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perilous1's review
4.0
A decent and largely intriguing follow-up to Butterfield's earlier memoir, Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert. This book provided more insights into the author's sense of community--from both her former life and her current familial ministry.
I still appreciate Butterfield's intellectual yet accessible voice. While I don't agree with her on all theological points, I believe we at least have alignment in the most critical areas.
Technically, this book could stand alone just fine. But her previous memoir provides more elaboration on a number of things in her life and background, while also more heavily exploring the emotional fallout of her conversion.
I still appreciate Butterfield's intellectual yet accessible voice. While I don't agree with her on all theological points, I believe we at least have alignment in the most critical areas.
Technically, this book could stand alone just fine. But her previous memoir provides more elaboration on a number of things in her life and background, while also more heavily exploring the emotional fallout of her conversion.
millerwortham's review
3.0
After reading The Gospel Comes with a House Key, I was so excited to read more of Rosaria’s books! This one was somewhat of a letdown though. The subtitle promises thoughts on sexual identity and union with Christ. The first half of the book is touches on sexual identity only in the most tangential way; it is an extended discussion of sin and repentance. All very true, but not particularly groundbreaking or helpful.
She then spends about a quarter of the book discussing her thoughts on sexual identity (that there is no such thing as orientation, that “gay Christian” is inappropriate to say, etc.). She argues that it is more helpful for Christians to say “I am living in chastity with unwanted, persistent homosexual desires” because it is clearer than saying “gay” or “same sex attracted.” With her English professor background, it is not surprising that semantics and etymology are important to her, but she spends more time on labels than practical advice for churches and Christians. She quoted from other believers who had written on the subject, with whom she disagreed, and I typically found them more persuasive.
She concludes the book with an excellent discussion of hospitality (not connected to sexual identity or union with Christ, but very good). Most of her stories and arguments were very similar to Gospel Comes with a House Key, but it’s a good summary with some anecdotes that didn’t make the other book.
She then spends about a quarter of the book discussing her thoughts on sexual identity (that there is no such thing as orientation, that “gay Christian” is inappropriate to say, etc.). She argues that it is more helpful for Christians to say “I am living in chastity with unwanted, persistent homosexual desires” because it is clearer than saying “gay” or “same sex attracted.” With her English professor background, it is not surprising that semantics and etymology are important to her, but she spends more time on labels than practical advice for churches and Christians. She quoted from other believers who had written on the subject, with whom she disagreed, and I typically found them more persuasive.
She concludes the book with an excellent discussion of hospitality (not connected to sexual identity or union with Christ, but very good). Most of her stories and arguments were very similar to Gospel Comes with a House Key, but it’s a good summary with some anecdotes that didn’t make the other book.
yakihammer's review
5.0
An excellent follow-up to her first book, equal parts informative, challenging and inspiring. Highly recommended!
amandagstevens's review
3.0
Like Butterfield's other work, this book is a genre-blend of memoir and theology. Here she focuses on the conflict between identity in Christ and sexual identity, including recent (within the last thirty years) changes in language. For example while homosexual as an adjective was previously used to describe an act, it is now used to describe a people group. The author's contention is that one cannot define one's identity based on sexuality while simultaneously defining one's identity as Christian. She claims that gay Christian is a non-operative term.
On the whole, this is a worthwhile read. The book contains well-written and persuasive arguments, fascinating linguistic and cultural history, and strong exhortations to the Christian reader on dealing with sin, seeking Jesus for one's identity, and extending hospitality as a way of showing Him to the world (both believers and non-believers). (That last is one of Butterfield's oft-revisited challenges to the reader, and it fits in here only if we grant her that a book with "further thoughts" in the title is allowed some wandering in topic.)
I'm not reducing my star rating because I was less than convinced on all points. I'm reducing it because the book sometimes ventures into a conclusion too dogmatic for the evidence presented. At times the author seems to present her personal conclusion as a piece of objective truth. While I was consistently engaged and challenged, and always willing to consider her take as valid, I kept wincing at the firm certainty that this is how it is and ought to be for everyone.
Necessary background: Butterfield experienced the LGBT community as a lesbian and an activist primarily during the 1990s. She explains that in this era, the idea that they were "born this way" would have been incredibly insulting to her and to her gay and lesbian friends, that they perceived sexuality as fluid and preferential and certainly not intrinsic to their identity as human beings. She also explains that her lesbian activity and relationships were the products of her deep study and subsequent disavowal of patriarchal oppression. Having grown up heterosexual, only after rebelling against male domination did she develop lesbian attachments. For her, lesbian identity referred more to her work as an activist and her studying as a professor of queer theory than to her sexual relationships.
