Tag Archives: a serrated edge

2012 Year In Review: Non-Fiction

Top Ten

wages of spin
1. THE WAGES OF SPIN by Dr. Carl Trueman
I predicted back in April that this book would probably be “the best piece of non-fiction I read in 2012.” Turns out I was right. This essay collection is short, sharp, challenging, and frequently hilarious: a prime example of why Trueman is one of my favorite writers. Full review
The title is potentially misleading: this is not a book exclusively for parents. Anybody can (and should) read this book, because anybody can (and will) benefit from it. It’s a witty, gritty, and delightfully subversive assault on the Bastions of Modern Educational Theory and Practice, and Esolen’s satiric flair is worthy of Uncle Screwtape himself. Full review
3. WORDSMITHY by Douglas Wilson
My favorite writing book. Whether you want to write full time, or merely have a passing interest in it – this slim little volume should be on your shelf. It’s just that good. Full review
4. BLACK HAWK DOWN by Mark Bowden
One of the ugliest, most beautiful books I’ve ever read. Ugly for its depiction of modern warfare; beautiful for its depiction of the men who endured it. A must-read if there ever was one. Full review
5. JUST DO SOMETHING by Kevin DeYoung
Want to know what the subtitle is? How to Make a Decision Without Dreams, Visions, Fleeces, Impressions, Open Doors, Random Bible Verses, Casting Lots, Liver Shivers, Writing in the Sky, Etc. That pretty much tells you everything you need to know. Full review
Continue reading 2012 Year In Review: Non-Fiction

Motivated By Love

“Over against such inconsistent objections, we want to love. We love one another, and we seek to live this way. But does not the Bible say that we are to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us? Yes, it does, and yes, we do. But love is defined by God and not by Hallmark cards.

Thus far, I have only spoken about those who labor with me in this ministry. But because the tone of my writing is a big part of why objections are raised, let me end this short book on a more personal (and serious) note. The argumentation has already been laid out. But there is an autobiographical element in this that should explain to everyone who has ever wondered about the tone of my writing – where does that edge come from? What got under his skin?

If you think I have faults, you are certainly right, and I can assure you that it is probably far worse than you think. But shoplifting is not one of them, and neither is nastiness. I am a sinner, but happily my critics at a distance have collectively decided to leave all my real problems alone.

The motivation for all that they do criticize is love. Love that refuses to defend that which is loved is not biblical love at all. Such a sentiment is actually self-absorbtion. Love that shuns a fight is an oxymoron, and so I turn the charge around. The modern evangelical world says peace, peace, but there is no peace. Neither is there love.

I love the right worship of our triune God, the God and Father of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit of both. I love the Church, despite the make-up she is currently using. I love the Scriptures, and the message of free grace it brings to a race steeped in idolatrous folly. I love my wife, children, and grandchildren. Though I haven’t seen them, I love my great-grandchildren and want my descendants to have a place to live in this world where they can worship God with more than three chords. I love my parents, brothers, sister, cousins, nieces, and nephews. God has given us a heritage that I intend to love fiercely until I die. I love the Reformed faith – both its glorious past and yet more glorious future.

And if this serious note makes some readers uncomfortable – though every word of it is true – I also love Pinot Noir, Mozart, Creedence Clearwater Revival, oatmeal stout, Brown Cow ice cream, mowing a field, playing softball, listening to blues, reading with my wife, playing the guitar, P.G. Wodehouse, clouds on the mountain, anapestic poetry, and making fun of uncircumcised Philistines.”

~ Douglas Wilson, A Serrated Edge (pp. 118-120)

Book Review: A Serrated Edge

I’ve always appreciated satire. For me, it is and always will be the supreme form of humor – not only do we get the laughs, but we get the point, too. And it usually hurts.

Much as I love satire, however, I’m also well aware that it gets the Frown of Pious Disapproval in many Christian circles. Slip up, and you’re bound to get your metaphorical knuckles rapped. “Sarcasm? Pointed humor? Sharp discourse? Surely these things are contrary to biblical Christianity.”

Surely… not.

Enter Douglas Wilson and his book, A Serrated Edge. My copy arrived in the mail last week, and after reading it, I wanted to stand up and cheer. It’s just that good. If you’re unconvinced that satire can (and should) be used by Christians, read this book. You will be convinced. If you’re tired of all the metaphorical knuckle-rapping, and wish to arm yourself with a scriptural defense of satire, read this book. You will be armed.

And of course, if you’re just looking for good writing, saturated in Bible and peppered with wit, you won’t be disappointed either. This book has all three.

Over the course of 120 pages, we’re treated to a “brief defense of biblical satire and Trinitarian skylarking.” Brief it may be, but not for lack of substance. Wilson makes his case and he makes it well: satire is a kind of preaching. It is pervasive in Scripture. And it handles the follies and sinfulness of man with less than perfect tenderness.

Contrary to popular evangelical opinion, there are times when giving offense is the proper (i.e. biblical) response to controversy. Christ himself demonstrated this when confronting the ecclesiastical obstinacy and pride of the scribes and Pharisees – calling someone a white-washed sepulcher isn’t exactly the way to make friends.

All things considered, we can see that Christ’s use of satire in controversy hardly qualifies  Him as the original verbal pacifist. Quite the reverse. If there is anyone in Scripture who uses the form of expression as the most normal thing in the world, it is the Lord. (p. 46)

We also find satire in the Old Testament. The book of Amos is thoroughly satiric in tone. Proverbs, Job, and Isaiah dish up some humdingers, too. Elijah mocks the prophets of Baal mercilessly in 1 Kings 18 – and in the original Hebrew, his taunts are even more pointed: “Perhaps your god is off in the bathroom. His prophets are all gathered in the hallway with an anxious look on their faces. Bang on the door louder. He’s been in there a long time.” (p. 53)

Clearly then, to say that satire is not found in scripture is indicative of extreme ignorance, incredible obstinacy, or a severe case of HSRS (Highly Selective Reading Syndrome).

Incredibly, however, the naysayers still exist, and their objections are Legion. The latter can generally be divided into two categories: first, that satire is unkind, and therefore unbiblical; and two, that it is counterproductive and alienating. In the Preface, Wilson writes,

Our response to these objections could be summarized in a two-fold fashion, reading from left to right as Oh yeah? and Nuh uh. But this requires further development. (p. 9)

And develop it he does.

Readers familiar with Wilson’s writing will not be surprised to hear that A Serrated Edge is a funny book. Very funny. It’s an argument, yes, but a jolly humorous one: Wilson isn’t one to let a good joke (or jibe) go, and his joie de vivre is largely what makes the book so enjoyably engaging. I can’t help but think that he wrote the entire thing with a wink in his eye and a grin on his lips.

Of course, when all is said and done, we’re still left with the question of why satire is such an issue for Christians in the first place:

We have noted that the Bible contains much satire. And while it is possible to overstate this point, our dangers generally lie in the other direction – the direction of assuming that we have biblical warrant for that which is sweety-nice. In other words, the real dilemma should confront those who would undertake a biblical defense of writing like the author of the Elsie Dinsmore series. While there are things in the Bible that might even resemble Swift’s Modest Proposal, there is nothing that remotely resembles nineteenth century sentimentality. So why is it that those who write such things never have to give a biblical defense of what they are doing? And why do I have to write this book defending a scriptural approach, and those who write books with titles like When Throbs the Heart never have to explain themselves at all? (p. 47)

Why, indeed.