Tag Archives: Christian nonfiction

Review: The Gospel Comes with a House Key

Posted on by
7

In Rosaria Butterfield’s book, The Gospel Comes with a House Key, she advocates for “radically ordinary hospitality.”

For a bit of background, her first book, The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert, tells how she, as an atheist, leftist, feminist, lesbian professor who hated Christians, ended up becoming one. A major tool in her conversion was a pastor who contacted her and invited her to dinner with him and his wife. They didn’t attack her or argue with her–they just discussed their mutual views. She spent two years meeting with them and studying Scripture before setting foot in a church. God slowly transformed her thinking and then her life.

Also, hospitality was a big part of the LGBTQ+ community she had been a part of. Many lost family and friends when they “came out” as gay, and they became family for each other. She saw how hospitality can build bridges and bind people together in the Christian community as well.

She defines “radically ordinary hospitality” as “using your Christian home in a daily way that seeks to make strangers neighbors, and neighbors family of God. It brings glory to God, serves others, and lives out the gospel in word and deed” (p. 30).

“Ordinary hospitality is the hands and feet of Jesus, and it holds people together with letters to prison or hugs. Hospitality reaches across worldview to be the bridge of gospel grace” (p. 208).

The author combines memoir with instruction. She makes several good points, among them:

  • “Those who live out radically ordinary hospitality see their homes not as theirs at all but as God’s gift to use for the furtherance of his kingdom” (p. 11).
  • “The truly hospitable aren’t embarrassed to keep friendships with people who are different. They don’t buy the world’s bunk about this. They know that there is a difference between acceptance and approval, and they courageously accept and respect people who think differently from them. They don’t worry that others will misinterpret their friendship. Jesus dined with sinners, but he didn’t sin with sinners. Jesus lived in the world, but he didn’t live like the world” (p. 13).
  • “Where else but a Christian home should neighbors go in times of unprecedented crisis? Where else is it safe to be vulnerable, scared, lost, hopeless?” (p. 19).
  • “Radically ordinary hospitality is this: using your Christian home in a daily way that seeks to make strangers neighbors, and neighbors family of God. It brings glory to God, serves others, and lives out the gospel in word and deed” (p. 30).
  • “The Christian home is the place where we bring the church to the people as we seek to lock arms together” (p. 32).
  • “Christian hospitality cares for the things that our neighbors care about. Esteeming others more highly than ourselves means nothing less. It means starting where you are and looking around for who needs you. It means communicating Christian love in word and deed. It means making yourself trustworthy enough to bear burdens of real life and real problems” (p. 166).
  • “Hospitality shares what there is; that’s all. It’s not entertainment. It’s not supposed to be” (p. 216).

Rosaria shares many examples mainly from her own family, but also from others. One story woven throughout the book is that of a reclusive neighbor named Hank. It took months of friendly overtures, short encounters, and befriending his dog before he opened up to their family to any degree. And then he was arrested for operating a meth lab in the basement of his house. The Butterfields continued to pray for him, write to him, send books as allowed by the prison, and send pictures colored by the children.

One area of hospitality I hadn’t considered was how befriending such people might tarnish one’s own reputation. When Hank was arrested, some of the neighbors assumed the Butterfields had to have known what he was up to (they didn’t). As mentioned above, Jesus was known as the “friend of sinners” and scandalized the Pharisees by eating with them.

Another topic I had never connected with hospitality was the area of church discipline. She tells of a season in their church when two men were outed for committing grievous sexual sin. One repented, the other did not. When someone persists in unrepented sin, fellowship with them has to be broken–but the point is not to ostracize them, but to bring them to repentance and reconciliation.

We’ve known of situations in other churches where a man has preyed on a woman he was not married to or on a teen. When the situation came to light, it was hushed up lest there be a scandal, and the victim was urged to forgive. But no counsel or comfort was given to the victim. Plus there was no thought of future victims if men like this were not dealt with. It’s much more scandalous to avoid dealing with sin like this rather than to handle it in a biblical way.

Back to Rosaria’s book: there was much to convict me. This is an area where I have failed many times over.

However, there were also aspects of the book I disagreed with. The Butterfields have neighbors and others in their home most nights of the week–in fact, she said it’s unusual to have dinner with just their family. That’s fine if that is how the Lord has led them, but there’s nothing in the Bible that says every dinner needs to include guests. There are times you need to be with just your family to minister to them.

Plus, all her examples seem to be really big. In sharing examples of other people’s hospitality, she mentioned one woman who liked crafts, so she invited some neighbors over to work on projects while they memorized Scripture. She ended up with fifteen ladies coming regularly. Again, that’s fine–in fact, that’s wonderful. But hospitality doesn’t always have to be a big group. It can involve one other person. In fact, some people are less likely to open up in a group setting.

She says her home looks on the outside like a “Christian commune. And we do not believe that this is excessive. We believe this is what the Bible calls normal” (p. 34). I disagree. There was a time in the early church when “all who believed were together and had all things in common” (Acts 2:44), but this is descriptive, not prescriptive. It’s the only place something like this is mentioned. The Bible tells us to welcome the stranger and exercise hospitality, and to be open-hearted and open-handed with each other, but it doesn’t tell us to run communes.

She says things like being a barista and having an Air B&B are “counterfeit hospitality,” but she doesn’t explain why she thinks that.–maybe because people are being paid for those services? I don’t know baristas–I’m happy with my instant Taster’s Choice decaf at home–but a waiter or waitress can either be hospitable or detached as they serve. I think being kind and welcoming in one’s job counts as being hospitable even if one is getting paid.

Some of her statements border on arrogance, like this one: “If Mary Magdalene had written a book about hospitality for this post-Christian world, it would read like this one” (p. 14).

And, her tone comes across so strong sometimes that it’s off-putting.

