• Peace Be with You: Monastic Wisdom for a Terror-Filled World © 2011
• Thomas Nelson
• 276 pages

In the wake of 9/11, David Carlson sought answers. He knew “something was missing” in our response to the tragedy, but he wasn’t quite sure what. This question led him to monasteries and retreat centres across America where he interviewed 30+ contemplatives. This book promises to deliver that “monastic wisdom for a terror-filled world”.

I’ll start with the good. As  you might suspect, the contemplative community views the American response to 9/11 as completely un-Christian. Indeed, our vengeful retaliation is an act more in line with the Islamic terrorists than the spirit of Christ. Carlson gave a central position in his book to the writings of the late Thomas Merton, especially his Fourth and Walnut epiphany. It was then Merton realized that humanity was one and that because of incarnation, we can never view another human as, well, other.

His closing insight was to compare 9/11 to Golgotha. If God had responded towards humanity the way America responded towards Pakistan and (later) Iraq, we wouldn’t be around. That’s a comparison worth meditating on.

While the message is important, I was frustrated by the way Carlson shared it. Instead of letting the monastic wisdom of those 30+ interviews shine, he couched their insight in paragraphs of introspection. Here’s an example:

I will never forget that precise moment as we sat across from one another, when an insight that had been lurking in the wings of my consciousness finally became clear. That insight would have meant nothing without the interviews that had come before. But that insight, now dawning, seemed to complete my journey. (244)

Use the preceding paragraph as a litmus test. If you are intrigued by his journey, buy the book. If, like me, you found it tiresome and wished he’d just get to the aforementioned insight, you might want to take a pass.

This book is more memoir than journalism.

Disclaimer: I received this book for free as a member of Thomas Nelson’s Booksneeze program.

• Revelations of Divine Love © 1966
• Trans. Clifton Wolters
• Penguin
• 213 pages

The scribe who put the words of Mother Julian to paper offered a warning:

I pray God almighty that this book shall fall only into the hands of those who intend to be his lovers, and who are willing to submit to the Faith of the Holy Church, and to obey such sound and instructive teaching as is given by men of virtue, maturity, and profound learning. For this revelation contains deep theology and great wisdom, and is not meant for those who are enslaved by sin and the Devil. (213)

His warning is apt. Like my experience with The Imitation, this is the sort of writing that you have to deeply commit to before you benefit from it. If you try to skim it quickly—as if it were some modern day best-seller—it feels shallow and repetitive. On the other hand, I dare any believer to pray, open the book, and not be changed.

The form of The Revelation is simple. In 86 short chapters, Julian recounts and interprets 16 separate visions she received while praying. These visions focus on the pain Jesus was willing to bear for us, the depth of Jesus’ love for us, and the incomprehensible role of evil in God’s good creation.

Along the way (writing as a fourteenth century Anchorite) she shares some things that will make modern day Western-style evangelicals squirm. Specifically, her comments on St. Mary and her lengthy reflections on the motherhood of Jesus. Please don’t let this dissuade you from this work. The expression “Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater” comes to mind.

Mother Julian was a devoted believer who was overwhelmed with the love of her God. We could all use a reminder of that.

So it was that I learned that love was our Lord’s meaning. And I saw for certain, both here and everywhere, that before ever he made us, God loved us; and that his love has never slackened, nor ever shall. In this love all his works have been done, and in this love he has made everything serve us; and in this love our life is everlasting. Our beginning was when we were made, but the love in which he made us never had beginning. In it we have our beginning. (212)

One last thought. There are more editions of this work than you can shake a stick at. I read the Penguin Classics edition, with an introduction by the translator, Clifton Wolters. His 33 page introduction was a valuable aid for me to understand the broad theme of the book as well as Mother Julian’s life and setting.

• Contemplative Prayer © 1969
• Image: Doubleday
• 116 pages

Merton is one godly man. I’ve read many books on prayer that have left a vague aftertaste of unlived academia. Contemplative Prayer, on the other hand, is a book of personal experience informed by a brilliant mind.

This is not a book for beginners. It would have been almost worthless to me back in Seminary when I was more interested in being correct than communicating with God. Even now, there were many times during Contemplative Prayer where I felt like I’m just beginning my journey with God in prayer. In God, there are always deeper places to journey.

One of the highlights of this book was his recurring use of St. John of the Cross’ Dark Night. Merton constantly reminds us that real contemplation is not focused on the effects of prayer. There are times in prayer when we feel no divine consolations. Many times contemplation is a journey through the desert.

If you’re serious about and committed to a life-long journey of contemplative prayer, Merton’s a wise and reliable spiritual adviser.

• Judas and Jesus: Amazing Grace for the Wounded Soul ©2005
• Cascade Books: Wipf & Stock Publishers
• 130 pages

Judas has become more of an expression than a person. To call someone a “Judas” is to name them a betrayer. No one in the Gospels plays a more villainous role than Judas. But, is he beyond God’s grace? Anderson answers with a resounding, “No”!

