Author: rtrube54

The Month in Reviews: March 2023

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Twenty books. That’s what you’ll find in this summary. Among the firsts for me were to review poetry of Luci Shaw, which is quite wonderful, and to read the first of Brian Jacques’ Redwall series (thanks for this Carmen Joy Imes!). There is an assortment of fiction from a lesser known Wallace Stegner to several interesting works from indie presses (btw, thanks, Bob Katz for sending me your book!). A history of the Uyghurs helped me to understand the cultural genocide going on among these people within the PRC. A historical fiction account of Iran-Contra raised the chilling reality that the crack cocaine epidemic in our country was used to fund our government’s efforts among the Contras, and that the agents of the cocaine trade enjoyed immunity from arrest while this was occurring. I’m a big fan of libraries and Librarians Tales was a fun read on the real life of librarians. Michael Stewart Robb’s study of the work of Dallas Willard made me want to go back and read some of the works of Willard I haven’t read (and maybe re-read the others). I’d also commend Ruth Haley Barton’s book on sabbath and sabbaticals. From children’s lit to fiction to theology, this was a month of rich fare.

The Old Testament Law for the Life of the Church, Richard E. Averbeck. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2022. A study of for what God intended the law in its original context, how it was fulfilled in Christ, and its continuing relevance for the church today. Review

The King of Easter (A FatCat Book), Nathasha Kennedy (Art), Todd R. Hains (Text). Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2023. The story of Easter, focusing on the risen Jesus who seeks and saves the lost. Review

Following Jesus in a Warming World, Kyle Meyaard-Schaap. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2023. By combining biblical and theological framing with personal narrative, offers hope and practical steps to those daunted by the immensity, and perceived hopelessness, of the realities of climate change. Review

Recapitulation, Wallace Stegner. New York:Vintage, 2015, originally published in 1979. When former ambassador Bruce Mason returns to Salt Lake City for the funeral of an aunt, long-forgotten memories of his youth come back to challenge how he has remembered this formative part of his life. Review

Lost in Thought, Zena Hitz. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2020. A defense of the love of learning for its own sake, for how it enriches our existence as human beings. Review

Hangdog Souls, Marc Joan. London: Deixis Press, 2022. A fugitive English soldier in southern India makes a Faustian bargain winning endless life at the cost of countless others over three centuries. Review

Enjoying the Bible, Matthew Mullins. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2021. Explores how learning to read literature helps us love the Bible rather than just reading it as a divine instruction manual. Review

A Christian Theology of Science, Paul Tyson. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2022. Rather than simply another treatment of the way science and religion ought relate, begins with creedal Christianity, develops a theology of science, and argues that Christians treat theology as their “first truth discourse.” Review

The War on the Uyghurs, Sean R. Roberts. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2020. An account of the People’s Republic of China’s suppression of the Uyghur minority within its borders, including its use of the U.S.-initiated Global War on Terror to pursue religious and political persecution, re-education, internment camps, and intermarriage to effect what the author calls “cultural genocide.“ Review

Third and Long, Bob Katz. Minneapolis: Trolley Car Press, 2010. When a drifter, once a Notre Dame football star, shows up in Longview, Ohio, he quickly becomes the town’s hope to save its major factory, lead its football team to victory, and maybe save the town. Review

Home is the Road, Diane Glancy. Minneapolis: Broadleaf Books, 2022. The traveling memoirs of a literature professor listening to the messages the land speaks and what within her answers these messages. Review

Embracing Rhythms of Work and Rest, Ruth Haley Barton, foreword by Ronald Rolheiser. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press/Formatio, 2022. Describes the journey to life-giving sabbath practices as well as planning for and taking sabbaticals. Review

Arm and Hammer, Jonathan K. Wade. Culver City, CA: Gambit Publishing, 2022. A historical fiction account or the Iran-Contra affair telling the story of US NSC and CIA complicity with drug cartels distributing cocaine in US cities to fund the Contra resistance to the Sandinista government of Nicaragua. Review

Angels Everywhere, Luci Shaw. Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press/Iron Pen, 2022. A collection of poems written during the first year of the pandemic, aware that even in light glancing through windows, we have intimations of “angels everywhere.” Review

The Kingdom Among Us, Michael Stewart Robb. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2022. A formulation of the theology of Dallas Willard, centering around his focus on the gospel of the kingdom, and three stages of understanding Jesus followers go through in their progressive apprehension of the realities of that kingdom. Review

Tell Her Story, Nijay K. Gupta, Foreword Beth Allison Barr. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2023. The often overlooked stories of women in the New Testament and how they led, taught, and ministered in the early church. Review

This Isn’t Going to End Well, Daniel Wallace. Chapel Hill: Algonquin Books, 2023. The story of William Nealy, as told by his brother-in-law, a cartoonist, guru of adventure sports, and emulated by the author, all the while harboring a secret within that finally killed him. Review

