Jesus is Not a Marshmallow (a book review by an orthodox rebel)

Book: Christian Contours: How a Biblical Worldview Shapes the Mind and Heart, edited by Douglas S. Huffman. Grand Rapids: Kregel Publications, 2011. 236 pgs. (including introduction, appendixes, bibliography, and indexes)

Introduction: Philosophy is a terrifying word. People's eyes glaze and spirits freeze whenever they hear it. It produces an image of sad-faced academic clowns blathering on about irrelevancies in their ivory towers. Meanwhile, ordinary people with everyday problems continue life uninterrupted in the real world. Such an image is a caricature, of course, but it speaks for many people, which is unfortunate because we are all philosophers. We all believe certain things about the world: sometimes subconsciously and other times intently, but never neutrally. We have beliefs that shape how we think and see things, beliefs that we fit together (or are fit together) into a more or less coherent system by which we live and think. In short, we are all philosophers because we all have beliefs. To believe is to philosophize.

A "system of belief" is often known as a "worldview", and in Christian Contours, editor Douglas S. Huffman (and his fellow contributors) hope to reacquaint all Christians with the fundamentals of the Christian worldview, i.e., with "the basic claims that the historic Christian faith has about all of life in every era" (17). The book is not exhaustive, nor does it claim to be. In fact, it plainly states that it is to be an introduction to the subject (17), a first step on the journey of understanding exactly where you are (or ought to be) coming from not just as a mere believer but as a specifically Christian believer.

 

Summary: The main body of Christian Contours is divided into ten sections: an intro, eight chapters, and a conclusion. The eight chapters are divided into two parts: the first four chapters deal with what the biblical worldview is, and the last four chapters deal with what is to be done with it in the real world. Though the table of contents doesn't imply any kind of further order to the chapters, it quickly becomes apparent (upon reading) that there is an underlying flow to them. Chapter one ("What is a Worldview?") begins with a necessary definition of terms as well as an understanding of a worldview's central and important role in our daily lives. Chapter two ("Is There Just One Biblical Worldview?") deals with the necessity and inherent humility of essentialism in a worldview, i.e., to hold to a common ground that is above all individual specificities and particulars creates humble unity amongst the adherents because they all hold something in common that they view as greater than themselves.

Chapter three ("What is the Relationship of Worldviews to Truth?") parks upon the central aspect of a worldview: its claim to truth. Perhaps the most philosophically heavy of the chapters (i.e., slow down and take careful notes), it unpacks the necessity of truth to a worldview as well as presenting the Christian notion of truth. Chapter four ("What is the Biblical Worldview?") rounds out the first part by establishing quickly and simply the biblical worldview and posits the Bible as the grounds for the Christian's system of thought. The second part picks up with discussions on tempering our beliefs with love and humility (chapters 5 & 6), an overview of the fundamentally anti-Christian worldview of pluralism (chapter 7), and finishes with some thoughts on how evangelism goes hand-in-hand with one's worldview (chapter 8).

In addition to all this, Christian Contours has two very nice appendixes. The first is a chart presenting a side-by-side comparison of seven major worldviews (Christian Theism, Naturalism, Postmodern Secular Humanism, Atheistic Existentialism, Pantheistic Monism, New Age Spiritualism, and Islamic Theism) in regard to five areas of thought and belief (theology, anthropology, ethics, soteriology, and epistemology). The second is a list of "Christian Professional Organizations" that provide resources for a continuing investigation into worldviews. Finally (and perhaps nicest of all), the book's bibliography provides detailed information on books that can be used for further study.

Review: Even for an "introductory work," there is too much information in this book to give it a truly proper review. What I will say is this: I like this book for three reasons:

(1) Its emphasis on "integration," i.e., that the Christian worldview is a unified system of thought rather than a fractured one. It is not the piecemeal operation of separate individuals across time. Rather, it is a common ground for all Christians at all times. There is no era or epoch where it is not relevant.

(2) Its emphasis on the collaboration of mind and heart. As human beings, we are made up of beliefs (cognitive assents) and values (affective assents) (52). Both are important, and both need to be shaped by the truth (i.e., by God and His word). To neglect one for the sake of the other is to live a stunted, half-awake life. We must have truthful beliefs that provide a truthful structure to our lives, and we must also have truthful values that create truthful action in our world. To be either a disconnected abstraction or an emotional vagabond is not an option for the Christian believer.

(3) Its surprising depth, which caught we completely off guard. I've read "introductory" works before, and they were forgettable because they were redundant: stating the obvious to the point of oblivion. This book, however, was not redundant. Even when it traversed well-trodden paths, it still felt refreshing and informative, and there were times when some of its subject matter become enticingly dense, daring you to dig deeper (chapter three is a particularly good example of this: its notion of truth as God's knowledge and expression of Himself was incredibly interesting).

In addition, the book makes it very clear that not only is the Christian worldview a coherent and relevant system of thought and belief, it also is a fundamentally alternative system to every other worldview out there. You cannot simply make it "a" part of your life. It is your life and is completely foreign to all other worldviews. That is why adherence to it is called a "conversion"; your thinking (and subsequent living) has radically changed from the ground up. As Dr. Huffman put it in the conclusion, Jesus is not the marshmallow in the hot chocolate of your life, "something sweet and soft bobbing around on the surface"; He is an entirely different beverage (144-45), and those who drink that cup drink it to the full.

