My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Maybe it’s because I’m a convert from complete secularism. I just don’t see what’s supposed to be so great about the new-fangled churches that look like cracker boxes. Or like space ships. Or like a crumpled up piece of paper.

Let’s just say it here and name the elephant in the room.

What is so great about an ugly church?

One of the things I did understand, whether secular or Catholic, was that our surroundings influence how we think and feel and act. And the point of a beautiful church is to help lift our souls to the point where that curtain between us and God might, just might, be opened for a moment of personal connection.

That was highlighted for me when I was in Notre-Dame Basilica of Montreal. A young man in his early 20s was standing in the middle of the main aisle with tears running down his cheeks. His companion, a young woman, turned to him in alarm, “What’s wrong.” He suddenly looked slightly embarrassed, “Nothing. I’m just having a moment. I mean…” and he waved a hand around, “…all this just got to me.”

Precisely.

A transcendent moment of connection with the Almighty facilitated by a sacred place.

That is what this collection of essays by architect Duncan G. Stroik is all about, the importance of letting beauty flower in our sacred spaces, in our churches.

The architecture of the sacred presents Christianity in a three-dimensional form: visually, tactilely, and sonorously in time. The sacred must come to us through all the senses, to surround us with intimations of what Abraham felt in front of the burning bush, King David in front of the ark, Mary with the angel Gabriel, and the disciples at the feet of Jesus and at the foot of his cross. The stone underfoot, the wood of our seats, the smells of incense and of beeswax, the smoothness of marble, the strength of the cast iron grillwork and rails, and the paint on the canvas—all help to create a sense of the sacred and prepare us for the taste of sacred bread and wine.

Stroik discusses the history of church architecture, the importance of various design principles including the altar as center of the church, and the result of modern thinking on church architecture. This modern thinking he decries, by the way, is not only the effect of Modernism style in architectural philosophy, but also the tendency to have gift shops, ask admission fees in famous churches, and to think in terms of auditorium features (“Can you hear me now?”).

The essays are accompanied with photography of many gorgeous churches, both old and new, as well as some that makes one want to weep for those condemned to worship in such stark, ugly surroundings.

However, Stroik doesn’t just discuss the failures in vision. He holds out hope for future church building and renovation. I found Ten Myths of Contemporary Sacred Architecture to be particularly eye opening on this front. By presenting what conventional wisdom as myths and showing where they go wrong, Stroik shows how consideration and care can easily restore beauty as a desirable feature for church architecture.

Obviously, I already was disposed to agree with Duncan Stroik’s essays. However, it was a pleasure to see what I felt fleshed out in these essays and photographs. I am not the author’s intended audience but the essays were easy to understand and I actually enjoyed them. There is a bit of repetition since some of them originally went to a variety of publications, but I found that all to the good in thoroughly grasping the main points.

I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in this subject at all and particularly to anyone at all involved in Catholic church design, renovation, and building.

I opened my apartment door to a wall of smoke.

What happened next is a blur in my memory, but it seemed to happen in slow motion, even as my non-athletic self set some serious records for speed.

I called 9-1-1. And then I went to my bedroom, grabbed my bookbag with my new text books, honors project paperwork, and wallet, put on my shoes, and walked to the window. Nope. Second story and no way I was breaking a limb. No one else was awake in our neighborhood (and I wouldn’t have been either, had it not been for that dratted honors project).

I took a deep breath, said goodbye to all of my belongings (and those of my roommates’), and left, not knowing what was coming next.

It turns out one of my sorority sisters was home and I ended up bunking with her for almost a week. We got off easy: only smoke damage, and I still have a few books that bear the marks of that apartment building fire.

I threw away a LOT of stuff after that adventure. And I learned a lesson I’ve never forgotten: it’s just STUFF.

When my roommates came back, there were tears and discussions of how much it HURT to lose stuff. Me, I was grateful to be alive at a time in my life when I didn’t really believe in anything except my own intellect and the superiority of science. I knew that the stuff didn’t matter. I was alive. (And it hurt, when I look back, that my one roommate in particular could not seem to see that I was alive and her stuff was just stuff.)

