lifeisstory's reviews
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I’m a bit of a Bible translation nerd. Not a Bible nerd, though I am a bit of that, too, but specifically a Bible translation nerd. I love seeing how different translations differ, what their reasonings are, and what insights we can glean through those difference (not to mention what biases can be revealed!). Turns out there’s someone who’s an even bigger Bible nerd than me and his hobby of reviewing Bibles led to this guide: Bible Translations for Everyone: A Guide to Finding a Bible That’s Right for You. 

 

The author is Tim Wildsmith and his goal in his book is to teach readers how Bible translations work, how each of the major translations came to be, how they compare, and what translations fit various contexts. After two chapters covering a brief basics and history of English-language Bible translation, Bible Translations for Everyone gives a breakdown of ten major translations, followed by a quick chapter of “Other translations,” then a discussion of Catholic translations. (So when Wildsmith says Bible Translations for Everyone there is an implicit asterisk that “everyone” means English-speaking Protestants.) The book covers the following translations: 

 

·       King James Version 

·       Revised Version/American Standard Version 

·       Revised Standard Version 

·       New American Standard Bible 

·       New International Version 

·       New King James Version 

·       New Revised Standard Version 

·       New Living Translation 

·       English Standard Version 

·       Christian Standard Bible 

 

Each chapter is between 10-12 pages and goes through the background, textual basis, and translation philosophy of each translation before ended with a selection of verses from the translation. There are also short paragraph-long treatments of the Message, New English Translation, Legacy Standard Bible, Revised English Bible, Modern English Version, Common English Bible, Douay-Rheims, Jerusalem Bible, and New American Bible. 

 

Unfortunately, I never felt like Bible Translation for Everyone did what it claimed to set out to do. There’s a lot of historical discussion with an emphasis on how translations came to be. There’s much less discussion about how one finds a translation that fits their context and even less direct comparison of translations. 

 

The answer to “What translation should you choose?” Comes in a six-page concluding chapter that suggests using the ESV, NIV, and KJV if you are a more seasoned believer or the NLT, NASB, and CSB if you are newer. The reasoning basically comes down to the readability of the text based on familiarity with theological concepts. 

 

The lack of cross-comparison between translations or a discussion of how and why different translations translate the same passages differently is a real weakness to the book. In the end, I just don’t think it answers with robustness the single question it claims to answer. If you’re looking for a Wikipedia-style overview of Bible translations, this will suffice. If you actually want to understand the reasons for and differences in Bible translations and what they mean for you, then look elsewhere. 

 

1 out of every 6 American women and 1 out of every 33 American men have been the victim of an attempted or completed rape in their lifetime. Everyone is impacted by sexual assault. And as horrific as these numbers are, sexual violence has actually been halved over the last twenty years. We’ve come a long way on the journey toward protection, now we must take control of healing. In Enough Silence, Cheryl Miller walks readers through the process of restorative justice showing how faith communities can make space and healing for sexual assault survivors. 

 

Enough Silence is based on Miller’s decades of work in mediation and restorative justice. At the heart of the book is Clara—a composite character based on a number of real-life people under Miller’s care—who struggles as an adult with the effects of her childhood sexual assault. This fictionalized narrative brings a stirring reality to how restorative justice works, moving from theoretical blueprint to experiential reality. It’s a story that’s often uncomfortable (Miller provides trigger warnings when needed), but reflects a harsh reality. Enough Silence refuses to be silent and instead gives voice to victims and makes public the evil of sexual assault with the purpose of motivating others to be a part of both prevention and healing. 

 

In the first part of Enough Silence, Miller explains the restorative justice process. First, victims must have a direct voice in the process. In legal (retributive) justice, the victim’s voice is often secondary. Restorative justice enables victims to tell their story and be a part of deciding how that harm can be repaired. Second is stakeholder focus. This is a focus on those who have been impacted by the injustice. Instances of abuse create secondary traumas to those not directly impacted by the abuse. 

