I have to give the Bronte sisters a round of applause for having much more substance, mystery, and strange twists to their stories than Jane Austen. If Austen’s books are “Days of Our Lives,” then Wuthering Heights is “Jerry Springer.” It is dysfunction to an unbelievable degree. It’s filled with abuse (physical and verbal), revenge, family infighting, broken marriages, unrequited love, and more. I had to plow through 90% of this book before the dreariness and churning hatred began to lighten up.

The story is told from the point of view of the head maid, Mrs. Ellen Dean. She recounts the story of the inhabitants at Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange for the new tenant of her master, Mr. Heathcliff. There are so many characters and names that overlap, that it would be confusing for me to comment on too many aside from Mr. Heathcliff. They all, however, seem unfortunately drawn and bound to him like mice to a trap.

Heathcliff is rescued as a boy on the streets of Liverpool by Mr. Earnshaw, the patriarch of Wuthering Heights. Heathcliff is brought home, taught English, and enjoys a childhood equal to the Earnshaw children. He is especially close with Catherine, whom he loves, but is considered unworthy to marry because of the mystery behind his extended family and his darker features (his country of origin is never mentioned, but Mrs. Dean suspects he may be Spanish). All spirals out of control within the family once Mr. Earnshaw dies and his eldest son turns on Heathcliff.

If there’s one word I had to choose to describe the majority of the characters, it is venomous. The Earnshaws are infamous for their raging tempers, complete lack of manners, and insolence. It broke my heart to see characters with so much potential for goodness sucked into the swirling vortex of animosity. In spite of his love for Catherine, Heathcliff’s final plot is to break the spirit of her daughter. In doing so, he is able to exact revenge on a number of parties and secure for himself the wealth of two separate families. He is a man of deep anguish until the end, when it is suggested that he is visited by the ghost of the love from his youth. His death is unremarkable, but marks a sigh of deef relief for the handful of characters that survived his tyrannical rule.

It’s an intense, but riveting read. I highly recommend it!

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This is my second Jane Austen book of 2012. While Mansfield Park had the same soap opera feel of young people battling for each others affections as Emma, it brought up two interesting themes that endeared me to this book more so than the other. The first is of blessings that flow from opening one’s home to a child in need. The second theme seeks to answer the question: what does a morally upright woman look like?

Lady Bertram is the wealthiest of three sisters as the result of an extremely advantageous marriage. Her sister, Mrs. Norris, married a clergyman, but quickly became a widow. Her other sister, Mrs. Price, married a drunkard who is apparently a frisky fellow, as they have heaps of children. Desperate and pregnant with her umpteenth child, Mrs. Price writes to her sisters entreating them for assistance. Mrs. Norris, a wretched woman with a knack for getting everyone to do everything for her (but taking all the credit for it) manages to trick the Bertrams into taking in one of her sister’s kids to offer some relief to the ever growing Price family. What got Mrs. Norris on my bad side right off the bat was how snotty she was and how she looked down so harshly on her niece, Fanny, whom she claimed to love too much to ignore. Make me vomit, Aunt Norris…you are NOT genuine, and you are NOT nice. Sir Thomas Bertram, also had a slight case of my-poop-doesn’t-stink syndrome at the beginning of the story:

‘There will be some difficulty in our way, Mrs. Norris,’ observed Sir Thomas, ‘as to the distinction proper to be made between the girls as they grow up: how to preserve in the minds of my daughters the consciousness of what they are, without making them think too lowly of their cousin; and how, without depressing her spirits too far, to make her [Fanny] remember that she is not a Miss Bertram. I should wish to see them very good friends, and would, on no account, authorize in my girls the smallest degree of arrogance towards their relation; but still they cannot be equals. Their rank, fortune, rights, and expectations will always be different. It is a point of great delicacy, and you must assist us in our endeavors to choose exactly the right line of conduct.’

My, how Mrs. Norris took that last request to heart. I’m sure Sir Thomas regretted the day he ever asked Mrs. Norris to be his conscience. For years, she berated, belittled, and criticized her niece for anything and everything, real or imaginary. Ugh, by the end of the book I really hated her character, and it became evident that her relatives also found her insufferable. I think she’s horrid, with a capital H-O-R-R-I-D.

