Behind the Book: Our authors share the story behind the birth of their book.

Today’s Focal Practice: Walking

As part of the conversation on Living Into Focus: Choosing What Matters In An Age of Distractions at the Patheos Book Club, we asked Arthur Boers to reflect on some specific practices that give him life. First up: walking.

“You walked in this weather?” people often ask me, as if walking is only pleasurable in a congenial climate. Will Ferguson a Canadian humorist once walked 500 miles in Ireland and when he grew frustrated with the perpetual precipitation, he was often told: “There is no bad weather, only inappropriate clothing.” Or, as I once heard somewhere, only drivers complain about weather. So, yes, chances are I did walk “in this weather,” whether it was hot or cold, dry or wet, sunny or cloudy. Why not? Walking gives me life. (Read the rest at Patheos).

 Also, be sure to check out Bruce Epperly’s contribution to the Living Into Focus Roundtable: “Grandpareting as a Focal Spiritual Practice.”

Name One Thing That Gives You Life

Today we kick off a two-week feature on Arthur Boer’s Living Into Focus: Choosing What Matters In An Age of Distractions over at Patheos.com in their Book Club Section.

At Patheos you can find an excerpt from the book, author Q&A, and more.

Start by checking out this original article by Boers on “Life-Giving Practices: Identifying What Matters Most.”

Intrigued? Then think about what gives you life, and submit your thoughts (300 to 500 words) to Patheos (books@patheos.com) for possible inclusion on Patheos in their roundtable discussion on this book (and for a chance to get a free book).

 

Blessed and Broken: Lady Gaga and Lucinda Williams (Reflections on Grammy Nominees, Part 3)

We asked Christian Scharen, author of Broken Hallelujahs: Why Popular Music Matters to Those Seeking God, to write a few blog entries reflecting on the Grammy nominations.

This is the third of three posts.

———————————————————————————

In this last post anticipating this weekend’s 54th Grammy Awards, I am pulling together an unlikely combination. Lady Gaga, the 26-year-old flamboyant pop juggernaut, set side by side with Lucinda Williams, the 59-year-old gritty Americana icon. What do they have in common? I’ve met the Gospel in their work, for starters. Blessed and broken, you might catch, has Eucharistic echoes. A loaf, taken, blessed, broken, given, as the very body of God, for you. Before you write me off by spraining your eyes from rolling them too high in their sockets, give me a chance to say more.

These two women have, of course, received Grammy nominations. Gaga, already a two-time winner with her first album, has received nods for “Album of the Year” and “Best Pop Vocal Album” (2011‘s Born This Way), as well as “Best Solo Pop Performance” for the song, “Yoü And I”. Williams, also a previous Grammy award winner, has been nominated for “Best Americana Album” for her 10th studio release, Blessed. Neither are, to my knowledge, performing on the Grammy Awards broadcast Sunday evening, but you can see Gaga perform her nominated song, “Yoü and I” with hit country duo Sugarland on the Grammy Award Nomination Concert.

My argument in my book Broken Hallelujahs, in part, is against what I call “checklist Christianity” which holds up a checklist to pop culture with a skeptical eye and rejects anything that contains an offending item (profanity, for example, or references to drugs or sex). I argue, with C.S. Lewis, for a richer Christian imagination informing our engagement with culture. If we begin at the cross of Christ, who was rejected by the religious leaders and crucified “outside the gate” with criminals on his left and right, we know something about the shocking and surprising ways God is at work in the mist of human life for the sake of bringing new life. So I’m not that interested in saying if Gaga or Williams are “Christian” enough or even “safe” enough to be important for Christians or anyone else to pay attention to. I want people to learn and listen so that they can see with a pop song, seeing what can be seen from there.