Thoughts on Public Prayer, Samuel Miller, foreword by Jonathan L. Master. Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth, 2022 (originally published in 1849). A classic discussion advocating for extemporaneous public prayer as the practice of the church in the first five centuries of its existence, how this is done badly and well, and how the pastor may pursue excellence in public prayer. Review

Librarian Tales, William Ottens. New York: Skyhorse Publishing, 2020. An entertaining account of the life of librarians, the different roles they fill and the usual and unusual problems they face. Review

Redwall (Redwall #1), Brian Jacques. New York: Ace Books, 1998 (originally published in 1986). The first in the Redwall Saga,where Matthias, the adopted mouse, dreams of being a warrior like Martin the Warrior, hero of the Redwall Abbey tapestry, a dream (and prophecy) he has the chance to fulfill when Cluny the rat and his forces attack Redwall Abbey. Review

Best Book of the Month: Once again a tough choice. I have to go with Paul Tyson’s A Christian Theology of Science. Tyson fills what I believe a needed gap in proposing, not a way of thinking about faith and science, but rather looking at a theology of science. He argues that our starting point ought be the creeds and theology as the “first truth discourse,” yet avoids the confrontational posture common to some faith-science books.

Quote of the Month: Zena Hitz book, Lost in Thought is a profound defense of the love of learning for its own sake and the joys of the intellectual life. She writes:

I have argued that intellectual life properly understood cultivates a space of retreat within a human being, a place where real reflection takes place. We step back from concerns of practical benefit, personal or public. We withdraw into small rooms, literal or internal. In the space of retreat we consider fundamental questions: what human happiness consists in, the origins and nature of the universe, whether human beings are part of nature, and whether and how a truly just community is possible. From the space of retreat emerges poetry, mathematics, and distilled wisdom articulated in words or manifested silently in action (p. 185).

What I’m Reading: I have three books awaiting review. Susan Hylen’s Finding Phoebe is a study of primary sources both biblical and contemporary to understand the life of women in the New Testament period, using a discussion approach allowing readers to draw their own conclusions. Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven explores what a world might be like where only one in 250 people survive a pandemic. Don’t read this, like I did, when you are about to get on a plane! Benjamin Gladd’s The Hope of Life After Death contends that we are much more able to draw the implications of the death of Christ than of the resurrection and seeks to fill that gap. Currently, I’m reading Endless Grace, prayers inspired by the Psalms–not paraphrases so much as original prayers on themes of each psalm, incorporating ideas from throughout scripture. I grew up watching “Uncle” Walter Cronkite every night and am enjoying Douglas Brinkley’s Cronkite–I’ve liked everything from this writer! Fresh Scent is another in the series of Ngaio Marsh detective stories. Non-Toxic Masculinity by Zach Wagner explores the impact of purity culture on both men and women and the toxic ideas about what it means to be male that were promoted and what a biblically informed non-toxic masculinity might look like. Finally, reaching way back, I’m reading a translation of Augustine’s On Christian Doctrine, edited by Timothy George. It helps me understand afresh what a formidable thinker Augustine was and why he has had such enduring influence.

Until next month, my reading friends!

The Month in Reviews is my monthly review summary going back to 2014! It’s a great way to browse what I’ve reviewed. The search box on this blog also works well if you are looking for a review of a particular book.

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown – The Passing Fad of Coueism

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Émile Coué

“Every day in every way I’m getting better and better”

If you were a fan of the Pink Panther movies, you will remember this line. In The Pink Panther Strikes Again, Commissioner Dreyfus is in an mental health hospital, having been driven crazy by his Inspector Clouseau. His “therapy” is to repeat the phrase on a regular basis, “Every day in every way I’m getting better and better.” Of course, it only works until Clouseau shows up.

Fifty-odd years earlier, people around Youngstown were repeating this very sentence as a result of a series of excerpts from the work of French psychologist Émile Coué. Beginning December 7, 1922, the Vindicator printed portions from his book, Self Mastery Through Auto-Suggestion. Each day in the Vindicator, short excerpts from his work would appear on the front page, like this one from December 9:

The basic idea was that positive thoughts could overcome whatever may ail you. People were encouraged to repeat to themselves “Every day in every way I’m getting better and better” twenty times or more. Coué believed that two selves existed in every person and that positive thoughts could overcome bad thoughts and that by auto-suggestion, a form of hypnosis, these positive thoughts could result in the healing of both physical and psychological maladies. Underlying this idea was the belief that ideas occupying the mind can become reality. He didn’t preach against medical treatments but believed his auto-suggestions could enhance other healing measures.