 

Third, perpetrators must be held accountable for their actions. One of the most interesting parts of Enough Silence was its explanation of programs like Making it Right, which facilitates victim-offender dialogue in scenarios were repentant offenders want to seek forgiveness and make reparations. This is an incredible difficult and crucial part of the process and we can often forget—or want to forget—that offenders themselves are in need of healing. This does not exempt them from punishment or downplay the evil of their actions, but acknowledges their need for repentance. 

 

Fourth is clarity of values. Understand the beliefs that motivate people help reconcilers find the areas in which healing can best be facilitated. Then, fifth, is maintaining a safe/structured environment. This means ensuring that the way in which restorative justice is attempted is in such a way that does actually bring out safety and healing. 

 

The rest of Enough Silence continues to blueprint the restorative justice process, helping churches and faith communities realize the complexity and necessity of restorative justice for healing. I appreciate that Miller also takes readers into the self-concept of offenders, not justifying or condoning their behavior, but helping readers understand the context of sexual abuse and the humanness of the offender. Understanding this perspective enables justice and restoration to also work on the heart of the offender. 

 

I want to be clear that although Enough Silence is an overview of the restorative justice process in the context of sexual abuse, simply reading this book does not qualify individuals or churches to engage in the process. When you don’t know what you are doing, you will do more harm than good. In the name of restoration, churches have often encouraged victims to forgive their abusers, placed victims in uncomfortable positions with their abusers, or attempted to fast-track restoration in order to cover-up abuse. That is not restorative justice. Enough Silence is meant to highlight the process so that those interested can move forward into actual training for the intense work that is facilitating such a thing. It is hard work, but it must be done. Enough Silence shows us that it can. 

 

I really didn’t know what I was getting into with Exploring the Paranormal: Miracles, Magic, and the Mysterious. Written by Dr. R. Alan Streett, professor emeritus of biblical theology at Criswell College, the book is a reflective, topical memoir of Streett’s lifelong experience and fascination with the paranormal. Streett’s life and experiences take several sharp turns, putting him in some unlikely places, consistently forcing him to evaluate and refine his beliefs about the supernatural. 

 

Streett divides Exploring the Paranormal into four parts, reflective of the four primary ways in which he has approached the paranormal throughout his life. First, in his early life, he was wholeheartedly accepting of the paranormal and occult. Second, after a conversion to Christianity, he became convinced that all occultism and such was demonic. Third, after some time, he came to believe that many spiritualists and psychics were not playing with supernatural forces at all but faking their experiences. And then fourth, he comes to believe that the supernatural (perhaps better termed super-physical and sub-conscious) can be utilized for human improvement. 

 

While those first three parts are more memoir, the latter is a philosophical and practical exploration of Streett’s current beliefs—particularly in how psychic phenomena and mentalism can affect our physical well-being. Exploring the Paranormal goes into some detail about brainwave activity and such, but the most interesting thing to me, something I wish had been further developed, is how the presence of faith (a decidedly spiritual and supernatural thing) affects our well-being. This final part deserves to be a book in and of itself. 

 

The majority of the book details Streett’s coming to faith, his interest in the paranormal, and his experiences with seances and the like. Throughout the engaging story of Streett’s life, we glimpse some insights into the rise of occultism in the twentieth century and how it both dovetailed and contrasted with certain elements of Christian thinking. Streett’s personal connections and measured tone keep the book from mirroring some of the fearmongering “Satanic Panic” of the time and shows how many in the occultic world were those who were seeking spiritual realities. 

 

Overall, the book is a fascinating journey of how beliefs ebb and flow throughout life. Streett’s memoir and by extension his life is both a challenge and a caution to embrace the spiritual and supernatural, awakening us to realities beyond the physical.  

 

Every year on All Souls’ Day, Mara, along with her Nene and Popi, walk throughout their village and sing to those who had loved ones die during the year. But this year is different. This year, Nene and Mara continue the tradition without Popi. Why are they still the ones singing for others? Shouldn’t the townspeople be singing for Popi? But Nene is insistent that Popi would want them to continue the tradition. They go from house to house and Mara becomes more and more sad. When they are done, Nene goes home and Mara has an idea of how to honor Popi. Popi’s All Souls Song is a touching story about simple ways we can affect our communities and bring comfort to others. 

