Savoring creation is where transformational Christian education begins, but we run into snags fairly quickly--as one would expect from a fallen universe.
That leads to the fact that--as educators--we must battle against idolatry. Saint Augustine defined idolatry as "worshiping anything that ought to be used or using anything that is meant to be worshiped." As we teach, we must beware against the bewitching brokenness that clings to our human condition. In order to offer restorative solutions, we have to know where God's world faces pockmarks.
It means asking questions like...
...how does the racism displayed in To Kill a Mockingbird reflect the ugliness of the human heart?
...to what extent do the callous actions of European knights in the Crusades influence the hatred incipient throughout Islamic terrorism today?
...in which ways do we exploit people by treating them as objects in our marketing techniques rather than image bearers of God who need to make deliberate, wise choices?
Definitely something more to consider. To offer grace, we have to acknowledge we're trying to help others (and ourselves) move away from something wretched.
Monday, February 26, 2018
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Recent Readings: Starting the Henry James Corpus
I've had a secret desire to read some of the works of Henry James for some time. His novels are referred to by several characters in P.D. James' Adam Dalgliesh mysteries, and so I figured if the Queen of Crime was willing to give him a nod, so should I. Henry James, one of the most well-known novelists of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, produces a gentle yet poignant story in his novella, Daisy Miller. The eponymous character finds herself in Europe in the late nineteenth century, at a grand hotel in Vevay, Switzerland, although the last half of the novel finds her in Rome. Courted by the sophisticated Winterbourne, Daisy is a dashing and flirtatious young American lady whose mannerisms clash with the steady propriety of European society. Winterbourne, visiting from Geneva, is drawn to Daisy, but is put off due to her excessive flirting (with him and others). Though an outing near Vevay goes somewhat well, they must part briefly while Daisy extracts a promise that he visit her in Rome.
It is in the Etruscan capital that things fall apart. Daisy shows quick interest in another suitor of shady reputation, which only seems to make Winterbourne more frustrated and more determined in his pursuit of her. The disapproval of American visitors in Rome only seems to embolden Daisy to remain attached to her Italian beau, Giovanelli. It is when Winterbourne walks through Rome that he takes a chance on a visit to the Colosseum at night. There, he sees Giovanelli and Daisy; he berates both of them, and Giovanelli especially, for taking Daisy to a place where she is at risk for Roman fever. Though she protests his intervention, she falls ill, and the final pages are marked by a frosty sadness.
In a novella, the author must be choosy as to where the primary character development must lie as he moves rapidly along the plotline. James was wise to focus on Daisy and Winterbourne, as his symbolism is rather intentional, showing Daisy as a spring flower in full bloom who meets her demise in the midst of societal coldness. James also masterfully weaves in the very real history of the "Roman fever", which was a form of malaria which shot through sections of Rome with astounding ferocity. Most of all, he raises the capacity of the reader to wish for Daisy's happiness. Her lightness and lack of inhibition make for a delight, and one wishes her victory in what amounts to a true societal battle with traditional assumptions of the high classes. (One can almost unearth parallels to Romanticist, individualistic films like Dead Poets Society while reading this little book.)
Novellas usually aren't my thing, but if they are written well, they can really take me away and leave me wanting more. In the end, that is what Henry James does best with Miss Daisy Miller, desiring her true happiness while knowing that deep mourning is just around the corner.
It is in the Etruscan capital that things fall apart. Daisy shows quick interest in another suitor of shady reputation, which only seems to make Winterbourne more frustrated and more determined in his pursuit of her. The disapproval of American visitors in Rome only seems to embolden Daisy to remain attached to her Italian beau, Giovanelli. It is when Winterbourne walks through Rome that he takes a chance on a visit to the Colosseum at night. There, he sees Giovanelli and Daisy; he berates both of them, and Giovanelli especially, for taking Daisy to a place where she is at risk for Roman fever. Though she protests his intervention, she falls ill, and the final pages are marked by a frosty sadness.