Recommendation: I've reviewed a small handful of books for Kregel so far. Most of them have been good, but none have really interested me enough to take a second look, none except for one. Christian Contours is that book. It is an excellent introduction to worldview studies and could easily precede James Sire's The Universe Next Door (another excellent book) in a classroom or group setting. Buy it. Read it. You're welcome.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2012

My Own Fault (a book review by an orthodox rebel)

Book: Reading Revelation: A Comparison of Four Interpretive Translations of the Apocalypse, by C. Marvin Pate. Grand Rapids: Kregel Publications, 2009. 208 pgs. (including introduction and list of additional resources)

Introduction: Perhaps it is not unfair to say that of all the books of the Bible, Revelation is the most famous both inside and outside the church. Its fame bounces between intrigue and obsession: many people are just curious about its contents while others have staked entire theological frameworks upon it. In truth, however, an unbiased (and uncritical) reading of Revelation can only "reveal" the book to be an oddity. Its symbols and metaphors are lavish and obscure, breathtaking and mysterious. Its details travel from the sublime to the bizarre to the monstrous, and its ordering of events make any stable chronological connotation impossible. No historical application neatly fits it. No single hermeneutic covers all the facts. No one interpretation satisfies all questions and curiosities.

For those who have not settled down on any one particular view of Revelation but would like to have a way to tangle with it from all sides, C. Marvin Pate offers a solution: a single, easy-to-read reference work that charts out the four main interpretive schools of the book side-by-side along with a translation of the book straight from the Greek text. That is what Reading Revelation is meant to be, "a work that converts the four major interpretations of [Revelation] into four parallel translations, thereby highlighting both the similarities and the differences characterizing those respect viewpoints" (7). Mr. Pate hopes that Reading Revelation will give fair treatment and representation of the four major interpretive schools while providing the reader with adequate information in regard to how they view Revelation verse-by-verse. That is what he offers; whether he succeeds is another matter.

Summary: The book is basically divided into two parts: an introduction and then the parallel readings of Revelation. The introduction gives a brief overview of the four major schools of interpretation for Revelation, which are as follows:

(1) The preterist school: this school sees Revelation only through the lens of its historical context "by relating it to its original author and audience" (7). It sees the events of Revelation as already having been fulfilled in the first century A.D. For them, John wrote Revelation as a means of encouragement to Christians suffering under persecution by painting that persecution in spiritual terms and then showing how Christ has triumphed and will triumph over all. For us today, Revelation is not about the apocalyptic future but rather about specific past events. Its only "use" for us is as a tool of encouragement: as God was with them, so He is with us.

(2) The historicist school: this school sees Revelation as a prophetic gloss of the whole of church history "from the first century until the return of Christ" (9). It is a cataloging of what the church has gone, is going, and will go through. Unique to this school of interpretation is its ardent Protestantism vs. Roman Catholicism bent. It views church history (and consequently Revelation) as a battle between the "true" Church (i.e., Protestantism) and the "false" church (i.e., Catholicism). Its primary "use" for us today is to encourage us with God's specifically Protestant victory over the Catholic Church. (Note: This view is not as in vogue today as it once was, and "very few" actually hold to it; 9).

(3) The futurist school: this school sees Revelation as a prophetic account of the coming apocalypse. Popular amongst the masses, this is the admittedly "pessimistic" school (10-11), holding that things will get worse and worse until Christ comes again. The only variance within this school is in regard to the Church's relationship to "things getting worse". One side (i.e., dispensationalism) holds that the Church will avoid the greatest part of the earth's troubles in a "pretribulation rapture" (10). The other side (i.e., historic premillennialism) holds that the Church "will undergo the messianic woes" within the tribulation, right up to when Christ returns. Other than this in-house squabble, the futurist message is roughly in sync, seeing Revelation's "use" as a warning to believers and unbelievers alike about what awaits us all in the end.

(4) The idealist school: this school sees Revelation in its most general and abstract sense, in that it "interprets the book spiritually, or symbolically" (11). In short, Revelation is not about any particular event(s), but rather is an imaginative retelling of "the ongoing conflict of good and evil" (11). It loathes giving to Revelation "historical connection to any social or political events" (11), choosing instead to let it be a wild and wondrous accounting of timeless truths about God, the Devil, and the spiritual war between them. Thus, Revelation's "use" for us is as a reminder of the spiritual realities that we are currently living in but are apt to forget.

So much for the introduction. The second part of the book is the parallel readings of Revelation, taking the book verse-by-verse in five columns, the first giving a wooden, straight from the Greek translation of Revelation, and the other four giving translations of Revelation from each of the four schools.

Review: I must admit: this book disappointed me, and it was probably my own fault. I was expecting a much different book: a parallel commentary of Revelation that showcased the different interpretive schools' eschatology. What I got was a parallel Bible (or one book from the Bible) where each translation was done in the light of the different schools' eschatology. In short, what I was expecting were the causes; what I got was the results. And the reason this disappointed me was that I wanted the causes. I wanted to see the schools' speak for themselves about their own ideas and thoughts about Revelation, not their unique (and occasionally strange) versions of Revelation. Again, this disappointment of expectation was my own fault, but I cannot help but think that the book I was expecting would have been a much better book than what I got.