In a way, “Yoü and I” is song about brokenness and blessing, as is the whole album Born This Way. The song is about love and loss, and the desire for commitment. It is about losing a boy from Nebraska, and then reconnecting with the hope of having it stick. “This time, I’m not leaving without you.” But it is also about deeper claims of allegiance, and how few things really deserve our devotion. Gaga sings, “There’s only three men that I’mma serve my whole life; that’s my daddy, Nebraska, and Jesus Christ.” The song has echoes of Gaga’s namesake band, Queen (It is their song, “Radio Gaga,” that gave her the stage name). The song begins with an echo of the marching drumbeat of Queen’s famous song, “We will Rock You,” and featuring Queen guitarist Brian May. Former Brazos editor, Rodney Clapp, has written a lovely piece arguing something similar to what I’ve said here but in relation to the song, “Born this Way.” One reason for her enormous popularity, I think, is her ability to work the territory between brokenness and blessing, something that drives her huge fan base to find meaning in her performance.

In Lucinda Williams’ new album, Blessed, one finds a remarkably different sonic palate but some resonant themes of blessing in the mist of brokenness. Williams is a Texas country blues singer at heart, and she’s never strayed far from those roots. This album shines in the title song, a poem almost chanted instead of sung. Its gritty couplets echo the paradox at the heart of Christianity, that God should redeem the world by rejection, suffering and death. Some of the incredible lines in the song, starting with the first that steps on my own toes:

“We were blessed by the preacher, who practiced what he preached.”
“We were blessed by the blind man, who could see for miles and miles.”
“We were blessed by the warror, who didn’t need to win.”
“We were blessed by the neglected child, who knew how to forgive.”

The couplets don’t all work for me with the same power, but the overall beauty of the song is that in brokenness, blessing is possible, redemption is possible, life can come from death. Importantly, the refrain is not that the individual receives healing and is personally blessed, but that by living in particular ways within their circumstances, “we were blessed.” The song is a sketch of how we live together, beyond the limits of our pain and sorrow, but without being at all Pollyanna about it. In a moving, but subtle turn, at the heart of the lyric, she turns to the deepest place of this paradoxical logic of blessing:

“We were blessed by the mystic, who turned water into wine.”
“We were blessed by the watchmaker, who gave up his time.”

These, and the following lyrics through the end of the song, seem to be entirely about Jesus. (The famous watchmaker analogy for God, distant and logical, is at play in the second couplet.) The lyric continues with “the wayfaring stranger who knew our names” and “the innocent baby who taught us the truth.” We could have a more powerful pop song about the theology of the cross but I’d be hard pressed to name it. Here’s Williams singing the song in concert.

Another stand-out song on the album, “Seeing Black,” is a lament for Vic Chesnutt, the powerful Athens Georgia singer-songwriter who took his own life in 2009. The song is full of unanswered questions, “was it too much weight riding on your back? When did you start seeing black?” Yet, in keeping with her broken blessing mode, her last verse asks, “When did you start seeing white, tell me what was it like, was it when you received your last rites, when did you start seeing white?” Williams surely knew that Chesnutt was an atheist. And she pronounces her blessing upon him even so. 

Thanks for reading the series, and enjoy the show!

-Christian Scharen

Find out more about Broken Hallelujahs in these videos with Christian Scharen:

http://youtu.be/V25aM_7O3TQ

http://youtu.be/dQfZP8CUYII

http://youtu.be/unZ81EubvRw

http://youtu.be/2Vp60D_zsT8

 

Penitential Hymns: Kanye West at the Grammy Awards (Reflections on Grammy Nominees, Part 2)

We asked Christian Scharen, author of Broken Hallelujahs: Why Popular Music Matters to Those Seeking God, to write a few blog entries reflecting on the Grammy nominations.

This is the second of three posts.

