Saturday, January 24, 2009

The 1st Most Life Changing Book of 2008 is...



The 1st Most Life Changing Book of 2008 is...
The Shack
by William P. Young









Controversy. This book has certainly caused plenty of it. Just go look at the reviews on amazon.com and see what I mean - almost 2400 reviews have been done on this book - and while around 360 only gave it one star - over 1600 gave it 5 stars. And I find most of the people that don't like this book tend to be filled with the spirit of religion and they couldn't see fresh insight and wisdom if it punched them in the face. *grin*

For me personally, this book was an eye-opener to things deeper spiritually. I was raised in a Christian home and accepted Jesus when I was 8. I have never gone into a deep backslide, things haven't always been perfect, but I've never strayed from God. But I think there are some basic truths in the Bible that we as people tend to overlook, or maybe its just that we can't grasp it in our human minds - but these are some of the things that made this book so amazing to me...

1) Jesus is pictured as a man who desires to be our friend and confidante. Plain and simple. How many of us actually talk to Jesus like we would talk to our best friend over a coke? The Shack illustrates that.

2) The Holy Spirit is visualized beautifully as moving and vibrant with colors, changing and shifting and like a hummingbird - impossible to catch but all around. There are conversations that will open your eyes to who the Holy Spirit really is.

3) Probably the biggest controversy is over how God is portrayed and I think that is tragic. We try and put God in a box (a very small box) and in this book God breaks out of that box - and it really showed me that we don't allow ourselves to see all aspects of God - CS Lewis portrays Jesus as Aslan the lion, God created man, woman and all animals - why do we limit him to a man?

Forgiveness, Grace, Peace, Love and many other issues are dealt with in ways that will blow your mind. The beauty of this book is that it is fiction - FICTION people! There is a story, plot and characters to drive the spiritual wisdom and insight in it. Too many critics have tried to discredit this book as having false teachings and theology - to them I say this :

It is a fictional work - not the word of God and William P. Young has never claimed otherwise!

I am proud to say that you can win a copy of this book by leaving a comment on this post (with your email) telling me what intrigues you most about this book! If you already have a copy but would like to win one for a friend - by all means go ahead and enter - and good luck!

****Be warned - this book is a two read book - you read it once to get the storyline and mystery figured out and glimpse some of the wisdom available - you read it a second time to soak up the insight and underline a lot! ****


I am very pleased that I was able to get this interview with Mr. Young and it came back to me just in time (yesterday :-) so sit back and see insight into the man who wrote the book that stirred a nation - let's meet William P. Young...


1) Sometimes people think of authors as being bigger than life and not "real", so I thought we would start off with a very important question, one that will show people just how real you are! "What dessert can you not resist when it is time to indulge?"

I actually can resist most desserts. I do like fresh mango or papaya, or a really good bran muffin (weird eh?), good just baked apple pie or strawberry-rhubarb. A bowl of vanilla ice cream will usually do the trick too.

2) Mr. Young, you have managed to singlehandedly write the most amazing and controversial book I've heard of since the Bible. Did you ever dream that this book would stir so many passionate feelings in people?

Not at all...I wrote a story at Kim's (my wife) encouragement and wanted to get it done by Christmas 2005, nothing more and nothing less. So I perceive this as totally a 'God-thing' and therefore take no credit for its positive impact (which I am grateful to be a part of) nor for the controversy it has stirred (which I think is also essentially positive in that it has helped to raise a conversation in the culture). I see Papa's interference in all of this. :)

3) I think one of the main issues that people have with The Shack is that they have trouble discerning fact from fiction. (It clearly states fiction on the back of the book) There is an amazing storyline running through the book with Mack and his daughter Missy that has a touch of mystery to it that keeps people frantically turning pages until the end. So my question is... is there any truth to that storyline or is it completely fictional?

I like to tell people that it is a true story, just not real...like a parable. I wrote it for my children (6 kids ages 15-28), so it has a lot of me and my history in it, but it is fundamentally fiction - I never lost my own child to an abductor, although we had a 6 month period in which Kim's mom died suddenly at age 59, my 18 year old brother Stephen was killed, and my niece Jennifer was killed the day after her 5th birthday. We know the pain of loss. The story is actually deeper than that, a metaphor for my own person history. As a writer from Nashville wrote in an email, "Paul, I don't know much about your own personal history, but my sense is that Missy represents something that was murdered in you as a child, and Mackenzie is you as an adult coming to terms with it." She is spot on!

