How People Change

Posted on October 1, 2026 by Barbara Harper

In How People Change, Timothy S. Lane and Paul David Tripp say that many Christians experience a “gospel gap.” They believe that Jesus saved them from past sin and promises a future hope of heaven, but they “do not have a gospel perspective on who they are.” They don’t know how to apply the gospel to everyday life in the present; consequently, they flounder in their relationships and don’t experience much victory in their lives over sin. “Their Christianity seemed more an ideology than a worship-driven relationship, and God’s practical call on their lives was more a duty to be performed than a joy to be pursued.”

People tend to fill this gap with other things, like legalism (lists of do’s and don’ts), mysticism (seeking emotional experiences), activism (championing a cause), and others.

The authors want to point people back to Christ. “Christianity’s change process does not revolve around a system of redemption but around a person who redeems.” They want to emphasize heart change, not just outward change.

If a Christian is going to make progress in the Christian life, she must be convinced of this powerful new reality. We are personally united to Christ through the Holy Spirit. We have new resources and potential because God has moved in. The basic spiritual DNA of every believer has been radically altered, and we are part of a new story of redemption that includes the entire creation!

The Word and Spirit work together, enabling us to see Christ in all his power and mercy. This leads to heart change at the level of what we worship and cherish at any given moment.

While the authors had many good things to say, and I especially appreciated the focus on Christ, I’m afraid I got lost in some of the verbiage. This is the first book of Tripp’s that I have read (Lane’s either. I am not sure how they divided up the writing). Tripp is a popular teacher and best-selling author, and I’m not, so what do I know? But for me, as a reader, it was hard to distill the main message from all that was said. Sometimes six or eight examples were used when one or two would have done.

In one chapter which was supposed to put everything together, we’re told to read Philippians (a short book, but still four chapters), then to glance back at chapters 7 and 8 of this book, then review a section of chapter 9, and then another section of chapter 10, and then look again at chapters 11 and 12. So instead of helping the reader by summarizing what was said earlier, we’re basically told to reread all or parts of six earlier chapters.

Their “x-ray” questions of self-assessment for where we might need to repent number thirty-four.

Looking at the reviews, some people loved this book and others felt as I did–that it was so wordy that it was hard to get the message sometimes.

A Small Book for the Anxious Heart

Posted on September 22, 2026 by Barbara Harper

It seems some battles in the Christian life are fought and won all at once. I’ve heard testimonies of people who were almost instantly delivered from alcoholism or addiction or something else when they first become Christians.

For others, dealing with those temptations or others is a continual battle. Take selfishness, for instance. I can’t say, “I will never be selfish again!” Well, I could say it. But I would likely fail before the day is out.

Anxiety is like that for me. I’ve done Bible studies on it, read books about it, listened to sermons about it, and gotten victory for a while–until a new round of “what ifs” come up. Then I have to remind myself of all the truths I’ve learned before.

I read Ed Welch’s Running Scared: Fear, Worry, and the God of Rest several years ago in the weeks leading up to a surgery, and it was a big help. So when I saw A Small Book for the Anxious Heart: Meditations on Fear, Worry and Trust by the same author, I got it, too.

As the title says, this is a small book, a little over 4×6 inches. It’s made up of fifty short meditations. So it’s not a full treatise on anxiety. Some people would not be able to take in a larger book, so this one has purposefully been broken down into bite-sized pieces.

Some of the meditations deal with anxiety and fear generally. Some discuss particular fears; others particular passages of Scripture. Each meditation ends with a couple of discussion questions.

You often hear that you can’t experience fear and faith at the same time. Welch disagrees. He says:

Faith in Jesus will not replace your fears. Instead your faith will coexist with your fears and begin to quiet them. You will learn, by faith, to see your life from Jesus’ perspective and to trust that he is your ever-present help in trouble (Psalm 46:1) (p. 64).

Welch says that dealing with anxieties is not a matter of trying different treatments to find one that works, but of learning skills to deal with them. Change takes time:

A skill improves with practice, and some days you are better at it that others . . . It is not the disappearance of our anxieties that make us most fully human; it is that we call out to the Lord on good days and bad days. Change is measured by how we turn to Jesus in our fears. Fears and anxieties will come, so you can’t measure growth by whether they exist or not (pp. 94-95).

Here are some of the other quotes that most resonated with me:

When you put your faith in him, then Jesus is your shepherd. You need a shepherd; he is pleased to be your full-time, night-and-day shepherd. As you let go of self-trust and personal strategies for self-protection, you put your trust in him instead (p. 15).

You do not know the entire story. The end remains to be written, and the end determines the meaning of everything before it (p. 24).

There are good reasons to worry. The dilemma is that worries tell you to take matters into your own hands, but that message needs to be altered to say, “What a perfect opportunity to trust the God who is strong, loving, and faithful (p. 29).