Not so long ago (in the last five years), I was inspired by a few wise women’s blogging efforts (Elizabeth Foss among them). They were talking about simplifying and de-cluttering. They were talking about how much your stuff can weigh you down. They were sharing ideas for how much is enough and ways to make do with less and less and less.

I have a lot of stuff, despite my efforts not to. And I let myself off the hook, because I know my kids don’t have as many toys as the Joneses and our house isn’t anything fancy next to the Watkinses and we don’t spend money like the Finches. Even so, the idea of not having more than you need has been something I’ve been trying to live for quite some time.

So the idea behind More or Less: Choosing a Life of Excessive Generosity, by Jeff Shinabarger, appealed to me.

That is, until I started reading it.

Last week, in my weekly reading update, I wrote, “This book is another life-changer and game-changer for me. (I’m not exactly thrilled about that, because I wasn’t necessarily LOOKING to have things go all changey-changey on me!)”

Yeah. That times ten.

I was struck, first, by the challenge that we have enough food. I think I’ll be attacking my cupboards soon. And my freezer. But meal-planning did cure me of a lot of that, to be honest.

And the clothes thing is something that I’ve been on top of. I need to do some more weeding through, true enough, but not something that made me do more than think more deeply about my other excess.

And then, then, there was the chapter on time.

There was a time, not so long ago, when the polite answer to the question “How are you?” was, “Fine.” It seems that busy is the new fine. We look at one another with that shake of the head, sideways smirk, and glossy eyes, proclaiming our busyness. This shared response succinctly identifies a recent cultural shift: we now determine the significance of a person by how busy they are. Somehow, busy has become better than fine. It seems especially highlighted since the economic downturn. Busy shows that we still have a job and things to do, which is a positive answer amidst the endlessly looping, negative news cycle.

The problem is this: busy is not better than fine. Just because I’m busy does not mean I’m fine. And when it comes right down to it, often busy means that I’m not fine at all. What we’re really saying with one simple word is, “I can’t keep up with everything in my life. I actually can’t keep up with any of the things in my life. But that makes me important, doesn’t it?”

Oh. Wow. But there’s more…

Often the first ball we drop is our relationships. Being “busy” quickly becomes a barrier or excuse in the way of true community. I am busy, and many of my friends know that I am busy. When the only answer I ever give them in response to the question “How are you?” is, “Busy,” this communicates that I don’t have time for them. When I constantly say, “I’m busy,” I communicate to others that “I don’t need you right now.” Most of our friends pick up this subtle message and stay away.

What we often realize too late is that our “busy” answer is actually a choice not to engage in our community. We choose to do other stuff over hanging out with our friends. If I continue to tell myself the lie that busy is good, I slowly enter into more of an isolated and a self-centered existence.

And here’s the kicker:

…if we are too busy to engage in relationships, we face a larger problem. When I respond and tell you I am too busy, too often I actually need your help. Often in those times when we most need a deep relationship, instead of pursuing that relationship, we embrace our task list and avoid the comfort and support that true friendship can offer. And the result of being extra busy, ironically, is loneliness and depression.

Time is worth more than money to so many people I know, and yes, even to me. I’ve been working hard over the last five years especially to hone in my “here’s what can be done” approach to my life. And yet…and yet I feel like I fail.

Why does there have to be so much to do?

Part of it’s having kids, part of it’s having a lot of small project work, part of it’s that I have to be at a certain level of busy to function well.

But what Shinabarger is outlining in this chapter so well is a different approach to time, one that I’ve been flirting with and haven’t yet been able to articulate. In fact, just a few paragraphs later, he talks about something that has been on my heart since the smartphone explosion all around me (nope, I’m NOT getting one) and since my kids have gotten older: presence.

Presence is not fast, big, or cheap. You cannot replace presence with someone or something else. Presence is an essential element that we all need and desire in our deepest relationships. It’s unspoken. It’s true. It’s the greatest encouragement anyone can ever receive or give. Presence is a physical expression of love in the midst of a culture that never stops—it is to stop and be with someone that matters.

He goes on to define and outline some time indicators and that may help you, as they helped me, to further consider how my time spent reflects on what my priorities truly are.

