what I'm reading - Paul: a novel

Here's a melancholy little quote that I can relate to all too well - as can anyone, I guess, who has struggled long with suffering or sin:

When the church was young, I thought of your kingdom as a garden, rich and sweet and green, fruit for the eating, grasses for running swift as gazelles, a golden air for breathing and shouting and laughing. Now I think of the kingdom as a couch in the darkness, a bed to rest on, no more pain, no more sorrow, no more tears. It used to be I thought that things would start in heaven. Now I only hope that things will end.

These words are spoken by Barnabas, from Paul: a novel by Walter Wangerin Jr.

I just finished this lovely, lengthy read, a retelling of the life of - you guessed it! - Paul the apostle. Walter Wangerin is a skilled writer, and he gives the people, conflict and times of the early church life and colour.

Paul is written in the first person, as a range of individuals - Priscilla, Barnabas, James, Seneca - give their impressions of Paul and tell his story. It's not a perfect book - there are some theological oddities - but what a wonderful characterization of Paul!

A recommended read.


Quote is from Walter Wangerin, Paul, 296.

what I'm reading: the ethics of elfland

The fairy tales rounded in me two convictions; first, that this world is a wild and startling place, which might have been quite different, but which is quite delightful; second, that before this wildness and delight one may well be modest and submit to the queerest limitations of so queer a kindness.

Fairy tales teach us amazement and gratitude. So said Chesterton. I think he's right.

The world should astound and delight us. It doesn't have to be the way it is. The sun's rising, the green of leaves: every day they should break upon us with with fresh astonishment.

That was the first lesson from fairytales. Here's the second:

The second great principle of the fairy philosophy is that the vision always hangs upon a veto. All the dizzy and colossal things conceded depend upon one small thing withheld. All the wild and whirling things that are let loose depend upon one thing that is forbidden.

In the fairy tale an incomprehensible happiness rests upon an incomprehensible condition. A box is opened, and all evils fly out. A word is forgotten, and cities perish. A lamp is lit, and love flies away. A flower is plucked, and human lives are forfeited.

An apple is eaten, and the hope of God is gone.

Such, it seemed, was the joy of man, either in elfland or on earth; the happiness depended on not doing something which you could at any moment do and which, very often, it was not obvious why you should not do. 

Here's how he applies this principle to sex:

I give one ethical instance to show my meaning. I could never mix in the common murmur of that rising generation against monogamy, because no restriction on sex seemed so odd and unexpected as sex itself.

Keeping to one woman is a small price for so much as seeing one woman.

To complain that I could only be married once was like complaining that I had only been born once. It was incommensurate with the terrible excitement of which one was talking. It showed, not an exaggerated sensibility to sex, but a curious insensibility to it.

Polygamy is a lack of the realization of sex; it is like a man plucking five pears in mere absence of mind.

I love these 6 children's books, and you might too

I read a lot of kids' books. Our shelves are filled with classics, relics from my childhood. Sometimes I like a new book enough to buy it. Here are some recent favourites I added to our shelves.

Glenda Millard's The naming of Tishkin Silk is the first of seven books about a whimsical family that loves and creates and welcomes strangers and is full of tenderness and joy and loss and celebration. I received the whole Kingdom of Silk series as a gift and plan to keep reading and re-reading them and handing them on to my kids. Beautifully illustrated by Stephen Michael King. For ages 8 and up.

The dragonfly pool is my favourite of Eva Ibbotson's books. It starts in an eccentric English boarding school and ends up at a folk-dancing festival in Europe, where courageous Tally befriends prince Karil, defies Hitler and escapes war-torn Europe (as you do). Funny and fast-paced with a touch of stillness. For ages 8 and up.

Rebecca Stead's When you reach me is a perfectly crafted mystery inspired by Ursula Le Guin's A Wrinkle in Time. It opens with a fist to the stomach and a shattered friendship, continues with a series of hand-written notes that seem to come from the future, and ends with...well, you'll have to read to find out. This Newberry award winner is a page-turner that lives on your memory long after the final page. For ages 9 and up.

Rebecca Stead's First light is written with the same deft touch and sense of unfolding mystery as When you reach me. Instead of the gritty streets of Manhattan, this book is set in the haunting landscape of Greenland, where a scientist's son meets a girl from a hidden world and helps her rescue her people from a coming catastrophe. For ages 9 and up.

If I told you Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book was about a boy growing up with ghosts in a graveyard, mentored by a vampire, encountering ghouls, and escaping the man who murdered his parents, you might doubt its suitability for children. But don't be fooled. It's a warm and witty book about growing up, and the ending leaves you with that sense of mingled loss and satisfaction that all the best books do. For ages 9 (depending on your child's sensitivity) and up.

RJ Palacio's Wonder is the story of a boy with a severe facial deformity who goes to a public school for the first time, and the growing relationships between him and the other children. Real, heart-warming, thought-provoking: it's everything you want in a book. You'll love this even if you don't usually read kids' books. For ages 10 to adult.

What about you? Have you read any good children's chapter books recently? Tell us in the comments.

how to read a Christian book (5) finishing up

Today we finish up. 

