porterm's review
So great. I love AJ's ability to combine such deep relationally to his theology. His voice is one of honesty, truth, and a deep love.
kglahoda's review
5.0
I can't say enough good things about this book. After listening to his new podcast, In Faith and Doubt, and reading this book, Swoboda has become one of my favorite modern theologians.
Here, he tells us that we need to live into all three days of The Paschal Triduum and proceeds to explore what each mean for us today. In his introduction, he says, "For many Christians, Jesus is no longer on the cross, nor should he be. He's resurrected and ascended. We need both Friday and Sunday, not just one or the other. Some want to suffer with Jesus; others want to be resurrected with Jesus. Few desire both. We can't prefer one day and reject the rest. Christianity isn't a religion of preference. Christianity, in fact, takes our selfish preferences about what elements of faith we desire and what parts we reject and hammers three huge nails in the hands and feet of our preferences and screams, Die, die, die—and please don't rise ever! Jesus is our Lord to the degree our preferences aren't." (p 5)
It had me from the beginning with true statements that just strike at the heart.
Here is just a sampling (some longer than many of his one-line punches):
"Christianity doesn't allow us to externalize darkness. It forces us to deal with the darkness inside our own hearts." (p 15)
"Jesus tried to help his disciples imagine the world in a new way. He still does. So much of the Bible deals in the realm of imagination. ... As a writer, I'm convinced that the Bible's silence on such wonderment is divinely purposed—God desires people to enter his world with their whole self, which includes their imagination. ... Changed imaginations change the world. ... Lewis soon began spending less time writing nonfiction theology, and he began writing imaginative fiction... Lewis spent the final stages of his writing career crafting stories that provoked the human imagination. If someone's imagination could be changed, then the world would be changed." (pp 23-24)
"The apostle John aptly describes God's love as 'lavish.' Not frugal. Not chintzy. Not cheap. Lavish. Legalism and religiosity make God's love frugal—you're always on the verge of being abandoned by God because you've stepped over the line. You're always in trouble over one tiny little mistake you made last Friday night. Lavish love, however, is too much love. It is an over-the-top kind of love. And that kind of love utterly destroys you. That is, if we let it hit us." (pp 47-48)
"The Celtic Christians used the word gyrovagus or 'ceaseless pilgrimage,' as a way to describe the life of Christian faith. Faith is a journey that won't ever cease this side of heaven; that means we'll need to keep seeking, knocking, asking until we stop breathing. Without question, the single hardest and most painful pilgrimage we will make is our attempt to find that pilgrimage, to find that thing we are made to do. I think God doesn't always tell us in advance what that will look like. And God does that for a reason. If God clearly spoke to us, if we knew without a shadow of a doubt what God wanted us to do, if we had an answer, you know what would happen? It's simple. If we had the answers, we wouldn't need Jesus anymore. We'd have a map but no tour guide, a destination without someone to go with. I think of it like this. God's will is like Lewis and Clark going across America to find the other side of the country. They didn't go with a map. The made the map as they went. In fact, when you look at their maps as they went, you can tell they had absolutely no idea whatsoever where they were going most of the time. They just went. It was only after they go back from their journey that they figured out what the map should look like. Discerning God's will is like that—the map isn't clear until the journey is finished. Then we can look back and see God was walking ever step of it with us. Most maps are written as we walk. If we embrace the fact that following Jesus is a gyrovagus, a ceaseless pilgrimage, we can embrace the excruciating silence. It's more godly to look for God than it is to have God's answer but not be looking for God." (pp 51-52)
"Following Jesus means enduring the pain of existence by actually being present, not numb." (p 66)
"Christianity, true Christianity, will always be inconvenient." (p 116)
"It's not our job to save God. It's our job to follow God. Glory has not fallen and does not need our help getting up. Which means our profundity isn't God's key to having a comeback tour in his created world." (p 124)
"In America, humanity rests after work. In Eden, humanity worked after rest." (p 125)
One of my favorite excerpts of which, here, I will quote just a sentence: "God is over history creating it, and he is under history carrying it, caring for it, and sustaining it." (p 213)
Referring to his son dunking the bread into the communion cup, he says, "It's unsanitary, but so are community and the process of salvation. Adults are too sanitary. God is in human history the way my son drowns communion bread and his whole hand in the blood of Jesus. God not only drenches every crack of human history in his grace but is so invested in history that he himself enters into it through his own son. God enters the cracks of all of history yet remains huge enough to stand tall above it. He saves it by entering it. He's in it but above it." (p 214)
"Resurrection pretty much opens the doors to anything impossible." (p 215)
And his last line: "It is only in the darkest of nights that we can see the brightest of stars." (p 219)
Here, he tells us that we need to live into all three days of The Paschal Triduum and proceeds to explore what each mean for us today. In his introduction, he says, "For many Christians, Jesus is no longer on the cross, nor should he be. He's resurrected and ascended. We need both Friday and Sunday, not just one or the other. Some want to suffer with Jesus; others want to be resurrected with Jesus. Few desire both. We can't prefer one day and reject the rest. Christianity isn't a religion of preference. Christianity, in fact, takes our selfish preferences about what elements of faith we desire and what parts we reject and hammers three huge nails in the hands and feet of our preferences and screams, Die, die, die—and please don't rise ever! Jesus is our Lord to the degree our preferences aren't." (p 5)
It had me from the beginning with true statements that just strike at the heart.
