some books I've read and maybe you can too

Confession: I am not A READER. I saunter casually through the New York Times best-seller list choosing pretty much by cover design. I hmmm noncommittally when assaulted with face-to-face impassioned recommendations. I don’t make eye contact in Barnes and Noble. Sometimes I even forget that reading is in the realm of possibility. (you may start your shaming now…) 

But, I do love books. 

I feel I must tell you that these are not necessarily my favorites, or the best, or the least objectionable, or the most recent…these are books that have stuck to me. Changed me. Made me think hard about big things. Made me laugh like a hyena late at night in bed…and so forth and so on. You get the idea. FYI: I’ve chosen to save most of my Christian worldview books for another list. I've also chosen to let you look these up on Amazon yourself. Think of the calories you'll burn!

1.     The Boys in the Boat

Took me a few chapters to warm up to Daniel Brown’s account of the American rowing team in the 1936 Olympics, but I’m pretty sure I spent the rest of the book forgetting to breathe. The stories of these boys,  what they were up against, and what was going on in the world in that decade make this book worth ignoring heaping mounds of laundry, dirty dishes, emails, and texts from loved ones. Not that I would know anything about that.  

2. A Long Way Gone

Ishmael Beah wrote this gripping account of how he became a boy soldier in Sierra Leone. It’s too sad to give any more detail than that. Because of its graphic violence, I will likely not read it again. But if I ever interact with refugee children from a war-torn country (yes please), although I may not understand them, at least now I know, and my heart is bigger and softer for it. 

3. The Reason I Jump

Naoki Higashida had autism. And he was thirteen. And he up and wrote a book about his life. Let this sink in.   

4. Frozen in Time 

You’re going to want several forms of heat readily available when you read this book. I’m not kidding. Mitchell Zuckoff writes a gripping account of WW2, the Arctic, humanity, bravery, duty, loss, triumph…you get the idea. This book brought all the feels.

5. Shoe Dog

Phil Night created Nike. This is his memoir. Need I say more? I loved watching him gather and interact with his business team most of all. Plus, let’s face it. Athletic shoes and business were two fantastically new worlds for me. It was pretty cool to walk through them with a well-seasoned native like Phil Night. 

6. James Herriot

Big animals. Big personalities. Big food. Big country. All set in the outrageous beauty of the Yorkshire Dales. Warning: do not pick up this book if you are uncomfortable with bovines and/or someone sticking their arm up into one. There’s a fair bit of drinking and language as well. But, try as I might to stop, Herriot’s books get an annual read. 

7. Mitford

This Jan Karon series follows the life of an Episcopalian rector in a rural southern community. (stop laughing) The pages glow with small town and small church humor, and the characters are quirky and laugh out loud relatable. I seriously think I know some of these people in real life. These are hot tea, fuzzy blanket  and stormy weather books, and you will become addicted to them. Good thing Karon is prolific. 

8. The Freedom of Self Forgetfulness

I’m not sure why a friend gave me this book by Timothy Keller, *Looks into the middle distance* but I need it. It’s Scripture rich, engaging, short, and powerful. Right now I’ve got it on audio and it gets a listen every few weeks. Unless I forget. wink.

9. The Wright Brothers

I felt led to include a David McCullough on this list because it makes me look really good. It’s also a delightful slice of Americana. Two brothers invent in this book. And the odds are super against them. And then…they fly. So, yeah. You may want to pick this one up.  

10.    What I’m currently reading

Platform by Michael Hyatt. 

If you read this book, please do not notice that I have yet to take any of Michael Hyatt’s excellent and proven advice about how to grow your virtual platform. But someday, when I find my ducks so I can put them in a row, I will put them in Hyatt formation. And I dare say it will work splendidly. 

Of Time and the River by Thomas Wolfe. 

You guys, what this man does with English will blow. your. mind. The storyline is long-legged and awkward. The language can be unfortunate, and there may be some significant objectionable material ahead. Still, for now I find myself tearing off small shards of paragraph and chewing them slow like savory jerky until the flavor dissolves. Never you mind I’ve had the book for half a year and I’m less than 50 pages in. Reading Wolfe is rewarding work. 

...........