In a novella, the author must be choosy as to where the primary character development must lie as he moves rapidly along the plotline. James was wise to focus on Daisy and Winterbourne, as his symbolism is rather intentional, showing Daisy as a spring flower in full bloom who meets her demise in the midst of societal coldness. James also masterfully weaves in the very real history of the "Roman fever", which was a form of malaria which shot through sections of Rome with astounding ferocity. Most of all, he raises the capacity of the reader to wish for Daisy's happiness. Her lightness and lack of inhibition make for a delight, and one wishes her victory in what amounts to a true societal battle with traditional assumptions of the high classes. (One can almost unearth parallels to Romanticist, individualistic films like Dead Poets Society while reading this little book.)
Novellas usually aren't my thing, but if they are written well, they can really take me away and leave me wanting more. In the end, that is what Henry James does best with Miss Daisy Miller, desiring her true happiness while knowing that deep mourning is just around the corner.
Saturday, February 24, 2018
Recent Readings: Creedal Content
As a church history addict, I am partial to the study of how the Church has interpreted theology down through the ages. That would include the impact of creeds and confessions of faith. While I am presently helping lead faculty devotions at school on the Westminster Confession of Faith, and while I tend to lean in my affections toward the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion of the Church of England, I also love pondering the truths of the universal creeds.
Such statements are brief and concise, yet meaty, born out of a desire to instruct Christian disciples (e.g., the Apostles' Creed), to combat heresy (e.g., the Nicene Creed), or to do both at once (e.g., the Ignatian Creed). I love the Nicene Creed myself and consider it to be the mostly dynamically beautiful statement of Christian belief in history, but I know the value to studying the also-familiar Apostles' Creed. Many Christians repeat this statement every week in church, but what does it mean? Author and theologian J.I. Packer reveals the depth of it in his Affirming the Apostles' Creed. In successive chapters, each phrase of the Creed is unpacked and explored in all its beauty and cogency.
One advantage of ATAC is its brevity. Packer does not try to say anything the Creed either specifies or implies. As a result, the book is a mere 160-ish pages and each chapter is in a range of 5-7 pages. This helps the reader make progress without bogging down.
Packer also provides further Scripture passages at the end of each chapter, along with questions for reflection and application. It is well worth the reader's time to dwell on these resources.
Packer also excels in demonstrating how biblical (and Reformational!) truths are deposited in the Creed. For instance, the clause "the forgiveness of sins" is no mere dangling expression of trust that rebellion is forgotten, but that believers are justified (made right with God) by grace through faith in Christ. People who want to see the historical undercurrents in the Creed will find a treasure trove within Packer's work.
And Packer also demonstrates--along with the fact that theology matters--why these beliefs matter. Why was it necessary for Christ to "descend into hell", or to be "born of the Virgin Mary", or why we say God the Father is "Maker of heaven and earth", or the work of the Holy Spirit? Packer expertly shows connections to the believer's life in each of these chapters.
Affirming the Apostles' Creed is a little volume that carries weighty truth in digestible bites. A refreshing review for seasoned believers, it is written for clear, serious engagement for laypeople and inquirers to faith. Once again, J.I. Packer exemplifies that intelligence properly exercised means making the complex and deep both understandable and accessible.
Such statements are brief and concise, yet meaty, born out of a desire to instruct Christian disciples (e.g., the Apostles' Creed), to combat heresy (e.g., the Nicene Creed), or to do both at once (e.g., the Ignatian Creed). I love the Nicene Creed myself and consider it to be the mostly dynamically beautiful statement of Christian belief in history, but I know the value to studying the also-familiar Apostles' Creed. Many Christians repeat this statement every week in church, but what does it mean? Author and theologian J.I. Packer reveals the depth of it in his Affirming the Apostles' Creed. In successive chapters, each phrase of the Creed is unpacked and explored in all its beauty and cogency.
One advantage of ATAC is its brevity. Packer does not try to say anything the Creed either specifies or implies. As a result, the book is a mere 160-ish pages and each chapter is in a range of 5-7 pages. This helps the reader make progress without bogging down.
Packer also provides further Scripture passages at the end of each chapter, along with questions for reflection and application. It is well worth the reader's time to dwell on these resources.
Packer also excels in demonstrating how biblical (and Reformational!) truths are deposited in the Creed. For instance, the clause "the forgiveness of sins" is no mere dangling expression of trust that rebellion is forgotten, but that believers are justified (made right with God) by grace through faith in Christ. People who want to see the historical undercurrents in the Creed will find a treasure trove within Packer's work.
