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Olea Nel. Andrew Murray, Destined to Serve: A Biographical Novel. Wamboin, Australia: Clairvaux House, 2014. ISBN: 978-0-9925671-0-1. See here to purchase the book.
Andrew Murray was a renowned nineteenth century preacher and Christian author. Andrew Murray, Destined to Serve is the first book of what is to be a trilogy about Andrew Murray’s life and ministry.
Andrew Murray, Destined to Serve is about Murray’s early
years of ministry in South Africa, soon after he had received his
seminary education. An older Andrew Murray is telling someone the story
of these years.
The book is excellent in portraying Murray as a character with whom
many could identify. Murray in this book is a young man who is trying
to find his voice and make a positive impression. He makes mistakes and
learns from them, deals with difficult people, and wants to be
spiritually rejuvenated amidst the busyness of life, but cannot always
find the time to do so.
The book also provides a window into some of the political and
religious issues of nineteenth century South Africa. In terms of
religious issues, there is the question of whether baptism is required
for salvation, the belief that the King of England was one of the ten
kings of Revelation 13 (which is about the evil beast), and the attempts
by some Christians to apply to themselves the story in the Book of Ezra
about the returning Jewish exiles who sought to rebuild the Temple
without outside help.
The book also had its share of jewels. One of my favorites is
something that the older Murray said when he was expressing hesitancy to
contribute to a spiritual memoir: “That’s the trouble with memoirs of a
spiritual nature. If you recall the depths of your despair, readers
might hold you up as an example that provides them with an excuse to
wallow in their self-pity. And if you describe your mountain-top
experiences, that too might become a blueprint for some to emulate. In
either case, you lay yourself open to the glorification of self.”
Most of the book is dialogue. On the one hand, I enjoyed this
because it allowed me to appreciate the personalities of the characters,
and to experience life with Andrew Murray. I particularly enjoyed
reading his interactions with his family. On the other hand, on account
of the style, I had to try to figure out from people’s conversations
what political issues they were discussing. As a reader, I prefer for
things to be laid out before me in clear prose, as background
information, rather than for me to have to figure those things out by
reading the dialogue.
I received a complimentary copy of this book (as an e-book) from BookCrash, in exchange for an honest review.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Haven: "Magic Hour"
We’ve been watching the SciFi Channel series Haven. Yesterday, we saw a particularly moving episode from Season 3: “Magic Hour: Part 2.”
Parts 1 and 2 of “Magic Hour” have a subplot about a lady named Noelle, who is able to raise the dead, as long as she does so before sundown after the person dies. Her sister Moira wants to take advantage of Noelle’s gift (or, as it is called on Haven, “trouble”). Essentially, Moira’s plan is to kill people who have money, and then for Noelle to offer to raise those people from the dead if the people’s families give Moira and Noelle money.
Moira has long been bitter towards Noelle because of an incident that happened when the two of them were children. Noelle would resurrect dead animals, but she would not resurrect their father when the three of them were in an automobile accident. As far as Moira is concerned, Noelle choked and panicked when she should have been trying to raise their father from the dead, before it was too late.
Well, a series of events happen. Someone we thought was good turns out to be bad and kills one of the main characters, Nathan the cop, along with Noelle. Audrey Parker, the main character of the series, loves Nathan and wants for him to be resurrected, but Noelle cannot resurrect Nathan because she herself is dead. But there is another possibility: maybe Moira herself has the latent trouble of being able to raise the dead, since troubles can run in families. Perhaps Moira can resurrect Nathan and her sister Noelle. But something has to happen to trigger Moira’s ability. Usually, what triggers troubles is some crisis that the troubled person experiences.
Audrey brings Moira the corpse of Noelle, hoping that this will upset Moira enough to trigger Moira’s trouble. But it does not. Moira is obviously a bitter and a jaded woman. Moira resents her sister for not resurrecting their father years before. Audrey speculates that maybe Moira cares only about herself, and that perhaps shooting Moira will trigger Moira’s trouble.
But Moira and Audrey discover something. Moira remembers that, during the accident back when she was a child, she was knocked in the back of the head and became unconscious. Audrey checks the back of Moira’s head and sees a scar. Audrey then checks the back of Noelle’s head and sees the same sort of scar, in the same place. The reason that this is significant is that, when Noelle resurrected people, she took upon herself their wounds. For example, when Moira shot Noelle’s boyfriend in the head, and Noelle resurrected the boyfriend, the bullet wound that was on her boyfriend’s forehead also appeared on Noelle’s forehead. That’s when Audrey and Moira realize that Moira was not just unconscious during that accident back when Moira was a child, but Moira was dead. Noelle raised Moira from the dead.
But Audrey is curious: Why couldn’t Noelle have just raised both Moira and her father? Moira informs Audrey that the reason was that their father repeatedly told Noelle that she must not resurrect two people at the same time, for that could be fatal to Noelle. Noelle chose Moira, her sister.