Don't you hate losing your favourite quotes? And forgetting the books you read? 

Here's how to keep a record, and how to share what you read.

Store the gold
John Piper says, “It is sentences that change my life, not books.” It’s a good idea to store these golden passages so you can find them again. Here are two ways to keep track of the best bits of a book:

• on a blank page at the back of the book, when you come to a quote you want to remember, note down the page number, describe the content in a few words, and give it a little asterisk or “Q” for quote. (I do this on the same page where I keep a list of topics or key passages.)
• store your favorite quotes in one place. You can do this in a computer file or electronic device under various topics, in a written journal, or on a blog. It doesn’t matter, as long as you can find the quotes later on.⁷

Keep a record of what you read
Allow a few days, or a week, for the book to settle into your mind and life. Then sit down and write a brief impression of it in the front page of the book, a computer file, or your journal. (It’s helpful to keep a record of all the books you read, at least by author and title, and perhaps by rating.) Include a summary; what you thought; good points and bad; and who it might be suitable for. Sometimes writing this kind of review is the only way I can get a book clear in my head.

Share what you read
Now it’s time to recommend the book (if it deserves a recommendation!) to others. You might like to share your impression of the book in a small group, on Facebook or in a blog. If you don’t like reading alone, why not join a reading group, or ask a friend if they would like to read a book along with you and get together to discuss it. Don’t hoard books: share them freely, and accept you’ll lose a few along the way.
Why not grab a book, make yourself a cup of tea, sit down in a comfortable chair, and get reading? You’ll be all the richer for it.


You can find the other posts in this series here: part 1, part 2, part 3 and part 4. Or read the whole thing at The Briefing.

how to read a Christian book (4) remembering what you read

You can read a book, forget it, and still benefit from it. We're shaped by books without even realising it.

Still, it used to frustrate me that I read Christian books and couldn't get them clear in my head (last week's post) or remember much about them (today's post).

So here it is: how to remember what you read.

Summarize (the key to memory)
For me, this was the breakthrough in remembering what I read. I used to write long summaries in the back of my books; this never worked, as they were unwieldy, and I never looked at them again. Instead, here's what I learned to do (it's worth the few minutes it takes):

• summarize each chapter at the head of the chapter.
  Once you reach the end of a chapter, flick through it again and get it clear in your head. Turn to the top of the chapter, and in the small space given you (keeping you brief and to the point) write a few sentences, or a list of points, that outline the chapter. This will help you recall what you read, and provide a summary next time you look at it.
• write the main point of each chapter on the contents page.
  Now turn to the contents page. In a few words, next to or under the title of each chapter, note the chapter's main point (this should be what stood out for you). Asterisk your favorite chapters. Now you've got an outline of the book's key points and best chapters should you come back to it.
• create your own index at the end of the book. On a blank page at the back of the book, you might like to write a list of topics; next to each topic, note down page references as you come to them. Alternatively, list significant passages with page numbers as you go along. When you want to locate a passage in a book, this will be your personal index.

That's it! Next time I'll talk about how to keep track of your favourite quotes and the books you read.


You can read my other tips at The Briefing, or wait for next week - I'll continue to publish this article as a series on my blog.

how to read a Christian book (3) taking in what you read (clue: you'll need a pencil)

So you've made time to read and chosen a book. But now you have a problem.

If you're anything like me, you read books and the words  flow in your eyes and fall out your ears, never to be seen again.

Here's how I learned to absorb what I read. Clue: you'll need a pencil.

Get an overview
When you first open a book, start by getting an overview. What does it look like, feel like, smell like? (Yes, it matters: you'll be spending quite a while here!) Open it. Read a few sentences. Read the chapter headings. Flick through the book (or scan it on your e-reader) and notice how it's laid out. Maybe skip to the last page and read it. Read the introduction or first chapter, and find the key sentence: the one that tells you what the author is trying to do (grab your pencil, and write "sum" or "aim" in the margin). Now you're ready to go.

Write in your books (the key to absorbing what you read)
Always read with a pencil in hand (unless you're using an e-reader, in which case highlight and make notes electronically). I like push-up pencils best: the fine line means you can make your notes neat and small. Keep an eraser handy. There are three main things I mark as I read:

• key sentences and paragraphs. When a passage stands out or adds to the argument, or is particularly helpful or memorable, I use a variety of markings depending on its significance: underline or double underline; a single or double line down the outside of the paragraph; an asterisk or circled asterisk in the margin; a box around the paragraph. That way I can see at a glance the bits I want to come back to. (Post-it notes are another good way to mark significant passages.)
• the flow of the argument. As I read, I try to follow the author's thought and indicate the main points with a number or word in the margin. The logic is clearer in some books than others: sometimes the only obvious structure is the one you provide. If the argument is hard to follow, you might like to write the main points at the head of each page. It can also be helpful to circle a few key words in a paragraph to highlight definitions and contrasts.
• questions and comments. If I have a question, the argument is unclear, or I disagree, I put a question mark in the margin and note down the issue. Sometimes it will be answered later in the chapter or book. If not, I might make a note of it in the front of the book.