———————————————————————————

I love Kanye West. There. I’ve said it. You should know that up front as I begin this second of a three-part series of posts anticipating the 2012 Grammy Awards this coming Sunday. Kanye West is something of a Grammy award magnet, collecting 14 awards in a career that only began in earnest a decade ago. West’s seven Grammy nominations are the most received for any artist this year. Despite this success, West is a polarizing figure, not least because of his own controversial behavior. During a live telecast after Hurricane Katrina, he famously went off-script to say: “George Bush doesn’t care about black people”. His public outbursts at awards shows have also hurt him, including most troubling when a drunken West upstaged Taylor Swift at the 2009 MTV Video Music Awards. Swift had just won her first award, and in the midst of her acceptance speech, West charged on stage, took the mic, and said, “Yo, Taylor, I’m really happy for you, I’ma let you finish, but Beyonce had one of the best videos of all time.” West was removed and reaction was loud and negative. Many apologies followed, including a person letter and phone call to Swift, but the damage was done. West retreated from the public eye for nearly a year. I’ll come back to this and connect it to his Grammy-nominated song, “All of the Lights,” below but first a brief gesture to the reasons I have for loving West despite his obvious flaws. (I use West as a case study in my new book Broken Hallelujahs, if you’d like to see more of how I engage with his work.)

As a musician and artist, he has great vision and depth. He is—critics regularly admit—an amazingly talented guy. And I would add to that, his vision and depth regularly include moral and spiritual depth. An example: West made the most moving and powerful pop song rooted in Christian faith in the last decade—“Jesus Walks,” from 2004’s The College Dropout. The videos West made for “Jesus Walks” increase my admiration for what he is capable of musically, artistically and spiritually. Of the three, I think the version directed by Chris Milk is most complex and compelling, offering a video parable of baptismal dying and rebirth. (Warning: this video is hosted on West’s VEVO channel on YouTube and opens with a 30-second advertisement which when I checked was a very violent promo for a new Denzel Washington film)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYF7H_fpc-g

This year, West gained Grammy nominations both for his fifth studio album, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, as well as a single from that album, “All of the Lights,” and for a duo album with fellow Roc-a-Fella recording star Jay-Z titled, Watch the Throne, as well as a single from that album, “Otis.” While this is too much here to discuss in a short blog post, “All of the Lights” provides another example, alongside “Jesus Walks,” to show what is so compelling about West. While I think highly of this song, that doesn’t mean I think highly of all the songs on the album, some of which are much more troubling, but that has been true on all his albums.

(In what follows, I learned, as I usually do, from the remarkable insights of fans writing on Songmeanings.net, this time particularly from “Tsuppi” who posted about “All of the Lights” on 3-5-2011.)

“All of the Lights” (music only) on Vimeo

“All of the Lights” begins with a one-minute interlude with soft, sad violin and piano, very classical in style (in fact, the song includes trumpets, French horn, trombone, flute, viola, and cello as well, adding up to a lush and complex arrangement). The song begins with a shout of “All of the lights.” Rihanna then comes in, singing the hook, “Turn up the lights in here, baby. Extra bright, I want ya’ll to see this. Turn up the lights in here, baby. You know what I need, I want you to see everything.” This theme, to me, is confessional. It could be a pop version of Jesus in John’s gospel, chapter 3:20-21: “Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God.”

It is a song written, I think, in the aftermath of the Taylor Swift incident and his self-imposed exile. In order to find forgiveness and rebirth, he needs to have “all of the lights” illumining the mess he’s made of his life. The song, mostly rapped by West in the verses, is written as a parable. It is a moving lament about “all the lights” shining on the brokenness of a man whose abuse causes him to lose his wife, daughter and life. Through a stint in jail and its aftermath finds himself at the brink of despair, yet trying to reach out, to reconcile, to be a father to his daughter so she doesn’t “grow up on that ghetto university.” The production includes no less than 14 guest vocals including, of course, Rihanna, but also Kid Cudi, Fergie, Alicia Keys, Elton John, and more. It might have been a mess of hubris, but under West’s wise production, it works brilliantly. Fergie sings a final verse full of despair, after which the song nearly ends, musically echoing the lyric. But then, slowly, the flow of the song preaches new birth, salvation through living in the light. Here, Rihanna comes in again with the hook, and the song runs out from there.

