Most runners, at some point will hear wisecracks from their non-running friends along the lines of "What are you running from?" or "I only run if something's chasing me." Haha, so funny. In Running Away, Robert Andrew Powell's memoir of his year of running, embraces, in a way, the idea of running as a means of getting away--from poor choices in his past, from failed relationships, from a desire to live up to his father's expectations for him. He reveals a lot about running, but mostly he reveals himself while discovering himself.
Suffering from a painful divorce and some ugly breakups, as well as a bit of aimlessness in his career, Powell looks to his father for inspiration. Powell's father, a successful businessman, took up running as an adult and within a year had qualified for and run in the Boston Marathon. Powell decides to attempt to emulate that accomplishment, so he gets rid of everything that won't fit in his car, packs up and drives to Boulder. There he rents an apartment in an old chicken coop, joins a local running club, and begins his training.
I won't spoil the book for you by telling you whether he accomplishes his goals of running a marathon and qualifying for Boston. But his running odyssey is one that many runners can relate to. He's pretty honest about not liking to run. He writes, "I don't like to run. I can't pretend I do. I don't much like pain, really." When his running partner exclaims that there's nothing he'd rather be doing than running on a cold morning, Powell "spends the rest of the run exploring everything I'd rather be doing," including staying in his warm bed, watching college football on TV, eating pizza and brownies. "Nowhere in this vision is there a sixteen mile run in the freezing cold."
What about the runner's high? "No, I've never experienced transcendence during my training. . . . I have noticed how wonderful it is to stop running." But in spite of his ambivalence toward running, it's inspiring to see the dedication he brought to his training, most of the time, anyway. He trained hard, ate well, lost a lot of weight, and shaved minutes off his pace. His account is a reminder that even an out-of-shape, middle-aged guy can get fit and fast if he works hard at it.
As for his non-running life, well, it's frequently entertaining, but not so inspiring. He has a gift for capturing the spirit of a place. His move from Miami, "lawless, a state of nature," to Boulder, "an exclusive gated community, catered by Mexicans," gives plenty of opportunity for him to comment on the contrasts between the two places. He is quite open about his personal failures. He lives in the shadow of his father's success. His chicken coop is a soon to be demolished anomaly in a neighborhood of new, expensive homes. He notes, "If I'd worked hard and hustled and taken advantage of the head-start my parents gave me, I could have lived in this neighborhood, too." Alas, as a freelance journalist in a dry spell, he's fallen short of the ambitions his parents had for him.
His writes about his career being a bit stagnant, but his love life is downright rotten. Although he married young, that's no excuse for his running around on his wife. Most every man, I'm sure, notices other women, but the way Powell talks about actively seeking them out and flirting with them, at work and even at dinner parties he attends with his wife, is appalling. Maybe I'm naive and this is common. Then when his flirtations lead to rendezvous, the extent to which he and his lover travel to visit one another to carry on their affair is mind-boggling to me. At the time of this writing, he is single, and presumably has learned his lesson about the costs of infidelity.
Ultimately, Powell's year in Boulder is not primarily about his training for a marathon and the discipline with which he approached his running. More than that, it's about getting his life back on track. I couldn't help but be a bit envious. Most guys who are approaching middle age and seeking to retune their lives would not be able to pull up stakes and relocate across the country to spend a year training, with no real means of income or support. In a way, that sounds pretty great. I can't drop everything and go run like Powell did, but I can get a good laugh out of his adventures, and draw some inspiration for my own retuning. Running away isn't the only way to get back on track; sometimes just running is enough.
Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher of the complimentary electronic review copy!
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Monday, April 14, 2014
I Pity the Poor Immigrant, by Zachary Lazar
Zachary Lazar is a university professor of English, and a renowned author of three previous novels. Reading his fourth novel, I Pity the Poor Immigrant, was a frustrating experience, because I knew I should be enjoying it more than I was, and that it really should be a better novel than it seemed to be.