4) I call this book a "two time book". In other words you really have to read it two times, once to follow the storyline and dip into the waters of spiritual insight in it and then a second time to underline, journal and soak in the deep pools of wisdom between the covers. There aren't a lot of books that fall into this category, but there are a few - tell us how you came to write this book - what was your inspiration?

That is a very kind description...thank you! The book is quite layered, so much so that in the beginnings the publisher/editors ask me to consider breaking the story into 3 books. I said no, wanting a 'big picture' book, the box top of the puzzle as it were, that would allow my children to see how their puzzle pieces of faith fit into the larger landscape of life in relationship with Father, Son and Holy Spirit. I wanted to ask many of the questions that I was not allowed to ask as a religious child, questions considered rebellious, unrighteous or sacrilegious. I chose the deepest pain because it asks the best questions.

5) I have read a few different books this year that have led me to believe that God is really trying to break out the box that we have imposed upon him. In The Shack you busted that box wide open with your portrayals of the Trinity. I tell people to keep an open mind when God enters the book, but I try not to spoil it for them - did you think that how God is portrayed would be such a big deal?

You must always keep in mind that I am writing this for my own family and a small group of friends, all who love me. So I was free to use whatever images I wanted. Little did I know. Some of the response is quite predictable, some is surprising, but the overwhelming response has been very positive and transformational. How cool is that!

6) My mother-in-law is in a Bible Study Group for The Shack right now. I have a close friend that just read the book this week and can't stop talking about it. I am still surprised by how many people (my husband included) haven't read The Shack yet. Some people view the controversy as a bad thing, but I am of the mind that important things can ignite passion in people be it for or against. The Shack has definitely done that. Will we see any other books from you in the future?

If I am alive and God wills. I have begun working on a book that tells the back story; what is the pain, the process reflected in the book...sort of, "Accidental Author's Journey to the Shack" - narrative auto-biography. Kim's encouragement again and I am glad to move in that direction. Also have some fiction perculating, but not a sequel...would rather leave well enough alone. Ultimately, I want to be involved with things that God is blessing and not spend my time trying to find things and convince Him they are worth his support.

7) Where can readers find you online?

www.WindRumors.com




ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Wm. Paul Young was born a Canadian and raised among a Stone Age tribe by his missionary parents in the highlands of former New Guinea. He suffered great loss as a child and young adult and now enjoys the "wastefulness of grace" with his family in the Pacific Northwest.

Visit the author's website.




AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


A Confluence of Paths

Two roads diverged in the middle of my life,
I heard a wise man say
I took the road less traveled by
And that's made the difference every night and every day

—Larry Norman (with apologies to Robert Frost)

March unleashed a torrent of rainfall after an abnormally dry winter. A cold front out of Canada then descended and was held in place by a swirling wind that roared down the Gorge from eastern Oregon. Although spring was surely just around the corner, the god of winter was not about to relinquish its hard-won dominion without a tussle. There was a blanket of new snow in the Cascades, and rain was now freezing on impact with the frigid ground outside the house; enough reason for Mack to snuggle up with a book and a hot cider and wrap up in the warmth of a crackling fire.

But instead, he spent the better part of the morning telecommuting into his downtown desktop. Sitting comfortably in his home office wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt, he made his sales calls, mostly to the East Coast. He paused frequently, listening to the sound of crystalline rain tinging off his window and watching the slow but steady accumulation of frozen ice thickening on everything outside. He was becoming inexorably trapped as an ice—prisoner in his own home—much to his delight.

There is something joyful about storms that interrupt routine. Snow or freezing rain suddenly releases you from expectations, performance demands, and the tyranny of appointments and schedules. And unlike illness, it is largely a corporate rather than individual experience. One can almost hear a unified sigh rise from the nearby city and surrounding countryside where Nature has intervened to give respite to the weary humans slogging it out within her purview. All those affected this way are united by a mutual excuse, and the heart is suddenly and unexpectedly a little giddy. There will be no apologies needed for not showing up to some commitment or other. Everyone understands and shares in this singular justification, and the sudden alleviation of the pressure to produce makes the heart merry.

Of course, it is also true that storms interrupt business and, while a few companies make a bit extra, some companies lose money—meaning there are those who find no joy when everything shuts down temporarily. But they can't blame anyone for their loss of production, or for not being able to make it to the office. Even if it's hardly more than a day or two, somehow each person feels like the master of his or her own world, simply because those little droplets of water freeze as they hit the ground.

