I don’t usually review fiction. But I reviewed Tom Davis’ book Red Letters: Living a Faith that Bleeds a few years ago, and when he offered me the opportunity to review another of his books, I jumped at the chance. It’s not for the reasons of eloquence and fine speech or profound theology, but because I believe Mr. Davis has keen insight into the social justice issues of our day that Christians need to pay attention to.

Priceless: A Novel on the Edge of the World is a continuation of a series that started with Scared, which explored the AIDS and war crises in Africa. Priceless takes you to another arena, into 21st century Russia to put on display the horrors, the hell, that is endured on a daily basis by young girls who have been taken by the sex trafficking industry. Millions of young girls are deceived, betrayed, and abused, and governments stand by, for one reason or another. In this book, Davis presents a compelling story calling Christians to action. For the sake of Christ, the captives must be set free. For those who are mature enough for the content, I would definitely recommend the book.

On May 10, 2010 I became a graduate of Geneva College. I received my Bachelor of Arts Magna Cum Laude in Christian Ministries, with a minor in Sociology. I graduated as an Honors Scholar. I am a first generation college graduate. I’m graduating with very little educational debt to repay. And to top it off, I’m preparing to begin work on my Master of Arts in Higher Education from Geneva in August. It’s a lot “accomplished” in many respects.

But at the end of the day, even those good things don’t make me who I am. They aren’t proof or evidence of my faith in Christ. What’s more, they are some of the same things that could easily be used to bolster a faith in myself, an arrogance and pride that puts me on a course towards earth-shattering consequences for Christian academia. But that doesn’t factor in one thing: God’s grace.

I think God, in his grace, has taken that path from me. I think that, even though I would have opportunity to advance myself beyond many of my peers in areas of theology, biblical studies, biblical languages, and maybe even some work in sociology or other aspects of ancient history; even with all that, God has a different plan. And for what it’s worth, it’s utterly foolish. God’s plans for me are utterly, eternally, perfectly, and righteously foolish. And that’s grace. Because whatever happens, people will always know that it was never me: it was Jesus.

Some reading this, maybe some who know me, maybe others that don’t, will say I am out of my mind, that I’m wasting my God-given gifts, that my choices are irrational, that I’m not being careful or discerning, that I’ve not the wisdom to make a decision like this but that I should “wait and see” what God has. Those may very well be fair concerns. I certainly wouldn’t doubt the care and genuine love that those statements would come from. But what is more certain to my mind is God’s power and God’s wisdom.

In 1 Corinthians 1:18-2:5, the apostle Paul tells us a few things about wisdom and power: (1) the Gospel is foolish and weak according to worldly standards, (2) God’s “weakness” and “foolishness” is still greater than the best the world offers, (3) Jesus himself is the wisdom and power of God and he has come to us, and (4) because all those things are true, Paul’s choice was to act according to the wisdom and power of God, not the things that are strong according to the world’s standards. In other words, Paul put away the best his rabbinic and literary training could offer him (which is more than I have to offer, by far), and limited himself to the Gospel, to proclaiming the message and passion that the Holy Spirit had put in him. That same Holy Spirit is the one who accomplished everything in Paul’s ministry.

Now, Paul didn’t deny his gifts. He used them in his epistles all the time. I’m sure his sermons had a number of great things that his background allowed him to do. But it didn’t define him. He couldn’t let it define him. In Philippians 3, Paul lists several of these credentials. And when he’s done with that, he tosses them to the wind, saying that he would suffer the loss of them all to gain Christ. In Galatians 1 and 2, he argues that nothing he had or knew or did could qualify him for his work, but only Christ’s call was sufficient for that. Paul figured something out: if I am going to know Christ, gain Christ, be like Christ, and be faithful to Christ, I have to put away the path that would make me self-sufficient and embrace the humility that Christ demonstrated (Philippians 2).