And Packer also demonstrates--along with the fact that theology matters--why these beliefs matter. Why was it necessary for Christ to "descend into hell", or to be "born of the Virgin Mary", or why we say God the Father is "Maker of heaven and earth", or the work of the Holy Spirit? Packer expertly shows connections to the believer's life in each of these chapters.
Affirming the Apostles' Creed is a little volume that carries weighty truth in digestible bites. A refreshing review for seasoned believers, it is written for clear, serious engagement for laypeople and inquirers to faith. Once again, J.I. Packer exemplifies that intelligence properly exercised means making the complex and deep both understandable and accessible.
Savor Creation: A Fundamental Principle of TCE
I'm in my nineteenth year of teaching. That does not grant me the broad perspective of more seasoned folk, but I think I know a thing or two about education. I've been having conversations with a lot of people lately about a deliberate shift that needs to take place in the Christian school world, one from educating for conformity to education for transformation. Education must go beyond measurability and markings, but must go "all in" on playing its shaping role in a journey on which God--not the educator--is the primary director. In short, we are agents of transformation. Yes, this is about transformational Christian education, or TCE for short.
I'm speaking next week in the Memphis area about this idea of TCE and why it's past time for Christian schools to begin moving in this direction, beyond conformity and measurable metrics that look good for college-prep hungry students and parents.
Briefly put, the first thing we should be about as administrators and teachers is empowering kids to savor creation. This is a biblical concept because--according to my colleague Scott VonderBruegge--"The first attribute of God that is mentioned in Genesis is His creativity."
So the question is "What are we doing in our lessons, according to our standards for learning, that position students to savor creation? God's original declaration about his world was that it was "good", just as he liked it!
My question, for what it's worth: What should we be doing in Christian schools to make this happen?
I'm speaking next week in the Memphis area about this idea of TCE and why it's past time for Christian schools to begin moving in this direction, beyond conformity and measurable metrics that look good for college-prep hungry students and parents.
Briefly put, the first thing we should be about as administrators and teachers is empowering kids to savor creation. This is a biblical concept because--according to my colleague Scott VonderBruegge--"The first attribute of God that is mentioned in Genesis is His creativity."
So the question is "What are we doing in our lessons, according to our standards for learning, that position students to savor creation? God's original declaration about his world was that it was "good", just as he liked it!
My question, for what it's worth: What should we be doing in Christian schools to make this happen?
Sunday, February 18, 2018
Recent Readings: The Very Pure Word of God
Two years ago, I started doing a fair bit of reading in preparation for an elective course on church history I'd be teaching beginning with the 2017-18 school year. I knew success in the nascent class would demand it; what I didn't know was how much of an impression my reading of the English Reformers would make upon me.
Fast forward to today, and my desire to study the theological and pragmatic energy of the sixteenth century metamorphosis of the English church from Roman to Anglican (a.k.a., going from the waters of the Tiber to the Thames is another way of putting that) has not abated. Truth be told, I am reading about six different books at once by authors such as J.I. Packer, John Stott, Philip Edgcumbe Hughes, and others. Even our rector, Dr. Ben Wagner, has passed along articles by William Witt (seminary professor) and has formed a study group of different guys to look through--among other items--portions of the 39 Articles of Religion.
Taking on another project, it is the Book of Common Prayer of the Anglican church that has arrested a good bit of my attention lately. With decent discipline, I'll be reviewing Alan Jacobs' book on the BCP in the weeks to come. But mainly due to my desire to get a birds' eye view of the BCP, I ordered Peter Adam's The 'Very Pure Word of God': The Book of Common Prayer as a Model of Biblical Liturgy. Both as a confirmation of the BCP's Biblical foundations and a helpful assessment of the BCP's usage for today, Adam's work scores highly.
Adam is partial to the 1662 edition of the BCP, in that we have much to learn from it even if he doesn't believe churches should use it universally (this is derivative of Anglican restraint as well as the willingness to adapt worship to particular contexts). The context of the BCP in a particular national and spiritual awakening, from the primary pen of Thomas Cranmer, is essential in understanding the use of the BCP today.
