I really love the new release displays at the library. Actually, back up a second, I really love the library. (Usually. I don’t always love the librarians, but that’s another story.) Recently, I was browsing the display and came across Curious Faith by Logan Wolfram. I’ve really enjoyed this book, but I’ve had trouble describing it to friends and family. Let’s see if I can do better in written form.
The subtitle of the book caught me first: “Rediscovering hope in the God of possibility.” The cover also shows a lovely, abstract, foresty scene. Nature is one of my happy places. I love camping and walking and simply being outdoors. So before I even opened the book, it had three things going for it: curiosity, hope, and nature.
The foreword was another good sign. This quote stuck out at me as particularly relevant:
“We are in desperate need of hope. Everywhere we turn, there are heartache and anger and bitterness. The fact that we live in a twenty-four-four social media culture means there is always more critique and pain and wickedness to view. We are bombarded with the weight of the world and the brokenness of it all. … We are all so broken, and when hope dims, our souls dim.”-Sarah Mae
Considering the world we live in these days, I needed a dose of hope. So I checked it out and went home.
Jumping into this book was a little painful. Logan walks us through her painful struggles with infertility and miscarriage. In my current state of 7 months pregnant, I spent a good chunk the beginning of the book weeping. Hormones, man. But the overall message was speaking so clearly to me that I didn’t put it down, despite the tears.
Logan reminds us to trust and obey and wait and wonder. She mixes her experiences with Scripture passages and quotes from theologians in a very readable way. Although nothing in this book struck me as new and earth-shattering, it was all what I needed to be reminded of during this season.
The book ends with a reminder that living life is never safe. We have never been promised safety, but we can be assured of goodness. And then she quotes Narnia:
“Is [Aslan] a man?” asked Lucy.
“Aslan a man!” said Mr. Beaver sternly. “Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion.”
“Ooh!” said Susan. “I’d thought he was a man. Is he—quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”
“That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver; “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”
“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about being safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
And let’s be honest, that’s what really matters.