The book begins with a dialogue between Jesus and Judas after the resurrection and Judas’ suicide. It ends with Judas’ own “gospel” where he recounts receiving posthumous grace. In between are a number of short chapters which consider the various psychological aspects of betrayal and shame.

There are some penetrating insights here. For example, betrayal is always a sin of love—it’s not betrayal to set up an enemy! Another poignant observation was the need each social group has for a Judas. So long as there’s a Judas in the group, you can project your own heart onto their actions.

Unfortunately, I found Anderson’s style of writing melodramatic and surprisingly repetitive for such a short book. Some of the chapters covered similar ground, and logic at times bowed down to rhetorical flourish.

For all its flaws, this book has forced me to reconsider Judas. I tend to gloss over his repentance and too-little-too-late restitution and focus on his suicide. While I don’t fully buy Anderson’s theory of Judas’ ultimate redemption, I’m now completely on the fence. I’ll leave that decision in the hands of the only One fit to judge.

• The Sacred Meal: The Ancient Practices Series © 2009
• Thomas Nelson
• 149 pages

I can’t believe it. I just finished reading an entire book on the Lord’s Supper and heard virtually nothing about Jesus’ death. Seriously, think about it:

And as they were eating, he took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, and they all drank of it. And he said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. (Mark 14:22-24 ESV)

The entire point of the original supper was Jesus’ impending death. How do you miss that?

Let me bring a little balance to this review. Nora Gallagher is a gifted writer. Her prose is tight and compelling. In addition, some of the themes she spoke about such as receiving the Eucharist as a gift and the connection between the Lord’s Supper and his mission to the disenfranchised were important. Unfortunately there was too much sloppy theology mixed in. Here are a couple of examples:

1. “Jesus said, ‘Do this to remember me’ (Luke 22:19 NLT). Many of us think these words, . . . mean that we’re remembering Jesus when we drink of this cup and eat of this bread. Well, of course, we’re remembering Jesus, but that should not be all we’re doing. I don’t think Jesus was interested in everybody just remembering him. What’s the point of that? . . . I think Jesus wanted his disciples and everyone who came after him to remember what they had together. What they made together. What it meant to be together. . . . Do this to remember me. Do this to remember who you were with me. Do this to remember who you are” (23-24). My thoughts: So remembering Jesus is pointless—he obviously wanted us to reinterpret his words to fit 21st century psychology.
2. “There is another way to think of dying and where we go. Instead, we die in, . . . that is, we reenter the earth, to be part of the earth that gave us our beginning, to become part of all that lives, and moves, and has its being (Acts 17:28). What if the risen Christ does not die out, as in being lifted into the heavens, but rather dies in, that is, dies into the whole of the world” (131)? My thoughts: Okay, at least we’re thinking about Jesus’ death now, but how on earth can you call Jesus’ resurrection from the dead a “die out” as in “being lifted into the heavens”?

I could point to a number of other examples of obvious eisigesis, but I’m pretty sure you get the picture. Beautiful writing and interesting stories cannot redeem this book.

Disclaimer: I received this book for free as a member of Thomas Nelson’s Booksneeze program.

• The Imitation of Christ © 1910
• First Published c. 1418
• 284 pages

I first read the Imitation when I was feeling especially spiritual in high school. I went to my local Christian book store with a few dollars to spend and found an abridged paperback version of it in the reduced bin. What a disaster! I don’t usually put books down once I’ve started them, but after reading the first few chapters carefully, I skimmed the rest. Now, a couple decades past high school, with a nice hardback Everyman’s Library edition in hand, I decided to give Thomas another try. Rather than reading it like a normal book, I read it one or two chapters per morning during my devotions.

This book challenged me immensely. It has a poetic power that pierces the superficial skin of modern Christendom. I found myself praying Thomas’ prayers and confessing the things he was repenting. The most important message of the entire volume was the call to distrust your emotions. Divine consolations come and go. We often mature more when we don’t ‘feel’ God than when we do.

I do have some difficulties with the work that I think are more than just time-period misunderstandings. For all his insight into the human condition, Thomas has missed a lot of what it means to imitate Christ. Read through the gospels at the same time as the Imitation and you’ll see what I mean. All the talk of mortification can wear you down. A more balanced imitation of Christ would not downplay self-denial, but would also stress the freedom of living eternal life without worry for tomorrow.

The second issue is the individual nature of the work, which is a little odd, coming from the fifteenth century. Imitating Christ should drive us outward to love each other. This book, at times, makes it sound like the only thing that matters is the individual’s heart-condition.

The last issue I have is a bit of a logical inconsistency. The first three quarters of the work go into detail about the need to distrust your feelings and trust God whether or not there are any heavenly consolations. In the last quarter, he practically begs for those worthy feelings that he believes he should have to celebrate the Eucharist aright.