But Adam places the majority of his emphasis upon the Biblical warp and woof of the BCP. Cranmer wrote the BCP for the express purpose of (1) declaring and teaching Biblical truth, (2) spiritual formation of clergy and laypeople along Biblical lines, and (3) stiff-arming unbiblical teaching and correcting anti-Biblical arguments.
The BCP is presented rightly as a Scripture-focused and Scripture-driven work. Adam points out that the BCP displays the Bible should be read, preached, used as the chief instrument in ministry, and read and taught to laypeople. He quotes Hilary Mantel as saying, "God's pen is poised, and he is ready to write his words in the books of their hearts." And he also quotes the poet and Anglican cleric John Donne, who maintained that "The Scriptures are God's Voyce, the Church is his Eccho." (original wording retained) When the laity are drenched in the teaching of God's Word, and when Scriptural truth has free course among them, their passion for true preaching will increase, and thus the quality of clergy in the pulpit should rise. Indeed, Adam maintains that the preaching of Scripture is the indispensible portion of public worship (while fully recognizing the centrality of the sacraments, as well).
Adam concludes with an appeal that Anglicans (and all Christians, really) to be wholly dependent on God's self-revelation. The Biblical character of the BCP's liturgies is a prime way to assist congregations in this way. Adam also applies this to worship forms in general, and while his words will not find full agreement from all corners, there is no doubt that Christians should make their prime question about worship not "What did that do for me?" but rather "Was it Biblical and thus draw me to see and adore my Savior?"
A model of Biblical liturgy, the true "work of the people" in public worship...all of that is fully on display in the BCP. Adam lays these matters out with trademark clarity and skill. In an age that desperately needs Biblically crafted worship to disciple today's Christian believers, Adam's work is a true voice calling in the wilderness.
Fast forward to today, and my desire to study the theological and pragmatic energy of the sixteenth century metamorphosis of the English church from Roman to Anglican (a.k.a., going from the waters of the Tiber to the Thames is another way of putting that) has not abated. Truth be told, I am reading about six different books at once by authors such as J.I. Packer, John Stott, Philip Edgcumbe Hughes, and others. Even our rector, Dr. Ben Wagner, has passed along articles by William Witt (seminary professor) and has formed a study group of different guys to look through--among other items--portions of the 39 Articles of Religion.
Taking on another project, it is the Book of Common Prayer of the Anglican church that has arrested a good bit of my attention lately. With decent discipline, I'll be reviewing Alan Jacobs' book on the BCP in the weeks to come. But mainly due to my desire to get a birds' eye view of the BCP, I ordered Peter Adam's The 'Very Pure Word of God': The Book of Common Prayer as a Model of Biblical Liturgy. Both as a confirmation of the BCP's Biblical foundations and a helpful assessment of the BCP's usage for today, Adam's work scores highly.
Adam is partial to the 1662 edition of the BCP, in that we have much to learn from it even if he doesn't believe churches should use it universally (this is derivative of Anglican restraint as well as the willingness to adapt worship to particular contexts). The context of the BCP in a particular national and spiritual awakening, from the primary pen of Thomas Cranmer, is essential in understanding the use of the BCP today.
But Adam places the majority of his emphasis upon the Biblical warp and woof of the BCP. Cranmer wrote the BCP for the express purpose of (1) declaring and teaching Biblical truth, (2) spiritual formation of clergy and laypeople along Biblical lines, and (3) stiff-arming unbiblical teaching and correcting anti-Biblical arguments.
The BCP is presented rightly as a Scripture-focused and Scripture-driven work. Adam points out that the BCP displays the Bible should be read, preached, used as the chief instrument in ministry, and read and taught to laypeople. He quotes Hilary Mantel as saying, "God's pen is poised, and he is ready to write his words in the books of their hearts." And he also quotes the poet and Anglican cleric John Donne, who maintained that "The Scriptures are God's Voyce, the Church is his Eccho." (original wording retained) When the laity are drenched in the teaching of God's Word, and when Scriptural truth has free course among them, their passion for true preaching will increase, and thus the quality of clergy in the pulpit should rise. Indeed, Adam maintains that the preaching of Scripture is the indispensible portion of public worship (while fully recognizing the centrality of the sacraments, as well).