So, if you happen upon a 4’11” woman wearing fuzzy eye brow glasses darting around the B&N aisles throwing brightly colored books into her basket, just know it’s my attempt to mask my lack of bookish and be a reader like the rest of all y'all. And have pity. 

Beth 

you once were the same

I saw him first when I glanced at my rearview mirror. A large gray pickup truck swerving bully-like through the construction traffic behind me. Then all I could see was his grill as he laid on his horn inches from my back bumper. Then beside me in a flurry of obscene gestures and lurching in front of me with such a change in speed that I had to brake hard to keep from plowing into him.

Spending our life in malice and envy,

 hateful, hating one another

Then I saw it. Fixed prominently to the back of his truck was the most graphic image of a naked woman. I’ve never seen something that pornographic on a vehicle before. I blushed deep to think of so many people around me seeing what I was. I felt as if all women were being stripped of their dignity by that picture. I felt as if somehow my own worth had just been ripped away.

 Disobedient, deceived, enslaved to various lusts and pleasures.

You see, I know that man without knowing him. He thinks he is strong but he is weak. For all of his bluster, he is powerless. Bound skin-breaking tight with the chains of his anger and lust. Broken by his desires. He does not call the shots in his life. He is no free man. His pride and passion rule heavy-handed over him. And I know this man’s end; It is horrific. Sin only doles out one wage.

For we also once were foolish ourselves…

Then something clicked inside me. Like a cog that at long last had shifted into place. I know this man because I know myself. I know the sure fall in temptation. The pursuing of pleasures only to find that I cannot stop. The realization that the attitudes, and actions I thought put me in control were actually my masters, manipulating me like a limp puppet on a string.

But when the kindness of God our Saviour and His love for mankind appeared,

 He saved us, not on the basis of deeds…

but according to His mercy.

I know what it’s like to be rescued from that. I even know what it’s like to be rescued from that and not act like I have been. In reality there is nothing separating me from a life like that man but the kindness and love of God. His salvation that I heard, and it resonated so deep in my heart that with my whole being I lurched forward to believe it. And in that moment he saved me from myself. And He set me free from sin. And there is now no more condemnation.

so that being justified by His grace, we would be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life.

So there I sat in my car looking like all the other flustered drivers he’d worked his evil on behind me. But the tears that began to fall were not angry tears. There was pity there mixed with sorrow mixed with a great thankfulness and wonder.

For we also once were foolish ourselves…

but He saved us.

Titus 3

Beth

when singleness is awesome

There. I said it. It will go down forever in the annals of cyber history never to be erased or forgotten. Sometimes being single is awesome. And before we go deeper into this highly suspect topic (I know you’re thinking that. Yes, you.) Let me list a few familiar reasons why.

 

     Possibilities abound.

     No one depends on me doing life stuff

     Service has few boundaries.

     Sleep in

     Eat out

     Sleep in 

     Eat all the cookie dough

     Clean house (if I want it to be)

     Just myself to get ready

     Sleep in

     Eat out

     Sleep in

You get the idea. So, what do we do with all this awesome?

    Store it up

    There will be times when singleness is not so awesome. It’s part of the ebb and flow of life. At some point, I will (yet again) yearn to do life as two instead of one. The benefits of marriage will look like the rainbow’s pot o’ gold. So take stock of what you love in singleness. Record it. And when your emotions flip (and they will) (perhaps several times a day) (I’m referring to a friend of mine here) remember it.

    Keep it to yourself

Dear marrieds: Please don’t share how you came home discouraged and your spouse cradled you in their arms and rubbed your aching muscles as they whispered assuring, passionate words in your ear. And don’t tell me that while you’re sitting squished into each other on my couch polishing it all off with a lingering kiss in my living room. This does not edify.

Dear singles: Don’t parade what you can do and be and enjoy because you’re single in front of your exhausted, aching, stressed, aMAZing married friends. (just forget the beginning of this post, k?) I think perhaps this must also not edify.

Truth is, I don’t have to confirm my worth as a single by itemizing my life for others. Love doesn’t do that. Ever. Wonderful doesn’t equal needs-to-be-shared. Sometimes love withholds what could be said even if it’s true and important to me.

Sometimes love edits.

