Also by Elliot:
Through Gates of Splendor (Elliot’s moving memoir about five missionaries martyred in Ecuador, including her husband, Jim Elliot)
The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank
This well-beloved, poignant record of a young Jewish girl in hiding during the Nazi occupation makes the heart ache with the sheer normalcy of a teenage girl’s thoughts and hopes, her curiosity about the world, and her brush with romance, all of it undiminished by the tragedy of the outer world or the limits of her own daily experience. This book made me deeply grateful for the ordinary I so easily took for granted as a teenager.
Tolkien and the Great War by John Garth
I loved this book for the way it got to the roots of Tolkien as a writer—a career forged by his remarkable friendships, his love of beauty, and the devastation he witnessed in the trenches of World War I. This is the story of Tolkien’s youth: the school friends who formed his ideals and urged him to write, the love of language that began to blossom into a myth of his own creation, the terror of the trenches, his early marriage, and the faith that burned in him despite a culture steeped in despair. A book I loved partly because I loved The Lord of the Rings but also because it examines the way in which idealism, when tempered by suffering, can be forged into a redemptive, hopeful vision.
No Compromise: The Life Story of Keith Green by Melody Green
This is the story of Christian musician Keith Green, whose music touched thousands with the love of Christ and whose tragic death grieved the Christian world. Something about this loving biography, written by his widow, has stirred and encouraged every person I know who has read it to a quickened sense of God’s love and of the gospel’s power to transform. My siblings and I all read it with the same sense of wonder. There is an immediacy to this work; you feel immersed in the same joy that drove Green and his wife in the early days of their faith.
Christy by Catherine Marshall
Part novel, part memoir, this engrossing story is based on the experience of the author’s mother and follows the idealistic Christy Huddleston, a young teacher inspired to volunteer for an Appalachian mission program, as she moves into the mountains to become a teacher to the needy youngsters of the fictional Cutter Gap. Her resolve is challenged within the first hours of her arrival as she witnesses the filth and poverty, the violence and revenge of the mountain world even as she comes to respect the beauty and resilience of its people. A story of spiritual endurance, of conversion, even of romance (will Christy favor the sarcastic doctor or the earnest preacher?), Christy put courage in my bones when I was a teenager in a season of physical illness.
A Man Called Peter by Catherine Marshall
Also unforgettable is Marshall’s memoir about her husband, Peter, who started life as a poor Scottish immigrant and became a beloved minister and the well-respected chaplain of the United States Senate. The book has excerpts of Peter’s sermons, and I still recall the sweeping life and vision in his words. Marshall’s story is tender, an account of Peter’s deep faith and her own loving marriage.
The Seven Storey Mountain by Thomas Merton
A memoir that speaks with urgent truth to Merton’s wide readership, this is the autobiographical story of his conversion, his search for truth and hunger for meaning, and his ultimate choice to leave behind a literary career for the confines of Gethsemani, a monastery in the hills of Kentucky. Rich with Merton’s luminous prose, the book (according to Time magazine) “redefined the image of monasticism and made the concept of saintliness accessible to moderns.”[1] Through his books, Merton is a mentor and friend, with his humorous, insightful grasp of human nature; his yearning for transcendence; and his choice to submit himself to the religious life in all its beauty and demands.
A Passion for the Impossible: The Life of Lilias Trotter by Miriam Huffman Rockness
Told by the famed Victorian art critic John Ruskin that she could be “the greatest living painter and do things that would be Immortal,” Lilias Trotter easily could have chosen a life of privilege, uninterrupted creativity, and social approval. Instead, she chose the life of a missionary to Algeria, taking both her talent and her prospects into the desert, where they were spent bringing the gospel to the Muslim world. But she never stopped drawing, and this excellent biography of her life includes samples of the paintings and sketches she made of the desert world she served with every ounce of her remarkable creativity.
L’Abri by Edith Schaeffer
In the years just after World War II, Francis and Edith Schaeffer moved into a chalet amid the rugged peaks of the Swiss Alps. Their goal was to open their home to seekers and searchers, those whose faith had foundered in the confusion of the postwar world. Any question could be asked, no spiritual topic was out of bounds for discussion with Francis, and no one was excluded from the warmth and beauty of Edith’s wide table and home. This is a memoir of adventurous faith, of God’s provision, and of the power of hospitality and fearless spiritual search in opening the way to faith. Edith’s account of the power of home and table to communicate spiritual reality deeply influenced the rhythms of my own childhood home and continues to shape my philosophy in the home and ministry I share with my husband.