That is why I am not pursuing an academic career. It’s a path of self-sufficiency and self-promotion. It will get in the way of my pursuit of Jesus. It will make me my own Messiah. I don’t want that. I don’t think God wants that. In fact, I know God wants me working in the West End of Pittsburgh. I think God has a work he wants to do there with the Gospel. I know that he is going to reconcile people of every age, ethnicity, economic status, and background to himself and to one another. I know he’s going to bring together the unlikeliest group of people to worship and honor him and bring the Gospel to Pittsburgh. I know I can’t do it, but I know far better that he most certainly can. So, please, pray with me for this. Ask God for that vision. If he is calling you to this work, check it out. But whatever you do, praise him, because he is the God who watches and protects his people and does everything he intends to do for them, with them, in them, and through them for his own glory.

What you are about to read is a “vision” of sorts I had one spring day in 2007 as I was praying in the woods. My prayer is that it would give you a sense of the feeling that was experienced by the touch of the Master, and the depth of our guilt. -DK

I opened my eyes once more. Sand-colored stones and dirt were all I could see. Sweat dribbled down from my forehead to my nose and dripped to the ground. The sun was moving upward toward its high place in the sky. Already the heat was unbearable but that did not matter. I took another step. I had to. The heavy weight on my shoulder demanded it. I breathed heavily.

But it wasn’t my breathing I heard. No, what resounded in my ears was shouting. Mocking cries. Tzelav oto! Tzelav! Tzelav Yeshua! Foreign, halting tongues shouted too: Hinnei! Melekh haYehudim! Hinnei! One foreigner with confidence announced above the hubbub: Yeshua hazeh; Melekh haYehudim! And on it went. How I wished that I were deaf! To not hear the torments of this mob would be a blessing of the Holy One, Blessed be He. It…

The weight shifted. The burden increased. Flesh came against my side. Time slowed. I was released from my thoughts and could only know him who was against my side. Shuddering in the wind, this man leaned against me, increasing the burden of the cross. Yes, that’s what I was carrying: a cross. They had forced me to carry this curse, this shame, for a prisoner they had refused to treat properly.

This prisoner…no, this was wrong. He was the innocent one. It was these soldiers, this crowd, the voice with authority who should be carrying a cross to their deaths right now. It was I who should do the same. Every ounce of my being wanted to repudiate this cross. I didn’t want this man to die. I wanted to help him, though. Yet, as I helped him, I knew that every step I helped him make was another step closer to his death – I was as responsible for his death as this mob who cried out for it.

Tears joined the sweat. How could this go on? We began to ascend the hill. I had to focus more intentionally on my steps to make sure I didn’t fall. If I fell, it would be more pain…more suffering for the man. Oh that I could see the man on the other side of the crossbeam!  I looked down at my feet and watched as sweat and tears fell to the ground. But then there was something else: blood. Blood fell from beside me, from the man I was leading to death. It fell upon my feet. A voice cried out in my heart: “You are clean.” I would have fallen but for the call of that authoritative voice: Repha! I could stand still. Sali, Adoni, sali. Then all vision faded.

Hebrew: Tzelav oto! Tzelav! Tzelav Yeshua! Crucify him! Crucify! Crucify Jesus!
Hinnei! Melekh haYehudim! Hinnei! Behold! The king of the Jews! Behold!
Yeshua hazeh; melekh haYehudim! This is Jesus; the king of the Jews!
Sali, Adoni, sali. Forgive me, my lord, forgive me.

I’d be willing to walk a far distance for A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life. In a stroke of writing genius, Donald Miller has given people a challenge far more imperative than The Purpose Driven Life and other similar books. While reflecting on the process of adapting one of his previously published books for the silver screen, Don discovered something about life: it’s really a story and it really needs to be a good one, and if we don’t have a good story in our lives, we’re profoundly (and rightly) dissatisfied. So, Don wants his readers to get a better story.

I enjoyed A Million Miles from the first page until the last page of the acknowledgments. The challenge is provocative and vital. The approach is transparent and humorous. The satisfaction from reading is high. A prayerful reader will benefit greatly from pondering and reflecting about the story that they are telling with their lives. Are you living a good story? Are you the character that God has called you to be? Don won’t answer those questions for you, but he does give you the chance to find out for yourself.