You can read my other tips at The Briefing, or wait for next week - I'll continue to publish this article as a series on my blog.

a question for you about reading out loud to kids

A friend asked this question on Facebook:

"Now I've finished reading The Hobbit out loud to my children, what should I read to them next?"

I'd love to hear your ideas.

What are your favourite books for reading out loud?

Tell us here.

CS Lewis on books and reading

This one's for lovers of CS Lewis and books.

Here are CS Lewis' thoughts on novels, the hard work of reading, the benefits of re-reading, and the joy of writing in books.

You'll also find some reflections on Tolkien, Tolstoy, William Morris, George MacDonald, and more.

These quotes are from the letters of CS Lewis to Arthur Greeves.

(And by the way, I love novels. You'll know why I said that in a second...)

The most interesting thing that has happened to me since I last wrote is reading War and Peace ... It has completely changed my view of novels. Hitherto I had always looked on them as rather a dangerous form - I mean dangerous to the health of literature as a whole. I thought that the strong 'narrative lust' - the passionate itch to 'see what happened in the end' - which novels aroused, necessarily injured the taste for other, better, but less irresistible, forms of literary pleasure; and that the growth of novel reading largely explained the deplorable division of readers into low-brow and high-brow - the low being simply those who had learned to expect from books this 'narrative lust', from the time they began to read, and who had thus destroyed in advance their possible taste for better things. I also thought that the intense desire which novels rouse in us for the 'happiness' of the chief characters (no one feels that way about Hamlet or Othello) and the  selfishness with which this happiness is concerned, were thoroughly bad (I mean, if the hero and heroine marry, that is felt to be a happy ending, though everyone else in the story is left miserable: if they don't that is an unhappy ending, though it may mean a much greater good in some other way). Of course I knew there were tragic novels like Hardy's - but somehow they were quite on a different plane from real tragedies. Tolstoy, in this book, has changed all that. (410)

On hard work in reading, light books, and re-reading:

I know well from experience that state of mind in which one wants immediate and certain pleasure from a book, for nothing - i.e. without paying the price of that slight persistence, that almost imperceptible tendency not to go on, which, to be honest, nearly always accompanies the reading of a good book. Not only accompanies by the way, but actually makes part of the pleasure. A little sense of labour is necessary to all perfect pleasure I think. ...When I am in that state of mind I want not so much a grown-up "light" book (to me usually the hardest of all kinds of reading) as a boy's book; - distant lands, strange adventures ... Perhaps re-reading an old friend ... is the best of all. I don't think you re-read enough - I know I do it too (436) much. (10/1/1932 435)

On writing in complex books:

Too enjoy a book like that [Froissart's Chroniques] thoroughly I find I have to treat it as a sort of hobby and set about it seriously. I begin by making a map on one of the end leafs: then I put in a genealogical tree or two. Then I put a running headline at the top of each page: finally I index at the end all the passages I have for any reason underlined. I often wonder ... why so few people make a hobby of their reading in this way. Many an otherwise dull book which I had to read have I enjoyed in this way, with a fine-nibbed pen in my hand: one is making something all the time and a book so read acquires the charm of a toy without losing that of a book. (Feb '32, 438)

On JRR Tolkien,William Morris and George MacDonald:

Since term began I have had a delightful time reading a children's story which Tolkien has just written. I have told of him before: the one man absolutely fitted, if fate had allowed, to be a third in our friendship in the old day, for he also grew up on W. Morris and George Macdonald. Reading his fairy tales has been uncanny - it is so exactly like what we would both have longed to write (or read) in 1916: so that one feels he is not making it up but merely describing the same world into which all three of us have the entry. Whether it is really good (I think it is until the end) is of course another questions: still more, whether it will succeed with modern children. (4/2/33, 449)

On Morris, death and paradise:

If ever you feel inclined to relapse into the mundane point of view - to feel that your book and pipe and chair are enough for happiness - it only needs a page or two of Morris to sting you wide awake into uncontrollable longing and to make you feel that everything is worthless except the hope of finding one of his countries. But if you read any of his romances through you will find the country dull before the end. All he has done is to rouse the desire: but so strongly that you must find the real satisfaction. And then you realise that death is at the root of the whole matter, and why he chose the subject of the Earthly Paradise, and how the true solution is one he never saw. (422)

how to read a Christian book (2) choosing what to read

Last week I talked about how to get going with Christian reading. But how should you choose what to read? Here are some tips. 

Choose books well, and know when to give up
Tony Reinke calculates that, for every book you read, you ignore 10,000 other books; so choose what you read with care. Feel free to stop reading if a book is doing you no good: a helpful rule is to stop after "100 pages minus your age", as you'll become more discerning with time.1 Get out of your comfort zone, and read a range of books: high and lowbrow; secular and Christian; biographies and letters; non-fiction and fiction; old and modern. If you're not sure what to read, ask a reader you respect for a list of recommendations.

