This review has been a long time in coming. When I started reading Radical: Taking Back Your Faith From the American Dream by David Platt, I wished I hadn’t committed to reading and reviewing the book, because I knew it wouldn’t be one I could just walk away from without making some changes in my life. I’m not someone who’s all sold on the American dream with a big comfy house, car, salaried 8-5 job making six figures. I’m a graduate student who lives as cheaply as he can imagine and hates the thought of getting any more educational debt. But that’s not good enough, at least not according to Platt.
Platt’s intent should be obvious from the title. It’s not an uncommon theme in evangelical circles in the United States either. Casting Crowns raised the question in a hit song “way back” in September 2003. Artists like Charlie Hall, Derek Webb, and others have prophetically challenged the church on living in comfort when so many live in poverty. Like Platt says, “We were settling for a Christianity that revolves around catering to ourselves when the central message of Christianity is actually about abandoning ourselves” (7). In the following pages, Platt challenges us as Christians to see the loss of discipleship and the loss of the Gospel as a way of life in our churches — and to see how it is killing us when we refuse to submit to His Lordship in every area of our lives.
I was convicted and brought to repentance by this book. I was disturbed. I had to seek out the counsel of friends and family because I found myself repulsed by the comfort and ease I lived in while thinking of those who lived in poverty of every kind imaginable — particularly their lack of Christ. It lit me on fire. I was ready to sell everything I had — but Gospel wisdom also should follow Gospel passion, and wise friends have urged me to a wise pursuit of a radical life. But before posting my review, I wanted to test it out. Is the radical life possible? In answer, I would fully endorse this. Read Radical. Start the Radical Challenge. Turn your life more and more to the Gospel-centered life we’ve been called to.
As noted in a related review (for The Liturgical Year by Joan Chittister), I have had an interest in things having to do with liturgy. One of the strengths of various liturgical traditions are in their careful practice of the sacraments, particularly the Lord Supper/Eucharist/Communion. This significant act has often been neglected in evangelical circles, but ought to be recovered for all its value and its importance to the life of the Church. Jesus did command us to, after all. After the disappointment in The Liturgical Year, I was hoping for a better experience with The Sacred Meal.
My hopes, unfortunately, were dashed. While she gives token attention to the history, theology, and importance of the Eucharist throughout the book, The Sacred Meal really serves more as a memoir of her lifetime of experiences with Communion. She has had a broad diversity of exposure to various Communion practices across traditions, cultures, and theologies, but has shifted the focus from the Lord Who instituted this practice to looking at everyone you’re taking it with. Instead of being the celebration of Jesus offering Himself, it becomes an emotional experience that gives you a bond with other human beings, regardless of their commitments (Muslim, Jewish, Christian, etc.). The Sacrament is important and vital to the life of any church, and looking to Gallagher for counsel on it will do nothing for the healthy practice of Communion.
For many years, I have had an interest in things having to do with liturgy. As someone who identifies as a believer with Pentecostal beliefs, who grew up in non-denominational contemporary church settings, I never had much of an experience of it until college. For the last year and a half, I have regularly been part of an Anglican church plant near my church and have grown to love the depth and value of liturgy and its connection to Gospel ministry. So, with that sort of interest and enthusiasm, I requested The Liturgical Year by Joan Chittister. I should have researched better before doing so.
Chittister sets out to describe the whole liturgical year in its seasons, symbolism, history, and best practices as experienced in the Roman Catholic tradition. She does this, but when she tries to make the connections to the Gospel and maintaining Jesus as the center of the Liturgy (because He is), the ambiguity in her mind about Who Jesus is and what He accomplished ( in other words, the very Gospel himself!) comes to the forefront. And it does much to muddle the quality of her work. There is some good material about the history and meaning of the liturgical year in this book, but rather than hearing unclear thoughts about Who the Lord of Time is, I would commend experiencing the Liturgy of a local traditional church instead.
It was with great anticipation and excitement that I received Chazown by Craig Groeschel for review. Alas, the last bit of graduate work at Geneva College demanded my time. And it has been worthwhile because the book makes more sense in light of that experience. I first encountered Groeschel at Catalyst Atlanta in October 2008 when he preached about “The Special Something of God” to an auditorium of 10,000+ ministry leaders and student leaders. The man clearly had vision, passion and purpose — which made him that much more authoritative. So when I heard about Chazown, I was definitely interested in what he had to say.
The aim of this book is to confront the sad reality that few live their lives on purpose. “Everyone ends up somewhere. But few people end up somewhere on purpose” (6). Groeschel goes on to challenge people to recognize the chazown (Hebrew for “revelation”, “vision”, or “dream”) that they have been given by God and to pursue it. He guides the reader through their past experiences, values, and gifts to discern what that vision would be and then encourages them to have their lives ordered in such a way that they are free to pursue it as God would have them. It’s an application-filled reading that has many places to respond and take immediate action for the long-term benefit and service to the Kingdom.