 

All Souls’ Day is on November 2 every year, following Halloween and All Saints’ Day. Monks began the celebration in the ninth century as a day to prayer to commemorate Christians who had died. In 1915, Pope Benedict XV made it part of the church calendar following the tragic losses of life in World War I. In some European areas, singing door-to-door is a traditional way of celebrating and remembering the faithful dead. Popi’s All Souls Song taps into that tradition—almost unknown and uncelebrated in America—to suggest that we would do well, that our communities would benefit, from such a remembrance. 

 

I liked that the celebration of All Souls’ did not seem to be a universal thing in the book. That seems to mirror how it is actually celebrated. Rather, it is this one family who keeps the tradition alive and is perhaps underappreciated for it. I don’t think it’s meant to be a key part of the book, but there is a teaching principle here about how all it takes to build community is the faithful service of a few within the community to be that connective tissue. Overall, Popi’s All Souls Song draws readers into a ritual that helps build community—not just with the living but with the ancestors and honored dead as well. 

 

 

 

 

 

Finn is a ghost. And he is scared of everything. His ghost family wants to go trick-or-treating, but Finn isn’t sure he can go out. Humans are scary. Butterflies are scary. The color orange? Very scary. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t want them to be. But they just are. Finn’s family loves him. They accept him. They don’t belittle him for his fears and bring him back candy every Halloween. But this year Finn determines he’s going to face his fears. Will it work? 

 

The Ghost Who Was Afraid of Everything is a story about making incremental changes in order to brave one’s fears. Really, what the book describes is exposure therapy: a type of cognitive behavioral therapy that gradually exposes folks with phobia, anxiety, or PTSD to their fears in a safe and controlled fashion. While Finn’s exploration isn’t exactly under the care of a doctor (do ghosts have doctors?), it does represent well the graduality of facing fears rather than taking a shock-and-awe sink-or-swim approach. It’s an encouraging exhortation to young ones to work with trusted loved ones to face and overcome their fears. 

 

The joke of the book—a ghost who is scared of everything—is perfect for its intended age group. The illustrations are playful and fun. Finn’s humanness and ghostliness intersect in odd ways. He’s ghost enough that the book is silly; human enough that young readers can relate themselves to Finn’s circumstances. My only criticism is that the book ends a bit abruptly (but with a nice artistic color choice!).  

 

Each Day is a Gift is a straightforward reminder of how each new day brings us some new thing, new experience, or new challenge. We can’t choose what gifts to receive, but we can choose how we use them. While Lisl Detlefsen’s words are exhortative and encouraging, I can’t help but think that they aren’t always true. Each Day is a Gift is a platitude. And a lot hangs on our definition of gift. Is a gift simply something that is given to us? A surprise that is thrust upon us and we must react with appreciation even we are not appreciative at all? Or is a gift something we actually want, something that was selected with us in mind, something that benefits us and brings us joy and flourishing? 

 

For Detlefsen, the definition is definitely the former. In the book, she explains that some days are like birthday-bike level gifts—a big new thing that we love. Other days are like socks-and-clothes-gifts. Not as fun, but very useful. Still other days are gifts we don’t want, which is illustrated through the death of a pet. Yet, even those gifts are opportunities to learn and grow. 

 

And, yes, I suppose if the first two types of gifts heavily outweigh the latter, then maybe the concept of the book works as something more than a platitude. But the more of the latter a life has, the more like gaslighting the book seems. What good are gifts if they are always bad? I don’t know that we need to frame the difficulties of life as gifts—especially in a book to children. The nuance and context of that framing can be difficult for adults to grasp. I think it is altogether fair to look at the difficulties of life and say “this is not a gift.” Rather, the gift is what comes out of those difficulties. God brings beauty from ashes, but does not create the ashes. That’s what I think this book misses. 

 

So while Each Day is a Gift is sincere and well-intentioned, for me personally it misses the mark in this one rather important area. 