Read several books at once, or stick to one - it's up to you
The world of keen readers is divided into those who read one book at a time and those who read lots at once. Some people find that sticking to one book aids concentration and speed; but I love having several books on the go, because different books work well for different times. There's the novel that puts me to sleep (in a good way). There's the theological book I read when I have a fresh brain and a spare half hour. There's the collection of reflections that demands a cup of tea and a quiet ten minutes. Which brings me to my next point ...

Know why you read - and let the "why" shape the "how"
There are four main reasons I pick up a Christian book, and each demands a different pace and style of reading. Think of these as four parts of a balanced Christian reading diet, with the Bible at the foundation.2 Often, I have a book from each category on the go. I read:

• to sharpen my thinking. I read carefully, pencil in hand, with my critical hat on. I ask questions of the text, note down the main points, try to work out where the author is going, and compare what I'm reading with other books on the topic. 
• to drink in the truths of the faith. Every year I try to read at least one book on the cross of Christ or the character of God. I read a chapter on my mornings off, meditatively and receptively, allowing what I read to shape how I think and feel.3
• to help me live out my faith: for example, books on holiness, evangelism, suffering, work, or relationships. I try to read from a book like this at least once a week and prayerfully apply it to my life.4
• to deepen reflection. Good devotional books; biographies and autobiographies; collections of letters; wise reflections; fiction and poetry: all have their place, and the best deserve to be savored slowly.5

To use a helpful category of Reinke's, the first and third categories are books that "push you out" into new ways of thinking and living; the second and fourth, books that "pull you in", that you drink in for their own sake.6 It's good to read both kinds.


You can read my other tips at The Briefing, or wait for next week - I'll continue to publish it as a series on this blog.

1. Your reading should also include secular books, both fiction and non-fiction, but that’s beyond the scope of this post. 
2. Because this style of reading is less critical, you’ll want to take more care with your choices. Favourite books I’ve read in this category include John Stott’s The Cross of Christ, JI Packer’s Knowing God, and Tim Keller’s Jesus the King. 
3. This is a category you want to be careful about, as there are so many poor Christian living books out there. The best authors in this category are gospel centred writers like Jerry Bridges, Tim Chester, Ed Welch and Elyse Fitzpatrick. See my post The dangers and delights of books about personal change. 
4. Some of my favourite authors in this category include Nancy Guthrie and Paul Tripp (devotional books); Naomi Reed (autobiography); CS Lewis (letters); and Marilynne Robinson (fiction). 
5. Tony Reinke, Lit!, pages 111-112.

how to read a Christian book (1) getting going

If there's one thing I'm good at, it's forgetting. Your name. What I did on the weekend. The experiences of last year. Gone, every one.

I used to read Christian books and forget them. In one sense, that's no big deal: we all forget, and it doesn't mean we haven't learned anything. But I also wasn't absorbing what I read: crystallizing the key points, tasting the sweet, going away informed and transformed. That takes a different kind of reading.

Over the years I developed a method of reading that helped me remember what I read. I thought this was idiosyncratic, something that would work only for me, until I read Tony Reinke's Lit!. To my surprise, a number of "my" techniques jumped off the page. If they're good enough for Reinke, they're good enough for me, and they might work for you too.

So here they are: 11 ways to read a Christian book, absorb it, and remember what you read. (If you're an e-book reader, adapt them for the screen; you can highlight and make notes there too.)

Make time for reading
When I had babies and thought I'd never get time to read again, John Piper taught me that if you read for just 15 minutes a day, even if you read slowly, you'll get through 20 books a year. Tim Challies points out that, even if you only read in the bathroom, you can get through a book or two a year. At least that's a start! Carry a book with you (much easier if you have an e-reader) and pull it out when you have a spare moment. Read while you eat lunch. Read in the doctor's waiting room. If you haven't done much reading, start with a book you think you'll enjoy on a topic that interests you.

Learn - or re-learn - to read a book
There's nothing like reading online to ruin your ability to read a book. Reading books can sometimes feel like an outdated skill, something you were forced to do at school and happily gave up once you left. I've noticed that when I do a lot of online reading, my brain learns to skim, to dip in and out, to jump from one idea to another. I don’t take time to think through and apply what I read. My reading becomes fragmented, shallow. To read a book, I have to retrain my brain, to coax it into a slower, more reflective style of reading. The good news is that our brains are very adaptable. We can learn new skills: it just takes practice.

You can read the other 9 tips at The Briefing, or wait for next week - I'll publish it in bits on this blog.

what I'm reading: how well do you know God?

On my mornings off, I go to a cafe and pull out a book. I read a chapter, slowly and carefully. I drink it in, along with my spiced chai.

It's one of the highlights of my week. That slow, meditative reading feeds me, reshapes me, and fills me with thoughts of God and Jesus and the cross.

I've just started a new book: JI Packer's Knowing God. Or maybe I should say an old one. I've read it before. It's one of the greatest Christian classics of all time.

You might like to join me! Let me know if you'd like to read Knowing God along with me. I'm sure a few quotes and reflections will make their way onto this blog.

Here's a quote that helps me realise how much I need to grow in my knowledge of God.