West is a brilliant artist, a man of paradoxical passions that seem to both run towards and away from God. In this song, we see his remarkable gifts working towards God. It seems like the kind of pop song Leonard Cohen calls, on his recent album “Old Ideas,” a “penitential hymn.” In writing such a powerful and meaningful song, West’s already won respect, but I still hope he takes home a Grammy as well.  

Next up: Broken and Blessed: Lady Gaga and Lucinda Williams

-Christian Scharen

Find out more about Broken Hallelujahs in these videos with Christian Scharen:

http://youtu.be/V25aM_7O3TQ

http://youtu.be/dQfZP8CUYII

http://youtu.be/unZ81EubvRw

http://youtu.be/2Vp60D_zsT8

 

Behind the Book: Peter Enns’s The Evolution of Adam

Today begins the week-long blog tour for Peter Enns’s new Brazos book The Evolution of Adam: What the Bible Does and Doesn’t Say about Human Origins. Check back all week as we will be updating as various bloggers review and engage with this important book.

To kick-off the tour, we asked Peter Enns to write a brief post for us on how the book came about.  Here is his reply:

—————————————————————

“Why I Wrote The Evolution of Adam” by Peter Enns

Many Christians are looking for ways to think clearly, deliberately, and differently about evolution and the Bible. There are several angles one can take to talk about this (e.g., theological, philosophical), and they all come into play. But I feel the most pressing issue Christians face is the hermeneutical one: if evolution is true, what do I do about what the Bible says about Adam and Eve?

I know many Christians who understand the scientific issues and are convinced that evolution explains human origins. They are looking for ways to read the Adam story differently. Many more—at least this is my experience—are open to the discussion, but are not ready simply to pull the trigger on evolution. They first need to see for themselves that the Adam story can be read with respect and reverence but without needing to read it as a literal account of human origins. Both groups are thinking hermeneutically, though they approach the issue from different sides.

So, as a biblical scholar who has always been keenly interested in the interface of ancient faith and contemporary life, I thought I would paint a bull’s-eye on my back and write a book trying to do just that.

I never really gave the topic of evolution any serious thought until 2009. I had just read Karl Giberson’s Saving Darwin and I was struck by how helpful it was, but also how much more convincing his arguments could be if they were in conversation of biblical scholarship and hermeneutical issues. He and I began corresponding, which eventually lead to my working at The BioLogos Foundation—first under Giberson and then under the current president Darrel Falk.

As I got deeper into the issue and began reading widely, I could see that, despite the many tremendous books out there on science and faith, few, if any, books were taking on the hermeneutical issues surrounding evolution—they weren’t dealing head on with the question, “How specifically do I read Genesis and Paul now that you’ve convinced me that evolution is true and that science and faith can live in harmony?”  In other words, the uneasy, awkward, piecemeal approach sometimes seen when Christians (especially evangelicals) talk about evolution stems from a failure to have an overt hermeneutical strategy for handling the Bible.

From the vantage point of academic biblical scholarship, I felt that such a strategy was sitting there all along, waiting patiently for someone to name it: read the Bible in historical context and see for yourself that the Bible is not remotely set up to contribute to any modern scientific discussions, including evolution.

This conclusion is, I feel, obvious: the pink elephant, 500-pound gorilla, and emperor with no clothes all rolled into one. And one needs no secret academic decoder ring to see it. A simple Google search will quickly yield a lot of information. We know enough today about the religious traditions of the ancient Mesopotamian world, of which Genesis was a part, to know that Genesis was produced by storytellers, not historians, anthropologists, or biologists. Ancient Israelites produced the story of Adam and Eve, and however you think of God’s role in inspiring these storytellers, the ancient Near Eastern-ness of it all must be kept front and center.

Likewise, astute readers of Paul in his historical context see clearly that he, like others of his time, felt quite free to appropriate and adapt creatively his scriptural tradition (our Old Testament) to serve his rhetorical and theological purposes. This is precisely what Paul does with Adam. Here too—however we might explain Paul’s being moved by God’s spirit—we must remember that the Paul that was so moved was a first century Jew who thought like a first century Jew, not a western evangelical.