Reading Revelation feels too thin for its own good, which is the whole "causes" vs. "results" thing rearing its ugly head. By far, the introduction is the most valuable part of the book, but even it is not enough. It only touches the surface and whets the appetite, but no more, and it is the "more" that is needed. It does give you a taste of the interpretive stances of the four schools; but without a deeper wading into those waters, the subsequent parallel versions of Revelation come off merely as quaint rather than informative or engrossing. As such, it wasn't long before I found myself bored with the whole thing. This is unfortunate, as I am sure Mr. Pate put hard work into this; but in the end, what I hoped would have challenged and inspired me did neither.

Recommendation: Reading Revelation is not a bad book; there are just much better books out there. I can even think of two: Four Views on the Book of Revelation, which is also by Mr. Pate and is much more in depth in regard to the interpretive schools; and Revelation: Four Views, by Steve Gregg, which appears to be exactly the parallel commentary that I was looking for (and which Mr. Pate points to in Reading Revelation). Both of those are far better books for anyone looking to increase their understanding and appreciation of the Bible's most mysterious book.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2012

The Bare-Knuckled Gospel (a book review by an orthodox rebel)

Book: The World-Tilting Gospel: Embracing a Biblical Worldview & Hanging on Tight, by Dan Phillips. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Kregel Publications, 2011. 315 pgs. (including notes, prefaces, introductions, afterwords, and indexes)

Introduction: There is a grave inconsistency marking the western Christian church. It is not (as some would muse) an inconsistency between orthodoxy and orthopraxy, between what we believe and what we do (though that does touch upon it). Nor is it (as others sagaciously theorize) an inconsistency between our overblown shadows and underwhelming substance (though that is addressed within it). The true grave inconsistency of the western church is historical, viz., between the church of the 1st century and the church of the 21st century. What did the world say about the 1st century church? According to scripture, we were the ones who had "turned the world upside down" (Acts 17:6). What does the world say about the 21st century church? According to author and pastor Dan Phillips, nothing good (if it says anything at all). The world may compliment us and occasionally grant us an approving nod, but never that we are the ones who are turning the world "upside down"; and for Mr. Phillips, that's a problem. A problem that has a very simple cause: we no longer view all things through the gospel, the whole gospel, and nothing but the gospel. It is that lack of a gospel-centric vision that Mr. Phillips seeks to address and amend in The World-Tilting Gospel.

Summary: Overall, this book is similar in scope (and even structure) to John Calvin's Institutes, viz., it unpacks Christian orthodoxy and explains (1) what it means and (2) why it matters, i.e., why it is "world-tilting". As such, it makes writing a summary of the book paradoxically both impossible and simple. "Impossible," because there is so much packed into such a relatively tiny space. "Simple," because all that it is is the Christian Faith unpacked, analyzed, and illuminated (and backed by tons of scripture references). In short, not only is its like Calvin's Institutes, it is also like Lewis' Mere Christianity. It is just the facts, though it is in no way either derivative or boring and unengaging (as you shall see below).

Review: Dan Phillips is angry. Very angry. He is angry at the church. Angry at its pathetically weak-kneed and limp-wristed approach to the world. Angry at all the slipshod shenanigans that have been dumped on top of the gospel. Angry at the protestant pseudocelebrites that perpetrate and bulwark those shenanigans. Angry at the fads and fashions that attempt to shanghai the gospel to their fading lunacies. And angry at the evangelical culture that unquestioningly absorbs all of this and proceeds to saturate you and me with it. Therefore, Dan Phillips is an angry man. But it's a righteous anger.

Every since I began reading his blog posts a couple of years ago (at both his blog and Pyromaniacs), I became quickly aware that Dan was a fighting blogger. Not mean or brutish, just a fighter. "Bare-knuckle," as he put it once. He is (as he himself admits) the least nuanced of the contributors to Pyromaniacs, and I mean that in a good way. He's the one with the sleeveless, hairy arms and grim expression with a sledgehammer slung over his shoulder. When he steps up to the mike, his voice is a chainsaw, making postmodernists raw. Whether that is a proper rhetorical strategy or not, one thing is crystal clear, and that is him: you always know exactly where he is coming from and what he is after. No doubts. No questions. No way to effectively obfuscate. You have been punched squarely in the jaw, and you know exactly from who and why; and just like "the most interesting man in the world," when he punches you, you have to fight the urge to thank him.

The book is the same. It is a fighting book. From page one onwards, it comes out swinging and doesn't relent. This can make for exhausting reading, and yet you will never find yourself moved to put the book down. Even during parts that you already know backwards and forwards (thanks to prehistoric Sunday School lectures), you will find yourself engaged and engrossed. Often his tone and candor will irritate you, but then he will smack you with a truth you were unaware of or refresh you with a truth you had forgotten. It's like being constantly doused by oscillating bursts of hot and cold water: an annoyance, sprinkled with the threat of drowning, and yet you are more awake and alive than you have ever been.

It's that oscillation that makes the book great. You will find yourself equally astounded and aggravated from part to part, chapter to chapter. Your results will vary on which parts/chapters astound/aggravate you, but one constant theme will garner the most responses (whether positive or negative), and that is the theme of the entire book. The World-Tilting Gospel is not simply a primer on Christian belief (though it could serve as that). It is a primer on why Christian belief (as a whole: from Genesis to Revelation) is necessarily counter-cultural on an ultimate level. It is by its very nature and creed not an accommodater or compromiser; rather, it is the straight shot to the jaw of the world, meant to leave it dazed and amazed.

