to my life to celebrate Lent.

I’ve been meaning to start memorizing Scripture for a while now. I know it’s something I should be doing, and there are many times when the few verses I do know have helped me greatly. I’d like to give God more verses to bring to my mind when I’m in need of him. So, I’m going to memorize a verse each week this Lent, and hopefully it will carry on into my regular life and become a habit. Yes, I realize one verse a week isn’t much, but I know it will help. This week I picked John 16:33: “I tell you these things, so that in me you can have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” I love how emphatic and hopeful that last part is.

I hope this Lent will be a frutiful and blessed one for you regardless of your beliefs.

“Some keep the Sabbath going to Church -

I keep it, staying at Home -”

–-Emily Dickinson

Dickinson’s poem has been on my mind a lot recently as I have struggled a lot with going to church. My wife and I have attended three churches regularly in the past few years, but we never felt at home in any of them. When we first arrived in Colorado, we did the usual church search, which was a dispiriting exercise. There were countless churches filled with good people that I absolutely didn’t want to be a part of. One visit was enough. So we bounced around for a while. Right now, we call St. John’s Cathedral our home, but we still don’t attend every week.

What is it about going to church that is so hard? I’m sure the Enemy does not want us to go and works hard to keep us away; sadly, I’m aware of this and still lose the fight. Also, Sunday is the only day J and I are home together for an entire day. We like relaxing together. Additionally, we usually have to run an errand or two on Sunday, and church becomes another thing to get to. We’re tired. On top of all that, our church is still 30 minutes from our house, and we don’t know anyone there. Thus, church attendance is always a battle.

So can and should one keep the Sabbath at home, like Dickinson suggests*? I think the answer is: not solely. What’s missing from a home worship model is fellowship. We are called to be the body of Christ to our neighbor; that’s hard to do when we don’t go out. And there is something invaluable about being in a house of worship with fellow seekers, even if you don’t know them. Church has the additional benefit of providing things that are outside of one’s usual experience: hearing new ideas from the speaker, singing with others, taking communion, etc. Most of all, perhaps, the act of going to church has intrinsic commitment: regardless of what’s happening in my life, I devote this amount of time to being with God in one of his houses.

I’d like to blame my failure to become part of a church community on outside forces, but I know I am at fault. All the factors that work against me going to Sunday service are not insurmountable. The fact is, I don’t go because I’d rather stay home. If I were to invest more time at my church–any church, actually–I would find people to be friends with. I would get to know my church family and settle in. There would be more to be excited for each Sunday. I know this, yet the battle persists.

I need a sense of need. If I am desperate to hear from God, no excuse would be sufficient to keep me away from my church. Hopefully, in this season of Advent, I will rediscover the value of church-going and my own desperate need of the Savior.   

*Dickinson’s ideas about church attendance aren’t surprising considering that she was a recluse. 

Oh crap, here we go. We at Ahab’s Quest generally shy away from discussion of politics for several reasons: there is a myriad of other web sites on which you can find better (and worse) political coverage; we want everyone to feel at home reading our blog regardless of party affiliation; and we are not sure we have the expertise to give you good political fodder. But now, days away from “the most important election EVER”*, we’re weighing in on the one issue that we simply cannot ignore any longer: our frustration and disappointment regarding how the Church is mistreating its own because of politics.

My ire derives from both sides of the political aisle. Let’s start with the left. This election has been fascinating because the Democratic candidate for president has much more sway with Christians than in years past. Barack Obama is an intelligent and magnetic man, and his bid comes at a time when many of the traditionally important Christian issues (e.g. abortion) are on the back burner. I do not object to the choice of candidate but rather the superior attitude I’ve observed in many left-leaning believers. In my observation, people who vote Democrat are prone to assume that everyone votes Democrat (though I’ve met a few Republicans with the same problem). It’s intolerable hubris. Let the world act the way it will; it’s saddening that so many Christians adopt this arrogance. I’ve experienced anti-Republican bias even in my own church. When we talked about “the right candidate,” everyone knew who he was. The damage from this type of prejudice comes about tacitly. The “wink-wink, isn’t the Right stupid?” attitude that exudes from these people is noisome.

Right-leaning Christians are guilty of other faults. Too many believers are unwilling or unable to understand the viewpoints of others. There are two candidates in this election for whom a Christian can vote without remorse. All of the Christians I’ve talked with who are prObama (and I know many) have excellent, thought-out reasons for their choice. Jesus is not running for President, so every person must decide for squiself which candidate aligns most closely with God’s agenda. Worse than this, though, I’ve talked to a few believers who have suggested that Sen. Obama is the antichrist. One person told me Obama might be the antichrist because “somebody has to be.” Of course, that same ridiculous rationale can be used on anyone. What do we gain by making use of this sort of rhetoric? It shows a disturbing willingness to assign one of the most nefariuos labels in existence to a stranger only because of that person’s politics. It’s absurd, stupid, and abominable.