As I see it, these observations about Genesis and Paul cannot be sidelined but must be brought front and center into the hermeneutical discussion over evolution. I say this for two reasons. First, these observations are hardly idiosyncratic or resting on thin ice, but are well-documented staples of biblical studies. Any discussion of the Bible and evolution that ignores or minimizes these factors in favor of defending familiar theological categories should be given no quarter. Second, these observations are well positioned to help provide the “theological vocabulary” for many Christians to begin their own hermeneutical journey of reading Genesis and Paul responsibly.

Of course, there is a downside to this type of discussion. Many readers seeking alternate ways forward experience tremendous cognitive dissonance and social pressure, for they are part of ecclesiastical communions that historically have not looked kindly at the kind of hermeneutical synthesis the evolution/Bible discussion requires. In fact, not to overstate, but there are theological and ecclesiastical bodies that have a vested interest in seeing to it that these conversations don’t happen.

I do not take the fact lightly, but I do think that a self-preservationist mindset is wrong, and, ironically, self-defeating in the long run.

———————————————————————–

Peter Enns (PhD, Harvard University) teaches biblical studies at Eastern University in St. Davids, Pennsylvania.  He has taught at several schools, including Princeton Theological Seminary, Fuller Theological Seminary, Temple University, and Westminster Theological Seminary. Enns has authored or edited numerous books, including Inspiration and Incarnation: Evangelicals and the Problem of the Old Testament.

Reflections on Grammy Nominees, Part 1: Mumford and Sons

We asked Christian Scharen, author of Broken Hallelujahs: Why Popular Music Matters to Those Seeking God, to write a few blog entries reflecting on the Grammy nominations.

This is the first of three posts.

———————————————————————————

One reason I wrote Broken Hallelujahs was to offer a theology of culture that sees–expects!–God’s redeeming presence already at work in the world. Pop culture is not God-forsaken, despite the ‘constricted imagination’ present in some corners of Christianity which would say it is. As a case in point, I’m starting a series of posts here engaging some of the featured artists in the upcoming Grammy Awards, the recording industry’s major awards ceremony, on February 12.

First up: Mumford and Sons, the British folk-rock band that has exploded in popularity on the strength of their debut album, Sigh No More. Last year, they were present at the Grammy Awards with nominations in two categories: “Best New Artist” and “Best Rock Song” (For “Little Lion Man”). While they lost both, they did get a rousing set playing “The Cave” and then sharing the stage with The Avett Brother’s “Head Full of Doubt / Road Full of Promise” before both bands backed Bob Dylan on “Maggie’s Farm.” It is a rousing performance, worth a watch especially for “The Cave” which I’ll talk about next.

This year, Mumford and Sons are back with four nominations, all for “The Cave” and with the wave they are riding I very much expect them to win one or more. The nominations are for “Record of the Year,” “Song of the Year,” “Best Rock Performance,” and “Best Rock Song.” As an aside, I find it hilarious that a group that got its start in the London folk scene and that played “hoe-downs” in a barn in its early days would continue to get nominations as a rock group. As I’ve written elsewhere, Mumford and Sons are a spiritually deep band. Their music has its own energy, often rising to a joyous crescendo, drawing the enthusiastic audience into a kind of musical rapture, taken outside of oneself into another place.

While such energy can be bent or twisted towards unsavory and self-destructive ends in pop music, Mumford and Sons are an unusual example of a band that has lyrical depth, depth that repays listening and even study. Marcus Mumford, the lead singer and songwriter, is the son of Vineyard UK leaders John and Eleanor Mumford and the Scriptures are an obvious source of lyrics in some of the band’s songs. Others, like “The Cave,” are not as readily accessible. Yet “The Cave”, according to Mike who blogs at Laughter and Humility, seems to be at least in part a song about spiritual transformation, a story modeled on and even quoting directly from G.K.Chesterton’s biography of St. Francis. The lyrics of the song say:

“So come out of your cave walking on your hands / And see the world hanging upside down / You can understand dependence / When you know the Maker’s hand”

