"Shadow of the Almighty"

So, I've been inspired by my friend Allison to read more books! I'm not quite as ambitious as she is (365 books in a year!) but I will strive for something. And as I do, to put down my thoughts concerning these books, because some of them are just amazing! And some not so amazing...so I will tell you what I think. And just maybe you will be inspired to read them too! So here's my first book review. And feel free to comment if you've any thoughts about it as well.

A Review of:
Shadow of the Almighty
the Life and Testament of Jim Elliot
by Elisabeth Elliot

You know those books that are so bent, dog-eared and scribbled with ink that it's rather difficult to tell what book it was in the first place? Well this book, for me, is one of them! Seriously, it was amazing. One of those books that, as I read, I longed to absorb every bit of it. I have gone back to its ink-stained pages so many times since putting it down that I can’t really say I’ve “put it down” at all, it’s been with me almost constantly ever since!

But what draws me to it so? What brings me back to its pages so many times, eagerly sharing bits of it with others as I do?

Is it the writing style? Not really. The content is almost entirely taken from the letters and journals of Jim Elliot, with only a bit of commentary by Elisabeth Elliot. It hasn’t been edited, certainly wasn’t intended for publication when it was written, and consequently isn't the most thrilling read. It’s simply his life, plainly told midst thoughtful ramblings of ideals, dreams, longings. fears and everyday life.

And yet his wasn’t really even a fantastic life, either. For a long time I had only known of Jim Elliot by means of Elisabeth’s testimony in “Passion and Purity”, and I must admit that after seeing it more behind his eyes I’m rather less impressed with his “ideals” than I was before...it’s clear to see from this book that he was by no means perfect.

So what is it? It’s not a great literary achievement. It’s just the simple story of a life; and not a terribly impressive life at that.

But maybe that’s what makes this book so amazing to me! The smallness of it. The simplicity, inadequacy and brevity of a life made beautiful by no reason other than that it was lived and lost for Christ.

Towards the end of his life, he wrote:

“Father, with happy committal I give you my life again this morning- not for anything special, simply to let you know that I regard it as yours. Do with it as it pleases you, only give me great grace to do for the glory of Christ Jesus whatever comes to me, ‘in sickness and in health’."

It’s not that he didn’t long for “anything special”…in fact he wrote this after expressing his deep desire for children, for a family. He was ambitious, visionary; yet he understood that even if none of his ambitions came about, if all his visions fade to black and every dream be crushed, ‘in sickness and in health”, his life was Gods, and that was enough.

Even at the end of his life he seemed to sense that everything might be whisked away in a moment, and yet it wouldn’t matter! The smallness or the bigness of his life didn’t matter to him, so long as Christ was glorified. This is reflected in one powerful section when he says:

“Failure means nothing now, only that it taught me life. Success is meaningless,
only that it gave me greater experience in using the great gift of God, life.
And life, I love thee. Not because thou art long, or because thou hast done
great things for me, but simply because I have thee from God.”

I love that. It’s what’s so powerful about this book, I think. It’s simply the words of a man who was often prideful (as I can be) and many other things- but who sought and learned throughout his life that to die is to live. And not just on that final day, when our last breath turns cold, but every other day before that waking up with the realization that Christ is enough.

It’s not the fact that he was a martyr that made him great. It’s not that he was a missionary that made him great. In fact, he wasn’t great at all! None of us are. Christ is all the greatness in our lives and this book is a testament to that. Perhaps that’s why I love it so. It reveals the absurdity of counting anything as worthy of our devotion and of our lives other than Jesus. Many people hail Jim Elliot for his martyrdom. In the preface, however, Elizabeth Elliot poses this question:

“Is the distinction between living for Christ and dying for him, after all, so great? Is not the second the logical conclusion of the first? Furthermore, to live for God is to die, ‘daily’, as the apostle Paul put it. It is to lose everything that we may gain Christ. It is in this laying down our lives that we may find them.”

Jim Elliot lost his life in the end, but that really wasn’t the climax. All throughout his life he had been losing it already, in exchange for something far greater- Christ.

So let us strive to die! To wake up every morning with the fresh realization that everything is a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ.

And if you get a chance to read this book, please do! It’s well worth it.

teach my soul to wait

Although I restlessly await
Some faraway and distant fate
Still hold me, bind my faithless heart
And teach my soul to wait
Oh, Lord teach me how to wait!

To wait upon thy arms of love
Love stronger than the tide
Than all the ocean’s grand display
Love stronger than my pride
Love stronger than my pride

And when my way
Seemed ne’er so black
The darkness, ne’er so strong
To this bright hope
My heart will cling:
Your love is stronger yet.
Your love is stronger yet.

of Ice cream, beggars, and frozen hearts.

The sun glared brightly that morning. The air was warm and the thick rays of light shone hotly off the ancient Jerusalem stones of those narrow streets. I was sufficiently aware of the sun's effect on my body, my parched throat reminding me it was due time to head home!