Fanny, the eldest daughter of the Price brood, becomes the youngest among the Bertram children (two boys, two girls) by several years. I would liken her personality to a frightened little bird. Scared to open her mouth, scared to disappoint, and scared to appear ungrateful, Fanny tries to fade into the background of life at Mansfield Park, the expansive mansion her generous relatives call home. Her cousin, Edmund, an observant and compassionate young man, recognizes the deep sadness she feels over being suddenly removed from her family and becomes her friend and confidant. It is Edmund’s kindness, above all, that fuels Fanny’s heart throughout the book.

Fanny Price as the ultimate under dog. She’s convinced of her own inferiority and so humble that she struggles to ever exert herself. Though considered quite ignorant and lacking manners upon her arrival at Mansfield, Fanny grows into a beautiful young woman in appearance and in spirit. She is patient,virtuous, considerate, and sacrificial. She becomes an indispensable companion to Lady Bertram and her relatives (minus Aunt Norris) begin to take notice of her character and actions, both of which are beyond reproach. Everyone pats themselves on the back for their part in bringing her up and giving her the environment that would produce such happy manners, but using that same logic, one wonders how the three eldest Bertram children fell so short of the propriety and humility demonstrated by Edmund and Fanny. The girl that nobody wanted is a true gem compared to her elder female cousins.

To say much more would kill the drama and suspense of the story. I will finish by saying that Lady Bertram and Sir Thomas wind up loving Fanny like their own daughter and don’t regret the day they brought her home to live with them.

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This was a thoroughly creepy read. The book follows Edward Prendick, and Englishman who thrice managed to be adrift in the Atlantic in the course of one year. The first was due to a shipwreck that would leave anyone with PTSD, the second due to being the unwanted guest of a drunkard captain, and the third was self-inflicted out of utter desperation to get back to “humanity.”

Just when you think poor Edward’s troubles couldn’t get any worse, they get significantly worse. From nearly dying of thirst and starvation on the seas, to being on the brink of offering himself to the sharks after just two days back on land, the reader witnesses several occasions where Edward is ready to toss in the towel and prays for his own death. There is a great deal of death in the latter half of the story, though Edward comes out unscathed. Some of the death is caused by him directly, but much of it is a result of the island instinctively imploding on itself.

Dr. Moreau, an infamous biologist and megalomaniac, has sought refuge on a tiny island in the Atlantic where he can find peace and privacy for his progressive experiments of “re-shaping” animals into human form. He has a partner, Montgomery, who seems just as mesmerized by the doctor’s power as the creatures they create. Some are crosses between animals (though not by breeding–think instead of grafting a tree branch), while others are a single species altered to walk upright and to speak. Despite his relative success at playing God and making man out of beast, there is one area he can’t affect in the manner he desires:

The intelligence is oddly low, with unaccountable blank ends, unexpected gaps. And least satisfactory of all is something that I cannot touch, somewhere–I cannot determine where–in the seat of the emotions. Cravings, instincts, desires that harm humanity, a strange hidden reservoir to burst forth suddenly and inundate the whole being of a creature with anger, hate, or fear.

In short, Dr. Moreau couldn’t transplant a human soul into the creatures he was ripping to shreds and then piecing back together (all while conscious, of course).

To keep his creations from acting out and reverting to their animal instincts, Moreau trains them to abide by a number of laws. If a law is broken, the penalty is to return to Dr. Moreau’s work station, dubbed “The House of Pain,” for further alterations. If the disruption is severe enough, the creature will be killed as an example to the others. They both feared and worshipped Dr. Moreau. But once the creatures saw that their “god” was a feeble man, all hell broke lose.

I don’t want to give away more than I already have, but I will end with a disturbing quote from Edward Prendick, who managed to make his way back to England after a tumultuous and frightening year.

My trouble took the strangest form. I could not persuade myself that the men and women I met were not also another Beast People, animals half wrought into the outward image of human souls, and that they would presently begin to revert–to first show this bestial mark, and then that.