Rich Mullins: An Arrow Pointing to Heaven by James Bryan Smith
This is the story of Rich Mullins, beloved Christian songwriter and musician, whose lyrical skill and spiritual insight drove his creation of songs that echo with timeless awe of God’s grace in the face of human frailty. (These songs also accompanied all the road trips of my childhood, I might add.) From his boyhood in Indiana to his tragic early death in a car accident, this book traces Rich’s unconventional life—his discomfort with affluence, his desire to serve the poor, his love for Saint Francis, and his embrace of a gospel for ragamuffins. Reading this biography helped me understand the power and love I sensed behind the music that shaped my childhood, while leading me deeper into an encounter with that love myself.
The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom
It was only upon marrying my Dutch husband that I discovered I had pronounced Corrie’s name incorrectly all my life. (Corrie is pronounced by trilling the r’s at the back of the throat—not easy for a native English speaker. And Ten Boom sounds more like “tin bome”—o as in “boat” rather than “room.”) That didn’t diminish my love for this remarkable story of a Dutch family whose deep, obedient faith drove them to risk their lives to protect their Jewish neighbors during the Nazi occupation. Both riveting narrative and heartrending memoir, this story is rich in its exploration of conviction, forgiveness, and the power of God’s love.
A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken
I’ll admit, I both love and hate this book. I love it for its idealism; for the total affection of the young couple at its heart; for the painful, inexorable journey they traveled toward faith during their sojourn in Oxford. I just can’t stand the gushiness at times. (Do everything together and share everything? We’d go crazy, said my husband—and I had to agree.) But that objection is small beans and does not temper my appreciation for this story of conversion driven by loss; its account of C. S. Lewis’s kindness and insight; and the deep, severe mercy that came to its author in his acceptance of faith.
[1] Richard N. Ostling, “Religion: Merton’s Mountainous Legacy,” Time, December 31, 1984.
The Nightstand List: Classics You Should Eventually Read
(OR, BOOKS TO EXPLORE, SHOULD YOU EVER HAVE THE TIME)
THIS IS A VERY SHORT list that could be much longer. You could find far more comprehensive lists of Western classics with a quick Google search. But these are the essential titles I have encountered in my reading that stood as pillars, both marking eras and helping me understand the way Western thought and literature have developed. Some of the books on this list I’ve labored to finish; some I’ve read in part; a few I have yet to read. But these are the classics mentioned again and again by the writers I most respect, books that have shaped not only my favorite thinkers but W
estern culture as a whole.
Some of these titles will be more demanding for a modern reader. Their language may be difficult or arcane. Not all are happy; many reflect the struggle of past cultures, sorrows through which we may identify our own. Their plots may require some research (I was greatly helped in reading The Divine Comedy by getting an annotated version that explained the significance of the figures Dante meets on his journey). These books take work, but they will richly repay you for the time you invest in them by helping you to gain a larger understanding of your own world: why we think or see in certain ways; where we get our ideas of culture, virtue, or love. These stories were hugely influential in their eras, and their themes continue to echo in the writings of today.
Where do we get the idea of life as a voyage or a journey, our romanticized image of a soul on a quest? One of the major sources is from Homer’s Odyssey. Many scholars trace our widely shared images of hell and heaven to Dante’s influential and vivid descriptions, while quite a few of our modern words, not to mention our stock characters for sitcoms, romantic comedies, and contemporary dramas, come from Shakespeare. The authors in this list are the ones whose ideas have shaped the way we think together, and you’ll begin to recognize their words and ideas in the world around you.
I certainly wouldn’t begin with this list. These are the sorts of titles (apart from, maybe, The Great Gatsby) that I read slowly, a chapter or a few pages at a time, giving myself space to digest and understand them (possibly with dictionary in hand). But having slogged my way through these and a good few more, I can honestly say that they have been some of the books that made me most passionate about reading and writing because I began to recognize their profound power to shape not just my view of the world and of myself but the worldviews of entire cultures. When we recognize the power of these books and their ideas, we begin to more consciously form our own ways of looking at the world.
The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer
A bawdy and entertaining medieval series of tales recounted one after the other by a group of pilgrims on their way to Canterbury, this collection of stories was one of the first to be written in vernacular Middle English (instead of Latin or French), thus paving the way for the flowering of literature in English.
The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri
This is the medieval and allegorical tale of Dante’s divine journey into the depths of hell, through the vales of purgatory, and into the bliss of paradise, guided by the Roman poet Virgil. Considered one of the greatest books ever written, it is a spiritual masterpiece. (As a companion to this classic, you might enjoy C. S. Lewis’s The Discarded Image, his evaluation of the medieval view of reality suffusing Dante’s work. Also of interest might be Rod Dreher’s How Dante Can Save Your Life.)