Fear and worry can be the misuse of a fine imagination. Imagine instead an angel army surrounding you and yours [like in 2 Kings 6: 15-17]. How might that change your internal conversation about your worries? (p. 90).

[Re God giving needed grace each day like He gave the Israelites manna] When you try to think about tomorrow without having yet received power for tomorrow, you will be anxious (p. 98).

Fear . . . will not lose its power unless it is examined (p. 145).

I believe Running Scared was a bigger help to me than this book, but then, it was meant to be a little more comprehensive than this one. This book did encourage me by reminding of truths I’d read before but also sharing some new thoughts.

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

Atomic Habits

Posted on September 1, 2026 by Barbara Harper

Atomic Habits: An Easy & Proven Way to Build Good Habits & Break Bad Ones by James Clear was all the rage a few years ago. I was interested, but for some reason I never got the book. Then when I saw the e-book on sale last year, I figured it was finally time to look into it.

The “atomic” part of his philosophy involves breaking new habits down into small components. Usually, when we want to change something–lose weight, start working out, learn a new skill–we make big goals and grand plans. But then we either never get around to them, or we peter out after a short time. Clear’s advice is to start small and sustainable. “Changes that seem small and unimportant at first will compound into remarkable results if you’re willing to stick with them for years” (p. 6).

The “habit” part of the book comes partly from the thought that “the more tasks you can handle without thinking, the more your brain is free to focus on other areas” (p. 19).

Through his own experience and study, he shares “a synthesis of the best ideas smart people figured out a long time ago as well as the most compelling discoveries scientists have made recently” (p. 9). He started out with a website, then a newsletter, then articles, and eventually this book.

Instead of setting goals, he advocates for establishing systems. “Goals are about the results you want to achieve. Systems are about the processes that lead to those results” (p. 23) Establishing small habits and building on them is the basis of those systems.

He shares four steps to creating a good habit, the reverse of which helps break a bad habit. I can’t share all of that as it makes up the meat of the book. But to just give you a taste, one thing he recommends is “habit stacking”: add a habit to something you are currently doing. Like eating dinner, then putting your dishes straight into the dishwasher, then wiping off the counter, then putting out what you need for the morning.

Another is the “two-minute rule”: break any habit you want to establish into a two-minute version. Then it’s not overwhelming, plus your brain will likely want to keep going once you start. For instance, instead of “I’m going to walk for an hour, ” you might start with, “I am going to change into my walking shoes after dinner and step outside.” “What you want is a “gateway habit” that naturally leads you down a more productive path” (p. 162).

A few more quotes that stood out to me:

Habits do not restrict freedom. They create it (p. 46).

Many people think they lack motivation when what they really lack is clarity (p. 71).

The first mistake is never the one that ruins you. It is the spiral of repeated mistakes that follows. Missing once is an accident. Missing twice is the start of a new habit (p. 201).

Too often, we fall into an all-or-nothing cycle with our habits. The problem is not slipping up; the problem is thinking that if you can’t do something perfectly, then you shouldn’t do it at all (p. 201).

One thing I love about this book is his short summaries of key points at the end of each chapter. When I mentioned this, my husband said, “Then someone could just read the chapter summaries rather than the whole book.” That’s possible, but one wouldn’t get nearly as much out of the book that way. They work better as reinforcing key points and looking back as a review.

This is a secular book, coming at some things with an evolutionary mindset which I wouldn’t agree with. I’d also disagree with some of what he says about self-control.

But overall, there are many good tips I one can glean from the book. I’m glad I finally read it.

Review: Blueprint for a Nonfiction Book

Posted on June 2, 2026 by Barbara Harper

Jennie Nash started out as an author, but then switched to become a book coach, helping authors shape their ideas into readable and saleable books. She shares some of her coaching tips in Blueprint for a Nonfiction Book: Plan and Pitch Your Big Idea.

She doesn’t talk so much about how to write here. She says “Writing a book is a complex intellectual, creative, and entrepreneurial undertaking and to write a good one, you have to put in the work—and I don’t just mean cranking out words. The work that is going to have the most impact is the work you do before you write a single word of the book itself” (p. 9, Kindle version).

The book is divided into five parts: Book Fundamentals (reasons for writing, why you’re qualified, title, genre, main point), Get to Know Your Ideal Reader (who is your ideal reader, what are you promising him or her), Design a Structure, Developing a Book Proposal, and How to Pitch Your Proposal.

The days are gone when a writer pounded out her manuscript and sent it off to a publisher. These days, one first sends a query to a literary agent (though there are a few exceptions, especially with smaller publishing houses, you can’t get to a traditional publisher except through an agent). If the agent wants to know more, he’ll ask for your book proposal, which contains specific information, like an overview, sample chapters, comparable titles, marketing plan, and more.

Even if an author wants to self-publish, it’s helpful to think through these issues.

Jennie includes examples of each of her points that come from her own clients and clients of those she has trained through her Author Accelerator, where she trains other book coaches. These examples were valuable in seeing her tips fleshed out.