There are 14 chapters in More or Less, covering virtually everything in your life, from your kitchen pantry to your closet to your time, from your transportation to your presents to your access. I didn’t find it a fast read, though it’s a VERY good read. I found I could only manage so much before my brain sort of stopped. I needed to noodle a bit before I could read more.

It’s practical and applicable and it doesn’t just leave you with a good idea. Shinaberger outlines a general plan of action after he shares how he or others approached what he calls Enough Experiments. In fact, he went so far as to build a pretty rockin website that has links to the videos mentioned in the book, a discussion guide, and a worksheet to help you with your closet.

What makes this an incredible book isn’t just that it’s tightly written, that it has a thread of story running through the whole thing, that Jeff sounds like the kind of guy you would probably like. What makes this a remarkable read is the challenge it leaves in your heart, the way it forces you to acknowledge your role in the world at large, whether you choose to engage or not. It reminds me, in fact, of how I felt and continue to feel after reading Refuse to Do Nothing.

Read this book. And then share it with someone close to you.

These three books are books I’ve barely managed to keep from getting dog-eared and well-loved by my children, and there’s a reason for that: they’re beautiful. While these books are about very different topics, they represent what’s good and alive in Catholic publishing aimed at children. Bright covers, great illustrations, clear text. They’re as fun to read as an adult as they are for the kids they’re intended for.

A Picture Book of the Mass (Illustrated by the Masters!), by Lacy Rabideau

This book is sure to be an example I use if and when I ever write about my thoughts on self-publishing over at the Catholic Writers Guild blog. Honestly, I’m not usually a big fan of self-pubbing. But this book blows all of my usual objections right out of the water.

It’s on magazine-quality paper and it’s full-color throughout. As the title promises, it has illustrations, and they’re classics. The publication quality of this book is top-notch.

The book includes all the parts of Mass, and explanations. At 29 pages, it doesn’t skimp and try to squish a bunch of things onto one page, which is good for little hands.

The pictures are engaging too, and did I mention they’re full of color? Seriously, it’s striking.

From the author:

These booklets are not “dumbed down” for children, yet they are simple, straight-forward, and easy to use. They are based on the most common, ordinary time Mass.

The paintings that illustrate the Mass were carefully chosen to aid meditation during the Mass, and are meant to be used as an evangelization tool for any Protestants you might invite to attend Mass with you.

The beautiful dedication page in the front of this booklet makes them into the perfect gift for your Godchild, First Communion students, or any religious occasion!

Big thumbs-up from the Reinhards on this one!

The Way of the Cross, by Juliette Levivier, Illustrated by Anne Gravier (Ignatius Press (reprint edition), 2013, hardcover)

It has history. It has the devotion. It has simple, astounding illustrations.

I didn’t have this book during Holy Week this year, but I’ll be using it next year, you can bet on it. And maybe I’ll even share it with my kids…

Godparents, catechists, parents, aunts and uncles, take note: this book is a GREAT gift idea. The hard cover makes it sturdy enough to tuck into a purse or diaper bag and it’s simply written.

From the publisher:

Help your youngsters meditate on the Stations of the Cross. Beautifully illustrated and simply written, this little guide is a wonderful introduction to an important prayer and ancient devotion of the Church.

The book begins with a description of the events of that first Holy Week, when Jesus suffered, died and rose from the dead. There is also a brief history of the Way of the Cross devotion, which began in Jerusalem. Each station includes a Scripture verse, a brief text to help children imagine the scene, a four-color illustration, and a prayer.

Forever You: A Book about Your Soul and Body, by Nicole Lataif, Illustrated by Mary Rojas (Pauline Books & Media, 2012)

Someone sent me a link to an interview with Nicole Lataif about her inspiration for writing this book, and I promptly wrote Pauline Books requesting a copy. The kind marketing associate wrote me back and mentioned that I had already received a copy.

(My apologies, dear publishers. I run a pretty organized book ship here, but the fact that my kids also like books is KILLIN ME lately when it comes to figuring out where they’ve put the children’s books I’m supposed to be reviewing.)