However I think she does have some important things to say about exercising hospitality. As I said, I was convicted many times over. I loved some of her summations:

Imagine a world where neighbors said that Christians throw the best parties in town and are the go-to people for big problems and issues, without being invited.

Imagine if the children in the neighborhood knew that the Christians were safe people to ask for help . . .

Imagine a world where every Christian knew his neighbors sufficiently to be of earthly and spiritual good (pp. 218-219).

(I often link up with some of these bloggers.)

Review: Rebel With a Cause

Posted on by
Rebel with a Cause

Franklin Graham’s autobiography, Rebel With a Cause, was not on my radar. However, someone gave it to me. I don’t always pray about what book to read next, but when I did a few weeks ago, I couldn’t get this book off my mind.

Franklin Graham is the son of well-known evangelist Billy Graham. In his earliest days, Franklin didn’t have a clear picture of what his father did. He just knew he was gone much of the time. He was quite a handful as a child. I enjoyed some of his mother’s creative and unconventional ways of dealing with him.

Franklin loved where his family lived in NC, motorcycles or almost anything with an engine, guns, and fun, even if it got him into trouble. And it frequently did.

In his first or second year of college, he went on a trip to help two single female missionaries–not for any spiritual reasons, but for a chance to go to a foreign country. He saw their work and simple trust in God and wanted to help more. He began to organize supplies for them, little realizing that this would eventually lead to his life’s work.

Franklin writes of the different male figures in his life who influenced him, mostly for good, in his father’s absence. One day, everything came together to convince him and help him be willing to surrender his life to God.

By his own admission, he was never much of a student. But he finally got serious about his studies and finished college whole married to his wife, Jane Austin.

I had thought that he began Samaritan’s Purse, but, actually, a man named Bill Pierce did. Franklin went on many mission trips with Bill. When Bill knew he was dying of cancer, he talked to Franklin about taking over SP when he was gone. After thinking and praying much, and waiting for the SP board to come to the same conclusion, Franklin agreed.

The SP website states, “Samaritan’s Purse is a nondenominational evangelical Christian organization providing spiritual and physical aid to hurting people around the world. Since 1970, Samaritan’s Purse has helped meet needs of people who are victims of war, poverty, natural disasters, disease, and famine with the purpose of sharing God’s love through His Son, Jesus Christ. The organization serves the Church worldwide to promote the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

I appreciated that, whenever they heard of a need, Franklin, or, later, one of his team would go investigate the situation first. They’d try to discern exactly what the need was, whether and how they could help, and who could facilitate the efforts there. They made it clear that they would share Christ while there, and most of the time that was not a problem.

Franklin shares story after story of horrific needs and miraculous supply of both provisions and people to help. My heart was touched by those here and in various countries who stepped in to meet needs.

In later years, Franklin felt he might be called to be an evangelist. But he knew he was where God wanted him at SP. He didn’t want to be compared to his father or look like he was following in his footsteps. Then others began to tell him they thought he was called to be an evangelist as well. Finally one evangelist convinced Franklin to come along with him and help with his meetings. Franklin did, and then began to preach at meetings himself. He concluded that Jesus preached as well as helped people with their physical needs, so Franklin did not have to choose one or the other.

This book was published in 1997 when both his parents were still alive. They contributed a few words at the end.

He doesn’t say anything about Operation Christmas Child in this book. I assume that was started after this book was written. I just saw there is a separate book about that ministry.

While I wouldn’t endorse everything written or all the people and organizations Franklin and his ministry associated with, I was blessed by how God worked in and through him.

Review: Mercy Mild

Posted on by

Mercy Mild: A 25-Day Christmas Devotional Tracing Christ’s Love from Eden to Eternity by Josh Taylor is a 25-day Advent devotional book leading up to Christmas. Though the author discusses some of the usual Christmas passages and topics, he expands his focus to show that Christ is foretold and pictured in Scripture long before the gospels tell of His birth. And His coming shapes what is taught in the rest of the Bible.

Taylor starts in Genesis, moves to Abraham and the tower of Babel, David, Solomon, the kings, the gospels, the epistles, and Revelation.

Each chapter ends with a prayer, reflection questions, and possible conversation starters from the chapter to spark a spiritual conversation with unbelievers.

I have a multitude of quotes marked in this book. Here are a few:

Your worth isn’t earned. Scripture speaks honestly about our condition—sinners by nature, hostile to God. And yet God’s love reaches across the divide, not because we deserved it, but because love is who He is (p. 3).

How often do we miss God because He shows up differently than we expect? We look for raw power, and He gives us willing sacrifice. We seek a warrior-king, and He sends a servant. We expect a throne, and we get a manger (p. 24).

It’s fascinating how the word “worship” breaks down—“worth-ship.” It’s not about what we get; it’s about declaring what God is worth (p. 49).

God’s writing poetry with geography. The town where David started his search for a place to house God’s presence is exactly where God chose to show up in person (p. 51).

Sometimes the biggest act of courage isn’t doing more; it’s standing still and remembering who God is (p. 56).

This promise didn’t depend on Ahaz’s faith, didn’t need his permission. God was writing a story bigger than one king’s fears or failures (p. 58).

Peace isn’t just about ending wars; it’s about healing what starts them—pride, fear, broken relationships, sin. That’s why surface solutions never last; we need peace that goes soul-deep (p. 67).

He takes our deepest wounds, our darkest chapters, and writes redemption right through them (p. 92).

Sometimes the biggest moments in God’s plan don’t look big at all. Just one person, being faithful, speaking words that heaven whispered first (p. 98).

God didn’t send Jesus because He was lonely or incomplete. He came because that’s what love does—it gives itself away, draws near (p. 104).

A mother’s heart shatters as heaven’s plan unfolds through her Son’s broken body. Being chosen, being blessed—it didn’t spare Mary from this moment. It led her straight to it (p. 131).

The same God who spoke light into existence now arrives as a baby, bringing a different kind of brightness. Not the kind that hurts your eyes, but the kind that helps you see everything more clearly. The kind that shows you the way home (p. 169). 