Even commonplace activities become extraordinary. Routine choices become adventures and are often experienced with a sense of heightened clarity. Late in the afternoon, Mack bundled up and headed outdoors to struggle the hundred or so yards down the long driveway to the mailbox. The ice had magically turned this simple everyday task into a foray against the elements: the raising of his fist in opposition to the brute power of nature and, in an act of defiance, laughing in its face. The fact that no one would notice or care mattered little to him—just the thought made him smile inside.

The icy rain pellets stung his cheeks and hands as he carefully worked his way up and down the slight undulations of the driveway; he looked, he supposed, like a drunken sailor gingerly heading toward the next watering hole. When you face the force of an ice storm, you don't exactly walk boldly forward in a show of unbridled confidence. Bluster will get you battered. Mack had to get up off his knees twice before he was finally hugging the mailbox like some long-lost friend.

He paused to take in the beauty of a world engulfed in crystal. Everything reflected light and contributed to the heightened brilliance of the late afternoon. The trees in the neighbor's field had all donned translucent mantles and each now stood unique but unified in their presentation. It was a glorious world and for a brief moment its blazing splendor almost lifted, even if only for a few seconds, The Great Sadness from Mack's shoulders.

It took almost a minute to knock off the ice that had already sealed shut the door of the mailbox. The reward for his efforts was a single envelope with only his first name typewritten on the outside; no stamp, no postmark, and no return address. Curious, he tore the end off the envelope, which was no easy task with fingers beginning to stiffen from the cold. Turning his back to the breath-snatching wind, he finally coaxed the single small rectangle of unfolded paper out of its nest. The typewritten message simply said:

Mackenzie,
It's been a while. I've missed you.
I'll be at the shack next weekend if you
want to get together.
-Papa

Mack stiffened as a wave of nausea rolled over him and then just as quickly mutated into anger. He purposely thought about the shack as little as possible and even when he did his thoughts were neither kind nor good. If this was someone's idea of a bad joke they had truly outdone themselves. And to sign it "Papa" just made it all the more horrifying.

"Idiot," he grunted, thinking about Tony the mailman; an overly friendly Italian with a big heart but little tact. Why would he even deliver such a ridiculous envelope? It wasn't even stamped. Mack angrily stuffed the envelope and note into his coat pocket and turned to start the slide back in the general direction of the house. Buffeting gusts of wind, which had initially slowed him, now shortened the time it took to traverse the mini glacier that was thickening beneath his feet.

He was doing just fine, thank you, until he reached that place in the driveway that sloped a little downward and to the left. Without any effort or intention he began to build up speed, sliding on shoes with soles that had about as much traction as a duck landing on a frozen pond. Arms flailing wildly in hopes of somehow maintaining the potential for balance, Mack found himself careening directly toward the only tree of any substantial size bordering the driveway—the one whose lower limbs he had hacked off only a few short months before. Now it stood eager to embrace him, half naked and seemingly anxious for a little retribution. In a fraction of a thought he chose the chicken's way out and tried to plop himself down by allowing his feet to slip out from under him—which is what they had naturally wanted to do anyway. Better to have a sore butt than pick slivers out of his face.

But the adrenaline rush caused him to over compensate, and in slow motion Mack watched his feet rise up in front of him as if jerked up by some jungle trap. He hit hard, back of the head first, and skidded to a heap at the base of the shimmering tree, which seemed to stand over him with a smug look mixed with disgust and not a little disappointment.

The world went momentarily black, or so it seemed. He lay there dazed and staring up into the sky, squinting as the icy precipitation rapidly cooled his flushed face. For a fleeting pause, everything felt oddly warm and peaceful, his ire momentarily knocked out by the impact. "Now, who's the idiot?" he muttered to himself, hoping that no one had been watching.

Cold was creeping quickly through his coat and sweater and Mack knew the ice rain that was both melting and freezing beneath him would soon become a major discomfort. Groaning and feeling like a much older man, he rolled onto his hands and knees. It was then that he saw the bright red skid mark tracing his journey from point of impact to final destination. As if birthed by the sudden awareness of his injury, a dull pounding began crawling up the back of his head. Instinctively, he reached for the source of the drum beat and brought his hand away bloody.

With rough ice and sharp gravel gouging his hands and knees, Mack half crawled and half slid until he eventually made it to a level part of the driveway. With not a little effort he was finally able to stand and gingerly inch his way toward the house, humbled by the powers of ice and gravity.

