“The Age of the Image” – Book review

tell-our-stories

I could never understand why one of my elderly friends at church was so afraid of images. He didn’t want any kind of art creeping into the church. He thought words only were the way to stay on the straight and narrow. Perhaps he was afraid we’d cross the line too far and break the third of the Ten Commandments: “You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth” (Exodus 20:4).

But it’s not images themselves that are inherently good or bad (well, for the most part), but how we use them.

We live bombarded with images. We always have. From the beginning of time God gave us so much to look at. Jesus often used word pictures to relay his message in parables. Visual storytelling was one of his specialties.

So I found Stephen Apkon’s book particularly intriguing: The Age of the Image: Redefining Literacy in a World of Screens.

The-Age-of-the-Image

According to Apkon, part of being literate in the 21st century is our ability to navigate screens and and communicate with our newer technologies. While I doubt he’d be a proponent of babies swiping iPhone screens (which I’ve seen some 1-year-olds very skilled at), he does urge us to better understand how words and images can work together, not as opposites, but as companions.

And to learn how to use that connection to our advantage to tell better stories.

He gives many examples in his book about how to do just that, including stories of using film in school classrooms.

Here are some quotes from the book (sorry just words, no pictures) to consider for yourself. They’re about more than just images; they’re about the larger scope of communication in general.

“All of us will be called upon to be not just consumers but producers. Listening to the story and judging it is no longer enough. We now have to start telling the story ourselves, all of us, if this is to be a literate society.

~ * ~

“The manipulation of video is shortly to become a global language, and its seductive powers will be on display for all to see. But it is morally neutral. It can be used for good and evil and everything in between.
The most pertinent question now facing us is not how can we resist this revolution in thought, but how can we respond with the maximum amount of thoughtfulness, energy, and smarts? How will we present ourselves to the world?
How literate will we be?”

~ * ~

“True literacy is always a two-way transaction. We don’t just consume; we produce. We don’t just read; we write. The ability to receive information is always the first part of the literacy equation that is necessary for the masses, and then the ability to express information generally follows, as we strive to quench our desire to communicate. The root of communicate is to commune.”

~ * ~

“We are slaves not to what we know, but to what we see, and this is how we elect our presidents.” [Ouch!]

~ * ~

“We come back to the home truth that stuff doesn’t matter. It’s what you teach yourself to do with the stuff that does. I have always believed that the primary—maybe the only—valuable delivery to the average person through this “stuff” is the transmission of stories.
Albert Maysles said the following, which I have tacked above my computer: ‘The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them. If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away when they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive. That is why we put these stories in each other’s memory. This is how people care for themselves.'”

~ * ~

“Literacy has always been the barrier between the haves and the have-nots in our society, and in the larger global society and economy. . . .

We must adapt with the changing times and acquire the necessary skills in order to have full access to this opportunity—to remain competitive and engaged. Because, ultimately, one of the most rewarding things we can do is tell our stories and hear the stories of others. It is one of the fundamental cures for loneliness throughout time, a means of human connection.”

Perhaps one reason this book appeals to me so much is because I’m a visual learner. And maybe my elderly friend was not. Either way, images and increasing use of them among technology are here to stay.

We’d best learn to use them in wise and godly ways.

Below is a short film for The Age of Image.
[click here if you can’t see the video “I AM HERE”]

 

* * *

Are you a visual learner, too? Do pictures sometimes speak louder to you than words? Please share in the comments.


“50 Women Every Christian Should Know” (not just every woman)

It is not strange, my countrymen, that my voice is small,” Pandita Ramabai began when she had the audience’s full attention, “for you have never given a woman the chance to make her voice strong!”

But Michelle DeRusha makes the voices strong.

I hear them loud and clear in her latest book, 50 Women Every Christian Should Know.

It’s not just a collection of brief biographies, although it is that. It’s also a motivating voice for each of us to speak up now in our own times, like these 50 women did in their times. Each one differently. Often reluctantly. And many times scared. But speak up they did.

