This week I've stumbled upon several interesting reviews and interviews:
The Hole in our Holiness
The first, a review of Kevin DeYoung's The Hole in our Holiness. I haven't yet read the book, but have read several other by this author, and am looking forward to DeYoung's new title. Christianity Today is publishing a four part series of reviews. Mark Labberton composed the second of these reviews, saying,
"DeYoung examines various facets of the biblical call to holiness and considers some of the strongest voices for holy living within his own Reformed tradition. He writes with theological conviction and passion, laying out a case for the recovery of faithful character and piety as one of the highest priorities of Christian pastors, leaders, and laity alike. Surely DeYoung is right about how needed holy living is among God's people, because it is both our calling (it's intrinsic to identification with our holy God) and our mission (it's essential as an authentication of our new life in Christ)."
Read the rest of the review here.
The Creedal Imperative
Also in Christianity Today is a review of Carl Trueman's book The Credal Imperative. Fred Sanders reviews the book, pointing out Trueman's advocacy of creed's as a counter-cultural expression of faith.
"Trueman builds up this biblical case for creeds, layers over it the historical case from both the patristic church and confessional Protestantism, and puts the burden of proof on what he calls the "'No Creed but the Bible!' brigade." Given this biblical and historical trajectory of churches using creeds, "the question is not so much 'Should we use them?' as 'Why would we not use them?'"
Trueman acknowledges that there is a case to be made against creedalism, but he thinks that case is spurious because it is entirely cultural: The spirit of our age ignores history, distrusts institutions, values emotions more than words, and hankers after novelty. For moderns, the loftiest goal is to be authentic, to speak spontaneously from the heart, giving voice to unique insights from our own points of view. For this mindset, the idea of reciting a set of ancient words in public agreement with a group is, if the word be allowed, anathema.
As a result, anti-creedal evangelicalism is, ironically, "not countercultural, but culturally enslaved." Trueman is passionate and eloquent about how creeds enable churches to dig in their heels and stand with the great tradition, pushing against the modern temperament."
Read the rest of the review here.
Why You Should Read Chesterton
Trevin Wax has included several interesting author interviews on his blog in recent weeks. Most recently, he interviewed Kevin Belmonte. Belmonte compiled the book A Year with G. K. Chesterton: 365 Days of Wisdom, Wit, and Wonder (Thomas Nelson, 2012). I have only read one of Chesterton's books, Orthodoxy, and the post introduced me to several other titles.
In the post, Belmonte shares a number of insights from Chesterton's life, as well as key quotations from his work. He writes of Chesterton,
"When he most greatly needed to make sense of life, that shard of truth returned to Chesterton. A scene from a much-loved children story rallied to his aid. It gave him courage to believe. He began to see the world, once more, like a great tapestry woven by the Master Story-teller. He followed the thread of thanks he re-discovered to back the light—to faith."
Read the full post here.
Showing posts with label Links. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Links. Show all posts
28 November 2012
27 November 2012
Her.meneutics: Holy Homemaking: A Response from Rachel Held Evans
A few weeks ago I reviewed the book A Year of Biblical Womanhood by Rachel Held Evans. The book has been widely debated, and as I noted in my review, though I didn't agree with everything in the book (particularly the hermeneutical approach), Evans nonetheless says many valuable things about living biblically in the modern world.
The following blog post by Evans in Christianity Today addresses one fault often found with her book, as some reviewers take issue with the fact that she may seem to undervalue the role of homemaking. She writes,
Another rumor you may have heard is that the book disparages homemaking. Several readers inferred this from Jen Pollock Michel's recent Her.meneutics article, "What You Don't Know about Complementarian Women," but nothing could be further from the truth.
In A Year of Biblical Womanhood, I devote an entire chapter to homemaking. As I refocused on my own homemaking skills (or lack thereof!), I confess at one point that "it was out of ignorance and insecurity that I ever looked down my nose at women who make homemaking their full-time occupation.” Keeping the home, I say, “requires creativity, problem solving, innovation, and resourcefulness.”
The chapter concludes with the following reflection. As you’ll see, it’s in full agreement with Michel’s view that keeping a home is sacred and dignifying work:
When Brother Lawrence sought sanctuary from the tumults of 17th-century France, he entered a Carmelite monastery in Paris, where his lack of education relegated him to kitchen duty. Charged with tending to the abbey’s most mundane chores, Brother Lawrence nevertheless earned a reputation among his fellow monks for exuding a contagious sense of joy and peace as he went about his work—so much so that after his death, they compiled the few maxims and letters and interviews he left behind into a work that would become a classic Christian text: The Practice of the Presence of God.