Yet here we are, still acting sometimes like we don’t have a home. Still trying to earn what’s already ours. Still carrying ourselves like orphans when we’re children of the King (p. 168).

I enjoyed this book quite a lot. A couple of passages sparked blog posts. I’m sure I’ll visit this book again in the future. 

Review: The Characters of Christmas

Posted on by
Characters of Christmas

In The Characters of Christmas: The Unlikely People Caught Up in the Story of Jesus, Daniel Darling takes a fresh look at Joseph, Zechariah, Elizabeth, Herod, the innkeeper, and others involved in the first Christmas. He writes, “We should become familiar with them not because their lives are the point of the story, but because their lives, like our own, point ultimately to the one character whose birth changed the world: Jesus Christ” (p. 11). “Reading about this supporting cast allows us to get a closer look at the One who is worthy of our worship” (p. 169).

Most of them were “wonderfully ordinary” (p. 13), encouraging us that God often uses everyday folks.

The author weaves together what the Bible says about these people as well as what is known from the customs of the day and gives us a credible view of the first Christmas from their point of view.

Some of the quotes that stood out to me:

Zechariah was a common name in those days. There are even multiple Zechariahs in the Bible. But it is not a coincidence that the first words from God to His people in four hundred years would come to someone whose name means “the Lord has remembered” (p. 33).

A priest, who often spoke words of blessing on God’s people, would be silenced and would emerge with a renewed faith in the possibility of God’s promise. Sometimes God has to quiet us so we can hear Him. Sometimes we have to be still so we can see Him move. Sometimes our words and our busyness get in the way of our faith (p. 41).

The couple who suddenly showed up at his door was a disruption, an inconvenience, a problem he didn’t plan for. This is, by the way, how God often enters our lives (p. 86).

A temptation for us, this Christmas, is to simply get full of “the feels,” the warm sentimentality of this season, and miss the good news at the heart of the holiday: Christ has come into the world to save you and to save me (p. 100).

If Jesus is the true King, if He is indeed the fulfillment of the covenant promises to Israel, if He is the Light of the world who saves people from their sins, then isn’t He worthy of our whole selves, body and soul? (p. 114).

Each chapter ends with study reflections and a suggested Christmas song.

I appreciated the fact that the book was only eleven chapters rather than being a 25- or 31-day Advent schedule. Fewer chapters made it easier to work in amid Sunday School and Bible study reading throughout the month.

I enjoyed this book a lot. Even though I was familiar with most of what was written, it was done in a way that helped me look at the Christmas story anew. I’m sure I’ll use this book again for future Advent reading.

Review: The Man Behind the Patch: Ron Hamilton

Posted on by

Ron Hamilton and his alter ego, Patch the Pirate, are household names in some places but unknown in others. I wrote something of a tribute to him a couple of years ago after he passed away. His wife wife, Shelly, wrote a biography of him, published last year, titled The Man Behind the Patch: Ron Hamilton.

I first knew of Ron in college. He and Shelly were newly married and GAs (graduate assistants) during my freshman year. They were always active in music both on campus and at the church they attended, which I visited occasionally.

I remember when Rob debuted some new songs he had written at college. “It Is Finished” was inspired by a teacher pointing out that when Christ said “It is finished” from the cross, it was a victory cry. The other two were “Come to the Cross” and “The Blood of Jesus.” I had not known that these songs were part of his requirements to graduate in his major. It’s interesting that these songs continued to be well-known and well-loved all through his career.

I remember when Ron was diagnosed with cancer in his eye. When they did surgery, he wouldn’t know until he woke up whether they had to remove the eye or not. They did. Sometime after his recovery, he gathered together all the notes and verses people had sent him and wrote what became his signature song, “Rejoice in the Lord.”

As Ron wore his eye patch, kids in his church began calling him “Patch the Pirate.” He had written music for adults but then decided to write some for kids as well. He put together a story line with interesting character voices for a children’s recording. Kids loved it, and parents soon begged for more because they were tired of listening to the same album over and over. Thus a children’s ministry was born. A Patch the Pirate adventure has been released every year since then, over forty all together.

He continued to write music for adults and choirs, cantatas, books of music arrangements for his songs. He wrote the words, various people wrote the music, and Shelly arranged them.

One of the trials of their life was when their oldest son developed a mental illness over several years, ending with the taking of his own life. Shelly told his story in Always, Only Good: A Journey of Faith Trough Mental Illness.

Another severe trial came when Ron was diagnosed with early onset dementia. He passed away at his home in 2023.

Shelly tells Ron’s story in three sections, Becoming Patch the Pirate, Life with Patch the Pirate, and Patch’s Long Journey Home. She begins with his early childhood in Indiana, to attending college, meeting and dating Shelly, their marriage and children. Then Ron’s eye surgery and budding career. They took over and managed the music company her dad began, Majesty Music.

Many of the middle chapters are something of a travelogue, along with which recordings came out when, sprinkled with anecdotes. The whole family traveled to churches doing “Patch” concerts until the family grew too big. Ron traveled alone for a while, eventually cutting back to traveling just a bit while becoming the music pastor of a local church.

Shelly was warned that biographies of men by their wives often become hagiography, idealizing the husband. Shelly attempts to show all sides of Ron. He wasn’t perfect–no one is. He was a prankster, and some of his pranks backfired badly.

A couple of other interesting facts I had not known: Ron had a deviated septum, which gave his voice a slight nasal quality. He didn’t know if surgery would change his voice for better or worse, so he decided to leave well enough alone.

Also, he considered doing doctoral work in music at another school and was accepted, but he was told his music would need to be more academic. He considered the offer, but decided to decline. He wanted to “put the cookies on the lowest shelf”–make them accessible to everyone. Shelly wrote later that Ron “chose to compose biblical texts that united with simple, memorable melodies for everyday life and everyday struggles (p. 368).