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After the emotional roller-coasters of my last two books, I decided to give my brain a rest by turning to my old favorite, Sherlock Holmes. This collection of twelve short stories of the adventures of Sherlock and Watson ends with a bang–or rather, a plummet–where Sherlock defeats the most dangerous criminal he’s ever crossed. What makes Professor Moriarty the greatest danger to society in Sherlock’s mind is the fact that he has so many secretly doing his bidding that it’s nearly impossible to trace any crime back to Moriarty without finding yourself dead somewhere along the way. It’s unusual to catch Sherlock demonstrating fear, as he can typically smell danger from a mile away, but with Moriarty, we see Sherlock a little more vulnerable than usual.

What really struck me when reading this portion of the series are the uncanny similarities between Sherlock Homes and character Gregory House of the medical diagnostic series, House. From the mysteriousness of their skills of deduction, to their need to use assistants as sound boards as they walk through the facts, to their lack of “people” skills, the two seem to have been formed from the same mold.

I think my favorite story from this collection was “The Yellow Face.” It was about a husband and wife who are happily in love until a secret pushes them apart and drives the husband mad. The secret moves in to the cottage just down the road, and despite his wife’s pleas, Mr. Munro can’t control himself any longer–he has to figure out who or what his wife is hiding and won’t wait until she’s ready to tell him the truth. Munro finds that a young, African-American child is living in the cottage, his wife’s child from her first marriage to a wealthy man in Atlanta. Mrs. Munro feared her child would be rejected by her new husband, but couldn’t suppress her motherly affections for her daughter any longer and desired to have her close. This is how Mr. Munro responds as he scoops the little girl up in his arms to take her home:

I’m not a very good man, Effie, but I think I am a better one than you have given me credit for being.

Not only did it melt my heart, but his words cut deep and made me question how often I underestimate my husband.

I think the Sherlock Holmes series, like the Chronicles of Narnia, will be a series that I will revisit again and again, though the former I might not read to my kids until they’re a little older!

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For a while, I was too insecure about what people might think of me reading this book to actually buy it. I knew I really needed to see what Beth had to say, but made excuses because I didn’t want what I read to force me to deal with some of my junk. But God knew my tendency to hide, and gave me grace and the opportunity to go through this study in a group setting where I could not ignore or avoid what was uncomfortable. Our group at PWOC (Protestant Women of the Chapel–Fort Riley) hasn’t even had a chance to discuss chapter one yet, and I’ve already plowed through the book. That’s how good this book is, and that’s how much I needed to hear what Beth had to say–all of it.

Several things hooked me right off the bat. First, Beth’s writing style is witty, powerful, and encouraging. A number of times, I felt like her words were hijacked straight from my brain…from somewhere in the deep recesses where I really don’t want anyone to venture, myself included. I felt exposed, yet empowered. Second, Beth said this is the closest things she’s ever written (or ever will write) to an auto-biography. I was intrigued to hear more about her past and was curious to see what this women, who epitomizes Christian womanly I’ve-got-it-all-togetherness, had to say about insecurities. How much, after all, did she really have to be insecure about? I barely made it through the first chapter before comparing myself to her (sound familiar?) and wondering if her pains were as deep as mine or if her insecurities as difficult to shake as mine. Here’s what she says:

I’m a common woman sharing common problems seeking common solutions on a journey with an uncommon Savior.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter who Beth is, who I am, or whether or struggles align. What matters is that we have Jesus, an uncommon Savior who is the only source of the security we are seeking. This book addresses the topic of insecurity so thoroughly and holistically that I don’t really know where to start. Beth discusses insecurities that are rooted in unhealthy view of men, cultural pressures, lies we believe about who we should be, insecurities in our relationships with other women, and how we seek the face of God to find relief from the mess. To put it succinctly, Beth’s goal is to help readers realize that we place too much of our identities (which should be wholly in Christ) in things that only make us feel worse about who we are. It’s a vicious cycle, and Satan loves when we get stuck in it.

Ladies, there is so much insight within these 350 pages that I’d be hard-pressed to sift through all of my highlights to give you the best nuggets. Please, just take my word for it. And men, don’t think this book wouldn’t be helpful for you. Have you ever been confused by a woman’s response that seemed a little insane or crazy and didn’t understand where all the emotions were coming from? Don’t blame it on estrogen, blame it on insecurities. Yup, we’re jacked up, but there are ways you can help and encourage us in our jacked-up-ness. If you love us, please read this book.