Title Page of Self Mastery from Internet Archive

It may be that the publication of these excerpts were timed to go along with Coué’s visit to the United States from France in early 1923. As far as I know, he never visited Youngstown. But for a time, his ideas took Youngstown and other parts of the nation by storm–and like a fast-moving storm front, they passed. A Boston Herald investigation six months after found that while most “healed” by the Coué method felt better initially, they relapsed into their previous ailments soon after. In addition, much of the medical established shunned him, if the could not openly oppose him.

While have heard of Coué today, his signature phrase has passed passed into the culture. The Wikipedia article on Coué lists twenty-one instances in literature and film where it is used between 1922 and 2012. One wouldn’t dream of seeing similar material in what is left of today’s paper, but little articles of “positive thought” were not uncommon on the editorial and other pages of the Vindicator in the 1920’s. It was a different time.

To read other posts in the Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown series, just click “On Youngstown.” Enjoy!

Review: Redwall

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Redwall (Redwall #1), Brian Jacques. New York: Ace Books, 1998 (originally published in 1986).

Summary: The first in the Redwall Saga,where Matthias, the adopted mouse, dreams of being a warrior like Martin the Warrior, hero of the Redwall Abbey tapestry, a dream (and prophecy) he has the chance to fulfill when Cluny the rat and his forces attack Redwall Abbey.

How did I miss this fantasy, and miss reading it aloud when our son was growing up? Only recently, when I kept seeing it turn up in the recommendations of online friends did I decide to pick up the first of the series of Redwall Sagas (twenty-two in all) by Brian Jacques, who passed in 2011. I found Redwall absolutely delightful and absorbing.

The story centers around a mouse adopted by Redwall Abby, Matthias, who has dreams of following in the footsteps of Martin the Warrior, founder and hero of the abbey, celebrated in a glorious tapestry. He’s mentored by Methuselah the gatekeeper, old Abbot Mortimer, and Constance the Badger, perhaps the fiercest fighter in Redwall. He’s rather impetuous for a novice monk but his true mettle shows when news comes of the approaching attack of Cluny the Rat, known as the Scourge for his poison-barb tail. Cluny has struck terror wherever he has gone, but the residents of Redwall, who quickly recognize Matthias leadership, refuse to surrender.

So it is war. Cluny is strangely troubled in his dreams of a mighty warrior like Martin, and even succeeds in stealing the Martin portion of the tapestry. But this just reveals a prophecy, that points to Matthias as Martin’s successor–if only he can find Martin’s armor and sword. The Sparras, living in the rooftops of the abbey are sworn enemies of the mice and clues point to their possession of Martin’s sword. Matthias ends up their prisoner, but in the end secures the shield and the friendship with the future queen of the Sparras and learns that the sword has fallen into the deadly grip of Asmodeus, a poisonous adder who has already claimed several victims. He sets off to Mossflower forest, seeking the counsel of a wise owl as to the whereabouts of Asmodeus, after making friendship with the voles of the forest.

I will leave you to find out whether he succeeds in his battle against Asmodeus, and whether he is able to save Redwall from the increasingly devious attacks of Cluny. But here is what I really liked about the story: the contrast between Cluny and his minions and the residents of Redwall. The former reminded me of the demons of the Screwtape Letters, in endless rivalries, seeking to enlarge themselves by devouring others, including one who even fancies taking Cluny’s place, leading to his demise. By contrast, it seems that the character of Redwall is that residents magnify each other, the wise old abbot and old Methuselah pouring themselves into Matthias, and all working with harmony, and even joy, amid their efforts to defend. The Sparras are reconciled to the Redwall mice, and the voles to the former arch-predator owl. Jacques is also skilled in description, enabling us to envision Redwall, the old Saint Ninian’s church, the Mossflower woods, as well as all of the principle characters.

From what I read, the plans for a Redwall movie from Netflix are on hold due to the company’s troubles. I’m not altogether disappointed with this. It gives me a chance to discover more books in the saga. I loved Jacques worldbuilding and story-telling, more accessible than Tolkien, though richly textured in its own way. Only twenty-one more to go! I only wish I’d had these books in those wonderful “read me a story” days (although Asmodeus might be a bit scary for a young child).

Review: Librarian Tales

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Librarian Tales, William Ottens. New York: Skyhorse Publishing, 2020.

Summary: An entertaining account of the life of librarians, the different roles they fill and the usual and unusual problems they face.

William Ottens has worked in just about every job in a library from aide to director of a small library (which by definition involved all of these roles at some point or another). He has also hosted a blog on Tumblr called Librarian Problems since 2012, the source and inspiration for this book.

Ottens begins the book describing his own path to becoming a librarian. It started with a high school book club (run by the librarian) and a fictional library caretaker, Forney Hull. He describes his experience of library school including his realization that everything important, he’d learned in a high school job making pizzas and serving ice cream at a gas station (although he also describes some great skills in strategic planning based on his library school training). He tells us about landing his first job as a reference assistant at the Lawrence Public Library in Kansas and the call from Oskaloosa that led to being hired as the 27 year-old director of a small town library.