Adam concludes with an appeal that Anglicans (and all Christians, really) to be wholly dependent on God's self-revelation. The Biblical character of the BCP's liturgies is a prime way to assist congregations in this way. Adam also applies this to worship forms in general, and while his words will not find full agreement from all corners, there is no doubt that Christians should make their prime question about worship not "What did that do for me?" but rather "Was it Biblical and thus draw me to see and adore my Savior?"
A model of Biblical liturgy, the true "work of the people" in public worship...all of that is fully on display in the BCP. Adam lays these matters out with trademark clarity and skill. In an age that desperately needs Biblically crafted worship to disciple today's Christian believers, Adam's work is a true voice calling in the wilderness.
Recent Readings: Holding Your Nerve
The gear-shifting of existence across generations in America is taking its toll. Particularly at risk are high school, college age, and young adults who face pressure and stress that threaten to shred their life fabrics. Anxiety, in fact, has overtaken depression as the most common mental health diagnosis amongst college students. What--people ask--can the human individual do to stem the tide?
It's not a one-stop-shopping, quick-fix endeavor, but journalist Taylor Clark plunged into the science of ice-veined responses in his book Nerve, published in 2011. The subtitle is "Poise under pressure, serenity under stress, and the brave new science of fear and cool." Noting that the security, prosperity, and relative ease of modernity have exacerbated anxiety rather than assuaged it, Clark intends to offer a counterattack to this struggle.
One advantage of the book is that, although Clark interviews scientists and probes case studies, he is a journalist. Thus, the writing is livelier and brings a considerable "bounce" to the reader's experience. Above all is Clark's essential question: Why do some people thrive under pressure while others stumble?
Clark notes objectively the struggles that people have with a range of activities, be they standardized tests, game show participation, or job interviews. He arrays a host of individuals who have struggled under pressure, from former MLB pitcher Steve Blass who couldn't find the strike zone to astronaut Gordon Cooper whose 1963 flight on Faith 7 experienced electrical, oxygen purification, and cooling system failure prior to his return flight into Earth's atmosphere. Clark draws out what measures empower some to thrive under pressure, while adding stress and additional details can add to an asphixiating amount of anxiety.
Clark does a phenomenal job of delineating what is meant by fear, anxiety, and stress, showing that they are related but distinct concepts. He also deftly weaves scientific research from the experts in which a pursuit of his main thesis: Fear can be our friend and help us to survive in stressful mires if we can maneuver how to utilize it. The interplay of the different areas of the human brain, especially the role of the amygdala, is a special highlight of Nerve.
Of course, there are some items to be aware of. Some of the chapters are so lengthy one wonders if there are some details that could've been left out. I came away thinking the wordiness of the book was such that its nearly 300 pages could have been reduced by fifty and left a leaner, crisper read. But these are minor matters that do not detract from an otherwise fine work. It's not one that you digest in one sitting, but chew consistently over several readings. It promises an interesting, effective journey into the self, which is a road we should always be willing to take.
It's not a one-stop-shopping, quick-fix endeavor, but journalist Taylor Clark plunged into the science of ice-veined responses in his book Nerve, published in 2011. The subtitle is "Poise under pressure, serenity under stress, and the brave new science of fear and cool." Noting that the security, prosperity, and relative ease of modernity have exacerbated anxiety rather than assuaged it, Clark intends to offer a counterattack to this struggle.
One advantage of the book is that, although Clark interviews scientists and probes case studies, he is a journalist. Thus, the writing is livelier and brings a considerable "bounce" to the reader's experience. Above all is Clark's essential question: Why do some people thrive under pressure while others stumble?
Clark notes objectively the struggles that people have with a range of activities, be they standardized tests, game show participation, or job interviews. He arrays a host of individuals who have struggled under pressure, from former MLB pitcher Steve Blass who couldn't find the strike zone to astronaut Gordon Cooper whose 1963 flight on Faith 7 experienced electrical, oxygen purification, and cooling system failure prior to his return flight into Earth's atmosphere. Clark draws out what measures empower some to thrive under pressure, while adding stress and additional details can add to an asphixiating amount of anxiety.
Clark does a phenomenal job of delineating what is meant by fear, anxiety, and stress, showing that they are related but distinct concepts. He also deftly weaves scientific research from the experts in which a pursuit of his main thesis: Fear can be our friend and help us to survive in stressful mires if we can maneuver how to utilize it. The interplay of the different areas of the human brain, especially the role of the amygdala, is a special highlight of Nerve.