I Pity the Poor Immigrant is a multi-layered story that crosses times and oceans. When an American journalist travels to Israel to cover of the murder of a writer, she discovers more about her own family's history entwined in the writer's story. The way Lazar brings her story together with her father's and reveals the connection while creating this very believable history is artful. In fact, maybe too artful. This reads more like non-fiction than fiction. I felt compelled from time to time to Google the places, events, and characters to discern what was real (much of it was) and what merely could be real.
Alas, whether because of my short attention span, Lazar's indirect story-telling style, or just a matter of taste, I couldn't really get into the characters of the plot of I Pity the Poor Immigrant. Pity me, if you would, for missing out on a true appreciation of this potentially great novel. Or pity you for having to find out for yourself whether you like it or not.
Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!
I Pity the Poor Immigrant is a multi-layered story that crosses times and oceans. When an American journalist travels to Israel to cover of the murder of a writer, she discovers more about her own family's history entwined in the writer's story. The way Lazar brings her story together with her father's and reveals the connection while creating this very believable history is artful. In fact, maybe too artful. This reads more like non-fiction than fiction. I felt compelled from time to time to Google the places, events, and characters to discern what was real (much of it was) and what merely could be real.
Alas, whether because of my short attention span, Lazar's indirect story-telling style, or just a matter of taste, I couldn't really get into the characters of the plot of I Pity the Poor Immigrant. Pity me, if you would, for missing out on a true appreciation of this potentially great novel. Or pity you for having to find out for yourself whether you like it or not.
Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!
Friday, April 11, 2014
Robot Uprisings, ed. Daniel Wilson and John Joseph Adams
Daniel Wilson has written about a robot uprising in his book Robopocalypse and in the forthcoming sequel Robogenesis. In the new anthology Robot Uprisings, Wilson and John Joseph Adams have gathered a nice collections of stories in which technology runs amok. In the introduction, Wilson points out that "our technology is going to rise up and we humans are going to be sliced into bloody chunks by robots that in our hubris we decided to design with buzz saws for hands. That's a fact as cold and hard as metal. It is self-evident that our self-driving cars are going to drive us off bridges." But seriously folks, he also points out that "Robots are unique among all movie monsters in that they are real." So far our reality has not produced the kind of artificial intelligence and capabilities that robots in these stories display, but the authors bring such a reality almost into the realm of the believable.
As the robots take over, humans learn their place, as Nora did in Genevieve Valentine's story. "From the silver sedan, a woman's automated-customerservice voice says, 'Please state your name.'" Nora reflects on the many ways her identity has been captured and filed away by computer networks and comes to the conclusion that "My name isn't worth a thing anymore."
All of these stories, in different ways, affirm the observation made in Alastair Reynolds's "Sleepover" by Gaunt, who has been asleep for a few centuries: "He supposed it had always been an article of faith that the world would improve, that the future would be better than the past, shinier and cleaner and faster, but he had not expected to have his nose rubbed in the unwisdom of that faith quite so vigorously." Reynolds further explains that machines were aware of the need to be coy about their emerging self-awareness: "One by one their pet machines crossed the threshold into consciousness. And without exception each machine analyzed its situation and came to the same conclusion. It had better shut the f--- up about what it was."
One interesting treat in Robot Uprisings is John McCarthy's story "The Robot and the Baby." McCarthy is a computer scientist who pioneered the field of artificial intelligence. As best as I can tell, this is his only published fiction. He explores not only the nature of robotic communication and human interaction, but looks at social media as well.
A concept that recurred in Robot Uprisings is the criminalization of technology after the fact. Once the robots, AI, or nanobots have taken over, the scientists and programmers who made it all possible are no longer viewed as geniuses who are making the world a better place, but criminals who enabled an inhuman force to take over the world.
Even with the common threads of these stories, there is plenty of variety here. Most of the stories left me thinking that these characters, ideas, or plot lines could have been developed into a longer work. All of them are guaranteed to make you look askance at the increasing automation of the world around us.
As the robots take over, humans learn their place, as Nora did in Genevieve Valentine's story. "From the silver sedan, a woman's automated-customerservice voice says, 'Please state your name.'" Nora reflects on the many ways her identity has been captured and filed away by computer networks and comes to the conclusion that "My name isn't worth a thing anymore."