 

December is awash with holidays, cultural and religious, new and ancient. What happens when those traditions intersect? Nisha’s Just-Right Christmas Tree offers an alternative to the “culture wars” and instead teaches us a lesson in sharing our celebrations. Nisha is on the hunt for a big Christmas tree, but her Baba reminds her that they live in a small apartment and that a smaller tree would be best. Nisha wants a tree that can hold all the ornaments, that’s taller than her, and that fills their house. Baba wants something he can get up the apartment stairs. The two look and look and the finally find one that seems best for both of them. 

 

On the surface, you can read Nisha’s Just-Right Christmas Tree as a story about a young girl finding…well…a Christmas tree that’s just right. But read a bit deeper and you’ll find a story about blending culture and traditions. Nisha’s Baba is from India; her mom is from Maine. They have different traditions surrounding the holidays. Baba grew up celebrating Raksha Bandan and Diwali. Her mom grew up celebrating Christmas. The blending of traditions is seen in how the Christmas tree is decorated and symbolized by how, although Baba and Nisha have different ideas about the perfect tree, they each find one that is right for them. 

 

Nisha’s Just-Right Christmas Tree doesn’t get into the more complex religious differences that might be present, instead choosing to focus on cultural ritual. In an author’s note, Jaya Mehta notes that the story was inspired by her own mixed-culture upbringing. I think this was a good decision, as it allows young readers to begin to think about how traditions merge within a family—even among those of the same ethnic background, holiday traditions can vary wildly. (Very thankful I did not marry into a family that runs 5ks on holidays, personally. It might’ve been a dealbreaker.) This book shows us how new and blended traditions arise, which might then later lead to a discussion of things deeper than cultural ritual. It’s a book that could lead to important and necessary conversations. 

 

As I write this review, the winter solstice is only a few weeks away. It is dark in the mornings when I wake up. It is dark once again by dinner. And it is these times that we often lament in our world—particularly if our jobs require that we be inside for what is literally all of daytime. This is a time when the darkness affects us so much that doctors have a name for it—SAD or seasonal affective disorder. It is amid the darkness that we learn to crave the light. 

 

Kate Allen Fox and Elisa Paganelli take that literal reality and infuse it with spiritual, relational, and earthy meaning in Winter Solstice Wish. Inspired by the beach bonfires that take place on the winter solstice near Fox’s San Diego hometown, her story manages to be both bigger and more personal than a local tradition. Winter Solstice Wish is a reminder that, amid darkness, light can grow again. 

 

Combined with Paganelli’s vibrant illustrations, the story moves us to consider how we come together to create and join in the light. When the bonfires are lit and the community gathers around the glow and warmth of the fire, we are reminded of the togetherness it brings. Winter Solstice Wish then moves us beyond the California beaches to celebrations of the solstice the world over—including a reminder of how on the other side of the world a summer solstice of light is being celebrated. 

 

Picture books are usually considered “children’s” books and it’s true that this book was meant for children, but really this book is poetry. It is a psalm of the ebb and flow of existence, a hymn of human connection, a prayer for renewal. Layered and thoughtful, Winter Solstice Wish will have you contemplating what the long nights can teach us. 

 

Ana Moose is rather shy and enjoys being alone. She doesn’t mind observing others interact, but it often seems hard or just not that interesting to join in. But then, she noticed someone. He had good ideas. His play seemed fun. She wanted to join in…but could she? Anonymoose is the fun, engaging story of a shy moose who learns to play and engage with others in her own way. 

 

This is a good book for the young readers, the introverts who would rather hide themselves away in books or their imagination, the shy ones for whom group interaction takes strength and leaves them stressed. Anonymoose doesn’t vilify shyness or harp on the “you’re missing out!” message that well-meaning adults can often give, but neither does it advocate seclusion. Shawna JC Tenney shows readers the need for human connection and friendship, of collaboration and togetherness, but in a way that is soft and gentle. 

 

I think of my son when he was younger and how early reports from his preschool were all about how great of an observer of play and of others he was. He enjoyed watching others. Actually joining in play felt overwhelming. He had a rich imaginative life and self-conception. Sharing that with others wasn’t always easy. And like Anonymoose, it began in simple ways. Observation led to parallel play led to indirect collaboration led to direct collaboration—and that’s precisely what we see reflected in the book. 

