God Loves Broken People–Sheila Walsh

-(…and those who pretend they’re not.)

 

A very recommended read if you’re in a rough patch, seeking to find the reassurance of Christ’s love and power for you to bring you through.

Sheila Walsh shares her own personal stories and fears honestly, as well as some others, effectively conveying the point of each chapter. This is a book full of warmth and emotion; it is as if you are reading a letter addressed to you. However, some people (especially some men) would not find her way of writing all that comfortable to read.

Every chapter is filled with truth about God and his love, told in a way that is seasoned with grace and love. There is no sugarcoating of the truth, nor does it belittle the suffering and pain in your life.

Sheila Walsh acknowledges the presence of suffering and pain in the world, and points to the Shepherd who’ll ultimately lead us, battered, possibly, broken, certainly, but most definitely---home.

4 and a half stars :).

Defiant Joy

-The Remarkable Life & Impact of G.K. Chesterton,

by Kevin Belmonte.

I was very interested in G.K. Chesterton and his works, so when I came upon this book on BookSneeze, I seized upon the chance to review it. However, this book proved to be quite a disappointment to me. It was lengthy and verbose, too scholarly to actually interest people who aren’t already avid fans of Chesterton. It took me quite a long time to get through this, and this is quite rare as I can usually finish a book of much longer length in a week.

I would only recommend this book to people that have a scholarly interest in Chesterton, and even then, perhaps some other book would do that better. This book tries to paint Chesterton as a larger than life figure, full of joy and wit. However, the way the author tries to do so stifled Chesterton’s character instead. It’s hard to get a sense of his life through the author’s words.

I would give this 2 out of 5 stars.

 

*BookSneeze sent me this book, for my total and totally rad reviews.

-censored-

The thing is, I write a whole lot of garbage, and before I even consider clicking ‘publish’, I backspace the whole thing away. Probably for the better, too.

There’s the sense of oh what the point. And who-would-wanna-read-this-anyway.

Not like I would want anyone to read this anyway. No no nooo… Indeed, I made a blog so no one would be able to read it. It’s just to share whatever thought I had and once or twice mention that I ‘elaborated’ it on the blog surreptitiously in some conversation and refuse to give out the address. Sneaky sneaky. Not like they can’t find it on my facebook profile, anyway.

Pride pride. I can’t imagine that I wrote all the things that I wrote just one year ago. Future me would probably blush at the pretentious crap that I garble out now.

Is that a sign of mature-hood? Or is this just some form of self-loathing? I would very like to think I’m ‘mature’ now. But meh. Those usually wanting to be ‘mature’ usually end up being the more childish, narrow-minded bigots.

Every time I visit my blog I find something else to shudder about myself. The color-scheme, the layout, the font, the choice of words, the titles. I’m reminded of how constantly changing my tastes are. And how easily sated, yet only for a very short period of time.

Yep. All jumbled up now. Off to bed.