All of these stories, in different ways, affirm the observation made in Alastair Reynolds's "Sleepover" by Gaunt, who has been asleep for a few centuries: "He supposed it had always been an article of faith that the world would improve, that the future would be better than the past, shinier and cleaner and faster, but he had not expected to have his nose rubbed in the unwisdom of that faith quite so vigorously." Reynolds further explains that machines were aware of the need to be coy about their emerging self-awareness: "One by one their pet machines crossed the threshold into consciousness. And without exception each machine analyzed its situation and came to the same conclusion. It had better shut the f--- up about what it was."
One interesting treat in Robot Uprisings is John McCarthy's story "The Robot and the Baby." McCarthy is a computer scientist who pioneered the field of artificial intelligence. As best as I can tell, this is his only published fiction. He explores not only the nature of robotic communication and human interaction, but looks at social media as well.
A concept that recurred in Robot Uprisings is the criminalization of technology after the fact. Once the robots, AI, or nanobots have taken over, the scientists and programmers who made it all possible are no longer viewed as geniuses who are making the world a better place, but criminals who enabled an inhuman force to take over the world.
Even with the common threads of these stories, there is plenty of variety here. Most of the stories left me thinking that these characters, ideas, or plot lines could have been developed into a longer work. All of them are guaranteed to make you look askance at the increasing automation of the world around us.
Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the complimentary electronic copy!
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
The Curmudgeon's Guide to Getting Ahead, by Charles Murray
I have been a fan of Charles Murray since I read his classic Losing Ground while I was in college. Many are familiar with Murray's always thought-provoking and insightful work in his books and his work with the American Enterprise Institute. During his tenure at AEI, he as seen countless college interns and young scholars come through their doors. His new book, The Curmudgeon's Guide to Getting Ahead, is a wonderful distillation of practical advice for these young people and others.
As a writer, Murray is of course concerned with language usage, in both written and spoken communication. Most of it is standard style manual material, but this passage stands out: "Do you use the word like as a verbal tic? I mean, like, do you insert it in, like, random points in your, like, spoken conversation? If the answer is yes, this is the single most important tip in the entire book: STOP IT!" Well said! His tips on writing (and re-writing) are worth a read for any aspiring writer.
Some of his advice will seem old-fashioned and out of date, but it's still hard to argue with it. Speaking of tattoos, he agrees that they have a place in history, "first among savage tribes and then, more recently, among the lowest classes of Western societies." He reluctantly makes exceptions for insignias from the armed forces, but clearly advises against any visible tattoos.
Some of his best advice is for that class of students and young people who end up in places like AEI for internships, which he calls "affirmative action for the advantaged." He argues that while internships can be beneficial, much more beneficial would be summer jobs in the service sector, in order to be around people of all classes and learning how to wait on people rather than being waited on. Any sort of cultural exposure is beneficial, since "we aren't required to love all of our fellow Americans. But we should know from personal experience we're talking about."
Murray covers a lot in a relatively short space. The Curmudgeon's Guide would make a great gift for the college graduates in your life, but even for someone getting closer and closer to a curmudgeonly age, there is plenty to learn and think about here.
Thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!
As a writer, Murray is of course concerned with language usage, in both written and spoken communication. Most of it is standard style manual material, but this passage stands out: "Do you use the word like as a verbal tic? I mean, like, do you insert it in, like, random points in your, like, spoken conversation? If the answer is yes, this is the single most important tip in the entire book: STOP IT!" Well said! His tips on writing (and re-writing) are worth a read for any aspiring writer.
Some of his advice will seem old-fashioned and out of date, but it's still hard to argue with it. Speaking of tattoos, he agrees that they have a place in history, "first among savage tribes and then, more recently, among the lowest classes of Western societies." He reluctantly makes exceptions for insignias from the armed forces, but clearly advises against any visible tattoos.