The larger issue, of course, is that Christians trade in their eternal commonalities for temporal differences far too easily. This is one election; four years from now, we’ll vote for a president again. How can we possibly be a united body of Christ when differences of opinion cause such back-biting and vitriol? We must remember our priorities: “I … entreat you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing forbearance to one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Eph 4:1-3). Christians have diversity within the body, and it’s meant to be that way. Sometimes, these differences will result in contrasting opinions. Vote for McCain or Obama as your conscience and mind dictate. Let us respect and love each other enough to appreciate the individuality of each person while remembering that we’re one in Christ. The unbelieving world does not need another reason to detest the Church.

*We will hear this about every election henceforth.

I just finished my second trip through Clive Staples Lewis’ masterpiece The Screwtape Letters. I could write a post on each section, I suppose. The insights, thoughts, and humor Lewis provides are top notch. By shifting the reader’s point of view to that of a demon trying to entice a person, the reader suddenly sees squiself in a new light, which often adds clarity to the murky situations that face us daily.

Although any chapter is worthy of accolades, my favorite is the final one. [Slight spoiler alert!] Wormwood has failed his task, and his patient has died a Christian. Screwtape takes the reader through this moment of hellish failure. Pardon the length of this quote, but it’s worth the time to read it:

As [the patient] saw you [Wormwood], he also saw Them. I know how it was. You reeled back dizzy and blinded, more hurt by them than he had ever been by bombs*. The degradation of it!–that this thing of earth and slime could stand upright and converse with spirits before whom you, a spirit, could only cower. Perhaps you had hoped that the awe and strangeness of it would dash his joy. But that is the cursed thing; the gods are strange to mortal eyes, and yet they are not strange. He had no faintest conception till that very hour of how they would look, and even doubted their existence. But when he saw them he knew that he had always known them and realised what part each one of them had played at many an hour in his life when he had supposed himself alone, so that now he could say to them, one by one, not “Who are you?” but “So it was you all the time.” All that they were and said at this meeting woke memories. The dim consciousness of friends about him which had haunted his solitudes from infancy was now at last explained; that central music in every pure experience which had always just evaded memory was now at last recovered. Recognition made him free of their company almost before the limbs of his corpse became quiet. Only you were left outside.

He saw not only Them; he saw Him. This animal, this thing begotten in a bed, could look on Him. What is blinding, suffocating fire to you, is now cool light to him, is clarity itself, and wears the form of a Man. You would like, if you could, to interpret the patient’s prostration in the Presence, his self-abhorrence and utter knowledge of his sins (yes, Wormwood, a clearer knowledge even than yours) on the analogy of your own choking and paralysing sensations when you encounter the deadly air that breathes from the heart of Heaven. But it’s all nonsense. Pains he may still have to encounter, but they embrace those pains. They would not barter them for any earthly pleasure. All the delights of sense, or heart, or intellect, with which you could once have tempted him, even the delights of virtue itself, now seem to him in comparison but as the half nauseous attractions of a raddled harlot would seem to a man who hears that his true beloved whom he has loved all his life and whom he had believed to be dead is alive and even now at the door… (173-175)

Among the many admirable qualities of Lewis’ writing is his spellbinding ability to make me desire heaven. Whether it’s Reepicheep’s voyage to Aslan’s Country in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, the “Further up and further in!” of The Last Battle, or pretty much all of The Great Divorce, Lewis evokes a heaven for which I long. Even this tiny glimpse of Glory sets my heart ablaze. Screwtape is a tremendous work. I hope you read it and enjoy it as much as I do.

*Wormwood’s patient dies in a bombing raid during World War II.

Work cited: Lewis, C. S. The Screwtape Letters. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 2001.

I confess that I have not read nearly as much Christian literature as secular lit (though the latter can also be the former), so I’m no expert in this genre. I’m positive there are scores of superb Christian books, but I’ve encountered only a few. These are not books that are simply “good,” i.e. I’m pleased that I read them; they are life-altering volumes: The Complete Green Letters, Mere Christianity, The Screwtape Letters, Ragamuffin Gospel, and now The Normal Christian Life. I first encountered Nee’s name in Stanford’s Green Letters in a few citations. Nee also came recommended from Dan, at whose house I first perused it. I am thankful to have it touch my life.

The title of the book warrants its own discussion because it seems slightly misleading. The normal Christian life as Nee describes it is mostly different than the lives of fellow believers and my own. This, however, is not due to unsound doctrine or thinking on Nee’s part, but rather due to the failure of Christians to enter fully into the life to which God has called us. The life of the believer as Nee writes it is full of joy, power, faith, and extraordinary circumstances, and it’s all a part of the Lord’s plan for our lives (cf. John 10:10).

