Christmas Break Book Four: Going Deep

                They say it’s not what you know, but who you know, and I’m learning that fast. Who I know at the moment consists mostly of a certain professor who often assigns his students book reviews for future publication. This book was my latest assignment.

                Sometimes I don’t get to choose my book. In those cases, I usually end up with a mediocre novel or Christian self-help book (at least I haven’t been cursed with an Amish romance yet… knock on wood). But this time, I was able to pick my own. And, I must say, I chose well.

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                Gordon MacDonald’s Going Deep follows his fictional congregation (from his previous book, Who Stole My Church?) on a journey of renewal. Pastor Mac (as MacDonald is called by many of his friends) leads a small group of Christians for a year, guiding them and helping them grow, transforming them into deep people capable of great Christian leadership.

                This book is written in narrative form, but MacDonald still manages to cram its pages full of tips and insights. His methods may be revolutionary, but their foundation is very basic:  to simply follow in Christ’s footsteps. And though they’re revolutionary, they seem so obvious that I was shocked they’d never occurred to me before.

Heads-up for any non-Christian readers:  this book is, as you’ve probably guessed, intended for a Christian audience. It’s not literature; it functions as more of a guide to how to make these kinds of changes in a church.

Pros:  MacDonald has real experience in this kind of transformation, and the fictional nature of the book makes his concepts clear and easy to understand.

                Cons:  With clarity and simplicity come redundancies. And with redundancies come unnecessary length. Also, know that this book was not written primarily to entertain. Don’t expect intricate plot twists or an edge-of-your-seat conflict. Though fascinating, this is a strictly informative novel.

                Conclusion:  I absolutely recommend this. Especially if you’re in a leadership position in your church. This could really change how you look at the way churches should function.

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                Next up:  The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak.

Christmas Break Book Three: 1984

                First of all, merry Christmas! I am pleased to report that, despite the unfortunate warm weather and resulting lack of snow, it has been yet another lovely holiday.

                This book, however, is completely unrelated to Christmas.

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                George Orwell’s celebrated novel 1984 is the story of a future world (future from the year 1949, at least, when the book was first published) that has been stripped of nearly every form of privacy. The main character, Winston, is a government employee who, despite his indoctrination, realizes something is wrong with the way his world functions.

                Not far into the story, Winston meets Julia, who is just as fed up with the way the government constantly monitors their lives. They soon begin a romantic relationship. When I got to this point in the book, I did a little mental eye-roll. Pretty much every book with two main characters, one male and one female, regardless of their situation and regardless of their age, involves them getting together at some point. And yeah, I know that attracts an entire new group of readers, but it’s cliché.

                Otherwise, though, Orwell has done an excellent job depicting this dystopian society, especially in the book’s last third. Though it’s darker, sadder, and far more foreboding, I was much more intrigued by that last portion than the rest of the novel, and a little frightened at some of the close similarities our society bears to the one Orwell has imagined.

                Pros:  Dystopian novels all have one thing in common:  an uncanny ability to make readers aware of problems in their own society. 1984 is among the best dystopian novels, and it definitely has that effect.

                Cons:  The entire Winston-Julia love thing is completely unnecessary, in my opinion. It accomplishes what I think Orwell’s purpose for it must have been (showing that society was leaning toward eliminating a sense of privacy in relationships), but that purpose was far less important, in my opinion, than the whole “make sure you know if the government is controlling your life” issue.

                Conclusion:  I definitely recommend this book. Aside from the excessive focus on you-know-what, it really is a fantastic read. Big Brother is watching you....

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                Next up:  Gordon MacDonald’s Going Deep.

Christmas Break Book Two: Pathfinder

                I live in a house full of nerds. We’re the kids who were homeschooled for most of our childhood, who watched Magic School Bus instead of Barney, and who have frequent conversations about theoretical physics over dinner. So it was no surprise to me when my older little brother suggested this book to me.

                We’d both read Ender’s Game a few years ago, and it briefly held first place in my long list of favorite novels. So when this new title from the same author came out, I jumped at the chance to read it.