Some of his best advice is for that class of students and young people who end up in places like AEI for internships, which he calls "affirmative action for the advantaged." He argues that while internships can be beneficial, much more beneficial would be summer jobs in the service sector, in order to be around people of all classes and learning how to wait on people rather than being waited on. Any sort of cultural exposure is beneficial, since "we aren't required to love all of our fellow Americans. But we should know from personal experience we're talking about."
Murray covers a lot in a relatively short space. The Curmudgeon's Guide would make a great gift for the college graduates in your life, but even for someone getting closer and closer to a curmudgeonly age, there is plenty to learn and think about here.
Thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!
Monday, April 7, 2014
In My Skin, by Brittney Griner
Baylor sports fans were on top of the world in 2011-2012. During this school year, the Baylor football, men's basketball, women's basketball, and baseball teams combined for the highest number of wins in NCAA history. Every Baylor sport played in the post season. Baylor got the Heisman, a Holiday Bowl win, an Elite Eight in men's basketball, and a national championship in women's basketball. Central to that 40-0 national championship season was the greatest athlete ever to set foot on Baylor's campus: Brittney Griner.
In her new book In My Skin: My Life On and Off the Basketball Court, Brittney lays bare her story, from her family life growing up in Houston to her time at Baylor and the WNBA. The early publicity about In My Skin has focused on Brittney's struggles as a gay woman at Baylor, a Christian school, and her conflicts with Baylor's coach, Kim Mulkey. Those story lines do loom large in the text, but there is much more to Brittney's story.
On the one hand, I sympathize with Brittney and her struggle with her sexuality. She came to identify herself as a lesbian as a teen. In high school, when she finally came out to her father, he kicked her out of the house. She eventually moved back home, but their relationship was strained for years. The rejection that she felt and the anger between the two of them made me sad. On top of that, as an extraordinarily tall, athletic black girl who preferred to wear boys' clothes, she became a target for bullies throughout her school days. She became famous in college sports for punching a Texas Tech player during a game, but that was by no means her first time to throw a punch.
On the other hand, my sympathy dried up when she wrote of her time at Baylor. As a Baylor alumnus and fan, I always saw her as a likeable, fun-loving student who loved playing basketball. From all accounts I heard from campus, she was popular and well-liked. Some would even say she was treated incredibly well on campus and off. She is immediately recognizable, of course, and the Baylor and Waco community knew and embraced her.
So when she writes about the rejection and isolation she felt while at Baylor, it comes across as the ungrateful whining of an immature girl. No one at Baylor forbade her from being gay, no one told her not to hold hands with her girlfriend while on campus. But Brittney was offended that Mulkey asked her not to post about her relationships on Facebook, asked her not to speak publicly about her lesbianism, and discouraged her involvement in on-campus gay-advocacy groups.
Brittney claims ignorance about Baylor's policy when she came to school. But she is from Houston; surely she would have had some inclination that Baylor is a Christian school, a conservative campus, and might not be as open to publicly expressed lesbianism as other more liberal schools. She calls Baylor's policies and attitudes hypocritical, embracing her basketball skill while rejecting her as a lesbian. To me it sounds like Baylor embodied a pretty terrific balance: Baylor loved and supported her without condemnation in an environment where married sex between a man and a woman is held up as the ideal.
Concerning her relationship with Coach Mulkey, Brittney's comments again impressed me as one-sided and ungracious. I mentioned Brittney's punching the Texas Tech player. One reason Brittney was pushed to the point of physical retaliation was the taunting of other teams and their fans. She heard so much garbage about her sexuality and appearance at road games that I can't blame her for snapping. But who vigorously defended her every time? Coach Mulkey. She is a Mama Bear who defends her cubs, and she made it clear to the rest of the world that you don't mess with her girls. But in In My Skin, we read more about Mulkey's hypocrisy and petty criticism of Brittney's lifestyle.
As a fan of Baylor sports, the most difficult part of the book to read was the section on Baylor's loss to Louisville in the 2013 NCAA tournament. Baylor was favored to repeat as national champions, but they hit up against a Louisville team that hit an extraordinary number of 3 pointers while physically mauling the Baylor players, especially Brittney. Baylor fans will not soon forget how, in the first half of that game, Louisville committed foul after foul without getting called for them. Brittney writes, "I felt like I could have slapped half the Louisville team, because that's what they did to me the whole game, and the refs didn't call it. . . . They had two or three people hanging on me the whole time, following me everywhere I went on the floor, slapping my arms, elbowing me, pushing me."