With all that said, this book is still one of the best books on spiritual formation I’ve ever encountered. It offers an almost offensive antidote for those people (like me) who are infected by the spirit of twenty-first century Western-style Christianity. Read it slowly, thoughtfully, and prayerfully at your own risk.

• The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical © 2006
• Zondervan
• 367 pages

Most Christians I know fall into two broad categories. The younger type of Christian (along with the older young-in-the-faith type) tend to be more idealistic and less jaded. The more … let’s call them “mature”, trade a bit of that idealistic fire for a “reasonable” Christian life. I don’t feel like speculating about which camp I fall into.

Claiborne’s a third type of person. He’s as idealistic and visionary as they come, but without rancor. He’s managed to mature in his Kingdom-vision without losing his passion. I hesitated to read this book for a while because I assumed it would lay out some grand call to discipleship that would thoroughly discourage most of the Christians I know. Nothing could be further from the truth.

The Irresistible Revolution tells of Claiborne’s own experiments in living faithful to the gospel, along with some of the lessons he’s learned. Instead of prescribing solutions to lukewarm Christendom, he presents a story that’s so attractive you can’t help but want to join in.

One of the best aspects of this book was Claiborne’s humour. Here’s an example. One of the times he was in court for civil disobedience, he called the prosecutor the persecutor by accident. Priceless. In a world that takes itself far too seriously, divine foolishness is one way to get noticed!

Reading Claiborne is like moving from the sin-heavy atmosphere of this world to the rarefied air of the Kingdom of God.

Note: A free review copy of this book was provided by Zondervan.

• After You Believe: Why Christian Character Matters © 2010
• HarperOne: Harper Collins
• 307 pages

Good things happen when you mash different subjects together (just search for “mashup” on YouTube and you’ll see what I mean). In Wright’s latest book for the public audience, he’s mashed up three topics:

1. New Testament ethics
2. Christian virtue
3. Non-Christian ethics

Here’s the book in a nutshell: We are called to habitually practice the virtues of the Kingdom of God here in the present, so when difficult situations arise we will act according to our second nature (Christian habits) rather than our old nature. Wright develops this theme in quite a bit of detail.

My only criticism of the book is its length. While I love his 800 page works of theology, this could have been trimmed down for the popular audience.

Wright has an uncanny ability to pierce through the quagmire of mushy modern theology and deliver substance that will help the believer live life to the fullest. This is worthwhile reading for anyone who has ever wondered what to do after becoming a believer.

• The Sacred Journey: The Ancient Practices (Ancient Practices Series) © 2010
• Thomas Nelson
• 231 pages

I’ve been canoe tripping for years. I started adventuring to conquer distance, but that desire has morphed into a love for the journey itself. In my old mindset, rain and bugs were tragic. Now, they’re just another part of the trail. Until now, Bill Mason and Sigurd Olson have been my chief aids in interpreting the wilderness experience. Now, I’m happy to add Charles Foster to their company. His The Sacred Journey has given me a way to understand the difference between tourism (placing checkmarks beside the names of rivers and lakes) and real pilgrimage.

Foster’s writing is as eloquent as always. In addition to the mere information you can strip from this book, his style of writing makes you want to experience that sort of life for yourself. I often found myself longing for my next pilgrimage (taking the form of a two week journey through Algonquin Park).

One of the interesting treasures of this book was Foster’s ability to demonstrate how many various religions have all promoted the idea of pilgrimage. That places it in the category of caring for the poor and the golden rule: things that religions besides Christianity have perceived are important. This isn’t to suggest that we learn doctrine from alternate religions—it just adds a nice synergy to the study.

Foster’s attack on gnosticism made me smile. He reminded me at times of Eugene Peterson, who first taught me (through many of his different books) that spirituality is not primarily otherworldly. To my chagrin, Foster often used the writing of Paulo Coelho to attack gnosticism—while I’ve stopped reading him for his gnostic impulses!

If you’re looking to find a carefully reasoned theological argument for the role of pilgrimage in the life of the Christian, don’t bother. You’ll just find yourself frustrated (as other reviewers have been). If you want to experience the best of God’s good creation and explore the depths of your humanity, Foster’s book is an inspiring guide.

Disclaimer: I received this book for free as a member of Thomas Nelson’s Booksneeze program.

• Hannah’s Prayer and Its Answer: An Exposition for Bible Study ©2002
• Eerdmans
• 113 pages

They say you should be careful what you wish for, because it might come true. That aphorism pales in comparison to this one: be careful what you pray for! The first seven chapters of 1 Samuel tell the story of Hannah’s answered prayer. Ronald Wallace is a faithful guide.

This is the sort of book you get when a godly person has spent some time dwelling on the story and its implications. In fact, this book was birthed out of a series of weekly prayer meetings where Wallace expounded Hannah’s story.

The value of this volume lies in Wallace’s ability to make you think of all aspects of the narrative. We tend to grab one point in a story and make it our own—Wallace writes in panoramic style. This is an ideal book for any lay person who wants a companion to read along with 1 Samuel.