The Normal Christian Life takes the reader through what God has done for every Christian and what it means in practice. Like Stanford, Nee goes over the ground upon which the believer stands in order to enable spiritual growth, and that ground is always and only Christ: “It will help us greatly, and save us from much confusion, if we keep constantly before us this fact, that God will answer all our questions in one way and one way only, namely, by showing us more of his Son” (12). Also like Stanford, Nee uses Romans as his touchstone for the walk of faith: knowing the truth, the failure of the flesh to carry out God’s will, the work of the cross, and the progressive formation of the Christ-life in every believer. Amazing stuff.

There are many things that make Nee a special writer. First, he has an uncanny ability to give illustrative points. He is a master of parables. The stories he tells always get at a deeper truth while making that truth accessible. I valued his different viewpoint also. Watchman Nee is from China, and I found his Eastern life and heritage to be invaluable assets to this book. I’ve read countless books for Westerners by Westerners; reading the work of a man from a different side of the world showed me how God is the same God for everyone, yet he also relates to us as individuals. Third, Nee is committed to the Lord’s work and knows the Bible. I see it on every page. Additionally, Nee writes unfailingly lucid prose about subjects that are mysterious and sometimes baffling.

The Normal Christian Life also helped me understand many Biblical tenets that I had previously been puzzled by. Nee has the best explanation of the following ideas that I’ve encountered: original sin, the Garden of Eden, being grafted into Judaism, the Holy Spirit’s work, speaking in tongues, what purpose the Law serves, how the flesh is set against the spirit, the Church as the body of Christ, and many others I’m forgetting. Looking at the pages in my copy, there are few pages that aren’t marked. I almost began it again immediately after finishing.

Once again I feel unable to summarize such a powerful and insightful work that addresses so many aspects of life in the Spirit. I could cite any number of passages that opened my eyes, helped me understand spiritual principles, and provided a deeper understanding of the Lord. I’ll settle for these random few:

“The common conception of sanctification is that every item of the life should be holy; but that is not holiness, it is the fruit of holiness. Holiness is Christ” (182).

“The sooner we too give up trying the better, for if we monopolize the task, there is left no room for the Holy Spirit. But if we say, ‘I’ll not do it; I’ll trust thee to do it for me,’ then we shall find that a Power stronger than ourselves is carrying us through” (166).

“Do you know, there are resources enough in your own heart to meet the demand of every circumstance in which you will ever find yourself? Do you know there is power enough there to move the city in which you live? Do you know there is power enough to shake the universe? Let me tell you once more [...] You who have been born again of the Spirit of God–you carry God in your heart!” (142).

“‘You do not need to pray to the Lord for anything; you merely need your eyes opened to see that he has done it all’” (59).

“Never look at yourself as though you were not in Christ. Look at Christ, and see yourself in him” (85).

This is a moving and profound volume in which my Creator and Savior spoke to me almost every time I opened the cover. I can give no better recommendation than that. I hope you find it to be as valuable for you if you read it.

I didn’t need any further proof that my church is really cool, but last week Flatirons gave me some anyway. While J and I were taking a much needed mini-break in Breckenridge, the Flatirons worship team played Dave Matthews Band’s “Where Are You Going?” for the weekend services. How cool is that? This isn’t the first time our church has used contemporary songs to highlight a theme* in the service. We’ve heard “Rocket Man” and “How to Save a Life” among others, but nothing is as cool as going to church and hearing your favorite band! That is, it would have been cool had I been there.

You can watch the video of the service here. The message was good as well, if you feel like listening to it. If you want to watch the DMB cover, it’s a couple songs in immediately past the announcements video. My church is awesome!

*In case you wondered, they used the lyrics “where you are is where I want to be” as an echo of our desire to do God’s work and be wherever he is.

I’ve stopped drinking pop for Lent this year. If you live on either coast, that means I’m having no soda; if you’re from the South, Coke is off-limits for me. For most of my life, I’ve not been into Christian tradition nor the Church calender. In high school around this time of year, I abstained from abstaining because I felt that being different in my Catholic school was an important part of my non-denominational status.

However, I’ve slowly reconsidered my anti-tradition stance, and this isn’t the first time I’ve made use of Lent to sacrifice something, small though it is. I like pop, especially Vault, and I’ve grown accustomed to having some a couple times per week. Now that I’ve given it up, I find that I think about drinking pop a lot more, so the reminder function of Lent is really working for me.

I don’t know that I’ll always give up something between Ash Wednesday and Easter, but it’s neat this year. Maybe I won’t even want pop when Easter arrives; I’ve gone a year without having any before, and that felt good for some reason (it burned when I drank some again). In any case, it feels good to be a part of the Lenten tradition for once. Man, I really miss Vault though…especially the red kind.