The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Dostoevsky looked the worst of human nature straight in the face and wove it into what could be called the tragedy of The Brothers Karamazov, the story of three brothers—the sensual and irresponsible Dmitri, the calm skeptic Ivan, and the gentle-hearted Alyosha intent upon the religious life—in their relationship to their debauched and greedy father and the tragedy that surrounds him. In each of these men, we encounter the grapple of the soul, the intellect, and the heart with the claims and reality of faith as worked out amid their need, their fallenness, and their deep desires. It took me six months to finish this book, and I still get confused by the plethora of Russian names. But the slow reading work is worth every word because Dostoevsky manages to excavate the darkness of the human condition to discover the startling reality of what Philip Yancey termed “the safety net of absolute grace.”[1]
For a great deal more insight into the story (though it takes as much work as the novel itself), you could also read Rowan Williams’s excellent exploration of the religious themes within Dostoevsky’s novels in Dostoevsky: Language, Faith, and Fiction.
Also by Dostoevsky:
Crime and Punishment
The Dream of a Ridiculous Man
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Steeped in the haunted decadence of the “lost generation,” which largely turned to nihilism after the shattering of World War I, this is the exquisitely written account of a man’s meteoric rise to wealth and notoriety, and the yearning, the aching desire, and the faulty love that destroyed him. The word craft and character descriptions are unforgettable.
Beowulf by Seamus Heaney (Translator)
This epic Anglo-Saxon account of Beowulf, hero of the Geats, who defends the Danes against the monster Grendel, is the longest epic poem in Old English and one of the oldest surviving pieces of English literature. Focusing on themes such as the triumph of good over evil and the doomed courage necessary to heroes, it is a story fundamental to the development of English literature and myth. I love the translation by Heaney—be sure to read his introduction on the intricacy of the language—as he masterfully captures the immediacy and the dark, courageous energy of this ancient story. (You might also enjoy taking a look at J. R. R. Tolkien’s lecture “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics.”)
The Odyssey by Homer
This ancient Greek poem recounts the arduous journey of Odysseus, determined to reach home after the war of Troy. Tempted by goddesses, beset by storm and raging sea, and forced to battle monsters, the epic journey of The Odyssey formed Western imagination and informs the way we think about identity and home to this day. I’ve encountered this poem in the works of countless favorite authors, whether used by Wendell Berry in an essay on the need to be rooted in place or retold in Tennyson’s stirring “Ulysses,” the account of Odysseus in old age, still determined . . .
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
Les Misérables by Victor Hugo
“There is one spectacle grander than the sky, that is the interior of the soul,” writes Victor Hugo, and this novel is a spectacle of the grandest order. It traces the interior journey of Jean Valjean, convict and breaker of parole, toward grace, even as his outward journey leads him to the streets of Paris, hot with the fervor of revolution.
Paradise Lost by John Milton
The epic poem exploring the fall of Adam and Eve in the Garden, in which Milton seeks to “assert eternal providence, / And justify the ways of God to men.” A poem that still informs the way we understand the Fall and stands as one of the great standards of English literature.
King Lear and Much Ado about Nothing by William Shakespeare
Everyone should read a bit of Shakespeare. Yes, the language is intricate and sometimes difficult for modern ears, but ah, the word craft, the psychological insight, the spiritual depths, and the sheer wordy glory of Shakespeare is vital, I think, to a well-rounded education. But here’s a tip: read him aloud. Get a few friends, assign parts, and watch as the words (which were intended to be spoken aloud) glitter with life, as this marvelous playwright’s humor and pathos strike right at the heart of your own existence.
I don’t really care which play you read, but I love King Lear as a representative tragedy—the exploration of human hubris and the depths to which we must sometimes be brought in order to discover the truth about ourselves. And there’s nothing quite like Much Ado about Nothing, the comedy of mistaken identities, misplaced outrages, and flirtation by verbal combat.
[1] Philip Yancey, The Jesus I Never Knew (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2002), 144.
Chapter 5Books Can Stir You to ACTION
Becoming a Heroine in Your Own Story
I used to think that [adventures] were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them. . . . But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually—their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t.
J. R. R. TOLKIEN, THE TWO TOWER
S
I WAS SEVENTEEN, and it was actually, in the words of so many mystery novels, “a dark and stormy night.” Oh, I felt the drama of it with all my teenage intensity. I was wrestling for the first time with real pain, with the reality of circumstances I hated and could not change. In many ways, the world I knew was coming to pieces around me. After a terrifying two months of anxiety, I had been diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder. I felt that my mind was broken; I could not control the images or thoughts that intruded upon my consciousness. In the same time period, I watched our church experience a painful and bitter split that made me question the whole concept of Christian integrity. And my family decided to move across the country and away from the starlight and mountains we all so deeply loved. I felt a sense of bitter vulnerability as the things I considered immovable—a controllable mind, a beloved home, my lifelong faith—revealed themselves as frail and faulty. I had the comeuppance we all must face, the smack of my heart against the fallenness of the world as I discovered that what I best loved could be harmed, broken, lost.
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