He then walks through the basic departments of the library and the unique challenges of each. In Circulation it is fines and the strange things that often get returned with books. Reference librarians deal with patrons’ questions including a little girl checking out a book on farts asking if the librarian farted! The big affliction for part of every year is tax forms and information. Youth services has to think about reading hours, summer reading programs, and sustaining teen interest, including the story of a highly successful Halloween party. Tech support helps computer novices and all those trying to download books to devices, an ever-changing field, and vital for people with limited access to these resources. Collection services includes stories of books requested, and books pulled from the collection and some of the reasons for that as well as the difference a label can make.

The third part of the book describes his experience as a library director, how he began his time in this role learning from all the people he worked with, wearing many of their hats as the occasion required, leading strategic planning and budgeting processes and working with city leaders who held the purse strings, and finally dealing with building issues, including the possibility of the two parts of the building separating from one another.

The final part is “Librarian Rants and Raves.” Rant number one is that librarians don’t sit around and read all day. There are a number of technical tasks that occupy their days and reading is a private time enjoyment. A chapter is devoted on what not to say to a librarian and other pet peeves including “I’m a tax paying citizen” (so is the librarian). Librarians also don’t like patrons who snap their fingers from across the room to get their attention. At the same time, Ottens loves his work–the joy of research requests, of weeding out books, of helping transform lives and creating spaces to be. He gives the last word to three other librarians who he interviews.

I thought this book an engaging read that gave a good behind-the-scenes glimpse at the life of librarians, the joy they take in their profession and their high sense of calling. Before opining on your local library (at least critically) this might be a good book to read. It makes me all the more eager to say a big “Thank you” to the next librarian I engage with. If I were younger, it might have even inspired me to become a librarian.

Review: Thoughts on Public Prayer

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Thoughts on Public Prayer, Samuel Miller, foreword by Jonathan L. Master. Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth, 2022 (originally published in 1849).

Summary: A classic discussion advocating for extemporaneous public prayer as the practice of the church in the first five centuries of its existence, how this is done badly and well, and how the pastor may pursue excellence in public prayer.

Public prayer is the one other public utterance common in many churches besides the preaching of God’s Word in worship services. The latter involves a pastor leading the people to hear God’s Word for them together. The former involves the pastor leading the people in approaching God together, addressing God. Samuel Miller, in this reprint of a classic from 1849, argues that we tend to give far more attention to the preaching than to public prayer but that public prayer is equally of great importance.

He begins by addressing the history of public prayer, making the case that the earliest practice of the church was extemporaneous public prayer, surveying both the New Testament and texts from the early fathers. He treats prayers toward the east, for the dead, to saints, to Mary, in unknown tongues and responses to prayer as either later practices or not grounded in biblical doctrine. He does find warrants for various postures, particularly kneeling and standing–and not sitting!

He contends that the use of prescribed forms, defended from scripture is both a later introduction, and lacking basis. He believes prescribed prayers circumscribe the ministry of the Spirit and easily lapse into formalism and cannot possibly cover all the circumstances of human existence.

He enumerates some of the common faults in public prayer, including:

  1. Excessive use of favorite words, like “Oh God!” (or in our day “just”).
  2. Hesitations, embarrassment, stumbling, and pauses in utterance.
  3. Ungrammatical expressions.
  4. The lack of regularity and order–prayers that are a jumble.
  5. Excessive minuteness of detail.
  6. Excessive length–he suggests not more than 12-15 minutes, which would be excessive by today’s standards!
  7. Overuse of highly figurative language.
  8. Introducing party politics–a word needed in many pulpits today!
  9. Expressions of the amatory class (expressions that in other context may be used of a romantic lover).
  10. Wit, humor, or sarcasm.
  11. Using prayer for didactic purposes.

He goes on to enumerate seven more faults, but this gives you the idea.

He then turns to characteristics of good public prayer which:

  1. Abounds in the language of the word of God. We used to say that the best way to pray scripturally was to pray scripture.
  2. Is orderly, though free to vary the order.
  3. Is dignified, general in its plan, and comprehensive but not excessive in detail.
  4. Is not overly long
  5. Is seasonable and appropriate to the occasion.
  6. Is filled with gospel truth and refers to the spread of that gospel.
  7. Concludes with doxology.

He touches on fifteen points altogether that make for good public prayer and then concludes with how the minister cultivates excellence in public prayer, which for Miller begins with private prayer, reading works on prayer, saturating one’s life with scripture, being prepared to pray about any of the events that arise in life, and, while not “rehearsing prayers,” to engage in devotional composition of them, the counterpart to one’s study and preparation to preach.