Make no mistake: you will disagree with Dan at times. I did (and still do), especially in regard to his Calvinism (e.g., his incorrect view that regeneration precedes faith), a theology that I find as equally "close-but-no-cigar" as Arminianism. To that virile declaration of mine, I add this: So what? Dan may not be nuanced, but he is wise; wise enough to know that no-one is 100% right except for God, and that is his point: God is right. We are wrong. Jesus saves. That is world-tilting. That is the gospel, given once for all time. I will proudly and staunchly disagree with Dan all day, everyday as long as we are both standing on that firm foundation.

Recommendation: Get this book. It will stir you, inspire you, aggravate and offend you. Like all good books ought to. The only truly bad review that a book can receive is that it is too uninteresting to take seriously. This is not that book. At some point (perhaps multiple times), it will hit you hard. You may even feel the urge to thank it (or hit it back); but whatever you do, you won't say that you can't take it seriously.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2011

An Interesting Philosophical Sandwich (a book review by an orthodox rebel)

Book: From the Garden to the City: The Redeeming and Corrupting Power of Technology, by John Dyer. Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 2011. 192 pgs. (including introductions, appendices, indexes, and notes)

Introduction: Is technology neutral? Are our technological tools and devices merely means to shape the world, or do they also in turn shape us? Many people have asked such questions over the past one-hundred years, and many have concluded that technology is anything but neutral. It shapes not only the world that it engages but also the one who uses it, i.e., us. For western Christians, living in "a lifestyle thoroughly saturated by technology" (20), how then should we approach technology? Is there a biblical way to address the intricately woven presence of technology in our lives as well as its effects on us? John Dyer seems to think so, and From the Garden to the City is his two cents on the question of a Christian view of the power and potential (and perils) of technology.

Summary: From the Garden to the City is interested in "media ecology," i.e., the study of "how technology operates within cultures and how it changes them over time" (16). Media ecologists do not treat technology as an inert object within a given culture. Rather, they treat it like a new species entering a particular environment, and subsequently they observe and analyze the various effects and changes that this new "species" creates in that environment. Thus, Dyer is approaching technology as a Christian media ecologist, treating it as the "supra-cultural phenomenon" (20) that it is while biblically deconstructing the underlying concepts of technology (and a technological culture) so that we, as Christians, may better understand the uses and threats that technology (and a technological culture) pose to the Kingdom of God. In order to do this, he begins with the creation of the world and what it means to be human.

In the beginning, God created us. As his creatures, we are made in His image, and thus reflect many aspects of his being. One of those aspects is that we too like to make things (we are "sub-creators," to borrow Tolkien's term) (44-47). One of the first things that we make are values and meanings that we attach to certain things (like God or the world or each other, etc.). Then we make tools to help us shape the world according to those values and meanings, making not only buildings or works or art but also a cultural environment that surrounds and penetrates all of those things. The catch is, however, that that cultural environment itself makes things as well: new values and meanings as well as tools to make them (50-51). From the first human beings forward, there is this cyclical relationship between us and our culture, where we shape it and it in return shapes us.

Now, technology has always been a part of human culture, but never like it has been today. We live in a technological cultural environment, which means that the tools and device that we use everyday (many time subconsciously and instinctively) are a part of the culture that is continually shaping us. As such, whenever "our devices change, our culture changes, and then the things people do in our culture change as well" (90). It is not hard to think of examples of this principle: social networking devices and tools (such as Facebook and Twitter) have changed the way that we engage with people, the world, and ourselves. They have become soapboxes and sounding-boards for our identities, the first point of entry (or line of defense) for others to engage us. Social networking did not merely change computers or corporations; it changed us. Thus, in a technological culture, with its laptops and iPads and apps and portable hot spots, technology necessarily becomes the default means of engaging all things: the world, our problems, others, ourselves, and even God (62-63).

Living in such a culture has its positives and negatives. For example (63), the positive side of technology being our default engagement with things is that there is an efficiency of productivity: objectives and goals are reached faster and smoother. The negative side, however, is that we start treating everything mechanically, as though all things could be fixed or understood if we could just find the "right" device or tool. For Dyer, such negatives are symptomatic of the primary way that technology corrupts us. If we stop seeing technology as merely a tool or servant to aid us and instead start seeing it as our savior, then we have crossed an insidious line (41). Such a line has been crossed before (such as popular opinion from the Industrial Revolution to the turn of the 20th century), and it is dreamed of being crossed again (e.g., transhumanism). Indeed, technology has become the "unspoken religion [of] the secular world" (145), and thus positions itself as a counterfeit to God and His coming kingdom.

If, however, we continue to treat technology as a tool, and a tool specifically in the service of pointing others to God, reflecting his creativity, and serving as a temporary barricade (for ourselves and others) against the effects of the Fall, then technology has redemptive potential. When we use social networking to facilitate community further, then we are using technology in a redemptive way. When we use our devices to heal others physically, psychological, and/or emotionally, we are using technology in service to the Kingdom of God. Technology has these potentials, but it does not do them automatically, and some technologies may even have inherit values and tendencies that make them antithetical to God and His character. Thus, as Christians we must not accept any technology blindly. Rather, we must first discern what values and tendencies are inherit in any given technology and then discern if those values and tendencies contradict the values given to us by God in his word (96). 