Moira feels guilty, and that upsets her enough to trigger her trouble. Moira then decides to sacrifice herself to resurrect Noelle and Nathan. She does so, and, as she is dying, Moira asks Noelle why Noelle never told her what she did—-that Noelle raised Moira from the dead back when they were children. Noelle replies that she did not want Moira to feel guilty—-to feel that their father was dead because Noelle chose to resurrect Moira. Moira responds that, had she known, she wouldn’t have made life a hell for Noelle, and the two of them could have enjoyed their time as sisters. Moira dies, but there is an implication at the end of the episode that Noelle will raise Moira from the dead.
I found this episode moving because it shows how a self-centered, jaded, bitter person can become loving once she realizes that she herself is loved. From a Christian standpoint, this is an essential aspect of the Gospel: that we love because God first loved us. Of course, Noelle was just a good person and loved her sister anyway, even when her sister did not love her. I can find myself being more like Moira, though, in that I need to feel loved before I myself can really love.
I also appreciate the theme of someone loving another person so much, that she is willing to endure that person’s rejection while she is actually helping that person. We see this sort of theme in other stories: I think of the show Roseanne, where Dan’s father was willing to endure Dan’s rejection, rather than telling his son the truth about Dan’s mother. I have to respect that kind of love!
Parts 1 and 2 of “Magic Hour” have a subplot about a lady named Noelle, who is able to raise the dead, as long as she does so before sundown after the person dies. Her sister Moira wants to take advantage of Noelle’s gift (or, as it is called on Haven, “trouble”). Essentially, Moira’s plan is to kill people who have money, and then for Noelle to offer to raise those people from the dead if the people’s families give Moira and Noelle money.
Moira has long been bitter towards Noelle because of an incident that happened when the two of them were children. Noelle would resurrect dead animals, but she would not resurrect their father when the three of them were in an automobile accident. As far as Moira is concerned, Noelle choked and panicked when she should have been trying to raise their father from the dead, before it was too late.
Well, a series of events happen. Someone we thought was good turns out to be bad and kills one of the main characters, Nathan the cop, along with Noelle. Audrey Parker, the main character of the series, loves Nathan and wants for him to be resurrected, but Noelle cannot resurrect Nathan because she herself is dead. But there is another possibility: maybe Moira herself has the latent trouble of being able to raise the dead, since troubles can run in families. Perhaps Moira can resurrect Nathan and her sister Noelle. But something has to happen to trigger Moira’s ability. Usually, what triggers troubles is some crisis that the troubled person experiences.
Audrey brings Moira the corpse of Noelle, hoping that this will upset Moira enough to trigger Moira’s trouble. But it does not. Moira is obviously a bitter and a jaded woman. Moira resents her sister for not resurrecting their father years before. Audrey speculates that maybe Moira cares only about herself, and that perhaps shooting Moira will trigger Moira’s trouble.
But Moira and Audrey discover something. Moira remembers that, during the accident back when she was a child, she was knocked in the back of the head and became unconscious. Audrey checks the back of Moira’s head and sees a scar. Audrey then checks the back of Noelle’s head and sees the same sort of scar, in the same place. The reason that this is significant is that, when Noelle resurrected people, she took upon herself their wounds. For example, when Moira shot Noelle’s boyfriend in the head, and Noelle resurrected the boyfriend, the bullet wound that was on her boyfriend’s forehead also appeared on Noelle’s forehead. That’s when Audrey and Moira realize that Moira was not just unconscious during that accident back when Moira was a child, but Moira was dead. Noelle raised Moira from the dead.
But Audrey is curious: Why couldn’t Noelle have just raised both Moira and her father? Moira informs Audrey that the reason was that their father repeatedly told Noelle that she must not resurrect two people at the same time, for that could be fatal to Noelle. Noelle chose Moira, her sister.
Moira feels guilty, and that upsets her enough to trigger her trouble. Moira then decides to sacrifice herself to resurrect Noelle and Nathan. She does so, and, as she is dying, Moira asks Noelle why Noelle never told her what she did—-that Noelle raised Moira from the dead back when they were children. Noelle replies that she did not want Moira to feel guilty—-to feel that their father was dead because Noelle chose to resurrect Moira. Moira responds that, had she known, she wouldn’t have made life a hell for Noelle, and the two of them could have enjoyed their time as sisters. Moira dies, but there is an implication at the end of the episode that Noelle will raise Moira from the dead.
I found this episode moving because it shows how a self-centered, jaded, bitter person can become loving once she realizes that she herself is loved. From a Christian standpoint, this is an essential aspect of the Gospel: that we love because God first loved us. Of course, Noelle was just a good person and loved her sister anyway, even when her sister did not love her. I can find myself being more like Moira, though, in that I need to feel loved before I myself can really love.
I also appreciate the theme of someone loving another person so much, that she is willing to endure that person’s rejection while she is actually helping that person. We see this sort of theme in other stories: I think of the show Roseanne, where Dan’s father was willing to endure Dan’s rejection, rather than telling his son the truth about Dan’s mother. I have to respect that kind of love!
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Ramblings About President Obama
The things about President Barack Obama that I find endearing are
also the things that I find annoying. And incidentally, we’ll probably
be seeing more of these things in the last two years of his Presidency,
now that the Republicans control the Senate.