I walked in the sunshine with a scholar who had effectively forfeited his prospects of academic advancement by clashing with church dignitaries over the gospel of grace.

“But it doesn’t matter,” he said at length, “for I’ve known God and they haven’t.”

The remark was a mere parenthesis, a passing comment on something I had said, but it has stuck with me, and set me thinking.

Not many of us, I think, would ever naturally say that we have known God. The words imply a definiteness and matter-of-factness of experience to which most of us, if we are honest, have to admit that we are still strangers. ...

Would it occur to us to say, without hesitation, and with reference to particular events in our personal history, that we have known God?

I doubt it, for I suspect that with most of us experience of God has never become so vivid as that.

Nor, I think, would many of us ever naturally say that, in the light of the knowledge of God which we have come to enjoy, past disappointments and present heartbreaks, as the world counts heartbreaks, don’t matter. ...

Those who really know God ... never brood on might-have-beens; they never think of the things they have missed, only of what they have gained. ...

What normal person spends his time nostalgically dreaming of manure? (Phil 3:7-10) Yet this, in effect, is what many of us do.

It shows how little we have in the way of true knowledge of God.

Time to get reading! Let me know if you want to read this Christian classic with me.

CS Lewis on how to read books from a different time

Ben's English teacher (or, as a French textbook might have it, The English Teacher Of My Son Ben) has encouraged him to read some books from Ye Olde England. Guess I'll be reading along.

My mouth is watering. I finally get to fill in some of the yawning gaps in my education!

When you do science all the way through school, and only come to Arts several years later (after an abortive attempt at Medicine), and then choose to study lots of modern literature (what was I thinking?!) ... well, let's just say that I've got a lot of catching up to do.

On the list are The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and Beowulf (translated from Old English) and Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur (Middle English). Also Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales, although I'll check the content first.
 
But how do you read books from such different times to our own? CS Lewis told his friend Arthur Greeves, who was obviously struggling with Beowulf and Malory,

Remember that nearly all your reading is confined to about 150 years of one particular country: this is no disgrace to you, most people's circle is far smaller. But still, compared with the world this one little period of English is very small and tho' you (and I of course) are so accustomed to the particular kinds of art we find inside it, yet we must remember that there are an infinite variety outside it, quite as good in different ways.

And so, if you suddenly go back to an Anglo-Saxon gleeman's lay, you come up against something absolutely different - a different world. If you are to enjoy it, you must forget your previous ideas of what a book should be and try and put yourself back in the position of the people for whom it was first made.

When I was reading it I tried to imagine myself as an old Saxon thane sitting in my hall of a winter’s night, with the wolves & storm outside and the old fellow singing his story. In this way you get the atmosphere of terror that runs through it—the horror of the old barbarous days when the land was all forests and when you though that a demon might come to your house any night & carry you off.

The description of Grendel stalking up from his ‘fen and fastness’ thrilled me. Besides, I loved the simplicity of the old life it represents: it comes as a relief to get away from all complications about characters & ‘problems’ to a time when hunting, fighting, eating, drinking & loving were all a man had to think of it.

(Letters, 143; Nov 1^st, 1916).

why I read my children stories

I stood under my favourite oak trees today and stared upwards, heavy dark branches reaching with improbable lightness into the blue of the sky. For a moment I was far from here, in the Enchanted Wood or Narnia or Middle Earth.*

It was a windy morning. I closed my eyes and listened to the "Wisha-wisha-wisha" of the leaves and almost, for a second, convinced myself that when I opened them I'd see or hear ... Something. A white glimmer as Moonface peered around a branch. A faun stepping between the trunks, umbrella raised and arms full of parcels. A lantern's glow and the far-off singing of the Elves.

I opened my eyes and smiled. Nothing. And yet, everything: the touch of enchantment lingering in the air, the hint of another world, the leaves repeating words on the edge of hearing. I know what they whisper - they speak of the glory of God (Psalm 19:1-6) - and a childhood filled with story helped me to hear it.

That's the beauty of stories. They hold the promise that there is something deeper. A wardrobe is not just a wardrobe, but the door to another place. Trees are not just trees, but the outliers of a land we belong to but have never seen. The sound of wind in the trees is not just an accident of air currents moving against the ear drums, but the signature of the King who rules this country.

That's why I give my children stories. I want their imaginations to grow tough and strong. I want them to long for another place. I want them to sense the beauty of hope and sacrifice. I want them to taste the flavour of God in this world. I want them to aspire to the love that risks all for a friend, the courage to confront dragons, and the perseverance to see this hard journey through to the end.

My children don’t just read the stories I read as a child. This is a new age and it has new stories – ones that I enjoy discovering with my children. But as long as I can read them the good old stories, as long as their own stories speak to them of courage and love and sacrifice, and as long as they know the One True Story, I am glad. I hope that one day, like me, they'll be grateful for a mother who gave them stories.


* Enid Blyton's The Magic Faraway Tree series, CS Lewis' Narnia, and JRR Tolkien's The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, for those of you who didn't grow up with stories.