I rounded the corner of Christian Quarter road, the heavy smell of spices, stone and fresh falafel lingering in the air. While skipping to the next song on my ipod a dark figure caught my eyes. She was covered head to toe in black, this Muslim woman who sat against the wall with a young boy in her lap. Her weathered face and dark, distant eyes were lifted up to me as she repeated probably for the hundredth time that morning some pitiful plea in Arabic for a few shekels or more. The small boy in her lap lay with one hand held out wearily waiting for coins, the other hand clinging to his mother's scarf as he squirmed tearfully, looking hot and tired and already weary of the day's work.

I tried to smile encouragingly and continue walking by, telling myself that beggars actually make a good bit of money and she probably could have a real job if she wanted too....

...but what if she couldn't? Or even if she could, that boy looked awfully tired and in need of some cheering, if not a shekel. After walking a few minutes I came across a little grocery market. Stepping inside, I gave the shopkeeper the few shekels I had in my pocket for two bars of ice cream and skipped excitedly out the door in the direction of the mother and child.

The woman recognized me as I approached, and I will never forget her eyes when I had knelt down to give them my gift. The boy's face just shone brilliantly with pleasure, but in her eyes was such a deep, deep look of gratitude; her mother's heart so full of love and simply thankful that somebody had cared.

I only wish I cared more. Whether there in Israel, here at home, or anywhere else God leads me- there are always people who need love- and I pray my heart would be soft enough to give it. Make my heart like yours, O God, that you may be glorified in me!



"Savior, let thy love be felt,
Let its power be felt by me,
Then my frozen heart shall melt,
Melt in love, O Lord to thee."
-Thomas Kelly

do you take dirt in your tea, miss?

I had never felt so much like a queen!

The little Palestinian girls at the orphanage in Bethany had grabbed me by the arm and, with giddy smiles and giggles, lead me eagerly; quickly ducking beneath the olive trees in the garden we ran to a small ragged table beside the orphanage, a dulled-white building to match the rest of this Arab village.

The girls' eyes shone with secret excitement as they sat me down in a too-small chair and busily set about preparing the tea. One little girl, Russia, smiled with gentle hospitality as she delicately broke the rough twigs into bite-size pieces (special chocolates, she explained), her dark curls bouncing in the warm, dusty breeze. There was another girl who stood taller with short black hair, big hazel eyes and an affectionate grin. She spread the table with a tattered rug and, flashing her smile, offered me a broken pottery filled with dirt (the sugar, she insisted!). I accepted happily as the other little girls skipped around with curious, mischievous faces and gave sweet tokens of friendship (a plastic cup filled with small dusty rocks, carefully torn olive leaves, a small cracked plate to eat it on, tiny pink pink flowers to tuck behind my ear and into my pocket, a precious smile). I told them I had never had such a lovely tea party, or such a delicious cup of tea!

The tea party didn't last long, as the other little girls tugged at my arm and beckoned me to follow, but as we laughed and talked (more with our eyes and smiles than with words) and sipped dirt tea with mint beneath the lowering sun, I knew I would never forget that tea party! And my heart broke for these little girls who had no family- or if they did, a miserably broken family marked with darkness and abuse- and yet who were so full of life, their little hands so quick to serve and their little hearts so fast to love. And I prayed that amid the darkness that lies in their future God would somehow preserve these moments of peace; that they would always know the peace that is Christ; and that he would bless them. That even when the sun is setting they would always have a hope to cling to- that even in the night they would have a morning to look forward to.

"Will there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like water-lilies?
Has it feathers like a bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?

Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor!
Oh, some wise man from the skies!
Please to tell a little pilgrim
Where the place called morning lies!"

-Emily Dickenson

"Even there..."

"Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, [a] you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast."

-Psalm 139:9-10


What a promise! How sweet to know that no matter what the future holds- no matter how dark, no matter how far from home we end up, no matter how deep in the depths- always we know that God is there.

This past year I spent in Israel was surreal. It was challenging, sometimes lonely, dis-quieting and eye-opening to poverty and darkness; the kind seen in dusty little children with knocked-out teeth, and some forgotten parent to blame.

And yet it was also a beautiful time- some of the most beautiful days of my life, spent among the desert hills and ancient city stones, and golden sunsets flaming over a white city; narrow steets crowded with dust, people living, and hating, and loving; little boys with side-curls and kippas running past old arab men selling fresh juice, and their young boys pushing carts of sweet bread down the ragged steps of the shuk; purple flowers growing through the cracks and bringing colored hope to the windowsills as the sunset fades to dusk.

There are so many things I want to remember- so many places and dear lonely faces I never wish to forget. So many stories- so many friendships and laughter, so many times sitting down to a coffee with a friend- and with them countless stories, such lives lived, shared adventures, shared fears and sweet, sweet moments of shared remembering of God's goodness as we studied the promises in his word- like the one above. So many times God proved his love and faithfulness to me- always bringing me back to his grace and the fact that he is all I need, and he is always there. And he is strong.


I want to be able to remember these stories, to have them in mind so I can share them with others. And so I will share them with you! This blog will hopefully become a rough collection of this past year- and the story of how God was there throughout it all. Because he was there- and always abounding in grace! And always quieting my heart once again with his love.

So I hope this blog is somehow an encouragement to you! Perhaps as a reminder to pray, or maybe a motivation to travel yourself, or maybe just to make you think.....and remember. Remember the people who are suffering, the people who have less than you, the people who have cared. And remember God.....that he is loving, and he is strong, and he is always there.