I want some soul-deep security drawn from a source that never runs dry and never disparages us for requiring it. We need a place we can go when, as much as we loathe it, we are needy and hysterical. I don’t know about you, but I need someone who will love me when I hate myself. And yes, someone who will love me again and again and again until I kiss this terrestrial sod good-bye.

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Jim and I picked up this book based on the recommendation of the equipping pastor at our church. This weekend, we’ll be attending a course called “Geography of the Soul” that uses this text as a jumping off point for discussion on emotional health as a key ingredient to spiritual maturity and genuine discipleship. The author, Peter Scazzero, nearly lost his wife, family, and church by constantly looking “outward and upward” rather than inward into the depths of his own issues. He writes out of his own experiences and weaves refreshingly honest stories of his failures throughout each chapter.

The basic premise of the book is this:

Many are supposedly ‘spiritually mature’ but remain infants, children, or teenagers emotionally. They demonstrate little ability to process anger, sadness, or hurt. They whine, complain, distance themselves, blame and use sarcasm–like little children when they don’t get their way. Highly defensive to criticism or differences of opinion, they expect to be taken care of and often treat people as objects to meet their needs. Why? The answer is what this book is about. The roots of the problem lie in faulty spirituality, stemming from a faulty biblical theology.

While the book is written from a pastor’s point of view and directed at those who are leaders within the church, the material is valuable for anyone in the church involved in discipleship (which should be everyone). For the first few chapters, Scazzero lays out the issue of emotional health within the church and pleads for change. Before diving into his seven principles of an emotionally healthy church, he offers a five page inventory to determine where one might fall on the scale of emotional maturity: emotional infant, emotional child, emotional adolescent, emotional adult. It was a good punch in the gut, and it was spot on. Here’s where I scored:

Emotional Adolescent: I don’t like it when others question me. I often make quick judgments and interpretations of people’s behavior. I withhold forgiveness to those who sin against me, avoiding or cutting them off when they do something to hurt me. I subconsciously keep records of the love I give out. I have trouble really listening to another person’s pain, disappointments, or needs without becoming preoccupied with myself. I sometimes find myself too busy to spend adequate time nourishing my spiritual life. I attend church and serve others but enjoy few delights in Christ. My Christian life is still primarily about doing, not being with Him. Prayer continues to be mostly me talking with little silence, solitude, or listening to God.

Ouch. What’s even sadder is that I actually patted myself on the back a little for scoring in the top 75%.

Principle #1 is looking beneath the surface–developing an awareness of what we’re feeling and doing, asking ourselves why, examining these answers in light of the gospel, and then tearing down the facade that masks who we really are. Principle #2 is breaking the power of the past–identifying how we are shaped by our families, discerning the major influences in our lives, allowing the gospel to “re-parent” us, and recognizing that everyone brings their own baggage to the table. This section sparked some particularly good contemplation and conversation in our home. Principle #3 is living in brokenness and vulnerability–understanding that weakness automatically became part of our lives through the Fall, accepting whatever “thorn in the flesh” we’ve been given as God’s perfect will, and recognizing that vulnerability starts with the pastor. If the leadership hides their weaknesses, so will the congregation.

Principle #4 is receiving the gift of limits. As a person who likes to have ten thousand things on my plate and then wonders why I feel overwhelmed, this chapter was especially helpful. The chapter focuses on Jesus’ embracing of human limitations and poses questions to help the reader discern their own limitations based on their personality, season of life, physical capacities, etc. Principle #5 is embracing grief and loss. The author lost me a bit in this chapter, but these lines did sink in:

I used to believe that grieving was an interruption, an obstacle in my path to serve Christ. In short, I considered it a waste of time…I resisted stopping from all my busy activity [because] I did not want to face the sadness that was waiting for me.

Principle #6 is making the incarnation your model for loving well, which, the author argues, can only be done if progress is made in the first five principles. Scazzero focuses heavily in this chapter on active listening, though he refers to it as “incarnational” listening. I’m not really sure why he felt the need to rename it, but whatever. Principle #7 is slowing down to lead with integrity.