    Use it as a launch pad

What can I do for others because I’m single? What can I do for God’s kingdom? What does laying up lasting treasure look like for me? The awesomeness of being single is not down to fluff our cushy, designer lives with. It’s a firm foundation on which we can launch into service for God and others. Use it that way.

   Don’t hold onto it

Most of my peers are in their first 10yrs. of marriage. Life is hard for them. Very.  When I think of starting all those challenges late in the game, I kind of want to throw up. Hey, I read mommy blogs, yo. Also, at this point I’m kinda good at singleness. It’s familiar and comfortable. Most days, it’s awesome.

That can make the unknown of dating relationships, um…not very appealing. There’s a give and take there. There’s sharing. There’s possible rejection, misunderstanding, giving up of single benefits…and perhaps eventually marriage and children. (looks away from computer screen because hyperventilating)

But singleness is not something to be grasped. It is something in our hand to use for Jesus until He decides He can get more glory by placing something else in our hand. Don’t panic and clench your fist if He starts to do that. Let Him choose your instrument of praise. Let Him choose your platform.

And let the awesomeness of singleness reflect our awesome God.

Beth

picture Jesus: a primer in weathering turbulence

The captain called them significant bumps, and for several moments I savored the sheer artistry of that phrase. Significant is a weighty, mature word. Unrushed. Elegant. Controlled. And  bumps is possibly the most adorable word ever. This was a word match made in Heaven. Well done, Southwest. Well done.

Pixabay.com via Wikkimedia.org 

I love everything about flying. Love catapulting through those mechanical entry doors and being swept up in this swirling eddy of vibrant humanity. Love skidding down miles of shiny terminal tiles with every possible color, race, age, size, height, and personality God made. Everyone has a look. Everyone has a gait. Mannerisms. History. Agenda. Some move fast. Some move slow. It’s a free for all on visual bliss. And everyone is a potential new friend.

Correction. I love everything about flying but flying.

So when the deep, sincere voice warned us of significant turbulence while we soared thousands of feet above ground round, with nothing but a few inches of metal between us and angry sky, I had to think fast. Lest they have to squeegee me off the ceiling, or my seat neighbor tire of me rocking back and forth in the fetal position. Or I unleash a blood-curdling, unrelenting scream. These things well up deep inside me and threaten to actually happen in turbulence. Is no bueno.

I began by picturing Jesus. He looked remarkably like the flannelgraph version. But it was not the thought of a long-haired, white-robbed man sitting next to me that soothed my rising insides. It was simply remembering He was there with me, and that His presence carried the weight of all the words He’s every spoken to me. You see, if we are to weather any turbulence in life, we must make the connection between Christ’s presence and His words.

This is what I found as we braced for impact:

    1. He keeps people in perfect peace when they stay their mind on Him. I talked with Him about this as we started our descent into Atlanta. How trusting=focusing my thoughts=complete peace. And I led my mind down a long path of thoughts about Him. My insides stopped churning.

    2. There is goodness and mercy in every day of my life. David concludes this at the end of His famous 23^rd Psalm. Surely, this is the case if God is our Shepherd. So I looked for God’s steadfast loving-kindness as my ears popped and the fasten seatbelt sign dinged. I found it all around me.

    3. The Lord is my helper, I will not fear what man can do to me.  I’ll admit when I remembered these words, my first thought was, “but man didn’t strap you to a narrow cylinder hurtling at an alarming rate towards certain death!” But the point is this: if my God were as visible as He was present, everyone on that plane would beg to be on His side. The God who speaks things into existence, the God who ‘upholds the government of worlds,’ the God with nail scars in His hands, who came alive from being dead by His own power…this God is with me. This God is my helper. My fear stayed at 30,000ft.

There were other Bible words that flooded my mind as we all sat there with fluttering hearts. But, if I were to be completely honest, I’d say that those significant bumps never actually happened. We jostled a few times, and landed on firm ground just after the major storm had moved on. Hmmm. Sounds like a Divine hand to me. And as we shuffled off the plane exhausted but relieved, a grin (I’m afraid it was cheesy) spread across my face. I could picture Jesus. He would carry and comfort me through any turbulence. 

Beth

And what at midnight?