“The time of business,” explained Brother Lawrence, “does not with me differ from the time of prayer; and in the noise and clatter of my kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess God in as great tranquility as if I were upon my knees at the blessed sacrament.”
For Brother Lawrence, God’s presence permeated everything—from the pots and pans in the kitchen sink to the water and soap that washed them. Every act of faithfulness in these small tasks communicated his love for God and desire to live in perpetual worship. “It is enough for me to pick up but a straw from the ground for the love of God,” he said.
After reading Brother Lawrence, I tried to go about my housework with a little more mindfulness—listening to each rhythmic swishing of the broom, feeling the warm water rush down my arm and off my fingers as I scrubbed potatoes, savoring the scent of clean laundry fresh out of the dryer, delighting in the sight of all the colorful herbs and vegetables and cheeses on my countertop. And sure enough, I found myself connecting to that same presence that I encountered during contemplative prayer, the presence that reminded me that the roots of my spirit extended deep into the ground. I got less done when I worked with mindfulness, but, somehow, I felt more in control.
I get the sense that many in the contemporary biblical womanhood movement feel that the tasks associated with homemaking have been so marginalized in our culture that it’s up to them to restore the sacredness of keeping the home. This is a noble goal indeed, and one around which all people of faith can rally. But in our efforts to celebrate and affirm God’s presence in the home, we should be wary of elevating the vocation of homemaking above all others by insinuating that for women, God’s presence is somehow restricted to that sphere.
If God is the God of all pots and pans, then He is also the God of all shovels and computers and paints and assembly lines and executive offices and classrooms. Peace and joy belong not to the woman who finds the right vocation, but to the woman who finds God in any vocation, who looks for the divine around every corner.
Read the rest of the post here:
Her.meneutics: Holy Homemaking: A Response from Rachel Held Evans
For my review of the book, click here
The following blog post by Evans in Christianity Today addresses one fault often found with her book, as some reviewers take issue with the fact that she may seem to undervalue the role of homemaking. She writes,
Another rumor you may have heard is that the book disparages homemaking. Several readers inferred this from Jen Pollock Michel's recent Her.meneutics article, "What You Don't Know about Complementarian Women," but nothing could be further from the truth.
In A Year of Biblical Womanhood, I devote an entire chapter to homemaking. As I refocused on my own homemaking skills (or lack thereof!), I confess at one point that "it was out of ignorance and insecurity that I ever looked down my nose at women who make homemaking their full-time occupation.” Keeping the home, I say, “requires creativity, problem solving, innovation, and resourcefulness.”
The chapter concludes with the following reflection. As you’ll see, it’s in full agreement with Michel’s view that keeping a home is sacred and dignifying work:
When Brother Lawrence sought sanctuary from the tumults of 17th-century France, he entered a Carmelite monastery in Paris, where his lack of education relegated him to kitchen duty. Charged with tending to the abbey’s most mundane chores, Brother Lawrence nevertheless earned a reputation among his fellow monks for exuding a contagious sense of joy and peace as he went about his work—so much so that after his death, they compiled the few maxims and letters and interviews he left behind into a work that would become a classic Christian text: The Practice of the Presence of God.
“The time of business,” explained Brother Lawrence, “does not with me differ from the time of prayer; and in the noise and clatter of my kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess God in as great tranquility as if I were upon my knees at the blessed sacrament.”
For Brother Lawrence, God’s presence permeated everything—from the pots and pans in the kitchen sink to the water and soap that washed them. Every act of faithfulness in these small tasks communicated his love for God and desire to live in perpetual worship. “It is enough for me to pick up but a straw from the ground for the love of God,” he said.
After reading Brother Lawrence, I tried to go about my housework with a little more mindfulness—listening to each rhythmic swishing of the broom, feeling the warm water rush down my arm and off my fingers as I scrubbed potatoes, savoring the scent of clean laundry fresh out of the dryer, delighting in the sight of all the colorful herbs and vegetables and cheeses on my countertop. And sure enough, I found myself connecting to that same presence that I encountered during contemplative prayer, the presence that reminded me that the roots of my spirit extended deep into the ground. I got less done when I worked with mindfulness, but, somehow, I felt more in control.
