Zierman's "Night Driving" laughs, groans and grows through an evolving, once-fiery faith

Night Driving: A Story of Faith in the Dark, by former evangelical good girl and blogger Addie Zierman, was a fast, familiar read for me in many ways. She grew up in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago, as did I. She experienced a warm and rosy falling in love with Jesus in her early teens, as did I. She is navigating a shift in her faith as she matures, as am I. She admits to escapism as her way of dealing with life's darker moments, as do I.

This memoir begins with what seems a bad case of seasonal affective disorder, which drives her to pack her two little boys and numerous totes of clothing, snacks and kid gear in the family minivan for a 3,000-mile February road trip from her current home in icy Minnesota to the beaches of Florida. (This might be where the similarities break down a little, as I would never be insane enough to drive myself more insane by taking a solo trip with children!) But, having lived in or taken trips to Asia, Illinois, Kentucky, Indiana, Wisconsin, Tennessee, North and South Carolina and Florida, I was familiar with the settings of nearly all her flashbacks and pit stops along the harrowing, hazy and heartfelt journey.

I can't tell the road trip vignettes as well as the author, so I'm going to stick to the major themes. Two impulses drive the entire story: to escape not only the icy bowels of a Minnesota winter, but also the dark despair lodged in her 30-year-old heart, long vacated by the bright and fiery faith of her youth. As Zierman describes it:

It's like this: Once upon a time, I learned that God came like light. I spent a long time head against the window, peering into the darkness, praying for God to come like a spotlight, like a fire, like some wild laser show in the pitch-black sky. I learned to fear the darkness, and when it came, I struck myself against everything around me, trying to make sparks (208).

She doesn't just write beautiful prose in order to shroud her failings in poetic mystery. Zierman's strength is in not shying away from the details of her personal darkness. In admitting to her "problem with flirting," her near-miss affair, her alternately loving and laissez faire parenting style, her unabashed infatuation with vampy TV shows, and her propensity to drink too much diet coke and too much wine, she avoids painting herself nice in this early mid-life word portrait. 

Perhaps it's her troubles with fidelity that pop up most often in the story. Of her addiction to "a certain kind of feeling" she gets from catching a stranger's eye, hearing a catcall, or turning the head in a car next to her at a stoplight, the author writes

If there was a support group for this kind of thing, I'd stand up and say 'I'm afraid that I don't exist if men don't notice me' (93).

While I bristled a bit to her addiction to male attention in all its crude and unsavory forms-- as an introvert I skew in the opposite direction--- I can relate to the desperate feeling of irrelevance and the longing for validation, and I think most people can. Framing this fear as an addiction that needs to come to light was immensely helpful to me. 

And that brings me to my final thought: Readers expecting explicit, biblical prescriptions for depression, waning faith or addicitons might find the book wanting. Though the author spent her formative years poring over scripture, and does eventually muse on some familiar verses near the end of the book, readers looking for lessons will see them quietly emerge from the author's personal experience. This is fitting, as Zierman's introduction to God and faith, like many Christians, was all about what we could feel. To counteract this ingrained habit, the book's concluding scenes delight in a God who dwells in the darkness as well as the light. 

In short, I recommend Night Driving to Christians grappling with hard-to-name addictions, an evolving faith, or the onset of a "new normal" in their spiritual landscape.

I received a copy of this book from Blogging for Books in exchange for my honest review.

Mahtob's memoir is part psychological thriller, part a lesson in forgiveness, peace and gratitude

So, you remember the 1990s Sally Field movie Not Without My Daughter about Betty Mahmoody, the American woman who defied the odds and fled Iran with her daughter after being held hostage by her violent, radicalized Iranian husband? Mahtob Mahmoody is that daughter. It turns out she's as intelligent, resourceful, resilient and  as her mother.

Mahmoody's moving memoir, My Name is Mahtob (I totally did not mean to use that much alliteration) -- begins with the harrowing story through an exceptionally bright 5-year-old's eyes. The account is gripping. I found myself both appalled at the behavior of Mahtob's father and Iranian relatives and cheering for those decent strangers that were willing to help Betty and her daughter escape.

