Next Book Club Starts August 16

Here's what one Book Club reader had to say about participating with Linda and reading Gilead:

"This book has been so rich. I'm glad that we have some time before the next book because I am still processing Gilead, and will be doing so in the next several weeks! Thank you again, Linda. This isn't a book that I would have thought to read (I hadn't even heard of it!), but am so happy to have read it!"

The next thought-provoking and timely book discussion starts on August 16.

Don't miss it!!! Plenty of time to order from Inklings Bookshop @ 30% off...see sidebar for details.

Next Book: As We Forgive, Catherine Claire Larson.

Based on personal interviews and thorough research, As We Forgive returns to the boundary lines of genocide’s wounds and traces the route of reconciliation in the lives of Rwandans—victims, widows, orphans, and perpetrators—whose past and future intersect. We find in these stories how suffering, memory, and identity set up roadblocks to forgiveness, while mediation, truth-telling, restitution, and interdependence create bridges to healing. The result is a narrative that breathes with humanity and is as haunting as it is hopeful.

Gilead: Week 6 - pages 191 to the end

This section of our reading takes us to the end of the first chapter of this book and through to end of the 2nd, which is also the last chapter. And while we read, the author revisits all of his relationships—from his love of Gilead, his complicated relationships with his grandfather, father, and brother, to his oldest and dearest friend and that friend’s son, his first and second wives, his first and second children. We see life celebrated, pondered and understood in new ways. As we read, John wrestles with himself, and looks again at doctrine, belief, loyalty, love and family. He sees himself as honestly as he can, and he uses his writings as a mirror to capture the truth and as a picture to frame that truth.

As I neared the end of the book, I felt sadness to say good-bye to John, this pastor, husband, father, friend, son and grandson—gentleman. He has taught me many lessons and some came in the closing pages.

“If you want to inform yourselves as to the nature of hell, don’t hold your hand in a candle flame, just ponder the meanest, most desolate place in your soul.”

“Let’s just be honest with each other for five minutes.”

“But dishonesty is dishonesty, a humiliating thing to be caught at.”

“And what purpose is a prophet except to find meaning in trouble?"

“There are a thousand thousand reasons to live this life, every one of them sufficient.”

I loved the redemption of the hand on the boy’s brow, the honesty of imperfect relationships and broken lives lived with hope and yearned for with love. I find myself grieving for a son who will have to get to know his father through his father’s writings, and thankful that his father wrote so honestly, so well, turning phrases into word pictures to introduce his son to himself, to his family history, to the mysteries of faith and to God.

This is our last week to post our thoughts about Gilead. How would you sum up the impact of this book on you? What lessons do you take away from a life so honestly written about? Thanks for reading with me. Thanks for posting. I have enjoyed your companionship while reading this very special book.

[Editor's note: I had the privilege of meeting with Linda, in person, at the WOTH Furlough Retreat four days ago. What a heart she has for you all! We set the date for the next Book Club to start on August 16 with the book, As We Forgive. (See sidebar.)]

Gilead: Week 5 - Pages 141-190

Doctrine and theology take center stage in this longer section, but the real content is relationships—the difficult ones that make us less than we want to be. Those messy relationships are the ones where we respond with less love, forgiveness, grace, mercy and graciousness then we expect. Sometimes, when I’ve been in those awkward places, the walls of my heart have gone up without a conscious thought on my part, and hardness and coldness have crept in where hurt and disappointment were still setting the mood.

In this section, we learn why John doesn’t like Jack and why he struggles to forgive him—to trust him. Page 164: “Or say at least that harm to me was probably never a primary object in any of the things he got up to. That one man should lose his child and the next man should just squander his fatherhood as if it were nothing—well, that does not mean the second man has transgressed against the first. I don’t forgive him. I wouldn’t know where to begin.” Now we know why the relationship isn’t working—and we can see the depth of the pain goes incredibly deep. Recognizing his heart’s turmoil, John says without much hope (on page 179), “I do hope to die with a quiet heart. I know that may not be realistic.”

Relationships gone awry do not lend us peace. Our hearts mourn, wrestle, relive, and seek solutions for the differences, the difficulties, the problems our broken relationships present. Like John, we may wrestle and even believe the worst (bottom of page 188). When John wrestles, he finds that what he assumed to be true wasn’t—and he is glad he faced his wretchedness and found that his conclusions weren’t based on reality. “Because now I realize it isn’t true. And that is a great relief to me.”

Have you ever wrestled with ugliness and found buried treasure—truth that surprised you?

Let’s share our stores of God’s redemptive, transformative power in our lives when we post this week. I’m excited to read what you have to share. And—BTW—didn’t you just love his thoughts on persuasion, doctrine, theology? You may not agree with all he said, but, his points are very well made. I appreciate his candor and his authenticity. And, the wisdom in this sentence is something to rejoice in, “If the Lord chooses to make nothing of our transgressions, than they are nothing….”

Lots to ponder there...

Gilead: Week 4 - Pages 116-141

Memories are a recurrent theme in Gilead. And, often, they are general memories or impressions. Like the one on page 117, “Children seem to think every pleasant thing has to be a surprise,” which paints a picture I recognize from my own childhood and from my children. “Wait, wait! Don’t look yet! We have to get it ready!” Such fun memories! But many of John’s thoughts center on death, or on difficult relationships. That’s why I found two passages in this section to be very intriguing.