How often do we hear the world encouraging us to “slow down,” or to follow any of these principles, really? What I hear it saying is “put your best foot forward,” it’s the “survival of the fittest,” and it’s okay to use people as a “means to an end.” We enjoy watching shows like Jerry Springer and The Real Housewives of L.A. because their problems make us feel better about our problems, and we can continue fooling ourselves into thinking that perfection and strength can be attained (or at least we can appear to have attained them). I will end my mini-rant here, because no one says it better than God:

Let no one deceive himself. If anyone among you thinks he is wise in this age, let him become a fool that he may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is folly with God. ~1 Cor 3:18-19a

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I had an intense evening last night with this book and a glass of merlot. Like my Tina Fey book, I also read this in one sitting, but for very different reasons. Jim and I have known we wanted to adopt since our second date and have been talking about starting our family for the past year or so. My mind has been eager to learn more about parenting and the adoption process, and this book had me absolutely engrossed.

The author, Joyce Pavao, is herself adopted, and is the founder of the Pre/post Adoption Consulting Team, the Family Connections Training Institute, and Center for Family Connections in Boston and New York City. To say that she is a wealth of knowledge is an understatement. The book is fairly short (118 pages + epilogue and glossary), but it answered a lot of questions I had and some I didn’t realize I needed to be asking.

The book is divided into six sections. First, Pavao addresses the rites of the birth parent(s). I’m actually just now seeing that she is emphasizing the “rites” and not the “rights.” In this chapter, she does not simply address legal standing, but the psychological struggles birth parents endure when choosing or being required to give up their children. Pavao uses stories blended together from her cases over the past 25 years to drive her point home intellectually and emotionally. Holy cow, was she successful! This chapter in particular helped me move past seeing the word “birth mom” as a label and to instead see a living, breathing person that is about to endure pain and loss that I cannot fathom. And that pain never goes away. This chapter gave me a whole host of ideas about how I can be praying for a birth mom.

The next chapter is about the parental rites of the adoptive parent. A lot of emphasis was given to couples who adopt and are dealing with infertility. It was difficult to identify with this because Jim and I aren’t convinced that achieving pregnancy will be a problem for us, but I think Pavao did a great job of identifying the sense of loss that both the birth parents and adoptive parents have to deal with.

I also appreciated her encouragement to protect privacy, but to not be secretive. I’ve heard a lot of adoptive parents express regret and confusion over dumb questions extended family members and strangers ask about adopted children, sometimes in their presence. In this chapter, I realized that I shouldn’t jump down people’s throats for being idiots because I take offense to it as the parent. Instead, I need to be aware how uncomfortable it can make a child feel to have such a sensitive topic discussed in a public place with a perfect stranger as though they weren’t present or couldn’t understand the conversation. Note taken, Ms. Pavao.

The next four chapters discuss the particular needs adopted children have at various stages of development, as well as how to support and encourage their connections with their birth heritage. I learned a great deal in these sections about how begin talking to a child about his/her adoption, how to keep an eye out for normal developmental issues that are amplified in adopted children, and how to demonstrate respect for the birth mom and birth heritage so the child doesn’t feel alienated. Pavao also includes some pretty heavy stories about reunions with birth parents. When you first read the details (ex. your birth mom is also your sister; you are the result of incest), you can’t imagine how such a reunion could possibly go well, but as you read on, you realize that the truth, however horrible, is what adopted children are seeking.

Pavao is most definitely a proponent of open adoption. In the final chapter, she gives a summary of how adoption has transformed over the last two centuries in America (I really wished she would have put this at the beginning) and where she believes it should go. I could write more in praise of this book, but instead I’ll leave you with a few quotes that speak for themselves.