Review: When I sit down to take notes for these reviews, I'm usually sitting in my office at some rare moment of silence. I use the same notebook and the same pen every time. The notebook is adequate (I could use one that's more college-ruled), but I absolutely love the pen. It looks like any ordinary pen, but it produces the thickest, fullest black ink that I have every seen. Sometimes when I doodle with it, its ability to make thick lines and deep shading astounds me. It's not some artistic specialty pen, mind you; it's a regular old rollerball. Still, it left an impression on me. It even inspired me to go and buy darker pens to use when I do sketches.

While taking notes for this book, a strange occurrence took place. You see, this favorite pen of mine seemed to suddenly run out of ink. This is only to be expected; pens can't last forever, and mine never do anyway. When they run out, I always do two things: trace some quick circles to see if it really is dry, and then throw it out if it is. This time, however, I panicked. My heart literally skipped several beats. I began my ritual of tracing the circles, but I was doing it furiously, and at some point I actually shouted, "NO, MY FRIEND! DON'T GO!"

Fortunately, the pen had simply hit a dry spot, and it started working again. I breathed a sigh of relief (seriously, it was something like joy) and then continued to take notes. That was when I got to the part in Dyer's book about how technology/tools shape our values by the values that we give them. I stared at my pen and then back at the desperate scribbled lines that I had made in order to revive it. Let me tell you: there is nothing like an unintended real life example to drive a point home.

Technology is not neutral. It is not necessarily evil, but it is certainly not static. It has its effect on us and how we engage the world around us. What's really worrisome is that it can also affect how we engage with God. Living in a technological culture thoroughly saturated with and shaped by various devices and tools, I can't help but wonder how it has shaped our approach(es) to God. Will social networking redefine what we mean by having "a relationship" with God? Will video feeds, blogging (oh my!), podcasts, and comment threads change how we view concepts such as "revelation" and "knowledge"? And if they do change them, will they change them in good ways or bad? These are issues that Dyer is addressing in this book, and I commend him for calling on Christians to be discerning, critically engaging salt and light rather than passive cultural sponges.

Recommendation: This book is a solid primer on the philosophy of technology. It's basically a introductory-level investigation and smashing together of the ideas and concepts of Martin Heidegger, Jacques Ellul, and Neil Postman, making for an interesting philosophical sandwich. Not a full-course meal, but still a tasty, intriguing, and edifying treat.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2011

Come Get Your Kicks, Biblical Style (a book review by an orthodox rebel)

Book: Route 66: A Crash Course in Navigating Life with the Bible, by Krish Kandiah. Oxford, UK: Monarch Books, 2011. 192 pgs. (including study guides and bibliographies)

Introduction: The Bible is not meant to be an obfuscating code book or a static artifact. It is the living word of God (Heb. 4:12) whereby God has spoken to us (Heb. 1:1-2) so that we may have direction as His children (II Tim. 3:16). Without its continued speaking of the truth into our lives, our spiritual growth would stunt and our walk with God would stagnate. Thus, it is a necessity. Unfortunately, it is also a difficulty. The Bible is a big collection of multiple books written in multiple different genres within multiple different cultural and historical settings that no longer exist today. Understanding its seemingly archaic notions and then effectively applying them to 21st century life feels daunting to say the least. In light of such an issue, author Krish Kandiah hopes to make it less daunting. In Route 66, he seeks to connect the Bible back to our lives through "a journey to discover how the 66 books of the Bible help us to know God and how to live for him" (7). As generic as that sounds, Kandiah's approach proves to be surprising.

Summary: Route 66 divides itself up into an 8-week devotional format by dividing up the Bible into its eight main genres: narrative literature, law books, psalms, wisdom literature, the prophets (major and minor), the gospels, the epistles, and apocalypse. Each genre is given one week of five days, and each day is set up with its own devotional entry and subsequent application questions. In addition, each week ends with group application questions, which make Route 66 useful for Sunday school sessions or Bible study groups as well as individual devotions. Each daily entry looks to apply particular Bible truths to daily life by a combination of the following: (a) cultural/historical tidbits about the specific genre or book being studied, (b) devotionally-minded tie-ins, and (c) anecdotal tales to flesh-out a particular application. Overall, the book's approach is simple, straightforward, consistent, and trying to be as practical as possible.

Review: "Practical" is the magic word for Kandiah. In laying out the whole point of the book in the introduction, he states quite simply that he wanted to give Christians a tool that would help them enjoy "the breadth and depth of the Bible" as well as be "packed full of practical help" (7). The "practical help" aspect is really the heartbeat of the whole book. Kandiah obviously didn't want another book of abstract theological musings that focuses too much on the "what" but not the "how". As he puts it, he wants Route 66 to be about "traveling by the [Bible]" rather than "traveling with" it (9), a notion that he unpacks into three principles (9-10): (a) understanding life through the Bible (rather than just understanding the Bible itself), (b) translating the Bible "practically into the nitty-gritty of everyday life," and (c) seeing our time with the Bible not as an obligation to duty, but rather as an invitation into the presence of God.

That last point sounds more like the abstract theologizing that Kandiah is trying to avoid, but it is the true center and value of the whole book, as expressed in what is easily its money quote: "The Bible is not a theological textbook, a small book of calm, a list of rules and regulations, a get-out-of-hell-free card or a fast-paced page-turner ideally adaptable for the big screen. The Bible is God's voice in our hands--he chose to speak to us in a book that is diverse in style, broad in context, grounded in history, deep in theology, true to life and perfect for growing faith whoever and wherever we are" (14). For Kandiah, the daily relevancy of the Bible is not an abstraction, and everyday in the 8-week study is meant to show that it will always matter, regardless of our circumstances. In using the above-mentioned combination of friendly anecdote and devotional musing, he makes good (if shallow) strides in that direction.