At the top of page 124, we read the wisdom of John’s father and grandfather passed down to him. “When you encounter another person, when you have dealings with anyone at all, it is as if a question is being put to you. So you must think, What is the Lord asking of me in this moment, in this situation?” And, on page 126, he offers another choice we get to make. “I have decided the two choices open to me are (1) to torment myself or (2) to trust the Lord.” Both of these questions ask us to look at our hearts—do we trust that God is in the moment? Do we trust that He is working in discomfort?

Right now, my life is full of opportunities to ask these two questions and seeing them in black letters on white paper has stopped me in my daily drift and reminded me to be more purposeful in how I receive the events/news of each day. John ends this section on page 141 with the words, “The fact is, I don’t want to be old (I identify with that though I’m not old like he is) and I certainly don’t want to be dead.” I don’t either! But I can often say I don’t want to be lonely, far from family, without my community, or waiting for answers/direction/guidance. In those words, in the moments when I want to speak those words, I get to choose—will I trust the Lord or will I torment myself. Will I ask what is God asking of me right now, or will that teachable moment be lost? I hope I will choose to trust and learn.

Yesterday in church, my husband, who happens to be my pastor, spoke from the passage in Luke 14:26-27. This is a very hard passage for me to read, to understand. During his sermon, my husband explained that this teaching is more about comparison—I love God so much it is as if I hate my family. God isn’t asking me to despise them—in fact, He commands me to love them, to honor them. But, He is asking me to have no greater priority than Him. So as I live far away from family, I have a choice—to love Him first above all else and to trust Him with my family, with the dramas I’m not there to help with, with the separation I find so hard. I get to ask Him, what are You asking of me in this situation—and then I get to wait for Him to teach me as I trust Him.

What are you asking God to show you? Where is it imperative that you learn to trust Him more? I’d love to read your thoughts on those questions this week. I look forward to reading your posts!

Gilead: Week 3 - Pages 72-115

A friend’s daughter gave birth this morning. We’ve known each other since our college days, had our first two children within months of each other and somehow managed to match their gender to each other—boys first, followed by girls. Her children have been able to have one child each—my children have struggled with infertility. Our stories are the same and yet different. In these pages, John weaves his best friend’s story into his own—and their stories are different. John lost his first wife and child while his friend, Boughton, had four children and a home that seemed full of love. But, both homes knew sorrow and heartache. Their stories were different yet they each knew grief and sorrow. In past pages we’ve seen divisions—a family divided from a grandfather and from a son. Beliefs and perspectives led to relational conflicts and separation. Now, we begin to see that trend in another family’s home.

I have to admit our family has known heartache and separation. A brother went AWOL when his wife struggled with alcohol. For over 10 years, we didn’t get to be with them, hear from them, or know their 3 boys. That was amazingly tough. And, my own children, for perfectly healthy and good reasons, live far away from us—our daughter and her husband are in Taipei, and our son, his wife and our grandson (special delivery adoption) live in Chicago. (We’re in CA) We miss them—and I find myself wanting to know the details of their lives while wishing they could know mine. There are probably countless paths to separation from family and longing for them. Have you walked down any? Are you there now?

Besides family dysfunction, appearance also shows up as a theme in this section. How things appear to us—how we see them, our concern for what we see or how we’re seen. “It is the kind of thing that might appear to have no value at all.” (pg 91) I’d love to hear your thoughts on sight-- both as we see and as we’re seen, and appearance—have you ever been taken in by appearance only to learn later the true value, the true meaning of what you were seeing?

Please share these stories on our blog this week. I look forward to reading your thoughts. As we read, and learn—we can enrich each other’s lives as we share. Thank you for taking time to interact with us—your fellow blog readers!

Gilead: Week 2 — Pages 44-71

Have you had a “dark time” in your life? Or known loneliness that goes deep—all the way deep? “My own dark time, as I call it, the time of my loneliness, was most of my life, as I have said, and I can’t make any real account of myself without speaking of it.” This authentic confession is made on paper to a son our author is already lonely for—a son he may not live to see grow up—a son he wishes he could know and be known by. The phrase, “was most of my life…”

I’ve known loneliness before—our first term in Venezuela, subsequent moves that made me the new one, the outsider. It seems like our pastor, the hero of our book, somehow made peace with his loneliness, learning to live most of his life lonely. That wouldn’t be my first choice! For this husband, father, pastor, friend, the seasons passed, baseball was played and listened to on a radio that sometimes received a strong signal, people came to talk to him and he listened. And, now, in writing this book, it as if he is asking to be listened to—asking for someone to take the time to hear his memories, and understand his heart.

He weaves his thoughts together as if he is showing us the fabric of his life. And, in doing so, he writes of baseball, his grandfather, a seashell, heaven, snippets of sermons and thoughts about communion. He ends this section with these words, “ If you remember me at all, you may find me explained a little by what I’m telling you…I hope you will understand that when I speak of the long night that preceded these days of my happiness, I do not remember grief and loneliness so much as I do peace and comfort—grief but never without comfort; loneliness, but never without peace. Almost never.”

This week, please write about the lonely times in your life and how you lived them—or how you are living them. How would you describe your loneliness—how do you, did you, pass the lonely days? Are you, were you comforted, filled with peace? What helps when we are lonely?

Two last questions for our comments: is there someone you wish you could be known by? How can you share yourself with that person?

I hope you write—I’m looking forward to learning from you.