Which brings me to its weakness. Groeschel is a passionate man and a very gifted communicator and there’s not much of anything in the book that I disagreed with, but what I’ve come to see about calling and developing a sense of our own role in the Kingdom is that we have a weak and unfulfilled one without seeing it in light of the Gospel. Unless we see the fallenness of the structure, its downward direction, and how Jesus died to change the direction and redeem the structure through His people’s efforts and will one day complete that work Himself, we are left with a shallow calling, a little chazown that isn’t as much about God and neighbor as it should be, despite our efforts.
It’s a great book and I would recommend it to any disciple, whether working through it alone or in a small group. But it will only benefit you as long as you do what it says: work through the journal, pray through things, discern the calling/chazown that God has given you and live in the faithfulness that the Master calls us to by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Because of a lifelong interest in prophecy, a love for history, for the Jewish people and Orthodox Judaism itself, and because of the different directions studying Scripture has taken me in regard to those things, I was skeptical of the book’s concept from the start. What Wright, an Atlanta pastor, attempts to do in this book is to provide a biblical and historical explanation of “why things are the way they are” between Israelis and Arabs in the present day. He does this with several prooftexts and by toeing the same lines Hal Lindsay has done for decades. In short, it’s a pro-Zionist baptized history for Christians who aren’t sure whether they should feel guilty about taking sides in the Middle East conflict or not.
Wright’s first problem is exegetical: reading Ishmael as the great antagonist of Isaac in the story of Scripture. Ishmael and Isaac didn’t get along when they were kids, but they most certainly buried their father together. Additionally, there is a great deal of reading into the text with regards to Ishmael, Edom, and Persia that has no biblical or historical basis. His second major problem is history. Bryant assumes that the Arabs are pure Ishmaelites, when, frankly, that is untrue. Arabs have diverse ethnic roots that differ by geography. In some sense, it would be like trying to say that all Northern Europeans come from the same ancestor. There is far more diversity than that. His history and understanding of Islam is negligible at best. There’s also a problem in his sources, which provide a particularly one-sided retelling of the founding of the modern state of Israel. Wright would do well to read Blood Brothers by Fr. Elias Chacour.
His third major problem is perhaps the most disturbing: Wright concludes that the Christian perspective, and especially the Gospel, lead us to love the Jew. That is true, but he neglects to mention that the Gospel means love for the Arab. He fails to see that in Christ, there is no Jew or Arab or Gentile, but all are one. He fails to see that Christians, because of the Gospel, are to love the Israel and the Arab the same way and to proclaim to them the same redemption. He fails to see that there are far more Christian Arabs than Christian Israelis and by neglecting the Arabs, he has doomed his own family in Christ to political and social injustices perpetrated by a godless Israeli state that isn’t very Jewish at all.
Judaism is beautiful. Jews and Arabs are humans, too, for whom Christ died. And to favor one over the other is one of the least Christlike things a Christian can do. Put aside your politics and embrace those that Christ came in the flesh to save. And while you’re at it, don’t read this book.
On This Day in Christian History, pastor Robert J. Morgan promises “a year’s worth of insight and spiritual challenge” through anecdotes and events from the second century into the twentieth century. Spanning across Western Christian traditions, from early Catholicism to Reformation groups, several times embracing conflicted forces (Catholic/Protestant, Anglican/Puritan, Reformed/Anabaptist, Quaker/Congregationalist), Morgan attempts to be as all-encompassing as he can be both in tradition, era, and station in life (laity, clergy, etc.).
The book, however, does not deliver on its description. If it had been titled Random Events in Christian History, it would have been more aptly named. Edification, inspiration and consistency are far from being themes in this book. As an example, in the entry for Jan. 1, Swiss Reformer Zwingli is held up as a hero and then in Jan. 17’s entry, he is condemned for his execution of Anabaptists. Every leader has their contributions and their grievous sins, but refusing to deal with disparities makes for bad reading. There were also several repetitive pieces (examples: John Calvin, Council of Constance, etc.).
If you want to learn about church history, there are a number of good resources available and your pastor or local evangelical Bible professor probably has a few of them. Look into those kinds of resources instead of looking to this daily information download with poor scholarship.
I was reading a post called “Confessions of a Housekeeper” on Yahoo! and was rather put off by the situation that this housekeeper presents. I wasn’t put off by the confessions of laziness and cutting corners. I wasn’t put off with how degrading the work can be (many jobs worked by those of us outside of the professional world have their dirty parts). I wasn’t even put off by the “no regrets” tone present. What I was most put off by are these points:
Housekeepers are rarely honored or treated with dignity at all.
Work itself has been degraded for a whole subset of the workforce.
Paltry tips are expected.
Religious pamphlets are more substantial than tips.
With point 1, the problem lies in the fact that housekeepers, like the rest of us, are human beings made in the Image of God. We are made to reflect God’s glory and no amount of sin can eradicate the image of God from anyone. In point 2, we’ve ruined the fact that God designed work for our good, that it was God’s design for how we interact with the wider creation that we’re asked to steward. Our whole culture says that this kind of work has no honor, no good, and just has to be done by people who have no other chances in life. So these are cultural and “big picture” problems that conflict with the wider Biblical image of creation. The next two points are problems of human relationship: monetary reward for work is precious little but conscientious folks have no problem leaving tracts and literature – the cost of which exceeds the tips they’re often willing to leave.