I admired Barack Obama for being an open-minded centrist and a conciliator, and also for standing by his principles, regardless of what anybody thinks (a paradox, I know). In 2008, I read his book, The Audacity of Hope, and, although I would go on to vote for the McCain-Palin ticket, I really liked Obama’s book. The reason was that he seemed to me to be trying to understand where people of different ideologies were coming from. He rejected right-wing conservatism, but he also acknowledged where it made valuable points, and he admitted that the Left’s ideology was not perfect, either. He presented himself as one who could bring factions together, while reminding voters in the Democratic primaries that Hillary was a divisive figure.
But, paradoxically, I also respected Obama’s stubbornness. He would not allow his opponents to define who he was, but he fought back. When Hillary and later McCain tried to portray him as green on foreign policy because he was open to meeting with the President of Iran without preconditions, Obama offered a cogent defense of his stance. Obama even highlighted McCain’s irresponsible statements (i.e., bombing Iran), putting McCain on the defensive! When Obama was inaugurated, I respected him for proceeding to nominate Chuck Hagel as Secretary of Defense, even though many Republicans were highly critical of that choice: after all, didn’t you know? Israel is always right, and we made such good moves in the Iraq War, so Chuck Hagel was obviously misguided in straying from such truths. (I’m being sarcastic here, in case readers can’t tell. More than one person mistakes my sarcasm as what I truly think!)
But the strengths I admire can also become traits that turn me off! On conciliation, how many times did President Obama roll over and let Republicans do what they wanted? Remember the sequester. And, when Obama decides to be a fighter, he comes across as arrogant, acting as if he is above the political process and blaming the other side, promoting good ideas when we know that those ideas have little chance of passing, at least not in this political climate. What is especially sad is when he merges these two approaches. For example, he talked tough about Syria, then didn’t deliver.
Now that the Republicans have the Senate, we’ll see more of the same thing. Sometimes, President Obama will agree to Republican demands. Other times, he’ll talk tough from a position of powerlessness. That’s my prediction. I will give him this, though: he will probably continue to make efforts to do what he can as President to effect his vision, through executive orders, perhaps through whatever power he has to decide on the administration of funds. But the Republicans in Congress will challenge him every step of the way.
I don’t really regret voting for him, considering the other options that were out there. Although I voted for McCain, I now have my doubts that he would have made that good of a President. He would have probably gone the opposite extreme to where Obama is: he would have conducted a bellicose foreign policy, which wouldn’t have been helpful. The Supreme Court would also be further right than it is now. That would be bad, considering the horrible decisions that have come from the conservatives on the court now (i.e., Citizens United).
I also doubt that Romney would have been that good of a President. He was making gaffes almost every week, alienating foreign allies. Even though today I look at the world and feel that it is falling apart, I doubt that McCain or Romney would have made things better.
Maybe we shouldn’t have elected a man who had so little political experience. Barack Obama was a community organizer and served two years in the Senate. His supporters assured themselves that he was smart and charismatic, and that would compensate. Well, he is smart! But Jimmy Carter had a high IQ, and he was not a particularly effective President. It takes smarts to be President, but it also takes more than academic knowledge. It takes competence.
So where should I go from here? There’s Hillary. I don’t like her, but maybe she is more politically savvy and competent than Barack Obama has been. I also appreciate a point that more than one progressive article has made: that a lot of reform can occur at the local level. A number of states and cities have raised the minimum wage. Some states have progressive health care policies.
Let me be clear: I am not saying that I would do a good job if I were President. Being President is a tough job. But we all have rights as citizens to have opinions about our leaders and whether they are performing well.
I admired Barack Obama for being an open-minded centrist and a conciliator, and also for standing by his principles, regardless of what anybody thinks (a paradox, I know). In 2008, I read his book, The Audacity of Hope, and, although I would go on to vote for the McCain-Palin ticket, I really liked Obama’s book. The reason was that he seemed to me to be trying to understand where people of different ideologies were coming from. He rejected right-wing conservatism, but he also acknowledged where it made valuable points, and he admitted that the Left’s ideology was not perfect, either. He presented himself as one who could bring factions together, while reminding voters in the Democratic primaries that Hillary was a divisive figure.
But, paradoxically, I also respected Obama’s stubbornness. He would not allow his opponents to define who he was, but he fought back. When Hillary and later McCain tried to portray him as green on foreign policy because he was open to meeting with the President of Iran without preconditions, Obama offered a cogent defense of his stance. Obama even highlighted McCain’s irresponsible statements (i.e., bombing Iran), putting McCain on the defensive! When Obama was inaugurated, I respected him for proceeding to nominate Chuck Hagel as Secretary of Defense, even though many Republicans were highly critical of that choice: after all, didn’t you know? Israel is always right, and we made such good moves in the Iraq War, so Chuck Hagel was obviously misguided in straying from such truths. (I’m being sarcastic here, in case readers can’t tell. More than one person mistakes my sarcasm as what I truly think!)
But the strengths I admire can also become traits that turn me off! On conciliation, how many times did President Obama roll over and let Republicans do what they wanted? Remember the sequester. And, when Obama decides to be a fighter, he comes across as arrogant, acting as if he is above the political process and blaming the other side, promoting good ideas when we know that those ideas have little chance of passing, at least not in this political climate. What is especially sad is when he merges these two approaches. For example, he talked tough about Syria, then didn’t deliver.