Of course, there are some items to be aware of. Some of the chapters are so lengthy one wonders if there are some details that could've been left out. I came away thinking the wordiness of the book was such that its nearly 300 pages could have been reduced by fifty and left a leaner, crisper read. But these are minor matters that do not detract from an otherwise fine work. It's not one that you digest in one sitting, but chew consistently over several readings. It promises an interesting, effective journey into the self, which is a road we should always be willing to take.
Saturday, February 10, 2018
Recent Readings: All Hail the Dancing King!
No, I did not get that title wrong and mangle the title of an ABBA song. This post is not only a book review; it is the celebration of the end of a long wait.
In 2011, Glynn Young gave the literary world the unforgettable Olympic cycling hero/assistant rector/hopeful royal Michael Kent in Dancing Priest.
In 2012, Young continued the Kent adventure into the priest's early wedded bliss and a close shave with jihadist zeal in A Light Shining. (Blogger's note: I've previously reviewed both books here.)
Now, Young has continued the tale where Michael Kent--thoughtful Christian and determined new monarch--assumes the throne of the United Kingdom with his bride and queen, Sarah, in a fresh story called Dancing King. This tale is the result of Young's determination to see the couple into a new setting, new challenges, and powerful new decisions that demonstrate the opportunity of church and state to shape the world with God's shalom.
If you haven't read Young's first two books, I have two initial comments. First, why aren't you ordering them right now so you can read them ASAP? Secondly, the new structure of Dancing King gives the reader a dynamic new perspective.
Young's first two novels rightly told the storyline primarily through the eyes of Michael and Sarah, as their romance grew through sadness to hope to overflowing love, into a marriage assailed quickly by geopolitical upheaval. In Dancing King, we see the depth of Michael's experience, but Young does so in episodic format, marked off with a high level of first-person accounts primarily alternating amongst Sarah and other advisors in Buckingham Palace. It reminded me of the gradual, yet enticing, back-and-forth build of alternating perspectives in P.D. James' The Children of Men. Dialogue and plot reveal King Michael as a thoughtful, wise, yet determined ruler intent on leading the nation spiritually as well as politically.
The intriguing twist from Michael's leadership comes from blending his priestly training with his royal role. As the "Defender of the Faith" (retained in singular fashion for a reason, by the way), King Michael takes the unprecedented step of preaching in select churches and cathedrals throughout the Greater London area.
Every great story has great conflict, and to have quality conflict, you need a believable and hate-inducing villain. Young's portrayal of the Archbishop of Canterbury (named Sebastian Rowland in the book), together with a ruthless public relations muckraker, does the trick here in spades. [It should be noted that Young in no way intends this character to represent Justin Welby, the present Archbishop of Canterbury] As Michael moves to reform British society through a careful and Biblical reformation of the Church of England, Rowland and his henchman try to match him step for step. Young's portrayal of the insidious cleric demonstrates the poignant truth that those who resist the Gospel the most can comes from within the Church itself.
And in the end, the Gospel prevails through the one God equips for the task and through the people that hero can lean on.
Themes of redemption, restoration, courage, and community run through the lines of Dancing King. Once again, Glynn Young exceeds readers' hopes, showing a main character in Michael Kent who continues to mature in his faith and leadership. He does so remembering with John Donne that no man is an island, and true leadership occurs in community with others, not in isolation. Not a bad picture of what God's family should be like, incidentally.
The only mystery remaining is why you haven't already purchased Dancing King. Not to mention preparing yourself for the next turn in the Dancing Priest series. Young has left enough plot lines to continue this saga for some time. As for me, I certainly hope he does.
In 2011, Glynn Young gave the literary world the unforgettable Olympic cycling hero/assistant rector/hopeful royal Michael Kent in Dancing Priest.
In 2012, Young continued the Kent adventure into the priest's early wedded bliss and a close shave with jihadist zeal in A Light Shining. (Blogger's note: I've previously reviewed both books here.)