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                Pathfinder, by Orson Scott Card, is about a boy named Rigg who can see the past paths of every living thing in history. For years, he has used this skill to help his father hunt, but an accident soon sends Rigg alone on a mission to fulfill his father’s final request:  find his sister and mother in a faraway city.

                Like in Ender’s Game, the first few paragraphs of each chapter tell a different narrative. This plot, which we soon realize is closely related to Rigg’s story, tells of starship captain Ram Odin, who is piloting a ship meant to colonize a distant Earth-like planet.

                Rigg’s story falls into the fantasy genre, but not the kind of fantasy with dragons, sorcerers, and magical creatures. This fantasy realm isn’t as out there as most, only including the impossibilities of Rigg’s ability (and the abilities of others we meet later in the novel). Ram’s story, until it intertwines with Rigg’s, is strictly science fiction, as you’d expect from Card’s fiction.

                Pros:  Card makes really complicated pseudo-scientific concepts that are vital to the plot easy (or at least easier) to understand. And he does a phenomenal job of combining fantasy with science fiction that doesn’t seem at all contrived or cliché. The story flows well, and dialogue is especially well done.

                Cons:  It’s not Ender’s Game. It’s still a good read, but if you open the book expecting something that can compete with the excellence that is Ender’s Game, you’re going to come away disappointed. Also, the plot twists that Card included aren’t very twisty—they’re relatively predictable. The book is a bit long, too, especially if you’re expecting something that’ll keep you constantly on the edge of your seat.

                Conclusion:  Go for it; Pathfinder is a fun read.  But definitely read Ender’s Game too. It has all Pathfinder’s virtues without its shortcomings.

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                Next up:  1984, by George Orwell.

Christmas Break Book One: The Great Gatsby

                I read a lot. Or at least I used to. Then I went to college.

                There’s something wrong with that.

                So I’m going to drown myself in literature this Christmas break. Classics, modern bestsellers, the occasional nonfiction, and anything on my shelf I haven’t read (or finished) yet. And I’ll post each item on my reading list here, a few days after I’ve finished each book. It’s going to be a fantastic couple of weeks.

                Then I’ll go back to school, and I won’t have time for this anymore.

Let’s enjoy it while it lasts.

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                F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby follows the relationship between Daisy Buchanan and Jay Gatsby through the eyes of Daisy’s cousin and Gatsby’s neighbor, Nick Carraway.

Gatsby is a pretty mysterious guy. He throws lavish parties all the time, and everybody knows his name, but nobody knows where he’s from, how he ended up living in a mansion on Long Island, or even what his job is.

                I don’t know whether it was his mysterious charm, his apparently never-ending supply of money, or his dashing good looks that attracted Daisy to him five years ago. But whatever it was must have been powerful, because even though Daisy’s married now (to a jerk named Tom) and has a daughter, she and Gatsby still, well… you know.

                The affair annoyed me, but for the most part I just pitied everyone. I felt sorry for Daisy because she’s married to a jerk, for Gatsby because Daisy’s married to a jerk, for Nick because he got caught in the middle of this whole situation, and for Tom because… actually, no. I didn’t feel sorry for Tom. It’s hard to pity a jerk with few redeeming qualities.

                Pros:  Fitzgerald knows how to write. He uses very simple language, but somehow gets across a sophisticated, nostalgic voice that enhances the novel’s tone. His writing is jazz and moonlight and champagne and everything classy, but not snobbish—it’s completely within reach and completely brilliant.  

                Cons:  You’ve probably read The Great Gatsby already, and it was probably for a high school English class. That, unfortunately, can ruin even the most wonderfully written novel. Also, if you usually only enjoy fast-moving plots, Gatsby might not be for you. And it’s kind of depressing.

                Conclusion:  Read it. Absolutely. Just be prepared for the sad bits.

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                Next up:  Orson Scott Card’s Pathfinder.

He loves me.

Unrequitedly and unconditionally.  Incredibly and incomprehensibly.  His love is beyond compare.  He is worthy of love, but does not receive it.  Instead of loving Him, I’ve mocked Him, I’ve scorned Him, I’ve sometimes hated Him.  But that does not deter Him from loving me.  I was in danger of death, and He stepped in the way of the sword meant for my neck.  His bruises came from my fists, his pain from my angry words.  Yet He gave His life to save mine.  That’s love.