As may be evident, Miller offers both practical ideas and an overarching theology and spirituality of public prayer. While this certainly needs to be adapted to our current forms of worship, there is much good here to heed. The contemporary reader will note a degree of anti-Roman Catholic polemic, that would not have been uncommon to reformed pastors of his time, mostly in the sections on history and liturgy. Those from liturgical traditions would no doubt have rejoinders to his critique of the use of forms, and as he acknowledges, extemporaneous public prayers may have their own problems, and even deteriorate into forms as well. A vital, Spirit-filled and scripture-informed life on the part of those who lead God’s people in worship is truly the decisive difference. For those of us in more extemporaneous prayer traditions, this book is a gold mine of good ideas, as relevant today as in 1849.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.

Review: This Isn’t Going to End Well

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This Isn’t Going to End Well, Daniel Wallace. Chapel Hill: Algonquin Books, 2023.

Summary: The story of William Nealy, as told by his brother-in-law, a cartoonist, guru of adventure sports, and emulated by the author, all the while harboring a secret within that finally killed him.

The First Time I saw him he was standing on the roof of our house, wearing frayed and faded cutoffs and nothing else, eyeing the swimming pool about twenty-five feet below. William. Last name unknown, unnecessary. Already–in my mind, at least–he had achieved the single name status of a rock star, and I had yet to even meet him. I’d only heard about him from Holly, my sister, who was older than me by six years. My sister’s boyfriend was on the roof.

This Isn’t Going to End Well, p. 3

William was William Nealy, the author’s brother-in-law. For years, Daniel Wallace would admire him. He could fix anything. He was fearless, whether diving off a roof, white waterrafting, kayaking, or mountain biking. He was also an underground cartoonist. Several of his books on whitewater rafting, kayaking, and mountain biking are legendary. His maps of rivers, cartoon-like, are incredibly detailed and accurate, and as we learn, how he began to make money on his art. He’d lived near death since age 9 when he saw it up close when twins he was on a scouting trip with were buried under an overhang. Some thought it changed him.

Wallace wanted to be him–cartoonist, writer. He was a kind of big brother. They’d go to movies, William sneaking in beer. He fixed Wallace’s waterbed. There were drugs as well. And Wallace did follow him as a writer, even though they grew apart after Wallace married.

And there was Holly. They saw others but William and Holly just kept coming back to each other. Then at twenty-one, Holly was diagnosed with a debilitating and progressive form of rheumatoid arthritis. William cared for her for the next twenty five years, making life possible for her while he did most of the work on their small farm, a retreat, really, in the woods. Then one day he went up to their houseboat, then into the woods behind the marina office, and shot himself. Several years later, Holly finally succumbed to the disease that had afflicted her all her adult life.

William’s death seemed inexplicable. He seemed the most alive person Wallace had ever known. He had everything going for him. Only after Holly’s death did Wallace discover the secret burden William carried for decades as he cleaned out there house and went through William’s journals, coming to terms with the mix of emotions around William’s life, manner of death, and their friendship.

Nealy was something of a cult figure. This work is an intimate glimpse into the man behind the cult figure. It also gives us a glimpse into the complicated feelings that follow suicide, and the reality that what we see on the outside may not reflect what the person we think we know struggles with within.

For anyone struggling with thoughts of suicide or who is concerned for someone or needs emotional support, the 9-8-8 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline is open 24/7. The call is free and confidential.

Or, text HOME to 741741 from anywhere in the United States, anytime. Crisis Text Line is here for any crisis. A live, trained Crisis Counselor receives the text and responds, all from a secure online platform.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher through LibraryThing’s Early Reviewers Program.

Review: Tell Her Story

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Tell Her Story, Nijay K. Gupta, Foreword Beth Allison Barr. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2023.

Summary: The often overlooked stories of women in the New Testament and how they led, taught, and ministered in the early church.

Not unlike the “hidden figures,” Black women engineers at NASA, Nijay Gupta contends that there are a number of women who played vital roles during the New Testament era but whose stories have been overlooked. They taught, led, and ministered in the church. For example, in Romans 16, ten of the twenty-six people commended by Paul are women. Gupta shares his own journey of moving from overlooking these stories to growing awareness and appreciation of them.

Before considering women in the early church, Gupta looks back. He begins with Deborah, a woman who led Israel during the time of the judges, perhaps the most exemplary of the lot. We know she has a husband because he is mentioned–once. He plays no part in Israel’s deliverance. She speaks prophetically, exhorting her military commander, Barak, and because of his reticence, prophesying that Sisera’s death would come at the hand of a woman.

Then Gupta turns to Genesis 1-3, portraying a unified species in two types with man needing a helper and woman helping (a word often used of God’s help). There are no roles of gender superiority or inferiority, but only role distortions in the fall. Following this, Gupta discusses the New Testament era. To be sure, patriarchy existed in the Roman world, but there were many women, often wealthy widows who exerted power, ran households and businesses, owned property under certain circumstances, and even rose to political office.