50WomenHannahWhitallSmith

It shouldn’t have amazed me, but it did surprise me how far back in time that women were speaking up for their freedom to respond to God in their own ways. The first woman in the book is Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179) and even then this radical woman was hearing, “Say and write what you see and hear.”

Now don’t get me wrong; this is not a book about rebels inciting trouble. It truly is a book of marvelous things that women have done throughout history for the love of Christ, some in bold ways, some in quiet ways. Some women I knew (Julian of Norwich, Susanna Wesley, Amy Carmichael); most I didn’t (Anne Askew, Jarena Lee, Josephine Butler).

50WomenTereseLisieux

But the book also sheds light on the backstories of these women. No one grows their faith in a vacuum. The more we understand someone’s story, the more we see God’s hand in their lives. I loved this tidbit about Mother Teresa that Michelle shares:

Mother Teresa remembered her mother’s response to her brother’s question about the strangers who shared their table: “Some of them are our relations, but all of them are our people.”

If I could still dictate what books my children read (which I can’t, alas), I’d put this on their required reading list and expect a book report at the end.

For the rest of us, I can only recommend it as worthy of your time, female and male. Books about women are often perceived as for women, but just as books about men can inform and inspire women readers, so books about women can inform and inspire men readers as well.

As believers, we all want to be more courageous in using our opportunities to love God more and love others better. These heroines encourage us to do just that.

50-women-every-christian-should-know

* * *

Michelle offers a FREE study guide here to accompany 50 Women. Michelle is also the author of Spiritual Misfit. [My review here]

Who is one of your heroines of the faith? Please share in the comments.


When racism hides

This story happened a year ago. I wasn’t sure when to tell it. Maybe now still isn’t right.

But here goes anyway.

Storms had been predicted all day. Everyone was still on edge from the huge tornado outbreak in Alabama on April 27, 2011, that had taken so many lives and caused so much damage.

Tornadoes did come again. On April 28, 2014, several mobile home parks were totally destroyed and multiple neighborhoods and businesses took severe hits.

tornado-newspaper

Our local volunteer clean-up groups (Keep Volunteering and PAR) begin meeting in the community often to saw trees off houses, to salvage personal belongings among neighbors, and to generally be a presence of hope and help in the community.

tornado-damage

But we weren’t alone. People from all over also came to help. From other places in Alabama and the south. And from places far from here. One such group had several members from Minnesota, many who had never been to Alabama before and only knew it by reputation.

What kind of reputation did Alabama have to them in 2014?
We wanted it to be good, even if it hadn’t been before.

helpers

But on this hot day in May gathered around the rubble, everything changed.

Not just for them. But also for me.

The ladies I was working beside had strong northern accents. They were complimentary of the families here who had been housing them during their stay in Alabama. They had been diligent workers and had made a great reputation themselves among those of us working alongside them.

On this day, we had difficult emotional work to do. Going through an old barn on an elderly family’s property, we were deciding what could be saved several days after the tornado and what needed to be thrown away.

you-mean-so-much

There were several Bibles in the barn. They were in awful condition after being rained on and scrambled in a tornado. I flipped through the first pages for any special dedications or notes. Nothing. No special pictures tucked inside. They were ready to be disposed of.

We had a large bonfire that morning for any trash that could be safely burned. I didn’t want to throw a Bible into a fire. But I didn’t like throwing it in a garbage pile either.

But there was more.

As things were dragged out of the barn and as the men began tearing down its walls, we saw something fluttering in the breeze from inside it. A flag was hung on a nail. It looked to still be in good shape. Maybe we could get it out.

I was trying to guess what SEC school it could be from. The colors weren’t either the recognizable orange and blue of Auburn University nor red and white of the University of Alabama.

There was a letter K. Kentucky maybe? But no, the colors were wrong.

Then we spotted a second K on the flag. A sick feeling started growing in my stomach.

Then a third. My heart sank. No! I didn’t want the ladies from Minnesota to see this because I didn’t want it to be true at all.