Ron wrote about 700 songs. Some for children were fun, like “I Love Broccoli” and “The Poochie Lip Disease.” Others focused on character. All of his songs for children and adults were biblically based. I shared some of my favorites in my earlier post about him.

By all accounts, Ron was a humble man. When Shelly once mentioned how many lives he had touched, he said, “I’d like to think God did it.”

This book was nostalgic for me in many ways. I didn’t know Ron and Shelly personally, though I had met them each a couple of times. But since I was in school a few years behind them and lived in the same town for over fourteen years, I was acquainted with their ministry. Then my kids grew up on “Patch the Pirate” tapes, especially in the car and at bedtime. We listened to many of Ron’s albums for adults over the years and sang some of his music in choir. Finally, I followed Shelly’s public Facebook page the last years of Ron’s illness.

I think this book would be especially interesting to anyone familiar with Ron or Patch. But even for those who don’t know him, this is an inspiring account of a humble servant of God using his talents for His glory.

Review: Raising the Perfectly Imperfect Child

Posted on by
Boris Vujicic

Imagine what your reaction would be if you gave birth to a child born without arms or legs. You would likely grieve and then wonder how in the world you would raise him to live any kind of normal life.

Boris and Dushka Vujicic experienced those reactions when their son, Nick, was born. “We were burdened not by Nick but by our doubts and our fear that we were not capable of giving him all he needed to succeed (p. 163).

Nick grew up to become an internally known evangelist and motivational speaker, telling his story in Life Without Limits. But there were many hurdles and trials before that happened.

Boris shares their experience in Raising the Perfectly Imperfect Child: Facing Challenges with Strength, Courage, and Hope. The book is part memoir, part encouragement to other parents.

After the Vujicics got over their initial shock at Nick’s condition, they found that, in many ways, he was a baby like any other. He needed love, cuddling, food, and diaper changing. The rest they had to figure out along the way. There weren’t many resources available to help.

Their faith was shaken. As Christians, they wondered why God would allow such a seemingly cruel thing to happen.

With our limited vision, Dushka and I could foresee only struggle and anguish for Nick and for us. We were so wrong, of course. Our son and our experiences with him have enriched our lives beyond measure and taught us many lessons at the heart of this book. Nick gave us a new definition of the ideal child and a deeper appreciation for the complexity of our Father’s divine vision.

Nick taught us to find new meaning in the psalm that says we are “wonderfully made.” We came to see Nick as God’s beautiful creation, lovingly formed in His image. We lacked the wisdom, initially, to understand that. We saw Nick as disabled rather than enabled. We could not grasp that his missing arms and legs were part of God’s unique plan for our son.

Chapters cover accepting and loving your child, giving yourself permission to grieve, allowing friends and family to help, advocating for your child’s medical care, meeting the needs of siblings, education, preparing your child for adulthood, keeping marriage bonds strong, and building a spiritual foundation. Boris encourages taking cues from your unique child as to what he needs and the best way to help him.

It would be easy with a child like Nick to swoop in and do everything for him. But his parents raised him to do as much for himself as possible. 

My favorite aspect of his book is that Boris writes humbly and practically. Nowhere does he hint that readers should do everything just like he and his wife did. He just shares insights gleaned along the way.

Some of the quotes that stood out to me:

Nick is proof that none of us are limited by our circumstances and that all of us can create meaningful, fulfilling, and joyful lives if we choose to focus on our gifts rather than on what we may lack. All of us are imperfect. All of us are perfect (p. 10).

All children have strengths and weaknesses, and they can surprise you in so many ways. Our duty is to nurture, encourage, and motivate them, and help them build upon their strengths (p. 11).

Perhaps the greatest gifts we can give our children toward their success in adulthood are a foundation of unconditional love, a sense that they have a purpose in this world, a value system to guide them, and a spiritual base as a perpetual source of hope (p. 157).

Our imperfections have a purpose. We often can’t discover that purpose without first accepting that it exists and then searching to find it (p. 187).

God makes no promises that our lives will be pain free; He promises only that He will always be with us if we believe. We realized that we had to trust in His wisdom and good purposes, in His Word rather than in our feelings, and in His grace, which is sufficient for any trial (p. 191).

I might not be the target audience for this book since my children are grown now, and none of them had physical disabilities. But I enjoyed reading it and learned from it all the same. 

(I often link up with some of these bloggers.)

Review: Bloom In Your Winter Season

Posted on by
Bloom In Your Winter Season

Bloom In Your Winter Season was written by Deborah Malone “with twenty-three contributing writers” for older women as a reminder that God can both minister to them and use them in their later years.

They don’t really define what constitutes a “winter season.” One of the authors is in her fifties, which I would say is more autumnal than wintry. Still, we’re all facing that time of life and getting closer every day, so we can tuck the lessons away for future reference if we don’t need them immediately.

The book is divided up into six chapters, each featuring a couple, or sometimes three, women in the Bible: Miriam and Anna; Mary and Martha; Mary and Elizabeth; Lois and Eunice; Lydia, Joanna, and Susanna; and Naomi and the widow with two coins. (I’m surprised there wasn’t a chapter on Sarah, maybe couple with Rebekah.) All of the women focused on are not “older,” but there are things about their lives we can learn from whatever season we’re in.

Each chapter is designed to be read over five days. The first four days’ reading contains short essays written by different women, each ending with application questions and a prayer. Day 5 is a Bible study on the focus women written by Deborah with passages to read, questions to answer, and blank lines to jot down notes .

The overall theme of the book is that God can still use you whatever age you are, and that’s brought out in most of the chapters. Some of the writers discuss specific situations like adjusting to the empty nest, widowhood, aging, sharing faith with our grandchildren, and living in a nursing home (one woman wrote over 70 books while in a nursing home!) But other chapters are more general.