Now, Young has continued the tale where Michael Kent--thoughtful Christian and determined new monarch--assumes the throne of the United Kingdom with his bride and queen, Sarah, in a fresh story called Dancing King. This tale is the result of Young's determination to see the couple into a new setting, new challenges, and powerful new decisions that demonstrate the opportunity of church and state to shape the world with God's shalom.
If you haven't read Young's first two books, I have two initial comments. First, why aren't you ordering them right now so you can read them ASAP? Secondly, the new structure of Dancing King gives the reader a dynamic new perspective.
Young's first two novels rightly told the storyline primarily through the eyes of Michael and Sarah, as their romance grew through sadness to hope to overflowing love, into a marriage assailed quickly by geopolitical upheaval. In Dancing King, we see the depth of Michael's experience, but Young does so in episodic format, marked off with a high level of first-person accounts primarily alternating amongst Sarah and other advisors in Buckingham Palace. It reminded me of the gradual, yet enticing, back-and-forth build of alternating perspectives in P.D. James' The Children of Men. Dialogue and plot reveal King Michael as a thoughtful, wise, yet determined ruler intent on leading the nation spiritually as well as politically.
The intriguing twist from Michael's leadership comes from blending his priestly training with his royal role. As the "Defender of the Faith" (retained in singular fashion for a reason, by the way), King Michael takes the unprecedented step of preaching in select churches and cathedrals throughout the Greater London area.
Every great story has great conflict, and to have quality conflict, you need a believable and hate-inducing villain. Young's portrayal of the Archbishop of Canterbury (named Sebastian Rowland in the book), together with a ruthless public relations muckraker, does the trick here in spades. [It should be noted that Young in no way intends this character to represent Justin Welby, the present Archbishop of Canterbury] As Michael moves to reform British society through a careful and Biblical reformation of the Church of England, Rowland and his henchman try to match him step for step. Young's portrayal of the insidious cleric demonstrates the poignant truth that those who resist the Gospel the most can comes from within the Church itself.
And in the end, the Gospel prevails through the one God equips for the task and through the people that hero can lean on.
Themes of redemption, restoration, courage, and community run through the lines of Dancing King. Once again, Glynn Young exceeds readers' hopes, showing a main character in Michael Kent who continues to mature in his faith and leadership. He does so remembering with John Donne that no man is an island, and true leadership occurs in community with others, not in isolation. Not a bad picture of what God's family should be like, incidentally.
The only mystery remaining is why you haven't already purchased Dancing King. Not to mention preparing yourself for the next turn in the Dancing Priest series. Young has left enough plot lines to continue this saga for some time. As for me, I certainly hope he does.
Recent Readings: As We Cross the Thames
When I was a new father, my brother Joel was holding our infant son Joshua over Christmas of 1997. Naturally, our little boy slept most of the time and didn't offer much in response to Joel's jabbering other than staring back. Upon one moment when he handed Joshua back to my wife, Joel remarked, "Well, babies usually don't start showing personality until seven months of age."
I don't know how Joel knew that, since it was a good six years before he became a dad, but his estimation wasn't far off. And like babies, it takes time for faith traditions to exhibit particular personalities. The Church of England--and truth be told, the entire Anglican tradition--is marked by different "tribes" of specific churchmanship and flavor. Depending which circle you intersect, you can run into someone identifying as Broad Church, as liberal, as High Church/Anglo-Catholic, as Low Church/Evangelical, and so on. Time doesn't permit me to ruminate on each tribe--suffice it to say my Reformed convictions land me in the Low Church/Evangelical community. But I did recently read through Anglican Evangelical Identity, a patchwork quilt of three previous works authored by Anglican theologians J.I. Packer and N.T. Wright, and it helps tremendously for those who wonder if there is room for evangelicals in today's Anglicanism.
This seems to beg a "yes" answer by a country mile, but when Packer penned his words, there were enough tears in the fabric for evangelicals in the Church of England. Packer--never one to move in a fog--carefully defines the unifying beliefs that make evangelicals who they are: the final authority of Holy Scripture, the Trinity, Christ's deity, grace correlated to faith, justification by faith through Jesus' substitutionary atonement, Christ's physical resurrection and present reign, new birth and growth in grace through the Holy Spirit's work in one's life, the church as the fellowship of believers, and the certainty of Jesus' return. Packer's goal is not so much to solve every quibble, but to demonstrate these convictions have been at the heart of Bible Anglicanism, so of course, evangelicals have a place at the table.