Recommendation: The fact that Route 66 doesn't dabble in much "deep theology" does make it a  practically-minded book, but it also makes it a less than meaty devotional fare. That being said, it is, as advertised, a hands-on approach to the Bible and a good (if simple) primer to the different genres and historical/cultural nuances that make the biblical voice unique. The application questions (both group and individual) are definitely the most valuable part of the book, forcing you to engage a passage and its ideas in a far more direct way. In the end, if you're looking for a decent devotional journey, then Mr. Kandiah has a route for you.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2011

The Tale of the Tor (a book review by an orthodox rebel)

Book: Glastonbury Tor, by LeAnne Hardy. Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 2006. 233 pgs. (including maps, prologue, and afterword)

Introduction: Forgiveness is the lifeblood of the love of God. The love of God sent His Son to forgive us of all our sins, and that same Son taught us to forgive our enemies and love one another. In short, to forgive is to live the Christ-like, God-centered life. So says LeAnne Hardy by way of her ambitious little narrative set in Glastonbury (known formerly as the Isle of Avalon) during the heyday of King Henry VIII's reign. We follow the main protagonist, Colin Hay, as he sets out to Glastonbury Abbey to escape his past and seek redemption. While there, he finds hope in unexpected places whilst wading through the overall upheaval that marked the time when the "faith-dominated High Middle Ages" clashed with and eventually gave way to "the relatively secularized Elizabethan world" (237).

Summary (w/o spoilers): Colin Hay is the youngest son of Sir Stephen, a drunken and lecherous nobleman who dominates his wife and abuses his household. Colin's mother dies while giving birth to his sister, who is born stillborn. Blaming his father for both his mother and sister's deaths, Colin attempts to kill him. He manages to badly wound him, but not before receiving a wound himself. Fearing that he was successful in his attempted murder, Colin seeks sanctuary in his home church, where the local priest, Father David, instructs him to seek shelter with Sir Stephen's cousin, a monk at Glastonbury Abbey. Tormented by feelings of hate for his father and guilt over trying to kill him, Colin leaves home hoping to do due penance at Glastonbury.

While at Glastonbury Abbey, Colin meets an array of characters: the simple yet kind-hearted stonemason turned monk, Brother Roger; the round-bellied cousin of Sir Stephen, Brother Arthur; the eccentric, yet caring abbey doctor, Brother Urban; the kindly Abbot Whiting; and the draconian, darkly suspicious Father Bede. As he lives and works amongst them and others, he comes across unsettling currents and convictions: the whisperings of Henry VIII's destructive policies against the church; the beginning fires of Protestant unrest (such as in the friendly Thatcher family); and a rumor that the Holy Grail may in fact be at Glastonbury Abbey (the historic resting place of King Arthur as well as where Joseph of Arimathea supposedly brought the Grail).

All of these things coalesce around Colin as dark forces from both without and within attempt to take control of the abbey. As Colin tries to save his friends and (even more difficultly) to do the right thing, he struggles inwardly with his own anger and guilt that seek to consume him. The wound given to him by his father (both literal and metaphorical) threatens to undo him at every turn, and unless he learns the power of forgiveness, he may lose more in the end than the abbey. He may lose his very soul.

Review (w/ minor spoilers): I called this book "ambitious" earlier because it is dealing with an issue that is near and dear to my heart and mind. There are (in general) two kinds of lives: the self-centered life and the God-centered life. By "self-centered life," I do not mean something initially or immediately evil. Such a life may be highly moral and even philanthropic; but it is still a life based upon the self: self-realization, self-actualization, self-satisfaction, self-justification, self-aggrandizement, etc. In that sense, it will inevitably lead to the corruption of one's soul. In contrast, the God-centered life sees the self and all other things and persons as peripheral to the God who made them all; identity and being are only found and realized in Him, and without Him we and all else are nothing.

This is the concept that the book deals with (or at the very least flirts with) throughout its narrative. You could very easily divide all "good" and "bad" characters into those who seek (and struggle to seek) strength and salvation from God alone (such as the Thatchers and various monks in the abbey) and those who seek strength and salvation by their own hands or the hands of another (such as Father Bede).

Colin himself is pulled between these two poles: whenever he comes into contact with individuals such as the Thatcher family, he feels the warmth and pull that comes from the God-centered/forgiving life, which thinks nothing of itself; whenever he comes into contact with individuals such as Father Bede, he feels the burning rage and wounded pride of the self-centered/vengeful life, which thinks only of itself. While the plot of the narrative deals with the outer political threats from Henry VIII and the inward spiritual threats from the abbey itself, the constant undercurrent is Colin being halted between two positions: will he forgive (and be forgiven) or will he hate and hurt himself and others?

Some affective imagery comes to bear throughout the book as well. The two most obvious in the narrative are the wound that Colin received from his father and the ever-looming presence of Gwyn ap Nudd, the Celtic god of the underworld. The wound he received is both literal and symbolic in more ways than one. More than just a injury given to him by his father, it is also killing him due to infection, which is spreading because he refuses to tell anyone about it for shame of how he got it. Out of fear and guilt, he allows it to fester, and he nearly dies from it. The deeper meaning of this is obvious (a bit too obvious, in fact, a point that shall be discussed below).