Now that the Republicans have the Senate, we’ll see more of the same thing. Sometimes, President Obama will agree to Republican demands. Other times, he’ll talk tough from a position of powerlessness. That’s my prediction. I will give him this, though: he will probably continue to make efforts to do what he can as President to effect his vision, through executive orders, perhaps through whatever power he has to decide on the administration of funds. But the Republicans in Congress will challenge him every step of the way.
I don’t really regret voting for him, considering the other options that were out there. Although I voted for McCain, I now have my doubts that he would have made that good of a President. He would have probably gone the opposite extreme to where Obama is: he would have conducted a bellicose foreign policy, which wouldn’t have been helpful. The Supreme Court would also be further right than it is now. That would be bad, considering the horrible decisions that have come from the conservatives on the court now (i.e., Citizens United).
I also doubt that Romney would have been that good of a President. He was making gaffes almost every week, alienating foreign allies. Even though today I look at the world and feel that it is falling apart, I doubt that McCain or Romney would have made things better.
Maybe we shouldn’t have elected a man who had so little political experience. Barack Obama was a community organizer and served two years in the Senate. His supporters assured themselves that he was smart and charismatic, and that would compensate. Well, he is smart! But Jimmy Carter had a high IQ, and he was not a particularly effective President. It takes smarts to be President, but it also takes more than academic knowledge. It takes competence.
So where should I go from here? There’s Hillary. I don’t like her, but maybe she is more politically savvy and competent than Barack Obama has been. I also appreciate a point that more than one progressive article has made: that a lot of reform can occur at the local level. A number of states and cities have raised the minimum wage. Some states have progressive health care policies.
Let me be clear: I am not saying that I would do a good job if I were President. Being President is a tough job. But we all have rights as citizens to have opinions about our leaders and whether they are performing well.
Book Write-Up: Storm
Jim Cymbala, with Jennifer Schuchmann. Storm: Hearing Jesus for the Times We Live In. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2014.
Jim Cymbala, pastor of the Brooklyn Tabernacle, believes that a storm is coming. It’s a spiritual storm. Christians with orthodox beliefs are becoming a minority in the United States. Churches are in decline and look to business models rather than God to solve their problem. A number of Christians look to political activism and forsake Jesus’ call to love their enemies in the process.
A lot of this book is Cymbala trying to encourage Christians to pray for their church and for other people, to seek and to desire God’s presence, and to preach the Gospel of God’s transforming love. Cymbala also includes stories, perhaps to illustrate the sort of authentic spiritual Christianity of which he speaks. One story is about a homeless lady who started a ministry of giving furniture to the poor. There are also stories about conversion to Christianity from Santeria and Islam.
Cymbala also includes a chapter that highlights the differences between the Old Covenant and the New Covenant in the Bible. This, for Cymbala, is not merely an intellectual exercise, but it has profound practical ramifications. According to Cymbala, many are confused by the Bible because there are a number of Old Testament rules that Christians do not keep, and they wonder why, since those rules are in the Bible. Moreover, skeptics attack Christians as being inconsistent in not obeying all of the Bible. Cymbala also notes the ill results that have occurred when Christians have imported Old Testament teachings into Christianity: the prosperity Gospel, intolerance, war, cursing of enemies instead of praying for them, legalism, and spiritual insecurity. Cymbala is not against Christians learning from the Old Testament, for he in the book draws frequently from the Book of I Samuel. Cymbala stresses, however, that the message under the New Covenant is different from the one of the Old Covenant, and that the New Covenant message is about salvation through Jesus Christ, joy, and eternal life. His rule is that believers should accept only the Old Testament commands that are explicitly affirmed in the New Testament.
Cymbala’s love and hunger for God are contagious, and the stories that he included were inspiring. Cymbala is also honest about his own weaknesses and growth as a Christian, and his book contains valuable insights, such as Martin Luther’s statement that God does many things in response to people’s prayers.
I had, however, three problems. First of all, Cymbala tells about a minister who said that he enjoyed spending time with God but not with other people, and Cymbala replied that this is a problem, and that the pastor should show love to God by helping and loving people. I certainly agree with Cymbala that pastors should be loving, but I wish that Cymbala had shown more compassion, empathy, and understanding to that pastor, or had offered the pastor practical guidance on how to serve his congregation as an introvert. Maybe Cymbala did so and did not mention it. Second, while Cymbala made valuable points in his chapter about the Old Covenant and the New Covenant, I still have questions. Should we assume that the New Testament was abrogating the Old Testament, when the New Testament quotes Old Testament passages as authoritative? Moreover, even if one shares Cymbala’s view that the New Covenant is better, he should still address the question of why God acted as God did in the Old Testament. Third, while I agree with Cymbala that Christians in the political arena can easily become acrimonious rather than loving, I do not entirely agree with his criticism of liberation theology. The Hebrew Bible is often concerned about societal justice, and I have my doubts that God discarded that concern when transitioning to the New Covenant.
Overall, though, this is a good book.
Note: I received a complimentary review copy of this book through the BookLook Bloggers (http://booklookbloggers.com/) book review bloggers program. The program does not require for my review to be positive, and my review reflects my honest reaction to the book.
