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Archive for the ‘Sabbath/Religious Reading’ Category

Just finished Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging. A really thought-provoking, short non-fiction book that explores how bankrupt modern society is in meeting our deeper needs for identity, social belonging, and human purpose. Writing from firsthand experience in warfare, he reflects on the paradox of how men actually find hidden blessings in their battlefield “bands of brothers,” only to find the highly fragmented, individualistic society to which they return has nothing to offer them but a complete void. No wonder traumatic events like war and other tragedies, which band people together in a common purpose, actually reduce the incidence of mental health problems or at least mitigate them.

A little more from Wikipedia:

In Tribe, Junger discusses how the human experience is profoundly different in modern society compared to in the small groups (or tribes) in which people have historically lived. While people in tribes were interconnected and dependent on each other, people in modern society, he argues, often feel detached from their neighbors and experience deep fissures along sociodemographic lines. The modern man may go his whole life without needing to put himself at risk to help other people, given the availability of the police, fire department, and other emergency services; despite being surrounded by people, the modern person may also feel incredibly alone and isolated. These observations give rise a central question of Junger’s book: why do veterans often express that they were happier in times of war than at home?

As a caveat, bear in mind that the author is not a Christian and presupposes the theory of evolution in appraising social phenomena.

Also reading the modern classic Fair Sunshine with the family on the Lord’s day. Jock Purves gives compelling accounts of various Presbyterian heroes and heroines from the late 17th century persecutions in Scotland under the cruel tyranny of the Stuarts. Definitely for high school readers and up, both in terms of language level and mature content. The tortures, while not gratuitously explained, are conveyed enough to disturb any reader. But such wounds are sweet, as the are the bearing in the “body the marks of the Lord Jesus.”

One of the most moving things in these accounts are the farewell speeches of these noble martyrs on the gallows. A sample here from Hugh McKail in 1666, when he was only 26 years old:

Now I begin my intercourse with God, which shall never be broken off. Farewell, father and mother, friends and relations; farewell, the world and all of its delights; farewell, meat and drinks; farewell, sun, moon and stars.

Welcome, God and Father; welcome, Sweet Lord Jesus, the mediator of the new covenant; welcome, Blessed Spirit of grace, and God of all consolation; welcome, glory; welcome, eternal life; welcome, death. O Lord, into thy hands I commit my spirit; for thou hast redeemed my soul, O Lord God of truth!

Truly, these are such “of whom the world was not worthy.”

I might just add that we have found Douglas Bond’s books written for children about the Covenanters really good. Start reading Duncan’s War with your family, and you’ll likely read the rest!

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Aubrey and I just read A Theatre in Dachau by Hermanus Knoop. This was the second book by a Dutch Reformed minister who was thrown into this notoriously vicious concentration camp in World War II and lived to tell. And what a testimony it was. Knoop used as theme his narrative the “theatre” or “spectacle,” first used under inspiration by the Apostle Paul, “For I think that God hath set forth us the apostles last, as it were appointed to death: for we are made a spectacle unto the world, and to angels, and to men” (1 Cor. 4:9). While the scenes he recounted were of unspeakable horror and inhumanity, the spectacle of Christians like him were paradoxically the very inverse of what their tormentors saw. While they saw contemptible and despicable weakness in their victims, those with faith—including their Christian readers—witnesses nothing short of the “beauty of holiness.” And Knoop, of course, witnessed the glory firsthand:

In the concentration camp of Dachau the God of all grace did wonders of grace by His Word and Spirit every day. Oh, it was indeed a dreadful time for me that I spent there, and yet it is not at all a hollow phrase when I say that I would for no amount of money have missed this time of my life, since it was so unspeakably rich in grace. I saw God there. The Lord was in this place. It was a house of God and a gate of heaven.

This book was more of the same, which we read together some years back: Faith and Victory in Dachau by Jack Overduin—also by the same publisher, Inheritance Publications. Just like Knoop’s account, it all came down whether this Reformed minister should “obey God rather than men.” Either the Reformed Churches, ministers, schools, and parents capitulate to their Nazi occupiers and peddle their propaganda for them, or they resist and pay. Rev. Overduin paid. And so his stirring account in the bowels of Dachau. Both of these books are so worth reading, though this one you may need to find it on the used market.

Rewinding a generation to World War I, my daughter Annie and I read All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque in anticipation of watching the cinematic remake back in 2022. This classic novel portrays enthusiastic fresh-faced German boys volunteering themselves for their existential awakening (or rather, mortification) in the trenches of France. The book was truly great, and the film definitely did it justice. The scene where the protagonist finds himself in a crater between the trenches, ineffectively trying to finish off a dying French soldier, is so powerful. As the unconscious dying man gurgled, the German found in the nameless man’s pocket a picture of him and his family back in France. The humanity of it all came down on him hard. War is a taste of hell, and it is simply madness to court it.

The other moment that struck me was the scene portraying the Treaty of Versailles signed in a passenger train car. While watching it in the theater, I leaned over and whispered to Annie. When the French later surrendered in World War II in 1940, the Führer ordered that very same train car be found and re-used ceremonially for their capitulation to the Germans. In many ways, World War I ended and World War II seminally began in 1917 when the Allies imposed extreme war reparations that became wholly unbearable for Germany. While Hitler proved a madman, he certainly had a flair for poetic justice. If you sow the wind, you will reap the whirlwind. Interestingly, the Nazis banned the book precisely because it frowned on German nationalism and war-mongering.

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These two books are highly recommended for mature high school readers and up; very suitable for Sabbath downtime as well. Paul L. Meier, a Lutheran historian, certainly did his homework in these two works. It is historical fiction, yes. But it is more history than fiction. His essential approach was to insert fiction only where it was necessary to make things flow in a readable way. And they are very gripping, with great insight for the serious-minded Christian who wants to understand the world of our Lord and the first Christians better.

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Just finished listening to this audiobook, The Creaking on the Stairs: Finding Faith in God Through Childhood Abuse. Very highly recommended. Rosaria Butterfield says in the forward, “The most disturbing book that I have ever read, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.” While I can’t say it is the most disturbing book I’ve ever read, the subject matter is beyond doubt extremely disturbing … and yet heavenly at the same time, which is why I heartily second Rosaria.

The author, Mez McConnell, was raised up in an extremely dysfunctional and highly abusive home. After coming of age, he fell into gross, reckless sin, became a criminal, and did hard time; but Christ had other plans. And so at the “time appointed,” Christ made a trophy of this sinner, plucking him as a brand from the burning and liberating his heart from anger, bitterness, and resentment.

The book is part narrative, part theology and spiritual reflection. It reminds me in many ways of Augustine’s great Confessions and Thomas Halyburton’s Memoirs, especially in its adult, post-conversion reflections on childhood, sin, and grace. (If you’ve never read those two classics, then tolle, lege! And for a taste, read Augustine’s thoughts on the ‘pear tree’ incident.) Further, Creaking is dramatic theodicy—if not directly inspired by the Book of Job, then at least resonating highly with it. If God is and is good, then why is there suffering?

This book is for those who have suffered abuse, Christian or not. It’s also for those who live with those who have or want to understand how better to love and support sufferers. Really, it’s for everyone. And I would be surprised if this doesn’t end up being something of a modern, Christian classic of autobiography, like Joni Eraekson Tada’s Joni and Rosaria Butterfield’s Secret Thoughts. Oh, and add those two to your list as well!

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