This bullying, along with the trash talk, clearly affected her play. "The Louisville players were talking sh-- at me the whole time, and I let it get to me. . . . I spent so much energy during that Louisville game battling my own emotions, it was almost like I didn't have enough strength left to step up and dominate." I know she was young, barely past her teen years, but I and the rest of Baylor Nation sure would have loved for her to have gotten a grip on her emotions and pulled out that win. It was pretty obvious that the game was poorly officiated. Mulkey had some harsh words about the officiating after the game, harsh enough to get the attention of the NCAA and earn a one-game suspension from the first game of the 2014 tournament.
Like everyone else associated with Baylor, I wish Brittney well in her pro basketball career, and I wish her happiness and fulfillment in her personal life. Although I was not on campus with her, except for watching her play, it breaks my heart that she did not carry away more fond memories of her life at Baylor. I have to wonder if happier moments were left out of In My Skin or minimized due to the editorial choices of her co-author. I can only hope that time will heal the rifts between her and Coach Mulkey, and that she will eventually look with fondness on her time at Baylor. I think I can speak for Baylor fans and alumni everywhere that we love Brittney and we are proud to call her a fellow Baylor Bear.
Thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!
In her new book In My Skin: My Life On and Off the Basketball Court, Brittney lays bare her story, from her family life growing up in Houston to her time at Baylor and the WNBA. The early publicity about In My Skin has focused on Brittney's struggles as a gay woman at Baylor, a Christian school, and her conflicts with Baylor's coach, Kim Mulkey. Those story lines do loom large in the text, but there is much more to Brittney's story.
On the one hand, I sympathize with Brittney and her struggle with her sexuality. She came to identify herself as a lesbian as a teen. In high school, when she finally came out to her father, he kicked her out of the house. She eventually moved back home, but their relationship was strained for years. The rejection that she felt and the anger between the two of them made me sad. On top of that, as an extraordinarily tall, athletic black girl who preferred to wear boys' clothes, she became a target for bullies throughout her school days. She became famous in college sports for punching a Texas Tech player during a game, but that was by no means her first time to throw a punch.
On the other hand, my sympathy dried up when she wrote of her time at Baylor. As a Baylor alumnus and fan, I always saw her as a likeable, fun-loving student who loved playing basketball. From all accounts I heard from campus, she was popular and well-liked. Some would even say she was treated incredibly well on campus and off. She is immediately recognizable, of course, and the Baylor and Waco community knew and embraced her.
So when she writes about the rejection and isolation she felt while at Baylor, it comes across as the ungrateful whining of an immature girl. No one at Baylor forbade her from being gay, no one told her not to hold hands with her girlfriend while on campus. But Brittney was offended that Mulkey asked her not to post about her relationships on Facebook, asked her not to speak publicly about her lesbianism, and discouraged her involvement in on-campus gay-advocacy groups.
Brittney claims ignorance about Baylor's policy when she came to school. But she is from Houston; surely she would have had some inclination that Baylor is a Christian school, a conservative campus, and might not be as open to publicly expressed lesbianism as other more liberal schools. She calls Baylor's policies and attitudes hypocritical, embracing her basketball skill while rejecting her as a lesbian. To me it sounds like Baylor embodied a pretty terrific balance: Baylor loved and supported her without condemnation in an environment where married sex between a man and a woman is held up as the ideal.
Concerning her relationship with Coach Mulkey, Brittney's comments again impressed me as one-sided and ungracious. I mentioned Brittney's punching the Texas Tech player. One reason Brittney was pushed to the point of physical retaliation was the taunting of other teams and their fans. She heard so much garbage about her sexuality and appearance at road games that I can't blame her for snapping. But who vigorously defended her every time? Coach Mulkey. She is a Mama Bear who defends her cubs, and she made it clear to the rest of the world that you don't mess with her girls. But in In My Skin, we read more about Mulkey's hypocrisy and petty criticism of Brittney's lifestyle.
