For the Love of Reluctant Converts

Memoir Recommendations-Part One

“C.S. Lewis once said that God sometimes shows grace by drawing us to himself while we kick and scream and pummel him with our fists. That is my story.”

Philip Yancey, Where the Light Fell

---

Greetings fellow readers,

Today I begin a round of memoir recommendations, and I opened with the above quote because it encapsulates several of the titles we’ll discuss throughout the month. Perhaps because my own testimony resonates with Philip Yancey’s, I have a penchant for coming-to-faith stories that reflect this kind of grace: grace that patiently stoops and draws in souls who enter the kingdom reluctantly—or in some cases kicking and screaming as Lewis suggests.

Oddly enough, I just crafted the “surrender” moment for my main character in my fictional work-in-progress, and she comes to the Lord kicking and screaming—literally.  I didn’t remember the statement from Lewis while writing the scene, so when I perused Yancey’s book afresh this week, I had to laugh. Clearly, I identify with these types of people.

The two books featured today are indeed stories of reluctant converts.

As I mentioned in my introductory post for the month, memoirists are a particularly brave lot of writers. They invite us into their mess and their personal character arcs. In many ways, they invite us into their very souls.

Today’s brave souls are Philip Yancey and Patrick Barrett. I’m honored to point you to their stories, and I hope within a few short lines I can convince you to read their books.

---

Where the Light Fell ~ Philip Yancey

“In the end, my resurrection of belief had little to do with logic or effort and everything to do with the unfathomable mystery of God.” Philip Yancey, Where the Light Fell

Where the Light Fell was assigned as a memoir study during my bachelor’s program. I love memoirs, but I tend to think of myself as drawn to female voices. Interestingly, many of my selections for this month are written by men. Perhaps I should shun my faulty perception. At any rate, because of this, I wasn’t expecting to love it.

I was wrong.

Winsomely, and with a fair dose of wit, too, Yancey unfolds three main story lines in his memoir: He and his brother’s tumultuous relationship with their widowed mother, his grappling with the Southern fundamentalist church culture of his childhood, and his years of attending a Bible college where he wrestled with his faith—or lack thereof.

Yancey is searingly, and often humorously, honest about the church trauma of his youth. But he’s also equally self-revelatory about the hardened state of his heart in response to it. Perhaps because I’ve struggled with certain aspects of church culture, I found it particularly resonant.

In my opinion, it’s important to take a scrutinizing look at the unsavory parts of the Church. I love the people of God, but we can get mucky. Unmitigated transparency from others has helped me process through the years, and I found such transparency in these pages.

In the end though, what I love best about this memoir is its multi-faceted love story. Though more of a sub-plot, Yancey shares sweet anecdotes about his courtship and relationship with his wife. The story also relays his unwavering commitment to his brother, whose own trauma led to more wayward choices. And of course, most significantly, he talks about finding his way to the love of God. Or rather, God finding him.

This is an exquisitely written and beautiful story: a perfect pairing of grace and truth. Well worth your time, friends.

---

Sanctuary: The True Story of an Irish Village, a Man Who Lost His Way, and the Rescue Donkeys that Led Him Home ~ Patrick Barrett and Susy Flory

“Donkeys are very sensitive creatures with long memories, but they don’t judge you for your troubles, and once they accept you as part of their herd, you feel a strong sense of belonging. That sense of belonging was part of finding myself again.” Patrick Barrett and Susy Flory, Sanctuary

I happened upon this memoir at my local library about a month ago. Both the cover and the subtitle drew me instantaneously. Once I had it home and read the prologue, I knew I was in for a special read.

While some of the subject matter of this memoir is weighty, namely Patrick’s battle with alcoholism and PTSD, this is a tender read. Perhaps it’s the vivid descriptions of the Irish countryside or the gentle voice of the author, but there is a quiet beauty weaved throughout the whole.

Raised on his parents’ donkey sanctuary, Patrick develops a poignant attachment to the animals of his boyhood, and his stories of his early years with the animals are touching. As the story progresses, many of the chapters open with donkey narratives that are used as parallel metaphors to Barrett’s unfolding life.

As an adult, Patrick is drawn away from the family’s sanctuary and increasingly drawn to the village pubs. He eventually enlists in the Irish Army, and after years of serving in war-torn countries, returns home with PTSD and addiction issues. Though his family remains supportive through the years, his alcoholism threatens his relationships, his livelihood, and his health and safety.

I won’t over divulge, but when Patrick hits bottom, God intervenes through the love of a nun and draws His stubborn son into the fold. Patrick’s subsequent work at the donkey sanctuary proves to be a healing balm in his addiction recovery.

Like Where the Light Fell, at its heart, this is a love story. I was drawn into Patrick’s love for his wife, children, and parents, and also his love for his animal friends. But ultimately, his descriptions of his relationship with God proved the most moving.

This was a story of finding rest, and I found myself restful in its presence. Sanctuary caused me to slow down and meditate on the simple joys of nature, family, and God.

Again, a story worthy of your time investment.

---

I look forward to sharing more memoirs next week. In the meantime, if you’ve read one of these titles or do so in the future, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Blessings in books,

Tiffany