He loves me.

That fluttery feeling in my stomach isn’t love.  The sense of closeness I feel with a friend isn’t love.  Saying, “I love you,” isn’t even love.  Dying to save the very ones who murder you… that’s love.  God is love.  His love is indescribable.  And I am so undeserving.

He loves me.

I don’t have to wish on shooting stars or pick petals off flowers or wait around for 11:11 to be loved by Him.  Before time, when only He was, He already loved me.  The least I can do is give my life to Him.  He’s already given his for me…

He loved, loves, and forever will love me.  His love is divine.  Beautiful.  Perfect.  No human love compares.

I am loved by the Creator, the Comforter, the Savior. 

The least I can do is love Him back.

Never forget (but try to forgive) - 9/11/01

I know I promised fiction a few weeks ago, but it just didn’t happen, because so much else did. And then school started and you know how that goes. I’ve barely had time to write since then. But today is a day that needs to be written about.

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Ten years ago. The sky was a deep, perfect blue, no clouds in sight. It was a day like any other. Funny how whenever anyone mentions how ordinary a day is, it turns out to be very, very un-ordinary.

8:46 AM. The North Tower was hit. Just one crash, and if it had been the only one, it could have passed as a fluke. Freak accidents happen sometimes, and they’re tragic, but they happen. Planes don’t always make it to their destination.

9:03 AM. The South Tower. It wasn’t a fluke.

I was eight years old. Barely old enough to understand long division, and definitely too young to comprehend what was going on. My mom, my brothers (six and four years old at the time), and I sat on the living room carpet, watching people dive to their deaths, watching the Pentagon burn, watching the twin towers crumble to the ground, taking helpless hundreds down with them.

I don’t remember everything (I was only eight, after all), but I do remember sitting by the window and looking up at the sky, watching. Wondering.

That day, 3,000 people lost their lives. The World Trade Center collapsed, and with it our sense of security. America was filled with anger, grief, fear, resentment. We wanted the people responsible for this atrocity to pay.

Fast-forward almost 10 years. This May, Osama bin Laden paid with his life. He died, and America found no joy, because there is no joy in death. America found no peace, because the war rages on. America found no security, because there are still others who wish us harm. But in his death, our nation has found justice, however little, and that justice has calmed our spirits, at least for a while.

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There’s really nothing I can say on this topic that hasn’t already been said. I don’t even know what I think about all of it. I’ve had ten years to figure it out, but now I think I’m even more confused. I don’t understand a lot (okay, most) of the politics behind decisions that have been made regarding 9/11, and I definitely don’t understand why the attacks happened in the first place.

There’s one thing I do know, though. We have to somehow find a way to make justice and forgiveness coexist. I don’t know how. And I’ve just barely begun to grasp why. You could use the whole “do unto others” explanation, but another one makes more sense to me.

Those terrorists, the ones who are responsible for all this, despite all the evil they’ve done and all the grief and horror they’ve caused, God loves them. Just as much as He loves us. And He wants us to love them, too. That’s the best way I can express it, and it’s not very good, or very eloquent. It makes more sense in my head than it does written out.

But it’s enough, at least for now.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

                Yeah, I know repeating myself isn’t going to make me any more forgivable. I’ve neglected poor Sheridan for a month and a half now (wow, has it really been that long?), and it’s time I caught up.

                In my defense, I was out of town for three of those six weeks with minimal access to Word and the Internet, but I really don’t have an excuse for the other three. The only way to get out of this hole is to stop digging.

                Yet I continue.

                However, I have been working on a piece of short fiction, and I should be finished with that in a week (more or less). I’ll get that posted as soon as it’s polished.

                For now, I’ll try to keep you entertained with my badly interpreted, terribly played version of Clair de Lune. My mom got excited when I showed her how I record this stuff, and insisted that I put it on YouTube. Even though it has a slightly demeaning dedication, not to mention a very cheesy ending.

                Plus, you can see my hands hurtling across the keys. I love technology.