This post first appeared at The Briefing.

illustration is by Pauline Baynes

stop reading and start reflecting, or you'll rattle

If you're even the slightest bit into children's literature, here's a great read: E.L. Konigsburg's From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs Basil E. Frankweiler.

My friend Jenny introduced me to this book a few years ago. It won a Newberry Medal in 1968, so it's been around for a while. It's about two children who run away and live in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, as you do.

All that's by way of preamble. What I really want to share today is a wonderful quote from this book that my friend Andrew posted on his Facebook profile:

I think you should learn, of course, and some days you must learn a great deal. But you should also have days when you allow what is already in you to swell up inside of you until it touches everything. And you can feel it inside of you. If you never take time out to let that happen, then you accumulate facts, and they begin to rattle around inside of you. You can make noise with them, but never really feel anything with them. It's hollow.

Here's a similar statement from Challies:

There is something in my nature, I think, that wants to glance instead of linger. I get restless quickly, I look for a moment and then move on to other things. I have come to see that it is often better to linger, that certain things can only be seen and grasped by that long and dedicated study.

So true! So very true! Sometimes I have to stop reading a thousand blog posts and just slow down and...read. A book. Slowly.

Sometimes I have to stop reading and just slow down and...think. Pray. Ponder.

Or I start to rattle.

book spine poetry: hoping for something better

Speaking of poetry, have you heard of  book spine poetry? My friend Kath introduced me to the concept. You can see some examples here.

Just for fun, here's my very own book spine poem (the first book is the heading). How many of the titles and authors do you recognize?

hoping for something better

Until the day break
The scent of water
The hollow hills
The endless steppe
The remains of the day
The last battle
Homecoming
Cry, the beloved country
How long, O Lord?
Till we have faces.

Create your own book spine poem, send a picture to my email address, and you might see it on this blog. I can't wait to see what you come up with!

If you're a blogger, here's a challenge. I'm starting a meme. Here are the rules (free free to ignore them):

• Create a book spine poem (examples here).
• Take a picture.
• Post it on your blog.
• Link back to this post.
• Tag another blogger, or two, or ten.

I'm tagging my poetry and/or book loving friends
Ali, Nicole, Meredith, Cathy, Wendy, Sus, Gordo, Maddi, Leila and Bek.

Have fun!

learning to enjoy Christian poetry (what I'm reading: Lit! and A sacrifice of praise)

When I say the word "poetry", how do you feel? Be honest!

I'm sure some of you love poetry. Some of you probably find it boring or bewildering. But perhaps you're like me: you'd like to like poetry, but you don't know quite how to read it or where to start. I'm thinking of you as I write today.

I love reading, but I've always found it hard to appreciate poetry. I read too fast, and it's difficult to slow down and let the words sink in. That's starting to change, thanks to bloggers like Ali and Nicole. I've also been inspired by Tony Reinke's encouragement to read Christian poetry to kindle spiritual reflection.

One of the few things my son Ben wants to do when he has a migraine  is to listen to me read, so once or twice we've read poems together. Some are from our old copy of The Norton anthology of poetry, others from A sacrifice of praise, an anthology of Christian poetry. If you want to get to know and appreciate Christian poetry, this is a wonderful place to start (I bought it Reinke's recommendation in Lit!, the book I've been blogging through recently).

Where do you turn when you want to read a Christian poem to your son? My first choice was God's Grandeur by Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889), an English Catholic poet. This poem echoes uncannily in my mind, no doubt because my mum used to quote from it, especially the last two lines: she was an English teacher, and is far more poetry-buffish than me.

Like every poem, if you want to enjoy this, try reading it slowly and out loud. Read it again. Read it to someone else. Let the images sing to you of how God's glory still shines from his crushed and broken world. I want to commit this poem to memory so, next time I watch the sun rise over our back verandah, I'll remember how, in and after darkness, "the Holy Ghost over the bent / World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings".

God’s Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

the danger and delights of books about personal change (what I'm reading: Tony Reinke's Lit!)

In his wonderful book Lit!, Tony Reinke gives us six categories for reading. So far, we've looked at three of them: theology, reading for pleasure, and reading to kindle spiritual reflection.

His fourth category - the one we'll look at today - is reading to initiate personal change. He says,

In this category I slide down into the muddy trenches of life. These are the books for battle, the sharp weapons for putting off sin and putting on righteousness. These books help me confront and defeat personal sin and unbelief. They help me to honor God in my role as a husband and as a parent...This reading category forces me to think proactively about personal growth and to determine where in my life I need to focus my attention. Carefully selected books will set the pace for focused and long-term change. 

If you go to a Christian bookshop, you'll find heaps of books in this category. Christian living, marriage, parenthood, overcoming worry, learning to pray: who doesn't want to know about these things? It's easy to be motivated to read books like this, because they promise to answer our felt needs. Yet such books can be dangerous:

How each writer approaches these topics can be wise and biblically informed – or not. And due to the spiritual dangers associated with these practical books, readers should choose them very carefully. 