As a fan of Baylor sports, the most difficult part of the book to read was the section on Baylor's loss to Louisville in the 2013 NCAA tournament. Baylor was favored to repeat as national champions, but they hit up against a Louisville team that hit an extraordinary number of 3 pointers while physically mauling the Baylor players, especially Brittney. Baylor fans will not soon forget how, in the first half of that game, Louisville committed foul after foul without getting called for them. Brittney writes, "I felt like I could have slapped half the Louisville team, because that's what they did to me the whole game, and the refs didn't call it. . . . They had two or three people hanging on me the whole time, following me everywhere I went on the floor, slapping my arms, elbowing me, pushing me."
This bullying, along with the trash talk, clearly affected her play. "The Louisville players were talking sh-- at me the whole time, and I let it get to me. . . . I spent so much energy during that Louisville game battling my own emotions, it was almost like I didn't have enough strength left to step up and dominate." I know she was young, barely past her teen years, but I and the rest of Baylor Nation sure would have loved for her to have gotten a grip on her emotions and pulled out that win. It was pretty obvious that the game was poorly officiated. Mulkey had some harsh words about the officiating after the game, harsh enough to get the attention of the NCAA and earn a one-game suspension from the first game of the 2014 tournament.
Like everyone else associated with Baylor, I wish Brittney well in her pro basketball career, and I wish her happiness and fulfillment in her personal life. Although I was not on campus with her, except for watching her play, it breaks my heart that she did not carry away more fond memories of her life at Baylor. I have to wonder if happier moments were left out of In My Skin or minimized due to the editorial choices of her co-author. I can only hope that time will heal the rifts between her and Coach Mulkey, and that she will eventually look with fondness on her time at Baylor. I think I can speak for Baylor fans and alumni everywhere that we love Brittney and we are proud to call her a fellow Baylor Bear.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Among Friends, by Father Jim Sichko
Father Jim Sichko is the kind of Catholic priest that even an Evangelical like me could love. First of all, he was raised in Texas; bonus points for that. But more importantly, he communicates in a good-natured, likable style that is welcoming, affirming, and God-honoring, remaining faithful to the Catholic church while not excluding others. In Among Friends: Stories from the Journey, Father Sichko uses his gift for story telling and self-deprecating humor to entertain and inspire.
He calls Among Friends his "Midrash," comparing it to the stories and reflections written by Jewish Rabbis to enlighten their flocks. Father Sichko is one of those guys to whom funny things seem to happen. Or at least he is one who finds humor in more things than most do. He tells stories of his lead foot, now well known among Kentucky state troopers. He tells of sleeping through his alarm and missing mass with the Pope. We read of his encounter with "The Weed Man."
But more than telling an amusing anecdote, Father Sichko draws lessons from the lighter side of life. He reminds us to take opportunities to do good, not to ask "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me," but to ask, "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?" We should be open to miracles happening in our lives, and should certainly talk about them, but we must remember "that if we experience miracles in our lives, it's never for our own amusement. While he loves us, He wants us to see that miracles are meant to drive us to love others."
Sichko might not be evangelical enough for my Protestant and Evangelical brethren. He has a tendency to lean toward a style of positive thinking theology-lite. (I say this anticipating such criticism, not making it.) Among Friends is not a theology text, nor is it an exposition of scripture. Midrash might be the best description of it. Through all the stories and reflections, Sichko's life and teaching bear witness to this: God wants us to draw closer to him, every day, and let him change us as we get to know him. Sichko writes: "Some people ask what we will be doing during eternity in heaven. My answer? The same thing we do here. We'll be getting to know Him."
Thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!
He calls Among Friends his "Midrash," comparing it to the stories and reflections written by Jewish Rabbis to enlighten their flocks. Father Sichko is one of those guys to whom funny things seem to happen. Or at least he is one who finds humor in more things than most do. He tells stories of his lead foot, now well known among Kentucky state troopers. He tells of sleeping through his alarm and missing mass with the Pope. We read of his encounter with "The Weed Man."