What’s a disciple of Jesus to do with these points? What is at stake in a situation that, given the perspective of how things are not as they should be? If we are Jesus’ people, and we’ve been given a new heart to live as part of a new creation, then part of how we are to live is conforming to God’s intent with creation. So human beings are to live like they are made in the image of God and to give due dignity to others, because they are made in the same image of God. So we have a responsibility to recognize that work is a good thing and we all have a calling to some kind of work and all work dealing well with creation is good work. These are big picture efforts. We shift our perspective and demonstrate respect for others and honoring good work in every walk of life, regardless of its economic position. These are missions. They are quests. They have a kind of excitement and transformation with them.
But what about tips and tracts? Do disciples really need to be worried about these? It’s just some change, right? Wrong. Disciples, better than any other people in the world, understand what it is to benefit from the incredible generosity from Another. Yet, when it comes to reflecting and continuing the stream of that generosity to others, particularly to those in positions of service, we are so stingy and reluctant. We want good reasons to give someone a decent tip. We pull out our cell phone’s calculator functions to do careful calculations to make sure we don’t give a server a dime over 17% or whatever standard we’ve decided is acceptable. That notion is so lacking in grace. We are people who have received much good that we have never deserved and yet we insist that we’ll only give a reward hard-earned. If you consider yourself a disciple of Christ, leave a good tip, every time. Encourage those who are serving you, whether they are wait staff or housekeeping or some other job. Even better, tell them that you love Jesus and care about them and ask if there’s anything they’d like you to pray about for them. They’ll respond and our faithfulness to being people who are truly disciples of Christ and truly living as people made in the image of God will mature.
Mark this statement well: this isn’t a “What’s the nice, Christian thing to do?” kind of problem. This is a Gospel problem. This is a Kingdom problem. As long as we are stingy and insisting on justice, we are forgetting what Jesus did for us on the cross. As long as we only give someone attention and service according to their due and going beyond the “call of duty”, we are neglecting what Jesus’ resurrection has done to change us. As long as we just let things remain unchanged, we are ignoring the voice of the Holy Spirit in our midst. Disciple of Jesus: read the Scriptures. Check out James 2. Check out Matthew 25:31-46. Check yourself. Hear the Spirit. Submit to the Word. Live out the Gospel.
Charles Stanley is well-known and beloved throughout broader evangelicalism as a pastor who is gentle and practical in application of the Bible. In a newly released daily devotional book, I Lift Up My Soul, years of that soul and experience is shown. In a brief devotional thought that includes a passage of Scripture to be read, along with the key verse highlighted to be meditated on, Stanley engages the reader with stories, writings from Christian history, and challenges to start the day.
As a devotional book, I find that the content is Biblical, easy to read, generally applicable and has an added strength in that it stands so easily on the shoulders of the rest of Christian tradition, with reaches back into the early church days to writings from men like A.W. Tozer. It’s personal, but shows regard for the context of Scripture, which is uncommon among devotional materials. If you’re into devotional books to spur/guide your personal devotional life, you would be well-served by I Lift Up My Soul.
Ever since I heard Steven Furtick preach at Catalyst 2008 in Atlanta, I’ve followed a number of his sermons and learned a great deal from him about the radical nature of faith and walking in obedience to God regardless of how much people would like to insert “common sense” into your routine. His story is far from typical and it’s been an inspiration to see the kinds of things God will do with a life that surrenders control to him. For those reasons, I was looking forward to seeing what he had to say in Sun Stand Still.
Sun Stand Still explores the story of Joshua and what God accomplished in his life and prayers to be served as a model for Christians today. Furtick lays things out simply, answers challenges well, and encourages the reader to leave the fate of their prayers in the hands of God, to pray prayers that are worthy of God’s power and majesty. These are good things and Furtick most certainly does them well. That said, my one hesitation with this book is that there are two groups of people this will not be helpful for: (1) those who are already praying radical prayers and believing God for the vision that He has given them and (2) those who are only concerned with faithfulness and never question the extent of their faith for what God can accomplish. Otherwise, read it and be encouraged and challenged in your prayers!
Given my very positive experience with Saint Patrick (Jonathan Rogers), I was optimistic about reading Saint Francis by Robert West. I was disappointed, to say the least. West sets out to write a biographical sketch of Francis of Assisi and the rise of the Franciscan friars and the Poor Clares. He begins with Francis’ birth and upbringing in a successful merchant home and concludes with Francis’ death without a penny to his name.
It makes for a nice story, and the theatrical flair that West has acquired in his life experience is certainly present in his writing. This makes West a good story-teller, but a very poor scholar. Much of the book is filled with imaginative suggestions about what Francis and his contemporaries must have felt or done or appreciated or disliked. “He might have…” occurs far too frequently for this biography to be taken seriously. And what one is left to trust about Francis is left in the realm of legend and imagination, with no clear ties to the great story of history.