Well, I found it. And then my eight-year-old found it. As she was walking out of my office with it, I said, “Hey! We have to write a review about that one!”

“OK!” she said, already opening the book. “I’ll tell you what to write.”

About ten minutes later, she found me in the kitchen. “So?” I said. “What are we writing?”

“Ten out of ten stars,” she said. “I really liked it!”

“What was your favorite part?”

“I like how it talks about our soul and the person we are.”

I hadn’t read the book at that point, and I was intrigued.

The first page of the book, titled “For Grown-ups,” states that Forever You is “a resource for Christian faith formation at the most basic level, intended to help you explain to children what being human is all about.”

We’re both body AND soul.

The book opens with, “Your soul is in all you are and do—soul and body, forever you.” It continues, engaging readers with pictures and emphasizing that body and soul aren’t separated, even in things like climbing a tree or taking a bath. The refrain’s repeated and there’s rhyming.

It’s an easy read, whether you’re the adult or the eight-year-old. This is a message *I* needed to hear, too, one that we could all use a reminder of.

From the publisher:

Starting at an early age, kids are curious about their existence as human beings. At the primary stage, they wonder about where they came from, who they are as individuals, and how they fit into this world. As adults, it is often difficult to find the right words to explain these complex ideas to them in a way that they can relate to. And in this critical period of individual identity formation, finding those ‘right words’ is all the more essential.

At the most basic level, this resource for Christian faith formation introduces children ages 4-8 to what being human is all about. Whether you are a parent, grandparent, or catechist, you will find this resource to be helpful in explaining the concept of a “soul” to your children. Simply structured sentences, engaging text, relatable analogies grounded in nature and creation, and whimsical illustrations invite children to understand and embrace the whole human person.

In the words of my five-year-old, this book gets 25 gold stars. Good stuff, worth sharing and rereading.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I came across this thanks to Mystery Scene magazine where I have found many great recommendations.

Imagine a super spy managing to live long enough to develop Alzheimer’s. What happens when he may inadvertently let slip some of the big secrets he knows?

Such is the premise of this really enjoyable book. Drummond Clark is the aging spy in question. His son Charlie is addicted to betting at the track and desperately trying to figure out how he’s going to pay back a Russian mobster when his father turns up missing. All Charlie is trying to do is to return his father home and figure out which assisted living facility would be best, while skimming enough to pay his debts. However, repeated “coincidental” attempts on their lives send them on the lam for a simultaneously humorous and touching attempt to escape.

The scene at the beginning of the book when the father slips his leash of “company” monitors is a great example of the combination of unconscious trained stealth and Alzheimer’s with which Charlie must deal for the remainder of the book. Along the way Charlie and his father spend time together, some lucidly and some not, in a way they never did before … and Charlie discovers that his gambling career and natural talent combine unexpectedly to help keep them alive.

So what does Dick have to say about surviving and prevailing in this world?

[...]

Instead he focused on human decency, as expressed through empathy and sacrifice. In his work, characters often come through by doing the hard thing at the right moment. …

This is what Dick has to offer — something beyond mere politics; a glimpse at what makes us human. The moral law within, the ability to tell good from evil without actually being able to define them. In a literary world teeming with Mailers, and Vidals, and Thompsons, overrun with the cynical, and the vicious, and the twisted, Philip Dick stood alone in his defense of the human values.

Many thanks to Leah for pointing me to this article positing that Philip K. Dick was a prophet who foretold the times in which we now live. Jarring as that seems to anyone who has read a Philip K. Dick novel, it also hits a strain of truth.

I was just listening to Movies on the Radio where host David Garland and composer Michael Giacchino were discussing the continuing appeal of the original Star Trek series. They concluded it was because Star Trek was made in a time when there was great hope of using our technological power to do good. That sense is carried on through the movies, to a large degree. It is true that sense of optimism was the prevailing attitude and one saw it then in a lot of ways, especially in science fiction.

Unfortunately, it seems as if we live now in times where there is depression instead of optimism. From my limited exposure to Dick’s writing, we could all do worse than to read Galactic Pot-Healer and then go out to face our challenges.