 

Shy kids are going to see themselves in this book. I think it will help them feel validated, open them up to talk about their feelings, and just maybe give them that push forward to find a friend. 

 

The inside flap of Ministers of Propaganda: Truth, Power, and the Ideology of the Religious Right reads in large, emblazoned letters: “Good evangelical Christians are Republicans. It seems like it’s always been that way. That means the propaganda is working.” With passion, wit, sincerity, and depth Scott M. Coley exposes white evangelicalism’s craven grasp for power—what Coley terms as Christo-authoritarianism. Ministers of Propaganda shows that the emphasis on hierarchy, power, and control isn’t a bug of evangelical theology but a feature and that the fascist tendencies of evangelicalism aren’t new to the Trump era of politics but rather that Trumpism more clearly exposed what had always been there. More importantly, Coley offers a solution to Christo-authoritarianism that is rooted in Christ—an alternative way of living and being that leads to human flourishing.

 

To call this book timely would be trite. We all know that it’s timely. It’s been timely for a decade now and, it appears, will be timely for who knows how long to come. Published in June 2024, Ministers of Propaganda was written with the specter of a second Trump term only looming. Part of it, I’m sure, was a cautionary tale against allowing what has happened to happen. Unfortunately, the propaganda worked. But Coley is also crystal clear that this is not just about Trump. 

 

The most interesting part of the book is Coley’s focus on evangelicalism’s acceptance of young earth creationism (YEC). Coley uses YEC as a prime example of evangelicalism’s bent toward purposeful anti-intellectualism and how YEC has been used to engender the habit to reject scientific consensus when that consensus is in tension with the social, moral, or political goals of the religious right. Coley spends two chapters on the concept, detailing the history of YEC and how it actually stood at odds with accepted orthodoxy and even early evangelical theology. But what YEC allowed was for a belief model that challenged “secular” science—a model that has continued in areas of climate change, gender identity, vaccine efficacy, the reality of COVID, and many other areas. YEC is no longer on the forefront of the “culture war” debate but Coley is able to show how that argument in the latter part of the twentieth century led to the anti-science evangelical culture we have today.

 

Attached to YEC and also prominent in evangelical foundations is the concept of racial hierarchy. Again, Coley doesn’t focus as much on the current issues of evangelicalism’s problems with critical race theory, “wokeness,” antiracism, efforts to reform policing, or other such racial issues, but instead points to the past foundations to illuminate the present conflict. He thoroughly makes the case that evangelicalism was largely a defender of slavery and segregation. While its expression of racial hierarchy has changed over time—though even then we get John MacArthur saying there could be “biblical slavery” in modern times in 2012—the foundational root of white supremacy remains strong within most of evangelicalism.

 

Ministers of Propaganda uses all of this historical background to show how this has led evangelicalism into Christo-authoritarianism and explains evangelicalism’s bent toward antidemocratic politics. Coley spends a lot of time here on economic theory and, if I had to offer one criticism of the book, it’s that this section seems to meander a bit and not fully circle back around into his primary thesis. Don’t get me wrong, Coley is absolutely correct that, beginning with Reagan, evangelical economic policy has favored the rich, resulting in economic disparity and injustice we see today, but that explanation is long-winded and doesn’t firmly tie into the thesis of antidemocratic politics—though I see where Coley’s trying to take it. 

 

But Ministers of Propaganda does not leave us without hope. Coley concludes the book by saying “I am hopeful that once they see Christo-authoritarianism for the nihilistic, self-serving, and anti-Christian ideology that it is, a critical mass of younger evangelicals—many of whom have already begun the painful process of disentangling their faith from the politics of their parents’ generation—will have the courage to walk away from the religious right and never look back.” And that is, indeed, what I have seen as a pastor and public theologian who has also walked that walk away from the religious right. The question that remains is what we walk toward. Coley centers that answer on a “pursuit of justice over and against the pursuit of social arrangements that reinforce my own power and privilege.” And that is, indeed, the heart of the Gospel.