Once inside, Mack methodically shed the layers of outerwear as best he could, his half-frozen fingers responding with about as much dexterity as oversized clubs at the ends of his arms. He decided to leave the drizzly bloodstained mess right where he doffed it in the entryway and retreated painfully to the bathroom to examine his wounds. There was no question that the icy driveway had won. The gash on the back of his head was oozing around a few small pebbles still embedded in his scalp. As he had feared, a significant lump had already formed, emerging like a humpbacked whale breaching the wild waves of his thinning hair.

Mack found it a difficult chore to patch himself up by trying to see the back of his head using a small hand-held mirror that reflected a reverse image off the bathroom mirror. A short frustration later he gave up, unable to get his hands to go in the right directions and unsure which of the two mirrors was lying to him. By gingerly probing around the soggy gash he succeeded in picking out the biggest pieces of debris, until it hurt too much to continue. Grabbing some first-aid ointment and plugging the wound as best he could, he then tied a washcloth to the back of his head with some gauze he found in a bathroom drawer. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he thought he looked a little like some rough sailor out of Moby Dick. It made him laugh, then wince.

He would have to wait until Nan made it home before he would get any real medical attention; one of the many benefits of being married to a registered nurse. Anyway, he knew that the worse it looked the more sympathy he would get. There is often some compensation in every trial, if one looked hard enough. He swallowed a couple over-the-counter painkillers to dull the throbbing and limped toward the front entry.

Not for an instant had Mack forgotten about the note. Rummaging through the pile of wet and bloody clothing he finally found it in his coat pocket, glanced at it and then headed back into his office. He located the post office number and dialed it. As expected, Annie, the matronly postmaster and keeper of everyone's secrets, answered the phone. "Hi, is Tony in by chance?"

"Hey, Mack, is that you? Recognized your voice." Of course she did. "Sorry, but Tony ain't back yet. In fact I just talked to him on the radio and he's only made it halfway up Wildcat, not even to your place yet. Do ya need me to have him call ya, or would ya just like to leave a message?"

"Oh, hi. Is that you, Annie?" He couldn't resist, even though her Midwestern accent left no doubt. "Sorry, I was busy for a second there. Didn't hear a word you said."

She laughed. "Now Mack, I know you heard every word. Don't you be goin' and tryin' to kid a kidder. I wasn't born yesterday, ya know. Whaddya want me to tell him if he makes it back alive?"

"Actually, you already answered my question."

There was a pause at the other end. "Actually, I don't remember you askin' a question. What's wrong with you, Mack? Still smoking too much dope or do you just do that on Sunday mornings to make it through the church service?" At this she started to laugh, as if caught off guard by the brilliance of her own sense of humor.

"Now Annie, you know I don't smoke dope—never did, and don't ever want to." Of course Annie knew no such thing, but Mack was taking no chances on how she might remember the conversation in a day or two. Wouldn't be the first time that her sense of humor morphed into a good story that soon became "fact." He could see his name being added to the church prayer chain. "It's okay, I'll just catch Tony some other time, no big deal."

"Okay then, just stay indoors where it's safe. Don't ya know, an old guy like you coulda lost his sense of balance over the years. Wouldn't wanna see ya slip and hurt your pride. Way things are shapin' up, Tony might not make it up to your place at all. We can do snow, sleet, and darkness of night pretty well, but this frozen rain stuff. It's a challenge to be sure."

"Thanks, Annie. I'll try and remember your advice. Talk to you later. Bye now." His head was pounding more than ever; little trip hammers beating to the rhythm of his heart. "That's odd," he thought, "who would dare put something like that in our mailbox?" The painkillers had not yet fully kicked in, but were present enough to dull the edge of worry that he was starting to feel, and he was suddenly very tired. Laying his head down on the desk, he thought he had just dropped off to sleep when the phone startled him awake.

"Uh . . . hello?"

"Hi, love. You sound like you've been asleep." It was Nan, sounding unusually cheery, even though he felt he could hear the underlying sadness that lurked just beneath the surface of every conversation. She loved this kind of weather as much as he usually did. He switched on the desk lamp and glanced at the clock, surprised that he had been out for a couple hours.

"Uh, sorry. I guess I dozed off for a bit."

"Well, you sound a little groggy. Is everything all right?"

"Yup." Even though it was almost dark outside, Mack could see that the storm had not let up. It had even deposited low, and he knew some would eventually break from the weight, especially if the wind kicked up. "I had a little tussle with the driveway when I got the mail, but other than that, everything is fine. Where are you?"