Jim Cymbala, pastor of the Brooklyn Tabernacle, believes that a storm is coming. It’s a spiritual storm. Christians with orthodox beliefs are becoming a minority in the United States. Churches are in decline and look to business models rather than God to solve their problem. A number of Christians look to political activism and forsake Jesus’ call to love their enemies in the process.
A lot of this book is Cymbala trying to encourage Christians to pray for their church and for other people, to seek and to desire God’s presence, and to preach the Gospel of God’s transforming love. Cymbala also includes stories, perhaps to illustrate the sort of authentic spiritual Christianity of which he speaks. One story is about a homeless lady who started a ministry of giving furniture to the poor. There are also stories about conversion to Christianity from Santeria and Islam.
Cymbala also includes a chapter that highlights the differences between the Old Covenant and the New Covenant in the Bible. This, for Cymbala, is not merely an intellectual exercise, but it has profound practical ramifications. According to Cymbala, many are confused by the Bible because there are a number of Old Testament rules that Christians do not keep, and they wonder why, since those rules are in the Bible. Moreover, skeptics attack Christians as being inconsistent in not obeying all of the Bible. Cymbala also notes the ill results that have occurred when Christians have imported Old Testament teachings into Christianity: the prosperity Gospel, intolerance, war, cursing of enemies instead of praying for them, legalism, and spiritual insecurity. Cymbala is not against Christians learning from the Old Testament, for he in the book draws frequently from the Book of I Samuel. Cymbala stresses, however, that the message under the New Covenant is different from the one of the Old Covenant, and that the New Covenant message is about salvation through Jesus Christ, joy, and eternal life. His rule is that believers should accept only the Old Testament commands that are explicitly affirmed in the New Testament.
Cymbala’s love and hunger for God are contagious, and the stories that he included were inspiring. Cymbala is also honest about his own weaknesses and growth as a Christian, and his book contains valuable insights, such as Martin Luther’s statement that God does many things in response to people’s prayers.
I had, however, three problems. First of all, Cymbala tells about a minister who said that he enjoyed spending time with God but not with other people, and Cymbala replied that this is a problem, and that the pastor should show love to God by helping and loving people. I certainly agree with Cymbala that pastors should be loving, but I wish that Cymbala had shown more compassion, empathy, and understanding to that pastor, or had offered the pastor practical guidance on how to serve his congregation as an introvert. Maybe Cymbala did so and did not mention it. Second, while Cymbala made valuable points in his chapter about the Old Covenant and the New Covenant, I still have questions. Should we assume that the New Testament was abrogating the Old Testament, when the New Testament quotes Old Testament passages as authoritative? Moreover, even if one shares Cymbala’s view that the New Covenant is better, he should still address the question of why God acted as God did in the Old Testament. Third, while I agree with Cymbala that Christians in the political arena can easily become acrimonious rather than loving, I do not entirely agree with his criticism of liberation theology. The Hebrew Bible is often concerned about societal justice, and I have my doubts that God discarded that concern when transitioning to the New Covenant.
Overall, though, this is a good book.
Note: I received a complimentary review copy of this book through the BookLook Bloggers (http://booklookbloggers.com/) book review bloggers program. The program does not require for my review to be positive, and my review reflects my honest reaction to the book.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Book Write-Up: Song of Redemption, by Lynn Austin
Lynn Austin. Song of Redemption. Minneapolis: Bethany House Publishers, 2005.
Song of Redemption is the second novel in Lynn Austin’s Chronicles of the Kings series. The first three books of the series focus on the righteous biblical King Hezekiah, who ruled Judah during the eighth century B.C.E. The last two books are about Hezekiah’s son and successor, the wicked King Manasseh. See here for my review of the first book of this series, Gods and Kings.
All of Lynn Austin’s books that I have read so far, and this includes her Restoration Chronicles about post-exilic Israel, deal in some way with the struggle to have faith, and with people who have different spiritual beliefs. Song of Redemption is no different. And yet, I have to say that Song of Redemption is my favorite of Lynn Austin’s books so far because of how it addresses these issues.
There is Shebna, King Hezekiah’s right hand man, Hezekiah’s tutor when Hezekiah was a child, an Egyptian and an atheist. Shebna has little problem supporting Hezekiah’s religious reforms of eliminating idolatry, encouraging the nation to obey the Torah, and centralizing worship in Jerusalem. Shebna acknowledges that the Torah has good values (even though he believes that it has quite a bit of exaggeration and myth), and he thinks that Hezekiah’s reforms are elevating the morale of the nation. But Shebna only supports the reforms when they demonstrate concrete and practical benefit, and, not surprisingly, he is unwilling to take leaps of faith. When King Hezekiah decides to heed the prophet Isaiah’s advice on how to deal with the Assyrian invaders by sitting back and trusting God, Shebna thinks Hezekiah is committing national suicide! Overall, however, Shebna is a loyal and trustworthy adviser. He can be blackmailed on account of things that happened in the first book, and he wavers a bit in his loyalty, but he is a fairly decent person.
