I don't know if you've heard, but April was kind of a busy month for pastors. So my normal daily reading routine (30 minutes of church reading, 30 minutes of comics, 30 minutes of a novel, plus bedtime reading with the kids) definitely fell by the wayside a lot of days. Nevertheless, here's what I was able to finish last month!
THE CROSS OF CHRIST by John Stott
Christians of all stripes are unanimous on this simple statement: Jesus Christ died on the cross for our sins. That's a fundamental truth of the faith, really the fundamental truth of the faith.
But what does it mean? Why did Jesus die, how does his death save us, and how does the manner and the meaning of his death affect the way we live in the world?
Those are the questions which pastor and theologian John Stott seeks to answer in The Cross of Christ, one of the 20th century's best-loved books about Christianity. In this theological masterpiece, Stott covers everything from the historical meaning of crucifixion to the various atonement theories to ethics, all with the erudition of a scholar but the tone and diction of a pastor. For all the heavy subject matter, this is a remarkably readable book, more akin to a sermon than a dusty tome.
I am grateful especially for this book's defense of the idea of substitutionary atonement, which has been taking a beating in moderate-to-liberal theological circles over the last few years. Those critics rightly point out that, taken to the extreme, the picture of the Son dying to appease the wrath of his Father paints God as a monstrous, abusive deity. But it's virtually impossible to read the epistles (especially Paul's) and deny that Jesus on the cross in some way stands in as a substitute for us. Stott's defense, largely on incarnational, Trinitarian lines (i.e. Christ's sacrifice is God's self-sacrifice) is effective and far more persuasive than the more hard-edged cases I've seen from Reformed types like Piper and Sproul, who sometimes seem more intent on defending Paul than proclaiming God's love.
The Cross of Christ, which I picked up as Lenten reading this year and finished shortly after Easter, is a book I'd gladly put in the hands of anyone wanting a primer on why the cross matters. Highly recommended.
THE SURVIVOR: BILL CLINTON IN THE WHITE HOUSE by John F. Harris
I am fascinated by Bill Clinton as a historical character. Some of that is nostalgia talking—he was the president for most of my childhood, which also happens to be the last time it felt like we knew what we were doing as a country. But more than that, I find him interesting because of how contradictory a person he is, almost to a literary degree. He was always, as was said so many times it became a cliché, 'a man whose gifts were matched only by his appetites.'
On the one hand, Clinton was universally regarded as a brilliant politician, as adept at the ins and outs of campaigning, fundraising, and and wooing legislators as he was at governing domestically and internationally. His mind was matched by both his work ethic—the Clinton White House was as known for all-nighters as a college library—and his love for the job. In so many ways, Bill Clinton seemed tailor-made to be President of the United States.
But the man just couldn't get out of his own way. His high-minded morality on issues of public policy was contrasted with a relativistic private character that was lawyerly at best, sleazy at worst. From the friends he kept to the sexual affairs he hid to the lies and half-truths he told (often in an attempt to wriggle out of scandal), you always felt there was something grimy under the surface of Bill Clinton, something he wasn't nearly careful enough to keep contained.
The result is a president and a presidency that feels, some 30 years later, small. The 1990s was a time of peace, in between the end of the Cold War and the catastrophe of 9/11. It was a period of prosperity, when Clinton and the Republican Congress he was saddled with managed to balance the budget and grow the economy. By all accounts, it was exactly what voters want from their president.
But instead of newspapers being filled with Clinton's accomplishments, they were dominated by his self-inflicted (and, yes, Ken Starr-exacerbated) wounds. For every legislative victory, there was a new lawsuit. For every international summit, there was another whisper about a woman. For every speech, there was a leak.
So The Survivor, a journalistic account of the Clinton presidency, winds up being a conventional reflection of its subject. At times it feels like a Doris Kearns Goodwin-esque treatment, the kind of historical work that stands the test of time. Other chapters feel like tabloid fodder, gossipy inside baseball all about who's up and who's down in Washington. It's well-reported and easy to read. It just feels like it should mean more.
We're still waiting to see how history will ultimately judge Bill Clinton, and this book, published in 2005, doesn't have the perspective to deliver that judgment. Will he be remembered for his gifts or his failings? After reading The Survivor, I can't help but wonder if the answer will be neither—if, in a true nightmare for a man who wanted above all things to be loved, we will eventually just forget about him.
GEORGE'S MARVELLOUS MEDICINE by Roald Dahl
ESSIO TROT by Roald Dahl
BILLY AND THE MINPINS by Roald Dahl
George's Marvelous Medicine tells the story of a boy who, tired of being mistreated by his wicked grandmother, whips up a concoction that mixes virtually every chemical in his house and gives it to her grandmother. The result? She grows as big as the house, prompting his father to demand that George make more medicines for profit, until that plan inevitably goes awry. It all makes for a silly little fable.
Esio Trot is probably the most obscure Dahl book we've read, and for good reason. It's a quirky little story of a lonely old man who woos his upstairs neighbor by caring for her beloved pet tortoise and lying about how he helped it grow. Dahl somehow makes the book's questionable moral—a little white lie will win you love—seem sweet. But yeah, this is definitely the kind of story Dahl wouldn't have been able to get published earlier in his career before he was a big name.
Finally comes Billy and the Minpins, a tale about a boy who discovers a whole society of miniature creatures living in the tree in his backyard. That intriguing premise doesn't really go far, but it's a charming enough story, most notable for being the last one Dahl published.
All three of these books are slim (less than 100 pages apiece) and forgettable entries in the Dahl oeuvre, necessary to knock out as we come to the end of our box set of his works. None were favorites of mine, but the kids enjoyed them all to varying degrees.
ESSENTIAL X-MEN VOL. 10 by Christ Claremont, Marc Silvestri, Jim Lee, et al.
Ok, story time.
If you've been reading these monthly logs for a while, you know that, from the late 1970s through the 1980s, the X-Men were written exclusively by Chris Claremont. Through highs and lows, his vision dictated the path the team took, for better and for worse. And since the title exploded in popularity over that time, Marvel editorial let him play in his sandbox without much supervision, content to cash the checks.
Then in the early 1990s, fissures started to form. For one thing, the X-verse had expanded far beyond the Uncanny X-Men title, with the additions of The New Mutants, X-Factor, and Excalibur, not all of which were written by Claremont. For another, Claremont's ideas, like breaking up the team and having them spend more than 5 years in a disassembled state, started to become unfeasible from a sales perspective. Finally, a new superstar artist, Jim Lee, came on board, armed with not only talent but ideas of his own.
So Essential X-Men Vol. 10, and especially the line-wide crossover event "X-tinction Agenda," marks the beginning of the end for Claremont, as Marvel editorial started dictating direction in a way they never had before. That story, which takes up nearly half this volume, sees the X-Men kidnapped by a former ally and taken to the mutant apartheid state of Genosha, where the intention is to enslave them. Entertaining but waaaaay too stretched out, it ends with the board reset, many of Claremont's loose ends having been tied up not by his storytelling but by editorial fiat.
Before that, there are highlights, primarily the introduction of Gambit, the charismatic Cajun thief who brings a refreshing devil-may-care attitude to the proceedings. And Jim Lee's art, whenever you get it for a full issue, is truly a sight to behold—you can see why fans were swooning over him in the 1990s.
Nevertheless, this period of X-history is marked primarily by behind-the-scenes machinations, not the stories on the page. The next and final Essential volume sees the peak of the X-Men's popularity, with the introduction of the bestselling, adjectiveless X-Men title...and Claremont's departure from the book and from Marvel after only 3 issues. Check back in next month to read all about it!