Adoption is about finding families for children, not about finding children for families. (p.24)

Many of us were told that our birth parents were poor and unable to parent, so we gravitate toward a lower socioeconomic group of friends at certain periods, or we work with this population in order to give something back to ‘our people.’ We take what you say very seriously. If you put down what we know or imagine is our background in any way, it only adds to our loss of self-esteem. When you express love and respect for our culture, for our race, for our religion, our ethnicity of root family, as well as for what we’ve gained from our family by adoption, we hear you. (p. 90)

Even more than legal openness, I’m concerned about emotional openness in the family of adoption. I often see families with adolescents who are acting out in some way and parents who don’t accept that they are all being affected by the issues that inevitably arise in an adoptive family. Although they may talk openly about adoption in general, they are rigid when they talk about it in terms of their own family. There’s a sense of closedness which makes it difficult for the children to feel they can gain information about themselves without hurting their adoptive parents. These families are often committed to appearing as if they are a biologically related one. This is stressful and demeaning for the children, who know this is not true. (p. 109)

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Growing up, my mom used to tell me I was bossy. You know what I told her? “I’m not bossy, I’m assertive!” Assertive has a more positive connotation, don’t you think?

The title of this book appealed to my bossy side, and the fact that it was written by Tina Fey appealed to my sense of humor. I wasn’t really sure what it was about when I checked it out from the library, because even the information on the cover was a joke.

Once in a generation a woman comes along who changes everything. Tina Fey is not that woman, but she met that woman once and acted weird around her.

I read the book in a single sitting. That is not a reflection of how amazing of a reader I am, but rather how meaningless the content was. Not to say that Tina Fey’s life is meaningless–clearly she was put here on earth to give the best Sarah Palin impersonation ever.

The first 100 pages of the book are funny, often vulgar, anecdotes about Tina’s childhood, adolescence, college days, first job, and marriage. Everything is a joke. Everything. Her writing only shows a hint of seriousness in the latter 150 pages, where she talks about her career and what its like to be a writer at SNL, to be a working mom, and to write/act on 30 Rock. The 25 pages in between these two sections are pure randomness. This is from her “Twelve Tenets of Looking Amazing Forever”:

#4: Don’t Be Afraid to Try “Outside the Box” Skin Care Solutions

I spent most of 1990 bargaining with God that I would take one gigantic lifelong back zit in exchange for clear skin on my face. While this never worked out, I do not at all regret the time I spent pursuing it. It’s about the journey, people.

My favorite chapter of the book was about her dad, Don Fey. She approached it in a very lighthearted and sarcastic way, but it demonstrated a deep respect, appreciation for, and healthy fear of her father. It struck a chord with me because I, too, have a dad that I both loved and feared growing up. His name is Walt. Don’t mess with Walt. He protects me ferociously and can yell like a grizzly bear.

My dad has visited me at work over the years, and I’ve noticed that powerful men react to him in a weird way. They ‘stand down.’ The first time Lorne Michaels met my dad, he said afterward, ‘Your father is…impressive.’ They meet Don Fey and it rearranges something in their brain about me. Alec Baldwin took a long look at him and gave him a firm handshake. ‘This is your dad, huh?’ What are they realizing? I wonder. That they’d better never mess with me, or Don Fey will yell at them? That I have high expectations for the men in my life because I have a strong father figure?

I think I would have enjoyed the second half of the book more if I was a person deeply interested in sketch comedy, writing, show biz, etc. It was cool to hear her perspective, but I found myself reading it all quietly, while the first half of the book had me laughing out loud on numerous occasions.

I appreciate Tina for her ability to tell a story in a hilarious way. Did the book make me laugh? Yes. Was I personally enriched by it? Probably not. Would I let a high-schooler read it? Absolutely not.

I will leave you with “The Rules of Improvisation That Will Change Your Life and Reduce Belly Fat”:

The first rule of improvisation is AGREE. Always agree and SAY YES. The second rule of improvisation is not only to say yes, but YES, AND. You are supposed to agree and then add something of your own. The next rule is MAKE STATEMENTS. This is a positive way of saying ‘Don’t ask questions all the time.’ THERE ARE NO MISTAKES, only opportunities. If I start a scene as what I think is very clearly a cop riding a bicycle, but you think I am a hamster in a hamster wheel, guess what? Now I’m a hamster in a hamster wheel.

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I found this little gem when searching through a long list of books available for free on my Kindle. I knew of D.L. Moody from the Bible Institute that bears his name, but little more. I had no idea the school has been around for 125 years, or that Moody’s lifespan was limited to the 19th Century. I didn’t know what to expect from this little text, but was curious to see which men of the Bible Moody would focus on.