I get the sense that many in the contemporary biblical womanhood movement feel that the tasks associated with homemaking have been so marginalized in our culture that it’s up to them to restore the sacredness of keeping the home. This is a noble goal indeed, and one around which all people of faith can rally. But in our efforts to celebrate and affirm God’s presence in the home, we should be wary of elevating the vocation of homemaking above all others by insinuating that for women, God’s presence is somehow restricted to that sphere.
If God is the God of all pots and pans, then He is also the God of all shovels and computers and paints and assembly lines and executive offices and classrooms. Peace and joy belong not to the woman who finds the right vocation, but to the woman who finds God in any vocation, who looks for the divine around every corner.
Read the rest of the post here:
Her.meneutics: Holy Homemaking: A Response from Rachel Held Evans
For my review of the book, click here
20 November 2012
Links: From Scroll to Screen
Though many articles have been published in recent years about the transition from paper books to increased e-reading, this one in the New York times is one of the most interesting I've read. In it, Lev Grossman writes about the major transitions in the technology of reading: the development of the codex, and the development of e-reading platforms. The way in which the form of the book influences reading is a major theme in his article: the codex allows for a certain type of reading- moving from section to section in a single work- that is more difficult with digital documents (not to mention, with a scroll). He writes,
"But so far the great e-book debate has barely touched on the most important feature that the codex introduced: the nonlinear reading that so impressed St. Augustine. If the fable of the scroll and codex has a moral, this is it. We usually associate digital technology with nonlinearity, the forking paths that Web surfers beat through the Internet’s underbrush as they click from link to link. But e-books and nonlinearity don’t turn out to be very compatible. Trying to jump from place to place in a long document like a novel is painfully awkward on an e-reader, like trying to play the piano with numb fingers. You either creep through the book incrementally, page by page, or leap wildly from point to point and search term to search term. It’s no wonder that the rise of e-reading has revived two words for classical-era reading technologies: scroll and tablet. That’s the kind of reading you do in an e-book."
Read the rest of the article from the New York Times here.
"But so far the great e-book debate has barely touched on the most important feature that the codex introduced: the nonlinear reading that so impressed St. Augustine. If the fable of the scroll and codex has a moral, this is it. We usually associate digital technology with nonlinearity, the forking paths that Web surfers beat through the Internet’s underbrush as they click from link to link. But e-books and nonlinearity don’t turn out to be very compatible. Trying to jump from place to place in a long document like a novel is painfully awkward on an e-reader, like trying to play the piano with numb fingers. You either creep through the book incrementally, page by page, or leap wildly from point to point and search term to search term. It’s no wonder that the rise of e-reading has revived two words for classical-era reading technologies: scroll and tablet. That’s the kind of reading you do in an e-book."
Read the rest of the article from the New York Times here.
08 November 2012
Links: The Legacy of Flannery O’Connor: A Conversation with Jonathan Rogers
Trevin Wax has posted an interview with Jonathan Rogers about the legacy of Flannery O'Conner. Rogers is the author of The Terrible Speed of Mercy: A Spiritual Biography of Flannery O’Connor. The interview addresses the impact that O'Connor's illness had on her writing, the way in which racial issues impact her writing, and the sacramental nature of her works. Below is a portion of the interview.
Trevin Wax: O’Connor was a devout Catholic who saw the Eucharist as the central and most profound aspect of Christian worship. How did the sacramental vision she inherited from the Catholic Church impact her view of the world, and Southern Protestants in particular?
Jonathan Rogers: O’Connor once wrote,
“The writer should never be ashamed of staring. There is nothing that does not require his attention.”
She was making a theological statement. Everything deserves our attention because the world of human experience is shot through with meaning.
That’s the sacramental vision – the idea that ultimate meaning doesn’t just live off in some Platonic ideal that we strain toward “spiritually,” but that God reveals Himself to us, does His work on us, through the concrete facts of the material world. For that reason, the artist has an obligation to depict the world that she sees, the way that she sees it. It is not her job to clean anything up or tie up loose ends or offer simplified answers to complicated questions. It is her job only to portray what she has seen in the world God has made.
All Christians agree, of course, that God reveals himself through the world around us. In that broad sense, all Christians have a sacramental vision.