Gwyn ap Nudd is the Celtic god who escorted dead souls to hell. His home was thought to be Glastonbury Tor (a hill outside of Glastonbury Abbey; "tor" is Celtic for "hill"), and he was known for his stag-head helm, black horse, and legion of demon hunting dogs. His image appears (in dreams and in daylight) as both a symbol of his father and a literal spiritual threat. As a symbol of his father, he stirs the hatred and guilt of Colin to a boiling point. As a literal spiritual threat, he incurs Colin's fear and dread. In either case, he serves as Colin's primary supernatural antagonist.

The book is not without its flaws, mostly due to its good points not living up to their full potential. For instance, the "self-centered vs. God-centered" theme bubbles below the surface of the narrative but never really finds its voice. In its place, you get many moments of various characters simply asserting cliche calls for the need to forgive, all of which come off as more preachy than profound. In addition, the book seems to suffer from its small size, as many elements and characters feel underdeveloped. I found myself wishing that the book was at least twice as long so we could get to know the monks of the abbey and the Thatcher family better, a grand collection of characters who could have been expanded upon easily and delightfully. Also, Colin's romantic yearnings for a girl named Alice (the youngest daughter of the Thatchers) suffers from this sense of underdevelopment: Colin's non-narrated marriage proposal (or request) at the end feels equal parts arbitrary and irrelevant.

The symbolism is probably the most unfortunate casualty, however. Subtlety is a difficult art, but it is a necessary one. If your ideas and themes are not tightly woven into the narrative (its characters, events, places, and things), then they will burst forth to steal all the thunder that had been building.

Hardy's prose suffers from this many times throughout the book, an unfortunate (though not inevitable) side-effect of the story being told in first-person. Colin (who is the narrator) cannot stop giving things away. He explains away moments and events, carefully and quickly expositing their hidden meaning until they are stripped of all power and punch. For example, upon another heated confrontation with Father Bede, Colin muses, "Why did [he] always bring out the worst in me? Like my father" (124). The phrase "like my father" is completely unnecessary and robs the previous sentence of its literary power. The reader needs to make the connection between Bede and Colin's father by themselves by way of imagery, characterization, and dialogue. Giving away the hidden meaning of things takes all the fun out of reading. I gave only one example; the book is littered with dozens more, especially during the underdeveloped "romantic" moments between Colin and Alice.

This does not mean that the book is badly written. On the contrary, it has its moments, and plenty of them. I offer two. Not long after reaching the abbey, Colin meets a young, devout monk named Brother Fergus who plans to go petition the King on a journey called the "Pilgrimage of Grace". They have a discussion in a stable where Fergus shares his fears with Colin:

He looked outside the stable door to where the rain fell like a curtain that cut us off from that other world and its strife. "Father Cuthbert is prepared to lay down his life for the cause if necessary."

He broke a piece of straw into smaller and smaller pieces and dropped them onto the floor of the stable. "The thought frightens me."

I saw his lips form the words more than I heard his whisper above the rain. He shivered and shrank into himself like a half-drowned child. "My lord abbot and Prior Dunstan were tortured to get them to reveal the hiding places of our riches. It was for naught. We had already given all we had." His face was white as the bread of the Mass, his eyes dark as two bruises.

The wording and use of imagery here is solid and powerful. Fergus' fear is encapsulated in actions rather than explanations (e.g., his tearing apart the piece of straw), and the allusion to the "bread of the Mass" alludes to Fergus' sacrificial fate (the historical "Pilgrimage of Grace" did not end well) as well as his pain-filled life (e.g., "his eyes dark as two bruises"). This is all good stuff.

Another good moment of writing occurs later on, when Colin is told by a family friend that his older brother Walter has died and that he has been asked to return home. Colin gives his answer:

"I never asked to be heir. I never begrudged Walter his place. I wanted my own---to be seen for who I am."

Llwyd never moved, but something in his eyes reminded me of Mother's pain. I steeled my heart against it.

"I'm not going home," I said. "I am needed here. I, Colin Hay, have skills the monks value, skills my father laughed at. I will not be reforged in my father's image. I cannot become what he wants me to be."

I stood and looked at my childhood friend.

"Stephen Hay has no heir," I said with steady voice.

Here we see an effective use of dialogue that conveys all the meaning that we need while allowing us to connect any further dots on our own. Colin is slipping further into the self-centered life, longing so much for his own self-realization (e.g., wanting his own "place") that he can "steel" his heart against memories of his mother (whom he loved dearly). It is interesting that Colin used the word "steeled" rather than "hardened" in regard to his heart. The former sounds more positive, more manly and strong. The latter sounds more sinful and rebellious. Colin (and ultimately Hardy) chose his words carefully.