They asked if these kind of things were still common down here, these signs of racial bigotry. They were assuming yes. I immediately said no. Yes, racism still exists—anyone who denies it is simply unaware. But these physical reminders of it aren’t usually so obvious.

I told them this job was mine. I wanted to be the one to take this flag to the fire. On behalf of my own African-American friends whom I love so dearly. On behalf of those I don’t know who have been mistreated through the years. On behalf of all of us who want racism to disappear forever and ever.

I tried not to cry. But I couldn’t help it. One of the women said we needed to pray. We wrapped arms and talked to God about this infestation we’d uncovered.

I knew the flag story would be retold to their friends up north as something they found in Alabama. But I wanted them to know this flag didn’t represent all of us.

In the end though, I realized it doesn’t matter so much how we looked to them; what matters is how we are.

Looking good isn’t enough; we need to be good.

Storms will come again. We know this. But through them, may our eyes be opened to what needs to be thrown away and what needs to repaired. May neighbors come together from far and wide to work side by side for restoration. And may we keep growing in positive directions to become better people this year than we were last year.

* * *

Where do you still see racism hiding? Please share in the comments.


Look straight through

Some days I see just the fence.

fence2

But other days,
I press right up close, eye to the gap,
and look straight through.

fence-opening

Oh my.

When I go outside with God in the Yard, I seek the open space.

I want to look through.

I leave a hole in time.

I ask for the open space.

Breathing room.
Margin around the edges.
Empty spots with no expectations.

What does God want to say today? What does he want to show? What does he want me to see?

I’m sure I still miss him by a wide margin on many days.

But there are days . . .

  • when ducks hear me laugh out loud at how God made their bodies flip upside down as they dabble in water
  • when I marvel at how trees defy gravity pulling down, and lift limbs up instead, in proud praise to the Son
  • when I sit long enough to actually lose track of time (has it been 5 minutes or 30?) as he stills me in the quietness

trees in praise

On those days, the sky is wide open. 

* * *

How will you carve out breathing space this week? Please share in the comments.

revised from the archives



A book on what we get right and wrong on aging and dying

“Every impulse is to fight, to die with chemo in our veins or a tube in our throats or fresh sutures in our flesh. The fact that we may be shortening or worsening the time we have left hardly seems to register. We imagine that we can wait until the doctors tell us that there is nothing more they can do. But rarely is there nothing more that doctors can do. They can give toxic drugs of unknown efficacy, operate to try to remove part of the tumor, put in a feeding tube if a person can’t eat: there’s always something.”
– Atul Gawande

I wouldn’t count my dad’s death from his short bout with lung cancer as typical by modern standards. He wasn’t in a hospital. He wasn’t accompanied by medical professionals. He never had chemotherapy.

Instead he died in his own bed in his own house with his kids taking turns keeping vigil.

It’s what he wanted. By the time he was diagnosed, the cancer was too progressed for treatment to be curative, so he decided to live out his remaining time without impediments of medicines that would weaken him more.

We tried to accommodate, even though it went against our grain at times to not give in to the medical establishment’s push to prolong life at any costs, and our own desire to keep Daddy here longer.

But after reading Atul Gawande’s phenomenal book Being Mortal, I’ve found even more peace that our decision to honor our father’s choices was the right one.

Being Mortal

Gawande, a cancer surgeon, says,

“Medical professionals concentrate on repair of health, not sustenance of the soul. Yet—and this is the painful paradox—we have decided that they should be the ones who largely define how we live in our waning days. For more than half a century now, we have treated the trials of sickness, aging, and mortality as medical concerns. It’s been an experiment in social engineering, putting our fates in the hands of people valued more for their technical prowess than for their understanding of human needs. That experiment has failed.”

If you have someone older in your life, or you ARE someone older, I can’t recommend this book highly enough. While it’s not a how-to book on aging well or an encyclopedia of options for health care, it is a thought-provoking walk through the aging process that we all will experience if we live long enough.

And one that we’ve probably already walked though with others, if not yet, then definitely to come. I wish I knew then with my parents what I know now.