One problem with five writers contributing to each chapter is that there’s a bit of overlap. But perhaps repetition reinforces the details. On the other hand, the chapter on Naomi only mentioned her once in passing in the essays.

The chapter that stood out the most to me was the one on Lydia, Joanna, and Susanna–I think partly because we don’t usually hear much about these women, especially the last two. They are mentioned in Luke 8:1-3 with “some women who had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities” who traveled with Jesus and the disciples and “who provided for them out of their means.” Joanna is mentioned again at the cross with other women in Luke 24. Writer Sherye Green points out that these women served Jesus out of “pure, unbridled gratitude” (p. 123).

I only knew of a couple of the authors here before reading this book. There are a few with whom I might not agree in every point, judging from their biography information. But I didn’t find anything objectionable in this volume.

Some of the quotes that stood out to me:

Anna worshiped in the waiting (p. 29).

Is there a mother or grandmother in your life who prays, encourages, and supports the younger generation in the faith? Godly women invest in a heavenly treasury of prayers and a heritage of faith for their loved ones. Praying mamas deposit a foundation of wisdom and understanding into their children’s lives, building up their character and committing their future to God (p. 91).

I used to pray for my daughter’s strength and personality–stating what I wanted God to place in her. I failed to realize that the parenting challenge is knowing God already has a plan and purpose for our little people. Our prayer should ask God to show us their developing talents so that we cultivate His gifts in them (p. 96).

When my focus was on me, I felt my broken heart intensely. I began noticing those around me with their own trials and doing small things I could to help ease their burdens: visiting a young friend dying of breast cancer, training as a hospice volunteer, taking food to new widows, and generally loving on people. It was different from the lay ministry my husband and I shared as a team, but just as important in God’s economy (p. 143).

The essays are designed to read one a day. I usually read two or three, because they were so short. If I ever read this book again, though, I think I’ll stick to one a day and ponder it more before moving on. 

Still, the book did its job in encouraging me that God has something for me to do and has promised to be with me in every season.

Review: Van Gogh Has a Broken Heart

Posted on by
Van Gogh Has a Broken Heart

Van Gogh Has a Broken Heart: What Art Teaches Us About the Wonder and Struggle of Being Alive by Russ Ramsey is similar to his earlier book, Rembrandt Is In the Wind. Each draws observations from art and artists. This second book explores the theme of suffering and the beauty and grace that comes from it.

Art shows us back to ourselves, and the best art doesn’t flinch or look away. Rather, it acknowledges the complexity of struggles like poverty, weariness, and grief while defiantly holding forth beauty—reminding us that beauty is both scarce and everywhere we look (p. 4).

Beauty pulls us upward toward something that calls for some measure of discretion, something to be treated with dignity and care, something sacred. What does it pull us toward? The truth that we were made to exist in the presence of glory (p. 5).

All art comes from somewhere. It comes from someone who is in the process of living the one life they’ve been given. The more we can understand the specifics of their individual experience, the more we will understand why they created what they did and why the world has responded to it in the way we have (p. 12).

Ramsey says sad stories are universal, and they can provide fellowship in whatever we’re going through as well as empathy for others. They help us wrestle with the evil and brokenness in the world. “They remind us not just that this world can wound us, but that wounds can heal. They remind us to hope” (p. 10). They show us that beauty can come from brokenness.

That’s not to say all art comes through suffering. I think it was in my Music Appreciation class in college I heard a comparison of Beethoven and Haydn and how their lives shaped their music. Beethoven had a difficult father, health issues, and started experiencing hearing loss before he was thirty. Haydn had struggles, but by his thirties he had a steady job as the music director for a prince. A lot of his work is light, clever, even playful, while Beethoven’s is rich in emotional depth. 

There are ten chapters in Ramsey’s book. One tells the story of how the Mona Lisa was stolen and recovered, Pablo Picasso was a suspect, and the painting became a lot more famous after the theft. Another contrasts Rembrandt’s Simeon’s Song of Praise, which is very detailed and elaborate, painted early in his career, with Simeon in the Temple, painted late in his career and found after his death. They cover the same incident in the Bible, but the latter is simple and focuses on Simeon’s emotion. 

When I look at the old painter’s reimagining of the scene, to my eye he doesn’t seem to want to show us the spectacle of the temple when Simeon held Jesus, or what he can do with it as a painter. After a life filled with suffering and sorrow, he just seems to want to hold Jesus (p. 51).

Artemisia Gentileschi was a painter I’d never heard of. Ramsey describes the difficulty of a woman in this field as well as an artist working “for hire”–not painting scenes she loved for the pure pleasure of it, but taking commissions of what others wanted to see painted. He points out that “she’s not a girl-power feminism icon. She’s an icon in the sense that she’s an example of a woman who’s navigating a world that’s not built for her” (p. 66).  “We must be careful not to romanticize her work to make it fit our own cultural moment. It is one thing to draw conclusions about the impact of her art over time, and quite another to assign intent to her body of work that may not represent how she thought about it (p. 66). I wish people who try to bring modern-day sensibilities into other people’s history would realize “If we come to an artist like Artemisia with a narrative already in mind and insert her into it, we dishonor her actual experience” (p. 67).

Joseph Turner was another artist I didn’t know, whose style changed about halfway through his career. Ramsey discusses the possible reasons and implications.

The Hudson River School I had heard of but didn’t realize it was: a group of landscape painters who went into unexplored areas of what would become the United States to show immigrants to the area what beauty and grandeur was there. But the beauty was also untamed and could be dangerous. And the influx of new European plans for colonization would clash with the Native Americans already there whose philosophy about the land was vastly different.

Van Gogh’s infamous cutting off of his ear is told in the context of his trying and failing to establish an artist’s residence with Gauguin. They only lived in the same yellow house for sixty-three days, “two of the most productive month’s of each artist’s career, and two of the most turbulent” (p. 125).

