Two book reviews and a good reminder about juice boxes

Imagining your way to a deeper understanding of the Bible

Hmm . . . that really doesn’t read as well as I’d hoped

I recently finished two very different books that brought the Bible more alive for me. Both were written by friends of mine. Both rely on the author’s wild imagination. Neither are sacrilegious, I promise. Well, maybe they are . . . but just a little bit. In both cases, I think it’s worth the risk.

First up is Salty: The deconstruction of a good Christian, by Hollylu Jostes (Redemption Press, 2023). Despite the scary word “deconstruction” in the subtitle, I promise Hollylu doesn’t lose her faith here. She dismantles some aspects of it that were built incorrectly in the first place, but then builds them back up again, better than before. In the process, she deepens her faith (and mine) significantly.

This is such a good read. Of course, the fact that I can picture Hollylu, my crazy friend from back in the dorms at Biola University, and hear her voice, helped me enjoy it even more. It is unfortunate that you can’t picture her twisting a lock of her wild mane of blond hair with her index finger or see the bemused expression on her ever-patient husband’s face like I can. I am sorry you have no memory of her popping into your dorm room at midnight to casually ask if you’ve started your big paper yet for that literature class—the paper that’s due in the morning—then nervously mumbling “Me neither,” before slipping out the door and back across the hall. Really, these memories added to the experience of the book for me, but it does just fine on its own, straight off the shelf.

Hollylu has an infectious way of diving inside passages of Scripture, inserting herself as a casual observer in the scenes as they happened, then reporting what she saw while she was there on the scene. Her wild imagination reminds us that we can do the same.

Two days after finishing Salty on my Kindle, which I read during a series of airplane rides as my husband and I returned from Africa, he and I set out for the final leg of our journey, the ten hour drive home from Bellingham, Washington to our home in Montana. We were jetlagged and weary, so I thought a good audio book, something that engages the mind and never drags, would be in order.

I searched through our Audible library and remembered Imaginary Jesus (BarnaBooks, 2010), by another friend with a wild imagination, Matt Mikalatos. I first met Matt at a writer’s conference put on by Oregon Christian Writers, several years back. I was in his small group coaching class for several mornings in a row, and I came to appreciate the sometimes wacky and often deep brilliance of his creative mind.

Plus, Matt is from Vancouver, Washington, the place where my husband and I lived for nine years in the early days of our marriage. He writes with a solid sense of place, and the often-hilarious misadventures in Imaginary Jesus take the reader all over the greater Vancouver/Portland area—a particularly fun romp when you are familiar with the region.

This book, I will admit, is crazy. From the first page to the last, I would care to bet it is like nothing you’ve ever read before. (If you read books like this all the time, please send me a sample of your reading list.) Matt has a masterful way in this book of combining fact and utter fiction in the most nonsensical, yet thoroughly logical way—a mostly fake memoir of completely real proportions—if that makes any sense, which I’m sure it doesn’t, and that’s ok.

I don’t want to spoil it for you, so I won’t go into detail (and you wouldn’t understand it, even if I tried here), but I will say that your faith will be challenged, enriched, and deepened. You will be forced to examine what you believe about Jesus, based on how you talk to Him and what you expect from Him. You might just find you have been chasing after an imaginary Jesus.

Before tackling either of these books, I would recommend the reader have a decent grasp of the Bible. Both assume a certain level of familiarity with the Scriptures, and the stories and characters contained within. For a person not well-versed in Biblical literature, there may be some confusion, as both writers can be, uh, a little salty at times.

Both Salty and Imaginary Jesus could only be written by their authors. I suppose that sounds simplistic, but it’s not. Perhaps you have read a book that you so resonated with that you thought, “Wow, this sounds just like me. I could have written these very words, too.” These books aren’t like that. Upon finishing these, you will say, “Wow, I never could have written this, but I’m so glad someone did.”

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Always Keep an Extra Juice Box on Hand

Learning about hospitality in Africa

My husband and I were in the back of a taxi cab in Lusaka, Zambia’s capital city a few weeks ago. My brother-in-law, born and raised in the landlocked African nation, was on his phone, connecting with an old pastor friend who lived in the area.

“You’re out of town right now? Oh, that’s too bad. . . . No, we are flying home before then, unfortunately. . . . No, we are only in town for a few more hours. . . . Sure, sounds good. I’ll wait to hear back from you.”

He turned to his wife, my husband’s sister. “He’s out of town at a conference, but he’s calling his wife to see if she is available.”

My husband Andy and I just smiled at each other. This trip to visit Benny’s homeland and our very extended family was one in which we just went along for the ride. Right then we were literally along for the ride.

Benny’s phone rang.

“Yes? Oh, that’s wonderful. What is the address?”

Benny relayed the directions to the taxi driver and we set a course for his friend’s house. He would not be there, but his wife, who they had met previously, was happy to receive us. She was not home, but would head there immediately. Our timing should be just right.

We pulled up to a gracious home and were greeted by this stranger (to us, at least) with hugs and warm smiles. She scolded us for trying to remove our shoes at the door and ushered us right into her living room. As soon as we were seated, she disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with a tray containing five glasses and a liter-sized box of fruit juice. Pouring a little into each glass, she served us, and we sipped as we chatted.

The juice was refreshing.

The hospitality, even more so.

Both our schedule and hers were tight, so half an hour later we departed, all of us friends. It was a simple thing, really, to invite us in and serve us a glass of juice, but it represented an admirable heart of hospitality. Her home was open to spontaneous visitors, even people like my brother and sister-in-law, whom she barely knew; and Andy and me, who she had never met. She was ready, on a moment’s notice, to serve juice and visit—and make us feel like dropping in on her with zero notice was actually doing HER a favor.

Note to self: be ready to entertain, even strangers, and always have something on hand to offer—even if it’s only a juice box.

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What is your relationship with hospitality? Does it come easily for you? What about the last minute things? Any tips for maintaining a state of readiness? I would love to read your thoughts in the comments, friend.

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We just returned from Africa on June 17, then lost a week to COVID. I am just now in the process of starting to write the stories from our time in Zambia. Our time there was so rich and the task of translating it into writing is fairly overwhelming, but I am up for the task. If you would like a sneak peek; I have just completed a review of the hotels, lodges, and restaurants we patronized while in Zambia; over on our website, NomadicMidLife.com. If you want to see more images and videos, some are on our Instagram, @nomadic.midlife. More will be added to our website and to our YouTube channel, Nomadic MidLife, in the days and weeks to come.

Be patient as we will be adding things slowly. Now that we are home from Zambia and healthy-ish, we are slowly returning to the big project of finishing the build of our overland expedition vehicle so we can hit the road permanently. As you might imagine, it is a big job.