It’s also about conversations we need to have with our doctors, our loved ones, ourselves. By our longing for the most optimistic reports, we encourage doctors to not give us full reports; the patient is always right and the patient doesn’t want to hear bad news. But,

Our reluctance to honestly examine the experience of aging and dying has increased the harm we inflict on people and denied them the basic comforts they most need.

In the book Gawande shares experiences of his research, of his own patients, and of his own father’s death. Some facts I expected; some surprised me.

It turns out that inheritance has surprisingly little influence on longevity. James Vaupel, of the Max Planck Institute for Demographic Research, in Rostock, Germany, notes that only 3 percent of how long you’ll live, compared with the average, is explained by your parents’ longevity; by contrast, up to 90 percent of how tall you are is explained by your parents’ height.”

~ * ~

“The three primary risk factors for falling are poor balance, taking more than four prescription medications, and muscle weakness. Elderly people without these risk factors have a 12 percent chance of falling in a year. Those with all three risk factors have almost a 100 percent chance.

~ * ~

The risk of a fatal car crash with a driver who’s eighty-five or older is more than three times higher than it is with a teenage driver. The very old are the highest-risk drivers on the road.”

But it’s not just the statistics and facts that are troubling. It’s also the lack of dignity and freedom that many elderly often feel in their final years.

It is not death that the very old tell me they fear. It is what happens short of death—losing their hearing, their memory, their best friends, their way of life.”

It’s not all bad news, though. Gawande shares that as people age, they interact with fewer people, yet the interactions they do have are more meaningful. They’re more intentional about who they’re with and who they love. Their focus turns to being, not doing, and on the present, not the future or past.

“You would expect people to grow unhappier as they age. But Carstensen’s research found exactly the opposite. The results were unequivocal. Far from growing unhappier, people reported more positive emotions as they aged. They became less prone to anxiety, depression, and anger. They experienced trials, to be sure, and more moments of poignancy—that is, of positive and negative emotion mixed together. But overall, they found living to be a more emotionally satisfying and stable experience as time passed, even as old age narrowed the lives they led.”

One of the biggest take-aways for me was the paradox between autonomy and safety. In our efforts to keep our elderly “safe,” we strip them of their independence. Maybe it’s better to live with more risk if it means more freedom and happiness? It’s something I’ll think more about.

“Making lives meaningful in old age is new. It therefore requires more imagination and invention than making them merely safe does. . . .
Whatever the limits and travails we face, we want to retain the autonomy—the freedom—to be the authors of our lives. This is the very marrow of being human.”

The book does offer suggestions on ways we can do aging and death better. Much of it requires listening more, accepting mortality as normal, and abandoning our need to always try to fix it.

None of us will defeat death in the physical realm. That’s a given. But we can respect the transition as much as possible in a way that is life-enriching and dignifying. With hope. With courage. With love.

Although this book isn’t “Christian” per se, the issues it addresses are very spiritual, and my faith in eternal life through Jesus makes these issues even more relevant.

“No one ever really has control. Physics and biology and accident ultimately have their way in our lives. But the point is that we are not helpless either. Courage is the strength to recognize both realities. We have room to act, to shape our stories, though as time goes on it is within narrower and narrower confines. ”

As Gawande points out, the two unfixables are aging and dying. We can’t eliminate either. We can only manage them within narrow limits.

My dad decided how he wanted to manage them before they managed him. It’s how he chose to die. I don’t consider it a bad way to go, although I wasn’t ready for him to leave and I did see him experience more pain than I wanted to.

How do I want to die? Probably like you—with as little pain as possible and after many satisfying years with family and friends.

But also like you, it probably won’t be entirely up to me.

Ultimately, God is the only one who gets the final word about the end of our lives here. And for that, I am grateful.

Most-cruel-failure

* * *

Along with Just Mercy, Being Mortal is one of most influential books I’ve read in awhile (and I go through a lot of books).

Unfortunately I was unaware of “Being Mortal” when it PBS aired about it on Frontline earlier this year. Here’s a clip.

[Watch here if you can’t see the video below]