"I'm still at Arlene's, and I think me and the kids'll spend the night here. It's always good for Kate to be around the family . . . seems to restore a little balance." Arlene was Nan's sister who lived across the river in Washington. "Anyway, it's really too slick to go out. Hopefully it'll break up by morning. I wish I had made it home before it got so bad, but oh well." She paused. "How's it up at the house?"

"Well, it's absolutely stunningly beautiful, and a whole lot safer to look at than walk in, trust me. I, for sure, don't want you to try and get up here in this mess. Nothing's moving. I don't even think Tony was able to bring us the mail."

"I thought you already got the mail?" she queried.

"Nope, I didn't actually get the mail. I thought Tony had already come and I went out to get it. There," he hesitated, looking down at the note that lay on the desk where he had placed it, "wasn't any mail yet. I called Annie and she said Tony probably wouldn't be able to make it up the hill, and I'm not going out there again to see if he did.

"Anyway," he quickly changed the subject to avoid more questions, "how is Kate doing over there?"

There was a pause and then a long sigh. When Nan spoke her voice was hushed to a whisper and he could tell she was covering her mouth on the other end. "Mack, I wish I knew. She is just like talking to a rock, and no matter what I do I can't get through. When we're around family she seems to come out of her shell some, but then she disappears again. I just don't know what to do. I've been praying and praying that Papa would help us find a way to reach her, but . . ." she paused again, "it feels like he isn't listening."

There it was. Papa was Nan's favorite name for God and it expressed her delight in the intimate friendship she had with him.

"Honey, I'm sure God knows what he's doing. It will all work out." The words brought him no comfort but he hoped they might ease the worry he could hear in her voice.

"I know," she sighed. "I just wish he'd hurry up."

"Me too," was all Mack could think to say. "Well, you and the kids stay put and stay safe, and tell Arlene and Jimmy hi, and thank them for me. Hopefully I will see you tomorrow."

"Okay, love. I should go and help the others. Everyone's busy looking for candles in case the power goes out. You should probably do the same. There's some above the sink in the basement, and there's leftover stuffed bread dough in the fridge that you can heat up. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, my pride is hurt more than anything."

"Well take it easy, and hopefully we'll see you in the morning."

"All right honey. Be safe and call me if you need anything. Bye."

It was kind of a dumb thing to say, he thought as he hung up the phone. Kind of a manly dumb thing, as if he could help if they needed anything.

Mack sat and stared at the note. It was confusing and painful trying to sort out the swirling cacophony of disturbing emotions and dark images clouding his mind—a million thoughts traveling a million miles an hour. Finally, he gave up, folded the note, slid it into a small tin box he kept on the desk, and switched off the light.

Mack managed to find something to heat up in the microwave, then he grabbed a couple of blankets and pillows and headed for the living room. A quick glance at the clock told him that Bill Moyer's show had just started; a favorite program that he tried never to miss. Moyer was one of a handful of people whom Mack would love to meet; a brilliant and outspoken man, able to express intense compassion for both people and truth with unusual clarity. One of the stories tonight had something to do with oilman Boone Pickens, who was now starting to drill for water, of all things.

Almost without thinking, and without taking his eyes off the television, Mack reached over to the end table, picked up a photo frame holding a picture of a little girl, and clutched it to his chest. With the other hand he pulled the blankets up under his chin and hunkered deeper into the sofa.

Soon the sounds of gentle snoring filled the air as the media tube turned its attention to a piece on a high school senior in Zimbabwe, who had been beaten for speaking out against his government. But Mack had already left the room to wrestle with his dreams; maybe tonight there would be no nightmares, only visions, perhaps, of ice and trees and gravity.


Copyright © 2007 by William P. Young
*********************************************
I love this book so much that I am going to give away a copy of "The Shack" from my own collection since I have two and some of you don't have one. Be prepared though... after reading it you will probably want to share it with friends - So you know the rules...
1) Leave a comment telling me why you are interested in this book along with your email address and you get 1 entry

2) Blog about this giveaway yourself and leave another comment here and get 2 entries

3) Tell someone else about this interview with Mr. Young and when they leave a comment with your name in it you will receive 3 entries

4) Become a blog follower (on the left of my blog you can do that) and receive 1 extra entry

27 comments:

MJ said...

After reading the 1st chapter, I gotta read the rest!!!

MJ said...

I am a follower.

Susan Stitch said...