Likewise, women played a significant part in the ministry of Jesus, beginning with Mary, the mother of Jesus as caregiver, teacher, companion, disciple, mourner, and eventually church leader, mentioned in the Pentecost accounts. Women like Mary, Elizabeth, and Anna prepared the way for Jesus. Jesus, in turn, cared for women including the woman caught in adultery. He talked with and taught them. They ministered to him, supporting his itinerant ministry. These and others, including Mary Magdalene, may have been among the larger group of disciples, sent out at points to minister. Of course, Mary Magdalene is the first to give testimony to the risen Lord.

The second part of the book focuses on the early church. He begins with looking at the leadership of the early church and the language of overseer (episcopos), elder (presbyteros), and ministers or servants (diakonos). He notes women specifically designated as the latter and argues that women householders who headed house churches would have been considered episcopos and that no prohibition existed against women as elders and that Junia, also called an apostle, would certainly have fallen in this category. While most leaders would have been men, he notes there were a number of women who were exceptions. He discusses how women co-labored as ministry leaders with Paul.

Gupta then considers in consecutive chapters three of them: Phoebe, Prisca, and Junia. Phoebe is Paul’s trusted proxy in Rome, not only carrying the letter to the Romans but, as letter carriers did, reading and interpreting the intent of the letter. Prisca, almost always named first, is a strategic leader whose business enables her to set up house churches and to give instruction at crucial points, as with Apollos, correcting an incomplete message. Junia is also named apostolos. Gupta not only offers evidence that Junia was a female but holds her up as one so bold in testimony that she endured imprisonment.

The book concludes with a “what about?” section concerning the prohibition of women teaching in 1 Timothy 2:11-15 and the instructions to women to submit in the household code passages. Gupta concludes that the unusual language of the prohibition in 1 Timothy focuses on a special situation where a kind of “lockdown” was necessary that should not be universalized. He notes that the household codes were reflective of Greco-Roman rather than Hebrew culture, that for the church to contravene these would incite unnecessary opposition, and yet in how they are framed (for example, the preface to mutual submission), Paul gestures toward redeemed relationships reflecting mutual love, respect, and service rather than power/subservience defined relationships. We should no more universalize wifely submission than Paul’s instructions to slaves.

What distinguishes this work is that it clothes scholarship in storytelling. Gupta brings women like Phoebe, Prisca, and Junia to life, while offering biblical warrants for his account. This results in a highly readable work that serves as a good introduction to more technical studies of women in the Bible. It makes the case that while patriarchy, both in the New Testament and subsequent eras, meant that men dominated the narrative, women were not confined to being good housewives. Women did exercise significant influence both in Greco-Roman culture in many instances, and in spiritual leadership in the New Testament. They supported the work and were disciples of Jesus, and co-labored with Paul, who never speaks critically of, but only commends women by name.

This work is probably best-suited for the student of scripture with questions about women in the church but open to considering a biblically grounded argument for women leading along with men in the church. It is a book that will be a great encouragement to women. It really should be to all of us, particularly as we glimpse the courage of Junia, the missional heart of Prisca, and the confidence Paul places in Phoebe to interpret his most challenging letter.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Devil Strips

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© Robert C Trube, 2023

Not long after we moved into our current home in central Ohio, I asked a neighbor a question about putting trash onto our devil strip. When I received a quizzical look, I realized he was trying to figure out what I was talking about. So I said, “You know, the strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street. The devil strip.” He responded, “Oh, you mean the tree lawn.”

In that moment I realized two things. One was, “We’re not in Youngstown anymore.” The other was that what I assumed was a universal term for that strip of grass might be unique to the part of Ohio I grew up in.

A Harvard University blog devoted to regional English cites usages exclusively in northeast Ohio from Youngstown to Cleveland to Akron, stating that “[The term] is known throughout the Youngstown, Ohio, area.” The Urban Dictionary states that the devil strip refers to “The grassy area between the street and the sidewalk. This term is unique to the Akron, Ohio area.”

It’s not quite that simple, actually. References to the term have been found as early as 1883 in Cleveland, Ohio referring to the construction of a strip of land between street car lines going in the opposite direction, “known by the significant rather than elegant name of the devil’s strip.” The next earliest reference was in 1887 occurring in Toronto, Canada, describing the construction of devil’s strips:

“The sub-grade is carefully prepared, levelled, and rolled, if found necessary, for solidification.  The kerbs are placed in position, either being set in concrete or gravel.  The subsoil is drained by four-inch tile drains running parallel with the kerb in three rows, one under each kerb, and one under the devil’s strip, or centre of the roadway, the former making connections with the catch-water basins.