But O’Connor, as a Catholic, was much more comfortable with mystery than most Protestants tend to be. She wrote:
“The type of mind that can understand good fiction is not necessarily the educated mind, but it is at all times the kind of mind that is willing to have its sense of mystery deepened by contact with reality, and its sense of reality deepened by contact with mystery.”
We Protestants aren’t looking to inhabit mysteries; we’re looking for explanations, solutions, household hints. Just stroll through a Christian bookstore. Seven Steps to This, Ten Steps to That, Your Best Life Now! It’s all very pragmatic and solution-oriented, thoroughly modern and slickly marketed. The modern/post-modern impulse is an impulse toward demystification, and American Protestantism is right in the middle of it.
O’Connor’s sacramental vision frees the Christian writer from the tyranny of “edification.” We assume that the Christian writer’s job is to edify the reader – which is true enough, I suppose – but we have such a narrow definition of edification.
What passes for edification is, to borrow a term from O’Connor, “Instant Uplift.” It doesn’t invite us into a mystery. It’s “safe for the whole family,” as the billboards for the Christian radio stations say. I don’t know that the Bible is safe for the whole family. It’s hard to imagine Christian bookstores stocking a book so wild and ragged and mysterious as the Bible if it weren’t the Bible.
Click below to read the full post.
The Legacy of Flannery O’Connor: A Conversation with Jonathan Rogers
Trevin Wax: O’Connor was a devout Catholic who saw the Eucharist as the central and most profound aspect of Christian worship. How did the sacramental vision she inherited from the Catholic Church impact her view of the world, and Southern Protestants in particular?
Jonathan Rogers: O’Connor once wrote,
“The writer should never be ashamed of staring. There is nothing that does not require his attention.”
She was making a theological statement. Everything deserves our attention because the world of human experience is shot through with meaning.
That’s the sacramental vision – the idea that ultimate meaning doesn’t just live off in some Platonic ideal that we strain toward “spiritually,” but that God reveals Himself to us, does His work on us, through the concrete facts of the material world. For that reason, the artist has an obligation to depict the world that she sees, the way that she sees it. It is not her job to clean anything up or tie up loose ends or offer simplified answers to complicated questions. It is her job only to portray what she has seen in the world God has made.
All Christians agree, of course, that God reveals himself through the world around us. In that broad sense, all Christians have a sacramental vision.
But O’Connor, as a Catholic, was much more comfortable with mystery than most Protestants tend to be. She wrote:
“The type of mind that can understand good fiction is not necessarily the educated mind, but it is at all times the kind of mind that is willing to have its sense of mystery deepened by contact with reality, and its sense of reality deepened by contact with mystery.”
We Protestants aren’t looking to inhabit mysteries; we’re looking for explanations, solutions, household hints. Just stroll through a Christian bookstore. Seven Steps to This, Ten Steps to That, Your Best Life Now! It’s all very pragmatic and solution-oriented, thoroughly modern and slickly marketed. The modern/post-modern impulse is an impulse toward demystification, and American Protestantism is right in the middle of it.
O’Connor’s sacramental vision frees the Christian writer from the tyranny of “edification.” We assume that the Christian writer’s job is to edify the reader – which is true enough, I suppose – but we have such a narrow definition of edification.
What passes for edification is, to borrow a term from O’Connor, “Instant Uplift.” It doesn’t invite us into a mystery. It’s “safe for the whole family,” as the billboards for the Christian radio stations say. I don’t know that the Bible is safe for the whole family. It’s hard to imagine Christian bookstores stocking a book so wild and ragged and mysterious as the Bible if it weren’t the Bible.
Click below to read the full post.
The Legacy of Flannery O’Connor: A Conversation with Jonathan Rogers
30 October 2012
Links: Why It Might be Helpful to Read a Really Bad Book
As an avid reader, I've met my share of bad books. I find myself wondering to give up early on the book, while mentally trying to answer the argument being made. Occasionally, I've wondered if I should tag my "Reading Logs" with not recommended labels. Though some books should not be read, Aaron Armstrong lists four advantages to reading (some) bad books:
1. Reading a bad book forces you to think critically.
When you find yourself reading a bad book, you can’t be complacent and let content wash over you (not that you should do that with any book, but hopefully you know what I mean). A bad book (especially the theologically and philosophically challenged ones) can help sharpen your thinking and keep you better attuned the truth.
2. Reading a bad book reminds you it’s okay to stop reading.
There’s nothing that says you have to read to the end with a really bad book and you’re not going to win a medal because you finished one.