Norman Rockwell’s work was “Dismissed by critics, who considered his paintings to be too idyllic and sentimental to be great art (p. 139). Rockwell agreed his work wasn’t “the highest form of art,” but said “I love to tell stories in pictures–the story is the first thing and the last thing” (p. 139). His work was influenced by the new technology of the four-color press. He became a well-loved fixture of the Saturday Evening Post until he started painting scenes from the Civil Rights movement like The Problem We All Live With and Murder in Mississippi, based on real events.

Edgar Degas is known for detailed paintings of ballerinas, like The Dance Foyer at the Opera in 1872. But macular degeneration slowly changed his work to the much less distinct Two Dancers Resting in 1910. I can’t fathom the difficulty and painfulness of trying to portray one’s vision when one’s vision is deteriorating. After discussing other artists with failing vision, Ramsey notes, “The art changes, but not necessarily in a negative way. Often when affliction and compulsion collide, something deeper, truer, and more lasting is born” (p. 166). He quotes modern artist Jimmy Abegg, who also has macular degeneration, as saying “The bad isn’t so bad when you recognize the goodness that will emerge from it, whatever trail that leads me down” (p. 166). Ramsey comments, “Affliction stirs us awake to things we might not have seen otherwise” (p. 166) and seeing “through new eyes” requires courage and humility.

Ramsey includes appendices on the symbolism often used in art and and famous art heists. One appendix is titled “I Don’t Like Donatello, and You Can Too.” Ramsey says we don’t have to like or “get” every artist, but, with “a posture of openness, willing to learn and grow” (p. 192), we can appreciate even what we don’t like.

A few other quotes that stood out to me:

What comes out of this life is his business, but what I do will never be what makes me who I am. Because this is so, when suffering comes, it doesn’t have the power to unravel God’s design. Instead, the suffering becomes part of the fabric (p. 155).

Our sorrows are ultimately hallowed by the One who enters fully into the painful stories of our own lives in order to show us that our suffering matters, while also becoming the place from which the Spirit enables us to become agents of God’s healing grace to those who find themselves lost and alone in their griefs (p. xi).

The goal of suffering well is to move us not only beyond the stick figures, but also from a place of pride to one of intimacy and familiarity with our Lord. It is to move us not from crude to eloquent, but from unfamiliar to intimate. This is why we practice spiritual disciplines (p. 50).

To truly love someone is to move beyond first impressions into the heart of things; it is to take on the sacred work of stewarding another’s joys and sorrow (p. 132).

Think about the physiology of growing old. If the Lord grants us many years, the way to eternal glory will include the dimming of our vision, the slowing of our bodies, the dulling of our minds, and the diminishing of our appetites. It’s a path that requires us to loosen our grip on this world, preparing us to leave it before we leave it. Is this not mercy? (p. 136).

I had missed the fact that there were discussion guides for each chapter in the back until I finished the book. I wish these had been included at the end of the corresponding chapters.

I don’t know if Ramsey has any future books like these planned. I hope so. There are multitudes more paintings and artists that could be discussed. If he does, I’d love to hear his thoughts on a couple of issues. One, how to think about pictures of deity in art and the second commandment about not making images. I wrestled with my own thoughts on this a few years ago. Two, the depiction of nudity in art. I personally would rather not see nudity in art or anywhere else. (There are a couple of paintings involving female nudity in this book).

As with Ramsey’s first book about art, I appreciated not only the information but the thoughtful and beautiful way the author weaves spiritual truth into the narrative. The result is poignant and meditative.

Review: Rembrandt Is in the Wind

Posted on by
Rembrandt Is In the Wind

I don’t remember being exposed to classical art or even going to a museum until I got to college. My alma mater had its own art museum at the time. I remember going on a guided tour and being fascinated as the guide brought out details I would never have noticed myself. I took Art Appreciation my senior year. But that was the limit of my art education.

I’ve visited a few museums with my family since then. But I haven’t gotten much beyond wandering around the gallery and noting what I liked and didn’t.

Russ Ramsey is an excellent guide in Rembrandt Is in the Wind: Learning to Love Art through the Eyes of Faith. Not only does he bring out unnoticed details, but he draws spiritual lessons from the lives of the artists as well.

Ramsey says we learn to understand God through truth, goodness, and beauty.

In my experience, many Christians in the West tend to pursue truth and goodness with the strongest intentionality, while beauty remains a distant third. Yet when we neglect beauty, we neglect one of the primary qualities of God. Why do we do that?

The pursuit of beauty requires the application of goodness and truth for the benefit of others. Beauty is what we make of goodness and truth. Beauty takes the pursuit of goodness past mere personal ethical conduct to the work of intentionally doing good to and for others (p. 8, Kindle version).

This is the gift of beauty from an artist to their community—to awaken our senses to the world as God made it and to awaken our senses to God himself (p. 14).

Ramsey focuses on an artist and/or a specific work of art in his remaining nine chapters, which he describes as “part art history, part biblical study, part philosophy, and part analysis of the human experience. But they are all story” (p. 15).

Ramsey includes a black and white image of the paintings he discusses at the beginning of each chapter, and then a small color print at the end of the book. But I found that if a painting had a Wikipedia entry, I could click once on the painting’s image and make it full-screen, then click on it again to zoom in further. 

One of the chapters features Rembrandt, especially his Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee (pictured on the cover) one of my al-time favorite paintings. I didn’t know before that Rembrandt painted “himself into several biblical scenes. He did this not for vanity but for the sake of the story. He wanted to draw us in, capture our imaginations, instruct us on how we should relate to what was happening on the canvas, and bear witness to what he believed to be true about the world he painted and his place in it” (p. 73). He’s the one looking straight at the viewer, with one hand on the rope, the other on his hat. “By painting himself into the boat in The Storm on the Sea of Galilee, Rembrandt wants us to know that he believes his life will either be lost in a sea of chaos or preserved by the Son of God. Those are his only two options. And by peering through the storm and out of the frame to us, he asks if we are not in the same boat” (p. 75).