There is Jerimoth, a Northern Israelite. The Assyrians come into his town, slaughter or maim inhabitants, and capture Jerimoth’s daughter, Jerusha. When Hezekiah sends a messenger to the north to invite Northern Israelites to come to Jerusalem and keep the religious festivals, Jerimoth decides to go, thinking this could influence God to bring his daughter back to him. In Jerusalem, Jerimoth makes friends with Hilkiah and Hilkiah’s son, Eliakim, who were in the first book. Hilkiah encourages Jerimoth to hold on to his faith that God will return Jerimoth’s daughter to him, but Eliakim thinks that his father is wrong to encourage Hilkiah in this way: did not Hilkiah pray for his wife and Eliakim’s mother, and yet she still died? In a beautiful passage, Hilkiah and Eliakim are arguing about this after Jerimoth had gone to bed, and Jerimoth comes out and interrupts them. Jerimoth says that it is his choice to have faith, even if what he is believing does not appear likely, by human standards.
There is Hephzibah, the wife of Hezekiah. In the first book, she was discouraged because Hezekiah was ignoring her, preferring his concubines to her. Hezekiah’s reason was that Hephzibah was given to him as a result of some political deal his father had made, and that alienated him from her. When Hezekiah is convicted by the Torah that he should only have one wife, he puts away his concubines and becomes committed to Hephzibah alone, and he falls in love with her. Hephzibah does not particularly care for the Torah, however, and for understandable reasons. When she loses her baby, she wants for Hezekiah to hold her and to comfort her, but Hezekiah does not do so because that would violate the Torah’s purity laws surrounding childbirth. When Hezekiah tells her that she needs to offer a sin offering after a certain period of time to be purified, she refuses because she does not believe that she sinned in childbirth. As the years go by and she does not give Hezekiah an heir, she is tempted to seek help from the goddess Asherah. Her mother encourages her in this, saying that she never bought into all those rules of the Torah, and that she thought that Asherah was a more suitable deity for women because Asherah understood women’s issues.
The book has technical details, since it is partly about Hezekiah’s attempts to build a water tunnel so that Jerusalem could have water during a potential siege by the Assyrians. What is odd is that the prophet Isaiah chastises him for relying on the tunnel when he should be trusting in God, and, even after Hezekiah agrees with Isaiah, Hezekiah still supports Eliakim’s attempts to finish the tunnel.
The end of the book was a bit anticlimactic: the vicious Assyrians suddenly leave and head back to Nineveh, without attacking Jerusalem, and that convinces Shebna that there might be something to Hezekiah’s God. I wondered if this was how Lynn Austin was depicting the dramatic story in the Bible about the Assyrians taunting Jerusalem, Hezekiah pouring his heart out to God, and an angel slaughtering the Assyrians, and, if so, why she would present that in such a terse, anticlimactic manner. Did she have a page limit? It looks, though, as if the next book of the series will be about that dramatic story. I did not entirely mind Austin presenting the Assyrians leaving and going back to Nineveh in a low-key (yet surprising) manner, however, for that allowed the focus to be on Shebna’s religious journey.
Song of Redemption is the second novel in Lynn Austin’s Chronicles of the Kings series. The first three books of the series focus on the righteous biblical King Hezekiah, who ruled Judah during the eighth century B.C.E. The last two books are about Hezekiah’s son and successor, the wicked King Manasseh. See here for my review of the first book of this series, Gods and Kings.
All of Lynn Austin’s books that I have read so far, and this includes her Restoration Chronicles about post-exilic Israel, deal in some way with the struggle to have faith, and with people who have different spiritual beliefs. Song of Redemption is no different. And yet, I have to say that Song of Redemption is my favorite of Lynn Austin’s books so far because of how it addresses these issues.
There is Shebna, King Hezekiah’s right hand man, Hezekiah’s tutor when Hezekiah was a child, an Egyptian and an atheist. Shebna has little problem supporting Hezekiah’s religious reforms of eliminating idolatry, encouraging the nation to obey the Torah, and centralizing worship in Jerusalem. Shebna acknowledges that the Torah has good values (even though he believes that it has quite a bit of exaggeration and myth), and he thinks that Hezekiah’s reforms are elevating the morale of the nation. But Shebna only supports the reforms when they demonstrate concrete and practical benefit, and, not surprisingly, he is unwilling to take leaps of faith. When King Hezekiah decides to heed the prophet Isaiah’s advice on how to deal with the Assyrian invaders by sitting back and trusting God, Shebna thinks Hezekiah is committing national suicide! Overall, however, Shebna is a loyal and trustworthy adviser. He can be blackmailed on account of things that happened in the first book, and he wavers a bit in his loyalty, but he is a fairly decent person.
There is Jerimoth, a Northern Israelite. The Assyrians come into his town, slaughter or maim inhabitants, and capture Jerimoth’s daughter, Jerusha. When Hezekiah sends a messenger to the north to invite Northern Israelites to come to Jerusalem and keep the religious festivals, Jerimoth decides to go, thinking this could influence God to bring his daughter back to him. In Jerusalem, Jerimoth makes friends with Hilkiah and Hilkiah’s son, Eliakim, who were in the first book. Hilkiah encourages Jerimoth to hold on to his faith that God will return Jerimoth’s daughter to him, but Eliakim thinks that his father is wrong to encourage Hilkiah in this way: did not Hilkiah pray for his wife and Eliakim’s mother, and yet she still died? In a beautiful passage, Hilkiah and Eliakim are arguing about this after Jerimoth had gone to bed, and Jerimoth comes out and interrupts them. Jerimoth says that it is his choice to have faith, even if what he is believing does not appear likely, by human standards.