If electric car tracks are to be laid, the sub-grade must be excavated to twelve inches extra in the track allowance, this being then filled in with six inches of ballast and compacted.“

Even the Akron Beacon Journal acknowledges an 1890 article in its own paper referring to Cleveland:

“Mayor Gardner ordered Supt. Schmitt to stop all traffic on Woodland avenue street railroad from Wilson to East Madison for failure to obey State law which gave Cleveland [the] right to compel street railroads to pave a strip 16 feet wide. This meant all space between the tracks, the devil strip and two feet on the outside.”

The same article notes that at one time the term was widely used throughout Canada and in New York, Michigan, Pennsylvania, Indiana, Minnesota and Iowa. But northeast Ohio seems to be the only place where it stuck.

So, how did the term go from referring to the strip between street car lines and the strip between street and sidewalk? The Beacon Journal article cites an Athens Daily Messenger from 1912 with this editorial comment:

“There are no double track street car lines in Athens — yet. But the proverbial ‘Devil’s strip’ is here just the same. Did you ever note how often, between a well-kept lawn and its adjacent sidewalk and a well-paved street, you see a strip of unkempt stony and weed-grown ground? It mars the otherwise beautiful street, especially when a dead tree or two helps to add to the neglect of this ‘devil’s strip.’

This suggests why it was called a “devil’s strip.” The WordSense Dictionary definition of “devil strip” adds this insight:

devil + strip, from the area’s status as a no man’s land between private and public property, devil or devil’s in place names meaning “barren, unproductive and unused”.
Compare devil’s lane (“narrow area between two parallel fences”), devil’s footstep (“barren spot of land”).

Others have suggested that it is a strip of land that a property owner must maintain and pay taxes on but that the city can dig up or plant trees on. The “devil” in this case is the city or the tax collector. I can see how this explanation would appeal to a lot of Youngstowners.

So what else is the “devil strip” called? A Wikipedia article on “Road Verge” lists 46 terms and where they are used. Others used in Ohio include: berm, boulevard, curb lawn, park strip, street lawn, and the one we use where I now live, tree lawn.

Devil strips play an important role in separating pedestrians from vehicles. Curbs and trees provide at least some protection from vehicles straying from the road, and more separation of foot traffic from road traffic. It also puts one a bit further away from getting splashed by vehicles going through puddles in the rain. We have some areas lacking sidewalks and tree lawns and, sadly, I know of pedestrian-vehicle accidents along these areas.

As for bragging rights, I’d like to think that, like cookie tables, Youngstown was first. It just sounds like a term Youngstowners would think up. I’ve found no evidence for that, but I still like to think that it is a name that just fits Youngstown.

To read other posts in the Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown series, just click “On Youngstown.” Enjoy!

Review: The Kingdom Among Us

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The Kingdom Among Us, Michael Stewart Robb. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2022.

Summary: A formulation of the theology of Dallas Willard, centering around his focus on the gospel of the kingdom, and three stages of understanding Jesus followers go through in their progressive apprehension of the realities of that kingdom.

Dallas Willard is known by many for his book, The Spirit of the Disciplines. Even this book suggests a deeper substrate to Willard’s thought, as it pointed to the disciplines positioning us for life under God’s gracious and transforming rule. He develops that further in The Divine Conspiracy, where he introduces his ideas of the center of Jesus message being the gospel of the Kingdom of God.

Beyond his academic writing, Dallas Willard gave us these books plus several others, written thoughtfully for a wide audience. Over his life he spoke widely (I heard him on several occasions and even picked him up at an airport once) on a variety of topics, from venues as varied as Sunday school classes, to lecture series to Veritas Forums and plenary talks at national conferences. While his ideas called many into a deeper life of discipleship as apprentices to Jesus, he never took the time to formulate the substrate of his ideas, his theology, in a systematic sense.

That is what Michael Stewart Robb seeks to do in this work, centering around his message of the gospel of the kingdom, and around the progressive apprehension of those who listened and followed. To do this, Robb went beyond the published works of Willard to listen to hundreds of hours of recorded messages, gathering course materials and teaching notes from Sunday school classes. From this, he elaborates, more systematically than Willard himself, Willard’s theology undergirding his ideas of the gospel of the kingdom.

Robb sees Willard’s ideas of the kingdom both rooted in creation and moving toward a telos of a “community of loving, creative, intelligent, loyal, faithful, powerful human beings. And they are going to rule the earth.” While the kingdom precedes the coming of Jesus, his coming marks the “nearness” of the kingdom, its accessibility to those who follow and believe. The major part of the book traces the progressive apprehension of the gospel of the kingdom through three stages, progressing from what is known to greater understanding and a deeper apprehension of Jesus.

In the first stage, they encounter Jesus as a prophet announcing the presence of the kingdom and evidencing that in his person through a ministry of deliverance from demons, illness, and death. Those who trusted in Jesus experience deliverance in the form of regeneration into a new life.

In the second stage, they encounter Jesus as teacher, apprenticing themselves to him as disciples, learning in his bodily presence the abundant life of the kingdom, practicing what they see in him. Their faith in him is in the faith of Christ toward God.