Another book on my 'to read' list that has just moved to the top. I'm really intrigued by the authors comment 'the wastefulness of grace' in his bio. I have to really chew on that one for a while!

I'm on a journey to break away the box (sometimes bulletproof) that I have tried to keep God in, and I believe this book will blow away at least one wall!

Thanks again for your annual awards! It's fun to see that I've read many of the books on your list this year and I wholeheartedly agree.
Susan
likes_to_stamp@sbcglobal.net

Cheryl (Lucky Ladybug) said...

I'm interested in reading this book because I haven't - and it sounds so controversial and well-written :) *Thanks* for the giveaway!

lucky[dot]ladybug[at]verizon[dot]net

Cheryl (Lucky Ladybug) said...

I blogged about the giveaway :
http://luckyladybug.wordpress.com/bloggy-giveaways/
lucky[dot]ladybug[at]verizon[dot]net

Cheryl (Lucky Ladybug) said...

I'm following you on Blogger :)
lucky[dot]ladybug[at]verizon[dot]net

AmandaSue said...

I already had this book on my "shopping list" as I've heard wonderful things about it! But after reading the first chapter now I'm definatly hooked! Thanks for entering me!

AmandaSue said...

I'm a follower, thanks!

Erika Lynn said...

the first chapter is captivating. Thanks for the giveaway.
sports[dot]erikalynn[at]gmail[dot]com

Stacie said...

I have read this book and would love to win a copy to give to my sister. I totally agree with you about it being a two read book! There's so much to grasp that it feels almost impossible to do it on the first pass. Thanks for the great review.

Stacie said...

I'm a follower.

Vicki said...

I'm just beginning my walk to be closer to God after back sliding a few years ago. I haven't heard of this book before, but am intrigued and would love to read it.

lelou2@ymail.com

Vicki said...

I've blogged about this giveaway on
My Blog

Vicki said...

I'm now following you.

kalea_kane said...

Hey there! I don't want to win it (I have it and it is great!). I just wanted to say that I truly loved your insights into this book! Have a great day!!!!

Kelly :)

rebornbutterfly said...

I have read this book twice, but i'd love to have my own copy!

bigguysmama said...

Loved your review. Haven't read it, but have my own copy. And you're right, it's FICTION people. Reviews I've read on Shelfari make it sound like it's a non-fiction book! People are passionate about their views, that's for sure!

Blessings,
Mimi B

Carol said...

I've heard about this book and I would love to read it. I'm open to all points of view and I like that there is some mystery.
Carol M
mittens0831 AT aol.com

Carol said...

I'm a follower.
Carol m
mittens0831 AT aol.com

andrew said...

a lot of people really liked this book. i thought it was pretty good also. not great, but good. sold well, though, didnt it?

Gin said...

I first heard about this book on the radio show "Haven Today" and have been curious about it ever since.

Le15307@msn.com

hippmom said...

I was pretty sure this book would make to the top of your list because it would most certainly be at the top of mine. I have yet to read it a 2nd time. I found the first time overwhelming. But I will read it again. I really enjoyed reading this interview, Janna. I am so glad you were able to get it.

hoffmangirls said...

I loved this book! I have always considered myself a "christian", though I have had strayed and I think this book just gave me a whole new love and understanding! I did not even know this book exsisted until one day a few weeks ago at church one of our members was mentioning it. I was intrigued, and I love to read so I asked around. I had made mention of it to some of my friends and then found that Lincoln County Mommies (a mommies forum I am a part of) had been raving about it. I began to ask around and found that one of the ladies on the forum just happened to have a copy I could borrow and read, then I realized this girl is a new member of the church I attend! Now if that is not God working.... Anyway, I got the book and WOW! Amazing!! I loved this book! I loved being able to see God in that light and Jesus and the Holy Spirit... it is a book I will not soon forget and I would love to have my own copy. I think my oldest daughter would love to read this and I think it would help solidify her walk with Christ just as it has mine! Thanks for letting me share!

Sunny said...

Don't enter me, I just wanted to say that I whole-heartedly agree with your review. A very life changing book! I also loved the interview! Thanks so much for sharing!!

Jolene said...

I'm one of those who have read the book twice and given away numerous copies. enter me so I can give away another copy!!

Loved the interview and the video

Jolene

stampedwithgrace said...

my book discussion group is reading this for our April discussion. I can hardly wait and would lov eto have my own copy :)

Janna said...

I got a 2nd copy right before the drawing so there are 2 lucky winners~

MJ

&

Gin

Congratulations!