What are the dangers of such books? They easily slide into legalism. "Ten rules for personal change!" "A proven method for praying!" "What you need to do to be a godly wife and mother!" The assumption is that if you follow the author's particular program, you'll be able to change. The result, more often than not, is discouragement if you fail to live up to the "rules", or pride if you manage to keep them:

I have seen wisely chosen books transform marriages, free sinners, and gladden grumblers. I have seen poorly chosen books feed a person’s doubt, entrench a soul in legalism, and ignite a heart with self-righteousness.  

If, like me, you're a perfectionist and a rule-keeper, you'll need to be even more careful: books which are helpful for others may not be helpful for you, unless you read them with great care. So how do you choose books to initiate personal change? One place to start is to ask someone you trust, who knows you well, and who can be your reading guide:

Specific recommendations are often best discovered under the guidance of a wise and well-read pastor who knows you.

If you're searching for a book on a particular topic, look for books that are gospel-centred. Books that start with God's grace, rather than a set of rules for change. Books from writers you know will take this approach.

Here are a few authors who write about practical issues whose books are radically gospel-centred: Tim Chester, Elyse Fitzpatrick, Ed Welch, Philip Jensen, Jerry Bridges, John Piper, David Powlison, Tim Keller, Josh Harris, CJ Mahaney and Paul Tripp. They've written books on everything from personal change to depression to sexual purity to marriage and parenting.

If you want to find a gospel-centred book on a particular topic, please ask me in the comments (click here). This is a hobby-horse of mine, so chances are I've read or know of something. And if I don't, I'll ask someone who does!


Quotes are from Tony Reinke's Lit! pages 99-100.

image is by Brett Jordan from flickr

Elizabeth Goudge and The Dean's Watch (what I'm reading: Christian novels)

Why should we always want a light? He chose darkness for us, darkness of the womb and of the stable, darkness in the garden, darkness on the cross and in the grave. The Dean's Watch

Last week I told you about one of my favourite Christian novelists: Elizabeth Goudge, an Anglo-Catholic English writer popular during the middle part of the last century. Her father was a minister and her mother an invalid, and she grew up in the cathedral towns of Wells and Ely, to some extent cut off from the outside world - which explains the idyllic setting of many of her boooks. Her novels are mostly little known now, except for her children's book The Little White Horse.

Why do I like Elizabeth Goudge? Her books draw me into another world. They are imbued with a sense of God and the wonder of his creation, salvation and providence. They spur me on to self-denying love, courage in suffering, faithfulness in relationships, discipline in obedience, and joy in God's world. Her writing can be sentimental and theologically tenuous, but it's also lyrical and full of spiritual insight. I finish her novels with quotes and ideas I want to reflect on further - like this one - and with that little *sigh* of regret that comes at the end of a good book.

Her books aren't easy to find,* but if you do manage to track them down, here are my favourites. The Dean's Watch, which you might be able to get hold of as part of the City of Bells trilogy, is probably the closest to "classic" among her books; the cathedral dean at the heart of the book is discussed in Leland Ryken's Pastors in the Classics. I also love The Rosemary Tree, The Castle on the Hill, and the Eliot trilogy: Bird in the Tree, The Heart of the Family and Pilgrim's Inn. There are a few you might not want to bother with, like The Middle Window. If you're into novels on a more epic scale, try Green Dolphin Country. 

Here's a taste of Elizabeth Goudge: three quotes from The Dean's Watch about a man who claims not to believe in God, but who can't quite deny the reflections of God's glory in the world and people around him.

He was a convinced but hardworked rationalist, always hard at it re-convincing himself of his convictions. During his bad times this was not difficult, but during his good times the bright shards on the floor of the world had a trick of turning into shining pools that reflected something.

He was abruptly conscious of something that suddenly lit up his darkness as though a shutter had swung back, then closed again, leaving a picture illumined small and bright against the darkness of his mind. Tall silver towers lifted up against the cloudless blue sky above, old houses with crooked roofs and gables gathered about the market place that was filled to the brim with a dazzle of golden sunshine. In the gold a running child with yellow hair, glinting and gay, and an old man as gay as she was, forgetful of himself. Chimes rang out far up in the blue sky. Half-past-twelve. Other bells answered as though ringing in another world. ...The small bright picture faded from Isaac's mind but he had it somewhere. ... And others, equally imperishable, small and precious as little pictures painted within a great gold letter in an illuminated manuscript. Sometimes he would fancy that strung together they would have been a sort of speech telling him something.

That sky was enough to make a man imagine anything, it was in itself so unbelievable.

That's pages 112 then 19, 166-7 and 304 in my water-marked and dog-eared copy of The Dean's Watch.

* Try abebooks, an excellent online source for second hand books.

my favourite Christian novels (what I'm reading: Tony Reinke's Lit!)

How do you choose what to read? So far, I've talked about two of Tony Reinke's six categories for reading: theology and reading for pleasure. Here's a third: reading to kindle spiritual reflection.

I think it's fantastic that Reinke included this category of reading. It's not one I've thought much about. But it's one that has grown my faith and brought me great joy over the years.

So what does he mean by books that kindle spiritual reflection? Not books about theology or Christian living, but novels and poetry and biography and history: books by Christians that help us reflect deeply on faith, grace, sin, death, and eternal life.