Rocha is a philosopher of education, and from that and the title of the book one might think that this is a book about schools, teachers, and chalkboards. On the contrary: Rocha refers to all of that as “schooling”; by education he means “learning”, or more precisely, the ability to learn for one’s self, and to go on doing so all one’s life. But that precise meaning only emerges in the course of book. (Whoops! Spoilers. Sorry, Sam.)

The day I read this I was at home sick with a cold, and so it’s a fairly strong statement to say that I enjoyed it and that it held my attention. That said, I find I can’t judge the book fairly, as I’m really not a member of Rocha’s intended audience: his students, and others at a similar level. I don’t claim to be a philosopher of any stripe, but I’ve been delving into it long enough that at least I’m no longer a beginner (perhaps I’m a philosophomore). Whether I’d have found this book helpful when I was beginning that journey, I don’t know. But it all made sense to me, and as I say I enjoyed it.

The mom in your life is sure to love any of these books. They’re listed alphabetically by title, in case you were wondering.

Blessed, Beautiful, and Bodacioius: Celebrating the Gift of Catholic Womanhood, by Pat Gohn (Ave Maria Press, 2013)

I can tell you already that one of the books on my “Best of 2013″ list is the newly released brilliance in B by Pat Gohn, Blessed, Beautiful, and Bodacious: Celebrating the Gift of Catholic Womanhood. Pat has a streak of sassy New England, and she also has a swash of practical Midwestern. She’s studied and she’s lived. And it’s all there, in a title that makes me smile every time I see it.

This book makes a big promise: it has a sort of all-encompassing premise that could really fall flat. I mean, how many of us celebrate cramps or hot flashes or pains in various parts of our bodies? And put the word Catholic in there and there’s a whole separate set of gripes I could point out.

Modern thinking meets Church teaching, written by the woman who’s pouring you coffee and pulling out her stash of chocolate to share. Gohn doesn’t shy away from the tough issues: she faces them squarely and just takes ‘em on.

At the end of each chapter, in a way that’s so approachable and real that even I couldn’t roll my eyes, Gohn gives the world an inside look at her devotion.

And it’s blessed, beautiful, and bodacious.

Truly, the title of this book doesn’t just describe Pat’s vision of what Catholic womanhood is and should be—Blessed, Beautiful, and Bodacious describes the book itself. It’s a blessing to read, beautifully executed, and bodacious all around. I won’t be surprised when it becomes a Catholic bestseller for the way it so easily shares so much information so well. I won’t be surprised when I give it as a gift to people who already have it, because it’s that good. If you don’t have a copy, don’t wait.

Think of it this way: you’ll read it and love it and leave notes in the margins. Then you’ll share it with your best friend, who won’t be able to give it back because her sister will need to read it.

Imitating Mary: Ten Marian Virtues for the Modern Mom, by Marge Fenelon (Ave Maria Press, 2013)

For so many people, she’s inaccessible. It’s something I find again and again as I write and speak and ponder this woman who changed the course of humanity.

You may call her Blessed Mother or Virgin Mary. You may call her Mama or you might just call her Mary. Whatever you call her and wherever you see her, from your garden to your church, from your daily life to your deeper devotion, there’s a new book you should consider a must-read: Imitating Mary: Ten Marian Virtues for the Modern Mom, by Marge Fenelon.

What Fenelon has done isn’t so remarkable, really. The market is saturated with books on mothering, books on Mary, and books that are lists of things. What this book has that no other book I’ve found has is all of that together: Mary, mothering, and lists.

Did I mention that it’s written in an accessible and down-to-earth style? Within these pages, you won’t be able to help growing closer to Mary…she will breathe from the pages and take shape before you.

The virtues highlighted throughout the book aren’t things that I think I’m naturally good at; they’re definitely things I need to improve. I’m glad I read it before I got caught up in thinking about how far I had to go: each chapter inspired me and made me think more deeply about how very much Mary wants to help me personally, ME.

Throughout the ten chapters of this book, Marge Fenelon makes the Virgin Mary into a real person without subtracting from any of the Blessed Mother’s amazing qualities. Mary becomes a model—not of a distant figure from thousands of years ago, but of a mom like you and me who wants to walk beside us.