Recommendation: It is a hard thing to criticize a book because writing one (even a bad one) is a noble, hard-won endeavor, and those of us charged with critiquing it should tread softly. Having said that, Glastonbury Tor has its flaws, but it is still a fine little book all the same. It is short (read easily in a matter of days), and thus will not interest the heavy reader, but for those of you looking for a quick snack of historical drama, supernatural thriller, and theological memoir all rolled into one, Glastonbury Tor will satisfy your palate.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2011

Branded Butter Spread Too Thin (a book review by an orthodox rebel)

Book: Branded: Sharing Jesus with a Consumer Culture, by Tim Sinclair. Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 2011. 143 pgs. (including preface, intro, and all appendixes)

Introduction: The history of 20th to 21st century Christian evangelism can be viewed as oscillating between an exercise in futility and a three-ring circus. Exactly how a child of God and follower of Christ is to effectively engage today's culture and its people while neither succumbing to its wiles nor alienating the souls attempting to be sought has proven to be a messy and frustrating affair. In Branded: Sharing Jesus with a Consumer Culture, author and radio personality Tim Sinclair attempts to tackle this hairy issue, bringing with it his on-air sense of humor as well as his many years of marketing experience. As explained on the book's back cover, Tim hopes to address the main problem that besets contemporary evangelism as well as to motivate and inspire us to "share our faith in ways that are honest, authentic, and---most importantly---effective."

Summary: Tim starts by explaining that Branded is not meant to be a how-to guide since there is "no one-size-fits-all methodology" to "showing and sharing Jesus" (10). We each have to create our own plan, one unique to our own circumstances. Thus, Tim plans to use his book to set a "backdrop" (viz., defining the problem and stressing the need to deal with it) while letting the reader fill in the methodological blanks.

Tim's thesis is simple: Christianity today has an "-ing" problem. We're awfully good at saying, acting, and pretending that we're Christians, but we're very bad at doing, being, and living like we're Christians (11). To put it another way, we're very good at classifying ourselves but lousy at living out that classification as though it were real: we can talk the talk, but we fail to walk the walk. As a result, we come off as hypocritical, insincere, and unauthentic.

In order to "compensate" for this "deficit," we create an impenetrable illusion of authenticity by using things to "brand" our relationship to Jesus. By the use of Facebook, Twitter, blogs, t-shirts, bumper stickers, posting the right quotes, listening to the right radio stations, etc., we market Jesus to the world and (so we hope) create an image of authentic Christianity (11-12). Tim's response to this futile technological web-weaving sets the tone for the whole book: "Sharing Jesus with today's culture" has nothing to do with branding Jesus; rather, it "has everything to do with being personally branded by Christ" (12). If we want Christ taken seriously, then we need to start taking Him and our relationship to Him seriously.

Tim spends the whole of the book's thirteen chapters drilling down on this idea, first by explaining the main problem for 21st century evangelism: We live in a post-Christian world (13-15) where Christianity no longer has the "monopoly" over culture that it once had (28). Thus, we can no longer take our faith for granted, which has done nothing but give us a passionless Christianity (28) and a valueless Christ (33). In a post-Christian world were every viewpoint is consider equally valid, Christianity cannot afford such a state of affairs in its own house. It must once again passionately believe that Jesus matters.

Tim lays down several key principles that he (more or less) repeats throughout the book: in sharing Jesus, it is our methods that need to change, not our message (20-23); the Jesus we present must be based on the real thing, which only comes if we have had (and continue to have) actual contact with the real thing (37); and everybody has a different culture/perspective, and we must share Jesus in the language of "that person's reality" (43). In the end, Branded's overall point can be summed up in this way: sharing Jesus with others must be based on a diehard, sincere conviction that Jesus is truly "the best" choice out there (20), a conviction born out of our own relationship to Him (73). In doing so, our witnessing will be personal (71) and honest (84), producing a life based on Christ-like love (88), which is the true foundation for all evangelism: "Unless a person has actually seen Jesus in you and me, God's words aren't going to mean a lot" (92).

Review: I enjoyed this book and found most of what it said to be absolutely true. My only real problem with it is its thinness of content. Tim's decision to avoid presenting any strict or solid "methodology" was sincere in its good intentions but hurt the book overall. His call for a more "relational," "authentic," and "passionate" Christianity is a valid concern, but it becomes repetitious halfway through, and your interest isn't really piqued again until the last chapter where he outlines his list of "radical" ideas of how we can show ourselves to be branded by Christ (rather than simply branding Him). Here he offered concrete, practical advice that truly grabbed and engaged the mind, but it was only given one chapter. The book could have used more of this methodological approach and a lot less "backdropping". 

Branded is not bad by any stretch of the imagination. There are just so many wasted potentialities. His critique of our secular marketing approach to evangelism (especially in regard to Facebook and Twitter) is timely and needs to be restated, for our evangelism is in danger of drowning in a shallow, johnny-come-lately culture of our own making. In addition, Tim's approach to sharing Jesus is highly incarnational (as opposed to the deferential nature of market-driven evangelism), viz., evangelism must be about the incredible collision between the real Jesus and the specific cultural universe of  the individual being evangelized. Furthermore, Tim heavily stresses a meeting of head and heart when sharing Jesus, a principle perfectly stated in what is easily the money quote of the whole book: "That's the beauty of a relationship with Christ. It's designed to be a combination of head and heart. Of knowing and feeling. Of what the Bible says is true and what we experience to be true in our daily lives" (90). Such beautifully stated truths are littered all throughout the book, but they are given cursory glances at best. In truth, every one of them could have been made into their own book.

Recommendation: I would recommend this book as a starting point. Its truths are not new, nor are they incredibly fleshed out, but they are still necessary. Its "radical" ideas in the last chapter, as well as its "Discussion Questions" appendix, make it a good introductory text for a bible study on evangelism. Tim's tone and style is easy to understand, and the whole book could be read in one sitting and still be edifying. If you want meatier fare, however, I suggest that you look elsewhere.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2011