3. Reading a bad book reminds you that no one is beyond error.
One of the unique dangers we face as Christians in the west is fandom—we can too easily elevate pastors, teachers and authors and forget they are just as fallible as the rest of us. Bad books help us remember that those of us who have the privilege to occasionally write books shouldn’t be blindly followed.
4. Reading a bad book makes you appreciate good ones all the more.
Immediately after finishing the book described above, I started another book on the same subject that was a breath of fresh air. Reading a bad book helps you appreciate what you assume when you read a lot of good ones. Not everyone writes well. Despite what some might tell you, not everyone can. Well-written, theologically sound, engaging books… these are a gift that we ought not take for granted.
Click to read the full post
1. Reading a bad book forces you to think critically.
When you find yourself reading a bad book, you can’t be complacent and let content wash over you (not that you should do that with any book, but hopefully you know what I mean). A bad book (especially the theologically and philosophically challenged ones) can help sharpen your thinking and keep you better attuned the truth.
2. Reading a bad book reminds you it’s okay to stop reading.
There’s nothing that says you have to read to the end with a really bad book and you’re not going to win a medal because you finished one.
3. Reading a bad book reminds you that no one is beyond error.
One of the unique dangers we face as Christians in the west is fandom—we can too easily elevate pastors, teachers and authors and forget they are just as fallible as the rest of us. Bad books help us remember that those of us who have the privilege to occasionally write books shouldn’t be blindly followed.
4. Reading a bad book makes you appreciate good ones all the more.
Immediately after finishing the book described above, I started another book on the same subject that was a breath of fresh air. Reading a bad book helps you appreciate what you assume when you read a lot of good ones. Not everyone writes well. Despite what some might tell you, not everyone can. Well-written, theologically sound, engaging books… these are a gift that we ought not take for granted.
Click to read the full post
27 October 2012
Links: Hobbits, Hot Chocolate, & The Bookshelf Giveaway
This looks like an interesting reading group:
Hobbits, Hot Chocolate, & The Bookshelf Giveaway
Two weeks from today on Monday, November 5th, our Great Hobbit Read Along Adventure begins! We’ll cover two or three chapters of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien each week for five weeks, ending the first week of December, just before the release of the movie version by Peter Jackson. We hope it will be an exciting adventure for individuals, families and youth groups who choose to join us, with insights from a number of Christian authors and cultural commentators to help you get more from your reading.
Don’t have time for a read along right now? That’s ok, too. We think you’ll still enjoy the insights from our guests.
Hobbits, Hot Chocolate, & The Bookshelf Giveaway
Two weeks from today on Monday, November 5th, our Great Hobbit Read Along Adventure begins! We’ll cover two or three chapters of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien each week for five weeks, ending the first week of December, just before the release of the movie version by Peter Jackson. We hope it will be an exciting adventure for individuals, families and youth groups who choose to join us, with insights from a number of Christian authors and cultural commentators to help you get more from your reading.
Don’t have time for a read along right now? That’s ok, too. We think you’ll still enjoy the insights from our guests.
21 August 2012
My Top 5 Books On Special Needs | Christianity Today
Amy Julia Becker, author of A Good and Perfect Gift has compiled a list of five recommended books on special needs.
Her list includes the following titles:
The Bible, Disability, and the Church: A New Vision of the People of God by Amos Yong
The Violent Bear it Away by Flannery O'Connor
Living Gently in a Violent World: The Prophetic Witness of Weakness by Stanley Hauerwas and Jean Vanier
Dancing with Max: A Mother and Son Who Broke Free by Emily Colson
My Top 5 Books On Special Needs | Christianity Today
Her list includes the following titles:
The Bible, Disability, and the Church: A New Vision of the People of God by Amos Yong
The Violent Bear it Away by Flannery O'Connor
Living Gently in a Violent World: The Prophetic Witness of Weakness by Stanley Hauerwas and Jean Vanier
Dancing with Max: A Mother and Son Who Broke Free by Emily Colson
For more information, view her post at the link below:
My Top 5 Books On Special Needs | Christianity Today
20 July 2012
Summer Reading
Christianity Today's Her.meneutics blog recently posted some "mini-reviews" of suggested summer reading. Most of the titles were new to me, but many looked quite interesting. The recommended titles include fiction, non-fiction, and some classic works.
Get Moving: What are you Reading This Summer?
Get Moving: What are you Reading This Summer?
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