Review of "Found: A Story of Questions, Grace & Everyday Prayer" by Micha Boyett

I was drawn to Found, Micha Boyett's memoir/musings on Benedictine spirituality for several reasons. First off, Boyett writes from the perspective of a one-time youth minister turned stay-at-home mom who moves away from all her relatives when her husband's job takes them to San Francisco. The tension of wanting to be a good, content nurturer to her son amid the mundane and often wearisome tasks that rob her of her prayer life was something with which I easily relate. I was also interested in learning more about praying the hours, as I've been exploring various Christian spiritual practices beyond my own culture. Finally, the foreword is written by Ann Voskamp of One Thousand Gifts fame and the opening pages are graced by recommendations from Rachel Held Evans and Sarah Bessey, who've both written books I enjoyed.

Boyett's book tells the story of her loneliness, isolation, discontent and aimlessness as a new mom longing for the days when her life was filled with spiritual activities as a busy youth minister. She struggles openly with feelings that God wanted her to choose a more lofty life, perhaps as a missionary or continuing in ministry. She wonders if she took the wrong path by choosing her handsome, caring husband and adorable, precocious son who fill her days with trips to the park and dinner parties (and allow her to take not one but two solo retreats to monasteries in idyllic locations within the first two years of motherhood.)

I found something sacred in Rachel Held Evans' "Searching for Sunday"

I've been looking forward to Rachel Held Evans' new book Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving and Finding the Church for several months. Her excellent blog has challenged, affirmed and inspired me over the last few years. Books written by bloggers often read like scrapbooks of their greatest hits: A rehash of the post that went viral here, an astute observation from commenter Mary L. from Kansas there. Thankfully, Searching for Sunday is not that.

It is an honest, hopeful meditation on her disorienting drift away from her childhood church into the wilderness of doubt, then back to a renewed search for community and the discovery of Christ's Bride in unexpected places.

While many topics covered in her book have been discussed extensively on her blog, Evans resists recycling popular posts. Instead, the book benefits from her versatility as a blogger. Chapters like "Chubby Bunny" humorously relive Evans' childhood growing up small town Baptist. Chapters like "The Meal" showcase her training as a journalist as she interviews the pastor of an innovative, inner-city "dinner church" in New York. Chapters like "Trembling Giant" meditate on the awesome single organism that is an entire forest of quaking aspens in Fish Lake, Utah, as a metaphor for the universal church.  Still other chapters, like "Dust," stem from Evans' Bible college education, reading like beautiful sermons that explore stories from scripture.

Review of Megan Boudreaux's "Miracle on Voodoo Mountain"

I feel like I hit the jackpot with Thomas Nelson lately. (See my review of Donald Miller's Scary Close if you haven't already.) Megan Boudreaux's Miracle on Voodoo Mountain: A Young Woman's Remarkable Story of Pushing Back the Darkness for the Children of Haiti is another book that will make it on my year's best list, and it's only March. Megan founded Respire Haiti and lives with her husband and four adopted children in the town of Gressier. This book has so many things going for it:

The cover is gorgeous
The book's beautiful, haunting cover is not just a marketing tool. The image features a tamarind tree that is symbolic of so many of the miracles that happen in Megan's story. She dreams of the tree night after night, until realizing God is calling her to uproot to Gressier, the town where she first saw the tree on a business trip. Under the same tree, she meets a raggedy little slave girl, whom she later rescues and adopts. For years before the story begins, a local Haitian pastor and his wife met weekly under this tree to pray for a Christian to come and transform the mountain, which served as a mecca for Voodoo priests. The same tree can be seen today from the school and medical clinic that now occupy the land.

It's a page-turner.
Sometimes I just try to get through a book so I can review it and shelve it. I read Boudreaux's memoir in a day and have been re-reading parts of it in the days afterwards to savor the story.

It's a true story of a real-life role model.
Similar to Kisses from Katie author Katie Davis, Megan leaves a cushy life of cute outfits and bright futures to live without running water or electricity among the destitute of earthquake ravaged, voodoo entrenched Haiti.

Megan follows God's leading with simplicity. 
I've been so moved by how the entire plot of this book hinges on Megan cultivating an awareness of God's moving and nudging and instructing in her spirit. She obeys simply again and again, and God keeps speaking to her. The result is a life full of miracles and restoration.

It's full of meaningful miracles.
I've never doubted that miracles do happen today, but I'm usually skeptical of supernatural claims because they often seem to serve no other purpose than to show off and puff up. Megan experiences the gift of tongues similar to the way the disciples did in the book of Acts: after weeks of struggling to communicate and making little progress in learning Haitian Creole, she suddenly understands and is able to speak it fluently. With this gift, she is able to really start changing the lives of the poor children she lives among.