Let's start with novels. Here's a short list of favourite writers whose novels have kindled spiritual reflection in me: CS Lewis, Elizabeth Goudge, Patricia St. John, Marilynne Robinson, Francine Rivers, Bo Giertz and George MacDonald.

If you recognise the names, you know they're a mixed lot, from evangelical (Francine Rivers) to Anglo-Catholic (Elizabeth Goudge) to universalist (George MacDonald). I read them with discernment. But in different ways they feed my faith, enlarge my joy, deepen my experience of grace, and spur me on to love and obedience.

CS Lewis needs little introduction, except to say this: if you haven't already, read the Narnia series and The Screwtape Letters and his autobiography Surprised by Joy. I also love his Perelandra trilogy (particularly for sci fi and fantasy fans), When we have faces (a Greek myth retold), and The Great Divorce (the theology is unreliable, but the reflections on sin and temptation are profound). What's your favourite CS Lewis novel?

Elizabeth Goudge, author of the children's book The Little White Horse, comes in second place because she is a true encourager to me. My mum used to pick up her novels whenever we went to the second hand bookshop. While I don't agree with everything she writes, I love her books dearly, especially The Dean's Watch. Her characters discover and re-discover faith, learn about suffering and faithfulness, and grow in hope and love. I'm always left with a bunch of quotes I want to meditate on further. I'll share some with you soon!

I grew up reading Patricia St. John, a missionary who wrote lots of Christian classics for children. If you're a Christian parent, make sure you get hold of Treasures of the Snow, The Tanglewood's Secret, Rainbow Garden and Star of Light, especially the first. They will teach your children - and you - huge amounts about the gospel, and they're well-written and absorbing, with strong narratives and likeable characters.

If you're a Christian woman, chances are you've picked up a Francine Rivers book. If you haven't, try Redeeming Love, a novel about a "lost woman" loved by a Christian man, based on the story of Hosea: an allegory of the gospel in the guise of a relatively well told romantic novel. I also love her five short biographies of women from the Bible, A Lineage of Grace, especially the story of Tamar (there's a similar book about men from the Bible called Sons of Encouragement).

I was glad to see Marilynne Robinson on Tony Reinke's list. Her novels are a rare treat: she's only written three, and they're so carefully and thoughtfully written that you have to wait years for each one to come out! My favourite is Gilead, an aging pastor's letter to his young son, with Home close behind (see my summer reading and Meredith's review). These are literary masterpieces from the best-seller lists, as well as novels with thought-provoking Christian content.

Bo Giertz was a recent discovery for me, thanks to Wendy's review of The Hammer of God. This story of three pastors is not an easy read, but it's well worth the effort: it will help you dig more deeply into God's grace as each of these young pastors come to understand it for the first time. The Knights of Rhodes, a historical novel about the crusades, is also a good read in which the main character comes to understand grace more deeply.

George MacDonald was a great influence on CS Lewis, and some of his books for children - The Princess and the Goblin (see this quote) and The Little Princess - have done more than most to encourage me in courageous, trusting holiness. These two books are well worth reading to your children or reading yourself if you love books for young people.

That's my short list of favourite Christian novels that have encouraged me and grown my faith. I'd love to talk about Christian poetry too, but I'll leave that for another day.

What about you? What are your favourite Christian novels that kindle spiritual reflection in you? Tell us about them here.

image is by Sapphireblue at flickr

why I read novels (what I'm reading: Tony Reinke's Lit!)

I put myself to bed with a novel every night. I borrow a stack from the library, and work through them one at a time. I always have a novel on the go. Some are worthy, old or modern classics; but mostly they are just for fun.

Sometimes Christians feel guilty about reading novels. Sometimes they should, if the novel encourages unhelpful fantasies, glorifies unbelief or leads them into sin. But there's also a (wonderful, glorious) place for reading novels in the Christian life.

The last of Tony Reinke's six categories for reading is reading for fun. He says,

Christians should not blush when they read for pleasure, for escape, or ‘just for fun’. Provided that this is not a form of escapism – and assuming the book does not glorify sin – the practice is enjoyable and honors God.

Truly, many Christians today measure their reading success with nothing more than a purely utilitarian gauge, either by how many book pages they can burn through, or by the amount of information they expose themselves to in the process. Too often we fail to read simply for pleasure.

...Reading for pleasure does not mean we cannot be educated at the same time. Robert Frost once said that a good poem begins by delighting the reader and ends by bringing wisdom and clarity to the reader’s life. That’s a great way of saying it. …Good literature instructs the reader as it delights the reader, because thoughtful readers are ‘putting together what should never be split – excitement and knowledge, joy and truth, ecstasy and value’.

So sometimes I read just for pleasure. But it’s not an easy pleasure...

Reading is a difficult pleasure because it requires discipline, diligence, and focus. But like in any pleasure, it is a pleasure that can be done for God’s glory.

Tony Reinke Lit! A Christian Guide to Reading Books page 103-04.

image is by Tololy Tutunai at flickr