This painting was also part of one of the most infamous art heists in history–and it has never been recovered. Ramsey shares the details of the theft.

Some of the artists, like Caravaggio, perceived beauty, and their hearts were touched and drawn to Christ, yet still didn’t submit to Him.

This is the paradox of Caravaggio—he brought so much suffering on himself, with such bravado and acrimony, yet when he picked up his brush, the Christ he rendered was the Redeemer of the vulnerable. . . He knew what it was to have the ability to render beauty that could bring a person to tears and yet remain unable to live free from his own destructive behavior (pp. 60, 64).

The chapter on Vermeer was wonderfully layered with references to light: the light God created which would make visible His creation, art’s use of light, the “borrowed light” from one source to another and from others who “illuminate the places where we’re doing our own work, and then our work lights the way for others” (p. 96).

This chapter also led to quite an interesting lunchtime discussion with my husband. Rembrandt was thought to use some kind of optical lens as he painted, not to “[pull a trick] on his viewers, He was learning to see” (p. 106). “His use of a lens was not a shortcut, but rather an innovation–the kind that gave his work a mysterious quality” (p. 104).

Rembrandt’s neighbor, and the executor of his estate, was Antoni van Leeuwenhoek, the “father of microbiology” and inventor of a “single-lens microscope that intensified light and enhanced magnification through the use of a concave mirror” (p. 100) (another facet of the theme of light). I asked my husband if he knew of van Leeuwenhoek, and of course, he did. Being interested in microscopes himself, he has a replica of one of van Leeuwenhoek’s devices.  

This chapter also discusses the influence of technology on art–not only this lens, but the tin paint tube. Artists usually painted indoors because they often mixed their own paints and had everything at hand in their studios. But with the invention of the paint tube, they could paint anywhere. “Painting is not just an art, but a science. It is an achievement not only in beauty or emotion or color, but in math and geometry and light” (p. 104).

An artist I never heard of before, but enjoyed learning about, was Henry O. Tanner, whose The Banjo Lesson was the “first recognized genre painting of blacks by an African American artist” (p. 152). He often painted an older person teaching a younger person something. But, “Though race would always play an important role in Tanner’s art, in order to expand people’s view of race, he didn’t want to become a niche artist focused only on race. . . As a man of faith, Henry believed persuading one race to regard another with equity and love was a theological endeavor, one which required a biblical view of personhood—that all people are made in the image of God and therefore share an inherent dignity and worth that transcends any human construct” (p. 156).

The last chapter tells of Lilias Trotter, who lived during the time of van Gogh, was pursued by John Ruskin as a pupil, but put aside her artistic career to become a missionary to Algiers. I had read her inspiring story before, but it was good to be reminded of it again.

A few other favorite quotes:

On the other side of the veil is the tangible glory of unfailing perfection, but it is just out of our reach. So we have given ourselves to the pursuit of making copies from the dust of the earth, compressed by time, crafted by pressure, but conceived by something more than mere imagination. Our best attempts at achieving perfection this side of glory come from an innate awareness that it not only exists, but that we were made for it (p. 38).

Ruskin believed “the greatest thing a human soul ever does in this world is to see something and tell what it saw in a plain way . . . To see clearly is poetry, prophecy, and religion—all in one” (p. 197).

A like independence is the characteristic of the new flood of resurrection life that comes to our souls as we learn this fresh lesson of dying . . . the liberty of those who have nothing to lose, because they have nothing to keep. We can do without anything while we have God (Lilias Trotter( (p. 199).

Ramsey includes a few appendices: How to Visit an Art Museum, How to Look at a Work of Art, and an Overview of Western Art: Renaissance to Modern Selected Works.

This book will be one of my top ten of this year. I enjoyed it immensely.  

(Sharing with Bookish Bliss)

The Collected Letters of C. S. Lewis, Volume 3

Posted on by

Walter Hooper was an American who became something of a secretary to C. S. Lewis, or Jack, as he was known, in the latter’s final years. After Jack’s death, Hooper helped care for Warnie, Jack’s older brother, and tried to preserve some of Jack’s memorabilia. Many of Jack’s letters had been quoted by Warnie in an earlier book titled Letters of C. S. Lewis, but none is quoted in its entirety. Hooper scoured the various libraries where Jack’s papers were kept to present a comprehensive volume of his letters.

That volume ultimately became three. Volume 1 is titled Family Letters and covers 1905-1931. Volume 2 is titled Books, Broadcasts, and the War, from 1931-1949. The final volume is titled Narnia, Cambridge, and Joy, covering 1950-1963.

I chose to read the last volume first. I had read of Jack’s earlier life in Surprised by Joy and other books, but knew the least about his last several years. This book was a whopping 6,328 pages, so it has taken me a while to read it.

Lewis was a prolific letter-writer, corresponding by hand. Warnie helped him when he was home, then Hooper later. It’s obvious Jack enjoyed a great many of the letters he wrote, but answering correspondence also put pressure on him. He even asked some of his friends not to write in December, because he received so much extra mail then.

One question I had was where these letters came from. Lewis says in this volume that he did not keep copies of the letters he answered once he was done with them. He didn’t appear to use carbon copies. It’s understandable the letters to family members were kept by the recipients. But Hooper doesn’t explain how he obtained the letters written to so many people. I don’t know if he, or Warnie, or someone else put out a request to Jack’s correspondents asking for any of his letters, which were then included in various collections.

Some of the letters are lengthy and thoughtful. Some are short notes. I think some of the short notes about where to meet someone for dinner or when they were coming to visit could have been left out. But even some of these have funny or interesting spots. He writes to lifelong friend Arthur Greeves of their travel plans that since Arthur was a light sleeper and Jack “an unreasonably early riser,” they should ask at the places where they were staying to “be put in rooms not adjacent. (This is not meant as a joke!)”