It confronts the heart with the reality of poverty and corruption.
Megan is almost never preachy in this book. When she does take time to express her views, it's to expose the corruption that well-meaning American churches often fund in the form of sham orphanages. She also thinks critically about the ethics of adopting children with living parents, as two of her daughters have a living, but estranged father.

It inspires reflection. 
Obviously, I'm moved by Megan's story and the story of Gressier. It makes my heart long to move abroad and live simply, hanging on the words of my Savior each moment. And it makes me also want to stay right where I am and hang on my Savior's words each moment.

It's an on-going story. 
There are some loose ends to this story, which on a literary level was a slight detractor. However, I see the untied story lines as opportunities to pray for real people in tenuous situations.

So, what more could you want from a book? Hopkinsville friends, you can borrow my copy, but I'm not giving it away :)

*I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publishers in exchange for an honest review.*

Review of Peter Chin's "Blind-Sided By God"

What drew me to Peter Chin's memoir of his early days as a struggling church-planter in Washington D.C. was the story: within months of moving to their crime-ridden neighborhood, his family of four experienced miscarriage, burglaries, news of an aggressive form of breast cancer and a letter informing them their health insurance would not cover his wife's treatment. Just as Chin's wife, Carol, was about to go under the knife to remove her tumor, doctors discovered one more twist in the already impossible situation: She was 6-weeks pregnant.

If anyone would have the right to doubt and complain to God in an all-out Job-like fashion, it would be the Chins. Why would God seem to make them choose between the well-being of their unborn baby and Carol's chances for beating an especially deadly cancer? Would the baby survive the toxic cocktail of chemotherapy required to treat Carol's cancer, which had also spread to her lymph nodes? And how on earth were they going to launch a new church amid chemo treatments and prenatal appointments? This is a book about Chins' doubts, suffering and growing up in his faith. Happily, it's a story with an incredible miracle conclusion that had me up late to read the entire book in one sitting. It's also a story with many small miracles-- the cross-cultural relationships the Chins built with their neighbors and congregants.

The story and the hope it brings makes Blind-Sided By God worth reading. On the one hand, Chin is not afraid to honestly share his thoughts, motives and shortcomings, even at the risk of being painfully unflattering.  On the other hand, Chin puts his seminary degree to good use by pairing each installment of the story with an exposition of scriptures that emphasize the suffering Christ and his followers experience. I especially liked his honest reflection on Christ's crying out "My God, My God, Why have You forsaken Me?" with his final breath on the cross. While acknowledging the traditional interpretation that Jesus had to be briefly separated from the Father in the moment he took on all of humanity's sin, Chin poses the possibility that Jesus experienced a genuine feeling of righteous lament and deep sadness and even confusion. And if Jesus can question the Father this way, God can handle our questions too.

This is Chin's first book, and with phrases like "in no small way" and "suffice it to say" sprinkled throughout, his sometimes archaic style seems to be influenced by 19th century Christian classics. I also have to confess I scurried through a few of the more pastoral parts of the book to get back to the page-turning plot. Overall, I recommend this book for anyone who feels caught in a whirlwind but afraid to question God's hand in the tragedy, struggle and beautiful mess that often characterizes the Christian life.

*Bethany House publishers sent me a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.*

Review of Donald Miller's "Scary Close"

As much as I like reading self-help and how-to, the most impactful life lessons seem to come from watching those I admire in their everyday moments or hearing their stories over a cup of tea. I think this is why I felt like I could learn so much from Blue Like Jazz author Donald Miller's newest book, Scary Close: Dropping the Act and Finding True Intimacy, which reads like a friend recounting poignant memories--some painful, some sweet. This might sound strange, but as I read, I got the feeling that if Miller could befriend my husband and I, he would. 

On the surface, this is a book about Miller's road to emotional health after years of failed relationships before he met his fiance (now wife). But it's really so much more than a book on how to marry the right person or to be the kind of person that snags a spouse or how to have a good marriage, though the principles could be applied to any of those pursuits. And, refreshingly, despite "intimacy" being in the subtitle, this is a Christian book on marriage, written by a man, that does not once mention sex (my husband was quick to point this out to me.) The intimacy Miller explores is the best kind of connection, honesty and closeness we can experience with our spouses, children, friends and even coworkers. He also writes a chapter on the "Five Kinds of Manipulators" to show the unhealthy behaviors we should avoid in ourselves and in potential relationships. Throughout the book, Miller's willingness to learn from others and to see himself as helpful to others has encouraged me to reframe my perception of my own relationships.