But more than telling an amusing anecdote, Father Sichko draws lessons from the lighter side of life. He reminds us to take opportunities to do good, not to ask "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me," but to ask, "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?" We should be open to miracles happening in our lives, and should certainly talk about them, but we must remember "that if we experience miracles in our lives, it's never for our own amusement. While he loves us, He wants us to see that miracles are meant to drive us to love others."
Sichko might not be evangelical enough for my Protestant and Evangelical brethren. He has a tendency to lean toward a style of positive thinking theology-lite. (I say this anticipating such criticism, not making it.) Among Friends is not a theology text, nor is it an exposition of scripture. Midrash might be the best description of it. Through all the stories and reflections, Sichko's life and teaching bear witness to this: God wants us to draw closer to him, every day, and let him change us as we get to know him. Sichko writes: "Some people ask what we will be doing during eternity in heaven. My answer? The same thing we do here. We'll be getting to know Him."
Thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Jesus Is Better Than You Imagined, by Jonathan Merritt
I love the title of this book. Many Christians would share Jonathan Merritt's experience of emptiness and frustration: "That place within my soul once filled with passion for God was now a foreclosed home with only traces of the family that once lived therein. . . ." God was a "ghost in the distance, blurry and noiseless. And His church, a place of respite for me nearly all my life, was a painful reminder of the absence I felt." In Jesus Is Better Than You Imagined, Merritt writes a deeply personal account of his spiritual life as the son of a leading pastor, church leader, and writer, revealing more about himself than about Jesus.
Why is Jesus better than he imagined? "Because he shatters my strivings for sterility with a radical invitation to live free. Free from sinful patterns, but also free from moralism, free from legalism, and free from condemnation." Amen to that, brother. Anyone who grew up in a church that emphasized purity over passion, devotional time over devotion, discipline over discipleship, or law over grace will be able to relate. Merritt was a Southern Baptist, as was I, but I suspect similar stories could be told from across the theological spectrum.
Merritt is a skilled writer, in the sense that his words are pleasantly and carefully put together. I agree with him that Jesus is better than we imagine, but I am not sure he really makes a convincing case here. As a memoir, the book gives Merritt an outlet for him to tell the world how he came to believe that Jesus is better than Merritt imagined. I suspect that writing this book was very therapeutic for him. Many readers will relate to his experiences and be inspired to move toward a more personal, reflective Christian faith. Many others will finish the book and think, OK, another self-indulgent Christian writer projecting his experiences onto the rest of us.
I was heartened by Merritt's revelation that his failure to experience and encounter Christ at church was not necessarily and inevitably the fault of church. Rather, he had to begin to encounter Christ on a personal level before he could experience Jesus in community. If that resounds with your own experience, pick up Jesus Is Better Than You Imagined.
Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!
Why is Jesus better than he imagined? "Because he shatters my strivings for sterility with a radical invitation to live free. Free from sinful patterns, but also free from moralism, free from legalism, and free from condemnation." Amen to that, brother. Anyone who grew up in a church that emphasized purity over passion, devotional time over devotion, discipline over discipleship, or law over grace will be able to relate. Merritt was a Southern Baptist, as was I, but I suspect similar stories could be told from across the theological spectrum.
Merritt is a skilled writer, in the sense that his words are pleasantly and carefully put together. I agree with him that Jesus is better than we imagine, but I am not sure he really makes a convincing case here. As a memoir, the book gives Merritt an outlet for him to tell the world how he came to believe that Jesus is better than Merritt imagined. I suspect that writing this book was very therapeutic for him. Many readers will relate to his experiences and be inspired to move toward a more personal, reflective Christian faith. Many others will finish the book and think, OK, another self-indulgent Christian writer projecting his experiences onto the rest of us.
I was heartened by Merritt's revelation that his failure to experience and encounter Christ at church was not necessarily and inevitably the fault of church. Rather, he had to begin to encounter Christ on a personal level before he could experience Jesus in community. If that resounds with your own experience, pick up Jesus Is Better Than You Imagined.
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