And in Chapter Five of Chesterton’s biography, he writes:

“Francis, at the time or somewhere about the time when he disappeared into the prison or the dark cavern, underwent a reversal of a certain psychological kind [...] The man who went into the cave was not the man who came out again [...] He looked at the world as differently from other men as if he had come out of that dark hole walking on his hands [...] This state can only be represented in symbol; but the symbol of inversion is true in another way. If a man saw the world upside down, with all the trees and towers hanging head downwards as in a pool, one effect would be to emphasize the idea of dependence. There is a Latin and literal connection; for the very word dependence only means hanging. It would make vivid the Scriptural text which says that God has hung the world upon nothing.”

Should “The Cave” win at the Grammy’s it will be icing on the cake. It is a moving and powerful thing to see a band surfing a wave of mainstream popularity that can invite spiritual seekers into much deeper things through their art.

Next up: Kanye West.

-Christian Scharen

Behind the Book: Dan Taylor

This is Dan’s third of three posts on his new Brazos book, Creating a Spiritual Legacy.

One of the categories I suggest when encouraging people to list their ideas for stories centers on family holidays. Since we are in the Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years season, make a list of traditions, practices, and specific events that you associate with these and other holidays.

Where did you generally meet for Thanksgiving or Christmas? Who was often there? What were favorite dishes served? Was their a usual order of events (open presents on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day)? We always had vegetable soup on Christmas Eve. I didn’t like vegetable soup, but since I knew we would be opening presents within an hour, it was my favorite meal of the year.

As well as thinking about what you usually did, give thought to specific holiday occasions. I remember the Christmas when I was 12. We didn’t have much money (I think we got foreclosed on not longer after) and the presents under the tree were sparse. When we three boys sorted them over and over again in the days before Christmas, as was our practice, we could tell they were mostly socks and other necessities. I figured I was old enough to take it like a man, so I feigned great enthusiasm for my new socks as we opened presents.

When all was opened—and it didn’t take long—my father sent my older brother out to the garage. He came back with a huge smile. Then it was my turn. I opened the door to the garage and there, sitting on a ping-pong table, were three new bikes. It took my breath away.

 Everyone has holiday stories—of delights and disasters and everything in between. Many of them convey important values, insights, and life lessons. Some are just fun to tell. Give it a shot.

Behind the Book: Dan Taylor

This is the second of three posts from Dan on his new Brazos book, Creating a Spiritual Legacy.

A short definition of a spiritual legacy is the passing of wisdom from generation (or person) to another. And the best single way to do that is through stories. It’s easy to convince people of that, but sometimes hard to get them to actually tell their stories—especially on paper. A common question arises: “Where do I start?”

 The answer is to start with everyday life experiences and what you have thought and felt about them—then and now. Then tell yourself, “I’ll write just one story.” Thinking you’re going to write your autobiography is the surest road to paralysis. Just one story. If you enjoy it, then you can think about a second one.

 But which story? That requires a little preliminary work. I suggest making lists.

 Start with what I call an “events list.” If it helps, start a series of sentences with “The time that . . .” and then finish the sentences. Range far and wide through your life. Include the stories you already tell orally. Include stories about other people as well as yourself, including family stories from before you were born, but which you heard repeated as a child.

 Then make a “character list.” Who are the people from your life who need to be preserved with a story? They can be people you know well or people you met only once, or perhaps saw at a distance. (I heard Bobby Kennedy speak a few days before he was assassinated and could write a story about it.) All you need at this point is a name or brief identifier.

 A third list can be a “values list.” Put down—in a single word or short phrase—values and virtues that are important to you. This will require some reflection. You should include your highest values—for instance, honesty, faith, courage, compassion—but also include other things you value: humor, adventure, creativity.

 Any one of these lists will provide you story after story, but your most powerful stories will come when your lists intersect. When a character from your character list is part of an event on your events list that suggests a value from your value list, that is a story you need to tell.