Wright's section in the middle of the book is helpful in points, as he seeks to build his case for the Biblical gospel, the nature of the Church, and what marks the Church out from the world. I should mention that Wright can be a polarizing figure amongst many in the Presbyterian tradition from which I come, mainly for his role in the movement known as the New Perspective on Paul [see here for a critique of the NPP by Ligon Duncan, and keep in mind that Michael Jensen gives a gentle and clear corrective to Wright in Reformation Anglicanism]. Wright plows through a good bit of material in this section, but I have never found him easy to track. That could just be me.
Packer closes the book with a flourish, speaking to those baffled and discouraged by Anglican theological drift in the early 1980s--discouragement that could be just as real today in many places. Packer doesn't mince words; the Church of England especially might seem like a Noah's Ark where all ideas are welcome, but Packer encourages readers with a manageable road map of true calculated inclusion that makes the best of the Reformation teachings that originally launched the Church of England and Anglicanism itself.
Not all points of Anglican Evangelical Identity flow at a crisp pace, but it is not a book designed to read as a novel. For curious souls who want to know more about how to navigate one's way in a church climate that presents significant challenges, or for those who need encouragement about their place in the larger order of things, Packer and Wright present a decent road ahead. Above all else, it serves as a reminder that the essentials of true Biblical faith can carry one through the roughest of waters.
I don't know how Joel knew that, since it was a good six years before he became a dad, but his estimation wasn't far off. And like babies, it takes time for faith traditions to exhibit particular personalities. The Church of England--and truth be told, the entire Anglican tradition--is marked by different "tribes" of specific churchmanship and flavor. Depending which circle you intersect, you can run into someone identifying as Broad Church, as liberal, as High Church/Anglo-Catholic, as Low Church/Evangelical, and so on. Time doesn't permit me to ruminate on each tribe--suffice it to say my Reformed convictions land me in the Low Church/Evangelical community. But I did recently read through Anglican Evangelical Identity, a patchwork quilt of three previous works authored by Anglican theologians J.I. Packer and N.T. Wright, and it helps tremendously for those who wonder if there is room for evangelicals in today's Anglicanism.
This seems to beg a "yes" answer by a country mile, but when Packer penned his words, there were enough tears in the fabric for evangelicals in the Church of England. Packer--never one to move in a fog--carefully defines the unifying beliefs that make evangelicals who they are: the final authority of Holy Scripture, the Trinity, Christ's deity, grace correlated to faith, justification by faith through Jesus' substitutionary atonement, Christ's physical resurrection and present reign, new birth and growth in grace through the Holy Spirit's work in one's life, the church as the fellowship of believers, and the certainty of Jesus' return. Packer's goal is not so much to solve every quibble, but to demonstrate these convictions have been at the heart of Bible Anglicanism, so of course, evangelicals have a place at the table.
Wright's section in the middle of the book is helpful in points, as he seeks to build his case for the Biblical gospel, the nature of the Church, and what marks the Church out from the world. I should mention that Wright can be a polarizing figure amongst many in the Presbyterian tradition from which I come, mainly for his role in the movement known as the New Perspective on Paul [see here for a critique of the NPP by Ligon Duncan, and keep in mind that Michael Jensen gives a gentle and clear corrective to Wright in Reformation Anglicanism]. Wright plows through a good bit of material in this section, but I have never found him easy to track. That could just be me.
Packer closes the book with a flourish, speaking to those baffled and discouraged by Anglican theological drift in the early 1980s--discouragement that could be just as real today in many places. Packer doesn't mince words; the Church of England especially might seem like a Noah's Ark where all ideas are welcome, but Packer encourages readers with a manageable road map of true calculated inclusion that makes the best of the Reformation teachings that originally launched the Church of England and Anglicanism itself.
Not all points of Anglican Evangelical Identity flow at a crisp pace, but it is not a book designed to read as a novel. For curious souls who want to know more about how to navigate one's way in a church climate that presents significant challenges, or for those who need encouragement about their place in the larger order of things, Packer and Wright present a decent road ahead. Above all else, it serves as a reminder that the essentials of true Biblical faith can carry one through the roughest of waters.
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