There is Hephzibah, the wife of Hezekiah. In the first book, she was discouraged because Hezekiah was ignoring her, preferring his concubines to her. Hezekiah’s reason was that Hephzibah was given to him as a result of some political deal his father had made, and that alienated him from her. When Hezekiah is convicted by the Torah that he should only have one wife, he puts away his concubines and becomes committed to Hephzibah alone, and he falls in love with her. Hephzibah does not particularly care for the Torah, however, and for understandable reasons. When she loses her baby, she wants for Hezekiah to hold her and to comfort her, but Hezekiah does not do so because that would violate the Torah’s purity laws surrounding childbirth. When Hezekiah tells her that she needs to offer a sin offering after a certain period of time to be purified, she refuses because she does not believe that she sinned in childbirth. As the years go by and she does not give Hezekiah an heir, she is tempted to seek help from the goddess Asherah. Her mother encourages her in this, saying that she never bought into all those rules of the Torah, and that she thought that Asherah was a more suitable deity for women because Asherah understood women’s issues.
The book has technical details, since it is partly about Hezekiah’s attempts to build a water tunnel so that Jerusalem could have water during a potential siege by the Assyrians. What is odd is that the prophet Isaiah chastises him for relying on the tunnel when he should be trusting in God, and, even after Hezekiah agrees with Isaiah, Hezekiah still supports Eliakim’s attempts to finish the tunnel.
The end of the book was a bit anticlimactic: the vicious Assyrians suddenly leave and head back to Nineveh, without attacking Jerusalem, and that convinces Shebna that there might be something to Hezekiah’s God. I wondered if this was how Lynn Austin was depicting the dramatic story in the Bible about the Assyrians taunting Jerusalem, Hezekiah pouring his heart out to God, and an angel slaughtering the Assyrians, and, if so, why she would present that in such a terse, anticlimactic manner. Did she have a page limit? It looks, though, as if the next book of the series will be about that dramatic story. I did not entirely mind Austin presenting the Assyrians leaving and going back to Nineveh in a low-key (yet surprising) manner, however, for that allowed the focus to be on Shebna’s religious journey.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Book Write-Up: The Future of Evangelical Theology
Amos Yong. The Future of Evangelical Theology: Soundings from the Asian American Diaspora. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2014. See here for IVP’s page about the book.
Amos Yong teaches theology and mission at Fuller Theological Seminary. He was born in Malaysia, a Muslim-controlled country, and he is of Chinese descent. His parents converted to Pentecostalism, and he grew up in that form of Christianity. He is married to a woman of Mexican descent.
The Future of Evangelical Theology includes articles that Dr. Yong has written. Essentially, the book is about how Pentecostalism and evangelicalism can address and interact with the globalization of evangelical Christianity, as evangelicalism ceases to be a primarily Western phenomenon. Yong focuses primarily on Asian and Asian American evangelicalism, but he seems to believe that his insights can apply to evangelicalism’s interaction with other people-groups as well, and he discusses issues that are certainly pertinent to other people-groups.
Yong engages a variety of topics: How can Western evangelicalism and Pentecostalism address the globalization of evangelical Christianity, when their roots have not been particularly sensitive to cultural diversity? Is it a problem that a number of Asian-American evangelicals gravitate towards Asian-American churches? How should evangelical Christians address the issue of undocumented immigration and the economic exploitation of immigrants? Is it appropriate to translate the Gospel into terms that make sense to Asians within their culture, without compromising the Gospel or resorting to syncretism? (And, of course, Yong points out that Western white culture has its own understanding of Christianity, so it is not as if Western evangelicalism has some pure form of Christianity, whereas other forms are accommodations to culture.) How should Asians who convert to evangelical Christianity deal with their own culture: should they discard parts of it? In the course of his discussion, Yong educates the reader about the various manifestations and contexts of Asian evangelicalism. Yong also talks about the problem of how many Americans regard Asian-Americans as a “model minority,” a stance that stigmatizes other minorities.
Yong’s proposals are all right—-they largely amounted to appreciating diversity, getting along, and standing up for justice. What made the book good, in my opinion, was Yong’s discussions of the specifics of Asian evangelicalism. Yong talked about how Asian evangelicalism looks different in different countries because it interacts with a variety of cultural features. Yong offered reasons that certain Asians convert to evangelicalism: the aspects of their own culture that may draw them to an evangelical belief system. Yong also referred to one Asian Christian belief that there is the possibility of salvation for one’s departed ancestors, which combined reverence for ancestors with a belief in Christ’s atonement.
Yong’s autobiographical narrative was also valuable, as was his honest discussion about his struggles as a Christian on the issue of money: he and his wife are part of the upper middle-class, and can that negatively impact his view of the poor or undermine his calling as a Christian?
Yong also refers to a number of other works, and those interested in this topic will most likely find them valuable.
My thanks for Intervarsity Press for sending me a complimentary review copy of this book.
Amos Yong teaches theology and mission at Fuller Theological Seminary. He was born in Malaysia, a Muslim-controlled country, and he is of Chinese descent. His parents converted to Pentecostalism, and he grew up in that form of Christianity. He is married to a woman of Mexican descent.