Love & Salt: A Spiritual Friendship Shared in Letters, by Amy Andrews & Jessica Mesmith Griffith (Loyola Press, 2013)

To have a friend who leads you closer to God is nothing short of a gift. I have one such friend. After reading Love & Salt: A Spiritual Friendship Shared in Letters, I realized that, though I’m a writer, I don’t write this dear friend of mine nearly enough.

There’s something personal about letters–they’re not dashed off like email, short like a text, or rambling like a phone call. They remain, full of their original words, to be reread and cherished and, if they’re lucky, saved.

In Love & Salt, we have three years distilled into a few hundred pages and at least a hundred letters (no, I’m not counting). It felt like glimpsing into a personal time capsule, one filled with memories and shared laughter and honest experience.

This book is sincere in the most beautiful expression of that word. You read a part of the two women’s souls, share their smiles and their tears, feel yourself wrenched along lives filled with questions.

They are questions I’ve asked myself. They are pains I have also borne. They are tears I have shared with others.

I have no doubt that, a year from now, I will still be raving about this book. It is one of the best examples of “spiritual memoir” I have ever read, told in conversation and by real people. Except…did I mention that I’m not such a fan of memoirs? Yeah, I should probably mention that. I’m not. But this is…well, it’s more than memoir. It’s an almost voyeuristic look into how a friendship developed and grew into more than simply two women who liked each other. They became sisters in Christ in the very best, most ideal sense of that phrase.

This book reads like real life. In some ways, it’s what I love about blogs and find so rarely in books: the honesty, the bare emotion, the hilarity mixed in. It’s truly a cocktail of love and salt, roses and thorns, sugar and spice.

My Sisters the Saints: A Spiritual Memoir, by Colleen Carroll Campbell (Image Books, 2012)

I’m always a little scared, lately, when I agree to read something that is either biography or memoir. Though they can be well-done (and often are), they can also represent a genre that, well, sends me packing and screaming and launching a book across the room.

I was unable, though, to turn down the chance to read Colleen Carroll Campbell’s new book, My Sisters the Saints: A Spiritual Memoir. And then, about halfway through, I was unable to put it down.

Bottom line: GREAT BOOK.

This was truly a look inside, and dare I say there was even a plot? I loved how there was a story woven throughout, and that the stitches of the story were some of my favorite saints.

In no way does Campbell give in to the temptation just to tell us about the saints in a long “we could find that on Google” lecture. She does not reduce the saints to her own take on them, either.

Within this book is some of the best writing I’ve seen and a style that captivated even me, an admitted non-biography/memoir-reader.

This is a book that documents an ongoing conversion in a way that I found engaging and thought-provoking. I caught myself marking passages and shaking my head.

I also found myself with tears running down my face. Campbell’s struggles with her own conversion and understanding, with her father’s declining health, and with her infertility were shared intimately in this book. It took some kind of courage to write the way she did throughout this book, and it was a light to me. After I finished the book, I wanted to email her words of encouragement, and I couldn’t help praying for her.

And isn’t that the beauty of a good book like this? It not only makes a stranger into someone we feel like we might know, it also brings us closer to some truths about ourselves. And, in the case of this book, it draws closer the communion of saints and the beauty of our Christianity.

Random MOMents of Grace: Experiencing God in the Adventures of Motherhood, by Ginny Kubitz Moyer (Loyola Press, 2013)

Some books are good reading, but when you’re done with them, you shelve them, let them collect dust, and eventually give them away to an unsuspecting thrift store bargain shopper.

Some books are good reading, and when you’re done, you rave about them on your blog, shelve them, let them collect dust, and eventually give them away to an unsuspecting giveaway winner.

Some books are good reading and no matter what, YOU DO NOT EVEN LEND YOUR COPY TO ANYONE. You know you’re going to be referencing those folded-down pages, tapping into the insight and wisdom that brought a dusting to your eyes, searching for a shoulder to lean on between the cover.

Some books are such good reading that they’re almost “blankie” books.