They were just two men doing right. Doing what we all hope we would do at the sight of an innocent girl being maliciously abused. They rescue this little girl because the image of God has been stamped soul-deep into every feeble, strong, old, infant, man, woman, millions of us. Stamped like this indelible mark of value and ownership. Making every stranger our neighbor and constraining each of us to show mercy and grace. 

And this beautiful act triggers the downward spiral of worst possible events.

The abusers, unable to stomach the blow to their income, fling the two men before a pack of unjust magistrates. Lies are hurled, and the growing mob is stirred into violent frenzy. Paul and Silas are stripped naked. Then beaten. Then cast into prison. Then cast into a deeper prison. Then locked tight in the stocks. One act of righteousness leaves them bleeding, buried, and bound. Hours pass. Blood congeals. Muscles stiffen. The damp and putrid sets in.

And at midnight they pray loud and sing praise to God.

used by permission from spokenlightphoto (my cool friend!)

And we watch in awe as this beautiful act triggers the upward spiral of miraculous events. God shakes out the earth for His two children. The prison doors fling wide in the quake. The heavy bands loose and fall limp to the ground. The prison guard leads them up then out, and his God-stamped soul finds mercy and grace which spreads to every soul in his home. Paul and Silas walk away free men. The Kingdom of God marches forward.

___________________

We all have midnights.

I mean, we do right and suffer loss. We live right yet our bodies live in pain. We spread the mercy of the Gospel, and we are spread thick with rejection and hate. Like Job, we stand helplessly watching our loved ones slip away. We do right, and we are stopped. We do right and nothing makes sense. And what will we do then? What will we do when we are held fast in the bonds of disappointment and frustration? When the heavy gate of doubt slams shut and locks us tight. When the damp and putrid of life on a fallen planet sets in. What then? What at midnight?

I’m pretty convinced Paul and Silas were not pondering some salvific scheme of rescue or escape as they worshiped God in that prison. I think there was a naked faith in God that gave them confidence in the darkest hour. God is longsuffering. If we look for that in our lives, we are going to see it. God is kind. We can always trace that ray. Our God is loving, merciful, strong, wise, just, eternal, and compassionate… midnights do not quench these. His character glows bright in darkness. I believe Paul and Silas experienced that, and it gushed out in prayers and thanksgiving despite their current condition. Faith can see what sight cannot. And what faith sees will always soar the heart in worship.

But we try so hard to strap His character to what we want His actions to be. If my God is____________then surely He will_______________. And we walk away sorely disappointed, licking the wounds caused by our own understanding. We forget that perfect character will always motivate perfect actions. Do not doubt this at midnight. Trust who He is in the dark. He will move in our favor. He can only do that. Whether it ends in miraculous deliverance or some sustained dayspring of sufficient grace.

So we do right. And sometimes we sit wrapped in midnight.  But we see what we cannot see, and know it to be true. And we worship the God of miracles alongside Paul and Silas.

Beth 

He must increase

Until He is my favorite thought upon waking, and my favorite thought before sleep.

Until He is the pursuit of my quiet moments.

Until I see sacrifice as the noblest choice.

Until the faults of others become the platform for more grace and lavish mercy, not a salve for my self-righteousness or kindle for my judgment.

Until I can react to the faults of others like Christ responded to mine.

Until my heart cracks clean wide with joy when those around me advance His kingdom more than I can. When what is in their hand is praised and magnified for His name’s sake.  

Until I am happiest playing the servant. Happiest in the shadows. Happiest keeping my most lavish devotion my deepest secret.

Until “What is He doing here” is my thought on entering a room, not “how will others perceive what I am doing here.”

Until the squeezing, brazen sin of unbelievers works a sorrow and compassion so strong within me that only the Gospel comes out.

Until with forgetful abandon, I can fling behind me my greatest accomplishments for Christ, and press forward toward the mark, unencumbered with what I have done.

Until He is my favorite story.

Until the sweetness of some remembered word of His is enough.

Until I learn that loss, and pain, and hard are holy places, and the mundane of life makes for the finest altars.

Until I learn that Gesthemane and Golgatha may lead to an empty tomb and an upper room.

He must increase.

Until Christ be formed in me.

Beth