The Future of Evangelical Theology includes articles that Dr. Yong has written. Essentially, the book is about how Pentecostalism and evangelicalism can address and interact with the globalization of evangelical Christianity, as evangelicalism ceases to be a primarily Western phenomenon. Yong focuses primarily on Asian and Asian American evangelicalism, but he seems to believe that his insights can apply to evangelicalism’s interaction with other people-groups as well, and he discusses issues that are certainly pertinent to other people-groups.
Yong engages a variety of topics: How can Western evangelicalism and Pentecostalism address the globalization of evangelical Christianity, when their roots have not been particularly sensitive to cultural diversity? Is it a problem that a number of Asian-American evangelicals gravitate towards Asian-American churches? How should evangelical Christians address the issue of undocumented immigration and the economic exploitation of immigrants? Is it appropriate to translate the Gospel into terms that make sense to Asians within their culture, without compromising the Gospel or resorting to syncretism? (And, of course, Yong points out that Western white culture has its own understanding of Christianity, so it is not as if Western evangelicalism has some pure form of Christianity, whereas other forms are accommodations to culture.) How should Asians who convert to evangelical Christianity deal with their own culture: should they discard parts of it? In the course of his discussion, Yong educates the reader about the various manifestations and contexts of Asian evangelicalism. Yong also talks about the problem of how many Americans regard Asian-Americans as a “model minority,” a stance that stigmatizes other minorities.
Yong’s proposals are all right—-they largely amounted to appreciating diversity, getting along, and standing up for justice. What made the book good, in my opinion, was Yong’s discussions of the specifics of Asian evangelicalism. Yong talked about how Asian evangelicalism looks different in different countries because it interacts with a variety of cultural features. Yong offered reasons that certain Asians convert to evangelicalism: the aspects of their own culture that may draw them to an evangelical belief system. Yong also referred to one Asian Christian belief that there is the possibility of salvation for one’s departed ancestors, which combined reverence for ancestors with a belief in Christ’s atonement.
Yong’s autobiographical narrative was also valuable, as was his honest discussion about his struggles as a Christian on the issue of money: he and his wife are part of the upper middle-class, and can that negatively impact his view of the poor or undermine his calling as a Christian?
Yong also refers to a number of other works, and those interested in this topic will most likely find them valuable.
My thanks for Intervarsity Press for sending me a complimentary review copy of this book.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
"O for a Heart to Praise My God"
At church this morning, one of the hymns that we sang was “O for a Heart to Praise My God.” Click here
to read the lyrics and to listen to the song. The link actually shows a
lot more verses than the song had in our hymn book. The hymn’s words
were written by Charles Wesley, and the music was by Thomas Haweis. The
song sounded to me like “O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing,” whose words were also written by Charles Wesley.
The hymn is about the Christian’s wish that God make his or her heart pure, meek, loving, and yielded to God. I liked the hymn. I was wondering if there are certain themes that resonate with Christian introverts, and certain themes that resonate with Christian extroverts. I, as an introvert, happen to like messages that focus on God transforming our sinful hearts, or God loving each of us personally. Maybe it’s because those messages appeal to my introspective side! Sermons about reaching out to others, service, and social justice, however, do not resonate with me as much, probably because I would prefer to stay in my home reading than going out and being active in the world. That does not mean that these themes are unimportant—-they are, very much so, though I would add the caveat that there are ways for introverts to participate in ways that are different from how extroverts participate.
I was also thinking about when I am closer to God: when my heart is relatively pure, or when it is filled with sin. Well, I cannot say that my heart is ever pure, but there are times when my heart is not preoccupied with anger, resentment, unforgiveness, or anxiety, and instead either has indifference (which is not so pure), or genuine goodwill for others. I find, though, that I pray more and cling to God more when my heart is filled with sin and I am desperate to feel God’s love and reassurance. Charles Wesley, though, offers another scenario: suppose one feels closer to God because one’s heart is pure, like the heart of God.
The hymn is about the Christian’s wish that God make his or her heart pure, meek, loving, and yielded to God. I liked the hymn. I was wondering if there are certain themes that resonate with Christian introverts, and certain themes that resonate with Christian extroverts. I, as an introvert, happen to like messages that focus on God transforming our sinful hearts, or God loving each of us personally. Maybe it’s because those messages appeal to my introspective side! Sermons about reaching out to others, service, and social justice, however, do not resonate with me as much, probably because I would prefer to stay in my home reading than going out and being active in the world. That does not mean that these themes are unimportant—-they are, very much so, though I would add the caveat that there are ways for introverts to participate in ways that are different from how extroverts participate.
I was also thinking about when I am closer to God: when my heart is relatively pure, or when it is filled with sin. Well, I cannot say that my heart is ever pure, but there are times when my heart is not preoccupied with anger, resentment, unforgiveness, or anxiety, and instead either has indifference (which is not so pure), or genuine goodwill for others. I find, though, that I pray more and cling to God more when my heart is filled with sin and I am desperate to feel God’s love and reassurance. Charles Wesley, though, offers another scenario: suppose one feels closer to God because one’s heart is pure, like the heart of God.
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