Behind the Book: Dan Taylor

In this first of three posts Dan Taylor introduces his new Brazos book and shares the story behind its birth.

I have written about spiritual legacy because I have myself been blessed by the spiritual legacy of others to me. As have you.

I first began thinking about spiritual legacy in the 1980’s when teaching life writing courses for seniors. In the beginning, I thought I was simply teaching a memoir course, letting people get some of their life down on paper. In reading their work, however, I discovered that they were telling powerful stories soaked in values, life lessons, and how they came to understand the world.

Most of these stories involved characters from their lives—family, friends, co-workers, teachers, and the like. I came to see how people are shaped by their stories and how stories are the primary vehicle for passing on what I came to see as a spiritual legacy.

It was also around this time that I became more keenly aware of the spiritual legacies that had shaped my own life. I come from a story-telling family, primarily because my father was a man who lived his life in light of the stories of his past (for better and worse). He was the main story-teller of the family, and once he discovered that I was likely to write some books, he started looking to me, I believe, to be the preserver of his stories.

Also in the 1980’s I wrote a book, Letters to My Children: A Father Passes on His Values, that explicitly tried to pass on values to my then young children through stories from my life. I wrote these letters with no thought of them being a book, but eventually they were collected. I had been blessed by the stories of others, and it was my turn to tell some of my own.

In the 1990’s I wrote another book, Tell Me a Story: The Life-Shaping Power of Our Stories, that explored how we all are shaped by the stories that surround us—from family, church, education, and popular culture. And I later helped start The Legacy Center, an organization devoted to helping people and institutions tell their stories.

So Creating a Spiritual Legacy grows out of a life time of learning and teaching about stories and how they tell us who we are and how to live. This new book is a practical, step-by-step guide to discovering your own spiritual legacy and contributing to the legacy of those you care about.

Behind the Book: Elaine Heath

© Love Photography

Dear Readers,

I wrote this book because, as a survivor of abuse, I wish something like it had been available for me to read when I began my own process of intentional healing. While there were a number of valuable therapeutic resources that did help me, I could not find any books that offered a healing and liberating interpretation of the Bible that was especially focused on the experiences, much less the wisdom, of survivors of sexual abuse. Nothing that I read suggested that survivors have a perspective on biblical interpretation that is sorely needed not just by other survivors, but by the entire church. Because no one told me I might have wisdom precisely because of my experience, I couldn’t properly honor my own story as a triumph of God’s power. It took so much longer to heal from the shame than it needed to! If I had been taught what is in this book, what a difference it would have made in coming into freedom and wholeness and in rejecting other forms of oppression in my life.

The evangelical books I read that addressed healing from sexual abuse seemed mostly oriented toward the brokenness of survivors, and survivors’ need to heal. Books focusing on sexuality in general tended to define sexual virtue in terms of chastity and lifelong monogamy with a heterosexual spouse. Conversely, sexual sin was defined as promiscuity, adultery, fornication, homosexuality, and divorce. I could not find any resources that named what I knew to be true: sexual abuse is not only a sexual sin, but is the worst sexual sin. I encountered the opposite problem in theologically liberal resources: a feminist critique of Scripture that rejected its authority because of its “unforgivable patriarchy.” For some of these books the Bible was nothing more than a religious artifact that contributed to the subjugation of women, children, and the earth.

My healing from abuse has been deeply embedded in my vocation as a theologian, pastor, and spiritual companion to others. Because I had the privilege of studying in diverse theological streams–evangelical, mainline Protestant, and Catholic–I gradually discovered many treasures from all these traditions that helped to open the Bible’s wealth of healing wisdom to me. Over the years, as I have served in ministry with other survivors, I have witnessed the healing power of the Bible in their lives, too.

This book is grounded in two commitments: first, the Bible can be a powerful source of healing for survivors of abuse. Second, survivors who are healing have essential theological wisdom that the whole church needs in order to be the people God has called us to be in this world.

With a prayer of trust that God is in the process of healing all wounds,

Elaine A. Heath