The third stage then is the encounter with Jesus as king, as the Son of God, the Incarnate God. Here, disciples become the friends of Jesus and enjoy the access of friends to the king’s domain. They move from faith in Jesus to the faith of Jesus and ultimately to faith in God. They know the nearness of the kingdom as nearness to Jesus and God as friends.

This is a vast simplification, and probably oversimplification, of what Robb does in over 500 pages, addressing a number of theological and philosophical matters along the way–ontology, redemptive history, and soteriology. Robb incorporates his research into the extant papers, addresses, lecture notes and published works to “connect the dots” and explore the nuances of Willard’s thought. This can be quite involved in places, requiring close attention. The picture emerges of Willard as a profound but not simple teacher.

One of the matters I would like to see Robb address further is that, while this is a Christocentric account, it is not crucicentric. If I grasp this account correctly, we are saved by the whole life of Christ, in our encounter with and faith in him, into the life of the kingdom. If I am reading this accurately, this reflects something of a departure from evangelical distinctives, notably Bebbington’s Quadrilateral. This makes me want to read Willard more closely and to understand more of the place the cross occupies in Willard’s thought.

Robb has clearly made a formidable contribution to studies of a figure he calls “an odd duck.” Willard was a pastor-philosopher whose reading of theologians was focused not on contemporaries but on classic figures, from Augustine to Calvin to Finney. He was not part of the “theological guild” and something of a maverick. Hopefully Robb’s work will spark further study to mine the distinctive ideas that challenged so many of us during Willard’s life and even lead to the discovery of Willard’s work by a new generation.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.

Review: Angels Everywhere

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Angels Everywhere, Luci Shaw. Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press/Iron Pen, 2022.

Summary: A collection of poems written during the first year of the pandemic, aware that even in light glancing through windows, we have intimations of “angels everywhere.”

For years, I’ve encountered single poems of Luci Shaw in various publications, always appreciating them but never moving from that to acquire a collection of her poetry. Now I wonder why I waited. I’m glad Luci Shaw has remained with us to give us this collection of poems written during the first year of the pandemic, and in her ninety-third year. References to the pandemic do arise, the air thickened with suspicion and doubt, where “Stay away!” is the command of friendship in this strangely altered world. Conscious of it or not, we are marked by these times.

Yet this is not the focus of attention of these poems but rather the “angels everywhere” in fleeting glimmers of light, in “vagrant clouds glistening.” While watching, in “Prey,” a finch being watched by her cat, who sees it as prey of blood, bone, and feather” she marks her own ravenous longing for closeness with God, to be filled “with body and blood.”

She marks the changing seasons in her poems, paralleling the changing seasons of our lives. In “Leaving” she connects the losses of foliage to loss in one’s life, concluding, “I yearn to learn the discipline of seeing something treasured,/ watching it pass, then letting it go. Letting it go.”

There are other times when the external encourages the inward look. In “Moonrise,” the sliver of moon low in the sky causes her to ask”

And when I reflect back
just the bright half of me,
how will you guess
my shadow side?

The language is often luminous, as when she speaks, in “Santa Fe Evening” of watching “a mountain/swallow the sun like a peach –/a hammered copper disc so large, so close/I felt warmed, as if a mother’s hand/touched the skin of my face.” She is reminded of the providential regularity of sunrise amid the world’s turmoil giving hope that “we too will arise from our shadowed sleep.”

Some of her poems reflect on the writing process itself. In both “In the Beginning, A Word” and “Some Poems Seem” (on facing pages), she speaks of her love of words: “This, then, is how/it seems to work, and why I love the words/that come to mind and write them down/for you, telling the curious way we live/our lives and write them into books.”

She writes of people in her life who have passed, and a new grandchild. She describes a tomato garden, forest grasses, the things she sees on walks and drives, reminding me here of Mary Oliver, seeing the transcendent in the ordinary.

In one of the latter poems, “Shaker Chair,” she observes the shape of a Shaker chair “shaped for a leanness, a cleanness of body and spirit” concluding that it is “An invitation for Christ to come sit on it, or an angel, as Merton suggested.”

She urges reading these poems aloud, always good practice, and certainly with her work. She uses wonderful words like “plangent” and “frisson” as well as the phrasing just noted, “a leanness, a cleanness.”

Many of us lived circumscribed lives during the pandemic. Shaw writes in an introduction of how the ordinary may speak as one of “God’s messengers.” Cut off from many other things, did we heed the messages in the changing seasons, watching winter give way to spring, observing the phases of the moon, the response of parched summer lawns to a long soaking rain, the fleeting glory of autumn leaves? I didn’t need to leave my neighborhood to hear the messages these bore. Now, on my walks, perhaps I will be more aware, attuned to the “angels everywhere.”

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.