Some letters were news between friends. Others were answers to questions about his writings or philosophical or spiritual queries. Some gave requested writing advice like that “wh. old Macan gave me long ago ‘Don’t put off writing until you know everything or you’ll be too old to write decently.'”

Some of his letters provided critiques requested by his correspondent of their writing. He didn’t pull any punches! But he was not unkind.

By this time, he refused most of the requests for forewords or prefaces to other people’s books. He just didn’t have time. We forget that, with all his writing, he had a full-time job teaching. He writes to one friend, “I am so busy marking examination papers that I can hardly breath! The very good ones and the very bad ones are no trouble, but the in-between ones takes ages.” Plus, he said to most of these authors that his reputation was such that he didn’t think his name in their books would be a help to them.

I thought it a little odd that no letters to Joy were here. Of course, their main correspondence would have occurred before she moved to England. Perhaps she didn’t bring those letters over, or maybe she or Jack destroyed them. They may have been too personal, concerning her own soul-searching plus problems with her first husband.

It was funny to read how he described her when she visited, though. Evidently she liked to talk a lot. He wrote one friend: “I am completely circumvented by a guest, asked for one week but staying three, who talks from morning till night.” To another he said, “Perpetual conversation is a most exhausting thing.” (I agree!)

Jack said he never appreciated parents before–her two boys were good kids, he said, but whirlwinds that left the “two old bachelors” exhausted by the end of the day.

But he tells through various letters of his developing relationship with Joy, their marriage of convenience so she could remain in England, her illness, a “real” marriage ceremony (the first was legal, but when they began to care for each other, they found a minister who would marry them in her hospital room), her miraculous recovery, and a few good years they had until she began to decline again. He writes near the end of her life, “May it please the Lord that, whatever is His will for the body, the minds of both of us may remain unharmed; that faith unimpaired may strengthen us, contrition soften us and peace make us joyful.”

Jack’s letters are filled with literary references. Hooper painstakingly annotated these, sharing the source, the location within the source, and the full quote Lewis cited.

It’s fun to see humor laced through many of the notes. He asked one friend, “What is a ‘rumpus room’? Rumpus with us means a loud noise, or row, or ‘shindy’. Do you have a special room for shouting in? (I’ve known houses where it wd. be convenient!) To another: “There’s no news at all about Cambridge cats. I never see one. No news and no mews.”

One of the great sorrows of his life was his brother Warnie’s alcoholism. Warnie would go off on benders and then go to a place to dry out, then come home, only to repeat the process later. Jack would let close friends know what was going on, but would tell others that Warnie was sick or in the hospital.

It was sad to read of Jack’s final days, knowing when he was going to die. He was to have one last trip with his friend, Arthur. But they had to cancel due to illness on both their parts. Lewis writes that he is comfortable, “But, oh, Arthur, never to see you again! . . .”

As you can imagine, I have multitudes of quotes highlighted. Here are some that stood out to me:

Of course we differ in temperament. Some (like you–and me) find it more natural to approach God in solitude: but we must go to church as well. Others find it easier to approach Him thro’ the services: but they must practice private prayer & reading as well. For the Church is not a human society of people united by their natural affinities but the Body of Christ in which all members however different (and He rejoices in their differences & by no means wishes to iron them out) must share the common life, complementing and helping and receiving one another precisely by their differences.

God loves us: not because we are lovable but because He is love, not because He needs to receive but because He delights to give.

I am going to be (if I live long enough) one of those men who was a famous writer in his forties and dies unknown–

I don’t wonder that you got fogged in Pilgrim’s Regress. It was my first religious book and I didn’t then know how to make things easy.

[On Queen Elisabeth’s coronation] Over here people did not get that fairy-tale feeling about the coronation. What impressed most who saw it was the fact that the Queen herself appeared to be quite overwhelmed by the sacramental side of it. Hence, in the spectators, a feeling of (one hardly knows how to describe it)–awe–pity–pathos–mystery. The pressing of that huge, heavy crown on that small, young head becomes a sort of symbol of the situation of humanity itself: humanity called by God to be His vice-regent and high priest on earth, yet feeling so inadequate. As if He said ‘In my inexorable love I shall lay upon the dust that you are glories and dangers and responsibilities beyond your understanding.’

How little they know of Christianity who think that the story ends with conversion: novelties we never dreamed of may await us at every turn of the road.

As long as we have the itch of self-regard we shall want the pleasure of self-approval: but the happiest moments are those when we forget our precious selves and have neither, but have everything else (God, our fellow-humans, animals, the garden & the sky) instead.

If only people (including myself: I also have fears) were still brought up with the idea that life is a battle where death and wounds await us at every moment, so that courage is the first and most necessary of virtues, things wd. be easier. As it is, fears are all the harder to combat because they disappoint expectations bred on modern poppycock in which unbroken security is regarded as somehow ‘normal’ and the touch of reality as anomalous.

We should mind humiliation less if [we] were humbler.

I’m so pleased about the Abolition of Man, for it is almost my favourite among my books but in general has been almost totally ignored by the public.

At the end of this volume, Hooper included a series of letters between Lewis and his friend, Owen Barfield, called “the Great War” in which Lewis tries to “dissuade Barfield from his belief in anthroposophy,” a “system of theosophy . . . based on the premise that the human soul can, of its own power, contact the spiritual world.” The timing of these belonged to one of the earlier volumes, but Hooper didn’t receive them until he was working on this one. I didn’t read these, because they were quite long and I couldn’t follow the reasoning. I scanned some of them.

Hooper also includes extensive biographies in the back of Jack’s regular correspondents as well as interesting details about them or their interactions with Jack (which, along with the index, makes up some of the lengthy page count). I did not read all of these, either.

I very much enjoyed reading these letters and getting to know Lewis a little better. Someday I’ll get back to the other two volumes.

(Sharing with Bookish Bliss)