Here is just a sampling (some longer than many of his one-line punches):
"Christianity doesn't allow us to externalize darkness. It forces us to deal with the darkness inside our own hearts." (p 15)
"Jesus tried to help his disciples imagine the world in a new way. He still does. So much of the Bible deals in the realm of imagination. ... As a writer, I'm convinced that the Bible's silence on such wonderment is divinely purposed—God desires people to enter his world with their whole self, which includes their imagination. ... Changed imaginations change the world. ... Lewis soon began spending less time writing nonfiction theology, and he began writing imaginative fiction... Lewis spent the final stages of his writing career crafting stories that provoked the human imagination. If someone's imagination could be changed, then the world would be changed." (pp 23-24)
"The apostle John aptly describes God's love as 'lavish.' Not frugal. Not chintzy. Not cheap. Lavish. Legalism and religiosity make God's love frugal—you're always on the verge of being abandoned by God because you've stepped over the line. You're always in trouble over one tiny little mistake you made last Friday night. Lavish love, however, is too much love. It is an over-the-top kind of love. And that kind of love utterly destroys you. That is, if we let it hit us." (pp 47-48)
"The Celtic Christians used the word gyrovagus or 'ceaseless pilgrimage,' as a way to describe the life of Christian faith. Faith is a journey that won't ever cease this side of heaven; that means we'll need to keep seeking, knocking, asking until we stop breathing. Without question, the single hardest and most painful pilgrimage we will make is our attempt to find that pilgrimage, to find that thing we are made to do. I think God doesn't always tell us in advance what that will look like. And God does that for a reason. If God clearly spoke to us, if we knew without a shadow of a doubt what God wanted us to do, if we had an answer, you know what would happen? It's simple. If we had the answers, we wouldn't need Jesus anymore. We'd have a map but no tour guide, a destination without someone to go with. I think of it like this. God's will is like Lewis and Clark going across America to find the other side of the country. They didn't go with a map. The made the map as they went. In fact, when you look at their maps as they went, you can tell they had absolutely no idea whatsoever where they were going most of the time. They just went. It was only after they go back from their journey that they figured out what the map should look like. Discerning God's will is like that—the map isn't clear until the journey is finished. Then we can look back and see God was walking ever step of it with us. Most maps are written as we walk. If we embrace the fact that following Jesus is a gyrovagus, a ceaseless pilgrimage, we can embrace the excruciating silence. It's more godly to look for God than it is to have God's answer but not be looking for God." (pp 51-52)
"Following Jesus means enduring the pain of existence by actually being present, not numb." (p 66)
"Christianity, true Christianity, will always be inconvenient." (p 116)
"It's not our job to save God. It's our job to follow God. Glory has not fallen and does not need our help getting up. Which means our profundity isn't God's key to having a comeback tour in his created world." (p 124)
"In America, humanity rests after work. In Eden, humanity worked after rest." (p 125)
One of my favorite excerpts of which, here, I will quote just a sentence: "God is over history creating it, and he is under history carrying it, caring for it, and sustaining it." (p 213)
Referring to his son dunking the bread into the communion cup, he says, "It's unsanitary, but so are community and the process of salvation. Adults are too sanitary. God is in human history the way my son drowns communion bread and his whole hand in the blood of Jesus. God not only drenches every crack of human history in his grace but is so invested in history that he himself enters into it through his own son. God enters the cracks of all of history yet remains huge enough to stand tall above it. He saves it by entering it. He's in it but above it." (p 214)
"Resurrection pretty much opens the doors to anything impossible." (p 215)
And his last line: "It is only in the darkest of nights that we can see the brightest of stars." (p 219)
alangmaack's review
4.0
This book will make you think
I really enjoyed the beginning of this book. The breakdown of the three days of Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection wasn’t something I’d spent a lot of time thinking through before.
What lost it for me was the last few chapters of the book. They seemed to lose the focus of the first two parts. They were more disjointed and the ideas did not always seem to flow together.
I really enjoyed the beginning of this book. The breakdown of the three days of Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection wasn’t something I’d spent a lot of time thinking through before.
What lost it for me was the last few chapters of the book. They seemed to lose the focus of the first two parts. They were more disjointed and the ideas did not always seem to flow together.
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