I read this book mainly because I know what elements I want my book to contain, but struggled with the best way to arrange them. The section about design structure helped a great deal. But I benefited from reading the other material as well.

Review: All the Beauty in the World

Posted on April 21, 2026 by Barbara Harper

I don’t remember where I saw All the Beauty in the World: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Me by Patrick Bringley recommended. I had somehow gotten the impression that the book was written from a Christian viewpoint. It was not.

I don’t restrict my reading completely to Christian sources. But I read and evaluate everything through Christian eyes. Wanting to avoid bad language and sexual elements doesn’t leave me a lot of secular choices. I understand that unbelievers are not going to act like believers. But I don’t want certain words and images floating around in my head.

There’s a smattering of bad language (3 uses of the f-word, taking God’s name in vain, and others) in this book. I almost set it aside a few times. But, for whatever reason, I kept reading.

The book is a memoir of the time Patrick Bingley worked as a guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He had begun work at the New Yorker. But when his older brother, Tom, died of cancer, Patrick felt the need for a change. His mother had taken him to art museums when he was a child, and he had visited the Met then and in college.

When in June of 2008, Tom died, I applied for the most straightforward job I could think of in the most beautiful place I knew. This time, I arrive at the Met with no thought of moving forward. My heart is full, my heart is breaking, and I badly want to stand still awhile (p. 12, Kindle version).

Bringley worked as a guard at the Met for ten years. Part of the book tells details about what’s involved in being a guard, how the Museum is laid out, what’s on display in the different sections, what it’s like to work amidst the art, and the various people who come to see it. The backstory of his relationship with his family and Tom’s illness and decline are woven into the narrative.

But to me, the best parts of the book are the ones where he discusses some of the art that touched him. He describes some of it in great detail, often giving some background of the artist or the painting. But sometimes he just shares the feeling that overcame him when connecting with a great work of art:

I responded to that great painting in a way that I now believe is fundamental to the peculiar power of art. Namely, I experienced the great beauty of the picture even as I had no idea what to do with that beauty. I couldn’t discharge the feeling by talking about it—there was nothing much to say. What was beautiful in the painting was not like words, it was like paint—silent, direct, and concrete, resisting translation even into thought. As such, my response to the picture was trapped inside me, a bird fluttering in my chest. And I didn’t know what to make of that (p. 10).

I startle at the picture because I can’t believe he’s captured it—that feeling we sometimes have that an intimate setting possesses a grandeur and holiness of its own. It was my constant feeling in Tom’s hospital room, and it’s one that I can recover on these church-mouse quiet mornings at the Met (p. 17).

When we adore, we apprehend beauty. When we lament, we see the wisdom of the ancient adage “Life is suffering.” A great painting can look like a slab of sheer bedrock, a piece of reality too stark and direct and poignant for words (p. 33).

I was struck by how often Bringley used words like “sacred” and “holy” in connection with art. He speaks of some visitors who regard the Met as a “secular church” (p. 70). I don’t think he was talking about idolizing or worshiping the images, but rather the experience of looking at something which takes us out of ourselves. Bringley speaks of a photograph of Georgia O’Keefe:

There’s a frame around her, putting space between her sacred beauty (an older meaning of the word sacred is “set apart”) and the profane, mundane world. I think that sometimes we need permission to stop and adore, and a work of art grants us that (p. 80).

I think God has put in the human heart a longing for something transcendent. That’s Russ Ramsey’s theme in Rembrandt Is in the Wind–that truth, goodness, and beauty are attributes of God. He points out that as Christians, we look for and emphasize truth and goodness, but often neglect beauty. “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).

A couple of other quotes from Bringley’s book that stood out to me:

Art often derives from those moments when we would wish the world to stand still. We perceive something so beautiful, or true, or majestic, or sad, that we can’t simply take it in stride. Artists create records of transitory moments, appearing to stop their clocks. They help us believe that some things aren’t transitory at all but rather remain beautiful, true, majestic, sad, or joyful over many lifetimes—and here is the proof, painted in oils, carved in marble, stitched into quilts (p. 177).

I am sometimes not sure which is the more remarkable: that life lives up to great paintings, or that great paintings live up to life (p. 88).

In the Kindle version of this book, there is an appendix titled “Artwork Referenced in the Text.” Chapter by chapter, works of art referred to are listed with a link to them at the Met’s website. I wish the publishers had included these links in the text, like a footnote. It would have much more enjoyable and seamless to click on the link to the art right there while reading about it rather than having to go back and forth from the text to the appendix.

I enjoyed reading about Bringley’s experiences and observations.

Review: Rebel With a Cause

Posted on March 5, 2026 by Barbara Harper

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: The Man Behind the Patch: Ron Hamilton

Posted on November 25, 2025 by Barbara Harper

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 November 11, 2025 by Barbara Harper

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 November 6, 2025 by Barbara Harper

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 October 21, 2025 by Barbara Harper

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.