Ginny Kubitz Moyer has written one such book with her latest release, Random MOMents of Grace: Experiencing God in the Adventures of Motherhood.

Moyer writes with the voice of experience and the insight of appreciating what she has. She doesn’t sugarcoat things and yet she taps into the beauty of motherhood. She’s sappy without being sickening, funny without being overbearing, wise without being unreachable.

After reading this book, I was left feeling encouraged by a sister-in-arms. It’s a book I’ll be sharing, for sure, and I’ll also be re-reading. Because you know what? All moms deserve this sort of reading every once in a while.

Recipe for Joy: A Stepmom’s Story of Finding Faith, Following Love, and Feeding a Family, by Robin Davis (Loyola Press, 2013)

Recipe for Joy: A Stepmom’s Story of Finding Faith, Following Love, and Feeding a Family looked interesting, but I’ll be honest: I almost didn’t read it. There are a number of reasons why, but none of them are as huge as the feeling of “Wow, I am SO GLAD I read that!” that I felt late on Saturday night, with the whole house asleep, as tears streamed down my face and I closed the back cover.

This was great read that makes me consider that maybe I do like memoirs when they’re told as expertly and entertainingly and heart-wrenchingly as this one.

Did I mention there are some recipes? That I felt nearly motivated to try?* And that the author is practically my neighbor? (I found out that last bit quite by accident. She doesn’t know I know that yet. Shhhhh…she’s still safe…for a little while longer…)

The book’s arranged in courses, beginning with a toast and continuing to appetizer, soup, salad, bread, main course, and ending with dessert. At the end of each chapter, which are beautifully written and not, in fact, forced in any way, there is a relevant recipe. By the time you’re done with the book, you have a full meal. And it looks like one my family may even eat.

Davis was never going to get married or have children, and the surprise and delight she has found in both of those vocations seeps through her descriptions and writing. But don’t think that they’re sappy or irrelevant to you.

I’m not spoiling anything to tell you that yes, she did marry Ken. She embarked on something for which she felt ill-equipped, and as I turned the pages, I couldn’t help but nod. A lot.

Robin Davis, under the guise of a memoir, shares a beautiful story of conversion and ongoing trust in God. She bares an intimate part of herself, shares recipes, and poetically makes you love and hate and interact with her experiences.

I found this to be a book that plumbed my heart in ways few books have. It spoke to me as a daughter, to me as a mother, to me as a fellow woman. Davis dives into her story and doesn’t slow down. I could sum it up in one sentence (and some of the synopses I’ve seen do just that), and yet the gift within these pages is found in the love that’s within the very core of the story itself.

Refuse to Do Nothing: Finding Your Power to Abolish Modern-Day Slavery, by Shayne Moore and Kimberly McOwen Yim (IVP Books, 2012)

Despite the fact that I regularly whip through books, I could not whip through this one. I found myself choked up after chapters, and the image of those young girls from Taken, the ones who were part of the prostitution ring and were drugged into submission.

I pictured the children who didn’t know a better life, who couldn’t imagine hope.

And, more than anything, I pictured these two ordinary moms changing the world, one small step at a time.

This isn’t an easy topic. I actually haven’t talked much to the people around me about its content because…well, not only is it uncomfortable, but I just about need to reread the book to feel confident about it.

And the problem is so stinkin huge, what difference can Imake from my home here in central Ohio?

I love how Moore and Yim begin the book by writing at length about the abolition of slavery in the United States. That initiative was carried by women, believe it or not, and specifically Christian women. Without the women–who controlled what was purchased, who kept the prayers going, who never ever gave up–we may still have legal slaves here in the U.S.

This book is a must-read for you, no matter who you are. You need to know what you know (and what you don’t know).

Within its pages, Refuse to Do Nothing inspires both hope and action in readers. At the end of each chapter there are discussion questions, and see if you can read them without thinking (maybe for hours afterward, maybe with some actual discussion with the poor spouse who looks over at you while tears are streaming down your face). There are also action items at the end of each chapter–add the hotlines to your phone, sign up for email updates, tell a friend, watch a movie–that are neither overwhelming nor impossible.

