Death by Living by N.D. Wilson
Taking a wild ride down the Snake River is an episode in
terror for some, but never getting into the raft is a choice altogether
different. N.D. Wilson, poet, writer of
adventurous fiction and father to five takes a unique approach in his book
entitled Death by Living. Remarking that
many people go through life barely living but just passing through, N.D.
carefully pieces together the beauty of the story that God writes of our lives
and the ways we fumble through trying to see this story unravel. What takes place is N.D.’s introspective
focus into the wild ride of life, including bedtime stories with an endless
series of hyphens, taking his family with cousins from London to Rome in a van,
and dealing with the death of loved ones.
The book is brimming with hope, the kind not seen by a Hallmark card but
the kind of anticipation that comes from a father reuniting with his family
after a long trip.
N.D. has a fascinating way of making theology sing in this
book that is both refreshing and annoying.
Early on in the book he writes, “Understand this: we are both tiny and
massive. We are nothing more than molded
clay given breath, but we are nothing less than divine self-portraits, huffing
and puffing along mountain ranges of epic narrative arcs prepared for us by the
Infinite Word himself” (6). The
complementary of the whole human being is unique from the outset, being made
from dust and bearing the divine image of God.
Why is N.D.’s description here refreshing? For one, he is not trying to dissect all the
possible meanings of image of God but seeing the grand scope of the narrative
that we find ourselves in. Creating both
the earthiness and splendor of man in words captures the narrative found in the
early chapters of Genesis as well.
Annoying is the way in which theologians or commentators focus in such
minutiae of the text that we lose sight of the large scope of God’s dealing
with the created order. And yet, as
Wilson indicates, “Those who love to talk about Story rarely attempt to read
much past their own immediate moment, and that not well” (7). We look beyond the ordinary and rhythmic
movements of life for some grander notion of what this thing called living is
all about.
The memories of his grandfather comes together beautifully
in the book. N.D. writes, “Instead, he
gave those kids what they could never buy for themselves, what they could never
find on their own. He gave them the
memories of a boy on a Nebraska farms with brothers, a boy trying to break a
wild prairie mustang. He gave them
memories of his mother, born in a sod dugout in the prairie grass” (116). Further on down the page Wilson writes that “He
chose a passage of Scripture for each of their children and their spouses, and
for each of their children. Forty-six souls
(and counting)” (116). The rare
combination of retelling a life’s story alongside the deep wells of faith that
he holds onto is most apparent here in the life of his grandfather. If there is one key ingredient in the main
meal of this book, it is the wisdom to spend one’s life to the full, not in
useless endeavors, but in the cavernous depths of laughter, thankfulness and obedience
to a God who never quits writing our story.
You don’t want to miss this book. You’ll belly laugh at points, you’ll be moved
with great grief and pain, but you won’t leave reading this book without a
passion for the story of what God is doing for people who live full lives, with
wine and beer too.
Thanks to BookSneeze and Thomas Nelson for the copy of this
book in exchange for review.
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