I finished the book feeling inspired by the many stories of healthy relationships and the insights gleaned from these examples. Between parents and children: Paul Young's story of rebuilding his family's trust after an affair had me in tears. Miller's picture of the relationship the Youngs have with their grown children now says it all: "In the past, when I've had dinner with them, I was surprised at how freely and openly they talked through whatever problem they were dealing with. It's as though their family was a refuge, a place where everybody could be themselves with no fear of being judged" (159).   Between husbands and wives: My favorite insight was Miller's musings on how his wife Betsy would not "complete him" a la Jerry Maguire. Instead, he writes that every human being has an eternal longing and thirst in their heart that will only be filled when Jesus returns. We can't expect even our closest relationship to fill that void, but we can enjoy experiencing that longing together with our spouse. There's also a bit where Miller writes up a business plan for his marriage that is way more awesome than it sounds. But I'm going to leave that as bait for you to get this book and read it with someone you love :)

It's not my habit to write glowing reviews without spending at least a paragraph or two on what I perceive as flaws in the book. So consider this my Valentine's Day present to the blogosphere. I truly enjoyed this book as a whole and am still musing, savoring and praying over its many facets.

*I would spend my own money on this book, but for the purposes of this review I received a free copy from the generous folks at BookLook in exchange for my honest opinion.*

Review of Carlos Whittaker's "Moment Maker"

My bookish friend and I recently finished reading worship leader and blogger Carlos Whittaker's Moment Maker: You Can Live Your Life or It Will Live You. It's a quick read fully of interesting stories, at turns heart-wrenching and humorous. But at first, I was a little frustrated by this book. I was waiting for it to methodically instruct me in the art of living in the moment and making the most of life's moments. That sounds a little absurd now that I've typed it. But my misconception was fueled in part by phrases on the back cover like "Carlos guides..." and "Carlos shares... his methodolgy for living on purpose." The book's many emotionally charged stories are also loosely organized into three sections, "Created Moments," "Received Moments," and "Rescued Moments" and the book's Afterword outlines the "Moment-Making Method." However, when I tried to imagine what I needed to do in order to be more moment-oriented, I found that the actual steps Whittaker shares are somewhat vague and at times conflicting. Should I be capturing moments with my pen and camera, or should I put down my lens so I can really live these moments? Whittaker seems to argue both in his chapter on the birth of his second daughter. Should I heed the call to "Go! Blaze!" or should I pause? Whittaker argues both.

So I stopped trying to read it like a guidebook or a How-To, and that made all the difference. I let this book be what I think it really is: a memoir of moments from the life of one of my brothers in Christ. From this perspective, I could receive some lessons that instructed my heart.

Here's what I gleaned:

• When my kids are having a moment, I don't need to push them or try to fix them. Sometimes drawing out the awkward pause, listening rather than trying to offer solutions, allowing the tears to drop and holding them in a full-attention hug is the best I can give. See Whittaker's stories about of the tragic end of his daughters' butterfly farm, his daughter's accepting Jesus and their family trip to help recover tornado victims' prized belongings.

• Explore every day. Whittaker sets his alarm to remind him to take in his surroundings and get inspired for future moment-making possibilities. And then he writes them down in his folder of more than 34,000 ideas!

• Allow God to speak through others. Even the bearded barista or the music-loving homeless guy.

• Value others through my actions. Even strangers and people with completely different life experiences. In Whittaker's case, this involved a rowdy group of soldiers newly returned from Afghanistan and a group of transgendered divas ready to beat up some rednecks in a Nashville honky tonk. I'm guessing I'll probably insert myself into different situations :)

• If you can't measure up to your competitors, use creativity to showcase your unique skills. It might work, as it did for an out-of-shape college student auditioning to be a roaming character at Disneyland.

So, in conclusion, I like the intention of this book, and even though his personality is probably the polar opposite of my own, I like Carlos Whittaker's spontaneity, creativity and interest in others. He doesn't really have a method to his moment-making maddness, but he does exemplify the greatest commandment to love God and love others as himself.