I told more than one friend that this book has probably changed my life. And you know what? I’m not really happy about that. I was pretty happy with the way things were.

But conversion is ongoing, and social justice is something we are called to, especially as Christians. There are very real, very tangible, very actionable things we can do–starting with our prayers and with how we spend our money.

Back when I was in corporate America there was a saying about money talking and something else walking. We can make our money say a lot of things, and this book gives us real ways to make that happen.

Don’t sit still. Don’t click away without resolving to read this book.

It won’t be easy. I promise that.

Like me, you may even be sorta sorry you read it.

Until, that is, the image of those girls in Europe comes to mind…and then, the thought of abolishing the modern-day slavery that is here all around us, even in the United States, even in central Ohio, will light a fire under you and leave you unable to sit still any longer.

Because, really? A favorite place on earth? For God?

Blame the Patheos Book Club (again!) for introducing me to an author and a reading experience I would have otherwise missed completely: God’s Favorite Place on Earth, by the apparently awesomesauce Frank Viola, whose work I will be exploring further.

This book is the kind that shakes you out of your comfort level with stories you thought you knew from the Bible. Viola maintains that Bethany was God’s favorite place on earth, and he makes a pretty good case for it.

Viola begins each chapter told from the viewpoint of Lazarus and then digs deeper at the end of each chapter in a section called “Walking It Out.” The story drew me in, made me examine Jesus more closely.

And, I won’t lie, I was intrigued.

One thing that I often examine in my own devotion (and sometimes in my writing) is the personhood of Jesus and Mary and other saints. They were real people. This book really appealed to that interest of mine, the part of me that pictures Jesus as a grimy little boy running through the dust and throwing rocks, the streak I have of taking Mary off her pedestal in front of church and putting an apron on her.

Within walking distance, almost in the shadow of the temple walls, was the lowly town of Bethany—obscure, unknown, modest.

In which of these two places [Bethany or Jerusalem] did the God of the universe feel at home?

The tiny village of Bethany.

This example screams that God is more concerned with quality than with quantity. It shouts that He’s more concerned with reality than with flash. It thunders that He’s more concerned with authentic hearts than with what’s outwardly impressive.

Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God, was bitterly rejected by the world. But He was gladly received in Bethany.

This was a book that surprised and delighted me. Viola writes with authority, but he’s not ponderous about it. I highly recommend this as a book for spiritual growth and deeper insight into the Gospels.

There’s a free sampler of the book available, if you want to get a taste for it. Until May 7, 2013, Viola is offering “25 bonuses” if you purchase it (which is very…interesting-looking).

Yes it’s 700 pages and only covers the first third of the Gospel of Matthew.

And your point is …?

That I might not live long enough to finish all three books?

If I don’t finish the 2,100 pages or so by then, hopefully I’ll be in a place where God will fill me in on what I missed.

Actually I’d been circling around this book for several years. It took Will Duquette’s enthusiasm to tip me over the edge.

Flipping through this doorstop, I came across a paragraph that stopped me in my tracks.

The Virgin Mary is called the [Greek words] (the “book of the Word of life”) by the Greek Church. The book of the Gospel, the book of Christ’s origins and life, can be written and proclaimed because God has first written his living Word in the living book of the Virgin’s being, which she has offered to her Lord in all its purity and humility—the whiteness of a chaste, empty page. If the name of Mary does not often appear in the pages of the Gospel as evident participant in the action, it is because she is the human ground of humility and obedience upon which every letter of Christ’s life is written. She is the Theotokos, too, in the sense that she is the book that bears, and is inscribed with, the Word of God. She keeps her silence that he might resonate the more plainly within her.

In fact, it almost knocked me out of my seat. So I’m reading these meditations, holding myself down to one per day. I must say that the author’s translations are as inspiring as his meditations. There is a vivid sense of “action” that I just don’t find when I try different translations to see the equivalent. It feels … living … alive …

Full disclosure: I skipped the lengthy introduction, except for the parable about Aleph which rings loudly every time I see the Aleph after each meditation to remind us to leave space for God to enter in.

When I am craving yet another meditation, I’ll begin working through the intro.