I’m not sure why I anticipated a John Piper-ish treatise, but I was delighted to find Moody’s language and writing style very accessible and easy to understand. It felt like I was reading his sermon notes from a series intended for a men’s conference. While there is much for any reader to glean from Moody’s writing, women should know that men are clearly the audience he is writing for. The book is broken down into seven sections:

1. Abraham’s Four Surrenders
2. The Call of Moses
3. Naaman the Syrian
4. The Prophet Nehemiah
5. Herod and John the Baptist
6. The Man Born Blind and Joseph of Arimathea
7. The Penitent Thief

For the most part, Moody’s writing is well organized, though I felt a bit lost when he addresses Herod in chapter five. There was a great deal of inference and conjecture (several pages, actually) based on one verse that changed Moody’s mind forever about what kind of man Herod was: “Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he kept him safe. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed, and yet he heard him gladly.” (Mark 6:20 ESV)

I’m not a particular fan of authors making lengthy conjectures (i.e. Randy Alcorn’s Heaven), but this was the only aspect of the book that rubbed me the wrong way. In fact, it’s been a while since I’ve highlighted so much good food for thought! Moody does an excellent job of weaving practical application into each chapter as it relates to each man’s testimony from Scripture.

I’ve included some of my favorite quotes below. If these don’t spark an interest, consider how short the book is (130 pages). If that doesn’t do it, think of all the wonderful things you might learn from the lives of these men who are not often preached about on Sundays. If that doesn’t do it, I guess you’re not a man, and have no interest in being one

 Now there are lots of people that have a long eye and a short eye, and they make miserable work of their Christian life. They keep one eye on the eternal city and the other eye on the well-watered plains of Sodom.

The only thing God wishes you to leave with Him is your sin. And yet, it is the only thing you seem not to care about giving up. ‘Oh,’ you say, ‘I love leprosy, it is so delightful, I can’t give it up; I know God wants it, that He may make me clean. But I can’t give it up.’ Why, what downright madness it is for you to love leprosy; and yet that is your condition.

Every time you hear the Gospel and reject it, the hardening process goes on. The same sun that melts the ice hardens the clay.

One of the greatest hindrances to the progress of the Gospel today is that the narration of the experience [testimony] of the Church is not encouraged. There are a great many men and women who come into the Church, and we never hear anything of their experiences, or of the Lord’s dealings with them. If we could, it would be a great help to others. It would stimulate faith and encourage the more feeble of the flock.

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Twenty years ago, a tape deck was all we had to entertain us in my mom’s ’76 VW Beetle. During long rides in the car, we would listen to Sherlock Holmes mysteries on tape. Seeing Sherlock in the movie theater has rekindled my affection for the writing of Sir Arthur, and it’s my hope to get through the complete series over the course of this year. Not realizing how many books were in the series, I selected one at random and managed to pick up where the second Sherlock film left off–with the death of the diabolical Dr. Moriarty and the apparent sacrificial suicide of Sherlock Holmes.

It was interesting to see that the book offered a less fantastic resolution to Holmes appearing alive after being presumed dead for three years. Even still, the book was off to a great start as Holmes killed two birds with one stone–solving a most perplexing murder and capturing the man who had been hunting Holmes ever since the death of Dr. Moriarty.

Of the thirteen stories collected in this book, the most captivating was The Adventure of the Dancing Men. Unfortunately, the characters in this tale were victim to Sherlock’s tendency to sit and stew until there is enough evidence to compel him to action. To the reader, it seems rather haphazard which elements of cases that come to his attention effect him deeply enough to suddenly become worth his while.

What struck me as I neared the end of the book is that Sherlock would also accept or reject cases on principle. Though a committed protector of the law, he was willing at one point to break it himself because he felt morally bound to protect a client (and numerous future victims) from an infamous blackmailer. If I learned anything about Holmes from this series, it’s that he is a law unto himself in some regards. On two separate occasions that I recall, he even went so far as to aid the protection of one premeditated murderer and one who killed in defense of his lover.

The only disappointment I found is that some of the mysteries seem so promising at the beginning, but end with a lackluster solution. However, the better mysteries redeem the not-so-great ones, and they certainly won’t deter me from getting through the rest of this series.

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