Building on her personal history, the author then asserts the theological problems with current trends using the term gay Christian. She quotes a (beautifully vulnerable) email from a friend who is clearly younger than she is, who though celibate does refer to herself as gay as well as Christian, and in her email explains why. Butterfield then explains why she disagrees with her friend. Well...but this woman is from a different generation. Language evolves, as we have seen within the pages of this very book. In addition, unlike Butterfield's intellectual rejection of attachments to men, this younger woman (like many who refer to themselves as gay) experienced same-sex attraction from an early age and never experienced heterosexual attraction at all. So...is it necessary and is it necessarily correct to say to these vulnerable brothers and sisters in Jesus, "Don't say you're gay; say you're living a life of celibacy while dealing with unwanted same-sex attraction" (Butterfield's preferred language)? Are we at some point just quibbling semantics on a topic that is highly sensitive for struggling Christians, and might we not alienate them by doing so? These are a few of the questions I was left with after finishing the book.
After her conversion to Christianity, Butterfield left her life as an academic and as a lesbian; she is now a Reformed Presbyterian pastor's wife and homeschooling adoptive mother. She asserts often that her identity is in Christ alone and not in her roles as wife and mother. Yet something in this assertion feels rather like protesting too much. It's possible this is a misreading on my part. It's also possible this comes across by mistake because of the genre mashup of memoir (minute details of her church and home life) and theology. I'm wondering if a more careful edit of the book's structure might have clarified some of my nagging questions on this point.
In summary, a rewarding read I'm glad I tackled. It's pretty much always rewarding to read the thoughts of a fellow Christian with whom I mostly agree, as I'm forced to ponder where and why my perspective differs. Rosaria Butterfield's voice is unique in the Christian nonfiction world, and it is an important one.
On the whole, this is a worthwhile read. The book contains well-written and persuasive arguments, fascinating linguistic and cultural history, and strong exhortations to the Christian reader on dealing with sin, seeking Jesus for one's identity, and extending hospitality as a way of showing Him to the world (both believers and non-believers). (That last is one of Butterfield's oft-revisited challenges to the reader, and it fits in here only if we grant her that a book with "further thoughts" in the title is allowed some wandering in topic.)
I'm not reducing my star rating because I was less than convinced on all points. I'm reducing it because the book sometimes ventures into a conclusion too dogmatic for the evidence presented. At times the author seems to present her personal conclusion as a piece of objective truth. While I was consistently engaged and challenged, and always willing to consider her take as valid, I kept wincing at the firm certainty that this is how it is and ought to be for everyone.
Necessary background: Butterfield experienced the LGBT community as a lesbian and an activist primarily during the 1990s. She explains that in this era, the idea that they were "born this way" would have been incredibly insulting to her and to her gay and lesbian friends, that they perceived sexuality as fluid and preferential and certainly not intrinsic to their identity as human beings. She also explains that her lesbian activity and relationships were the products of her deep study and subsequent disavowal of patriarchal oppression. Having grown up heterosexual, only after rebelling against male domination did she develop lesbian attachments. For her, lesbian identity referred more to her work as an activist and her studying as a professor of queer theory than to her sexual relationships.
Building on her personal history, the author then asserts the theological problems with current trends using the term gay Christian. She quotes a (beautifully vulnerable) email from a friend who is clearly younger than she is, who though celibate does refer to herself as gay as well as Christian, and in her email explains why. Butterfield then explains why she disagrees with her friend. Well...but this woman is from a different generation. Language evolves, as we have seen within the pages of this very book. In addition, unlike Butterfield's intellectual rejection of attachments to men, this younger woman (like many who refer to themselves as gay) experienced same-sex attraction from an early age and never experienced heterosexual attraction at all. So...is it necessary and is it necessarily correct to say to these vulnerable brothers and sisters in Jesus, "Don't say you're gay; say you're living a life of celibacy while dealing with unwanted same-sex attraction" (Butterfield's preferred language)? Are we at some point just quibbling semantics on a topic that is highly sensitive for struggling Christians, and might we not alienate them by doing so? These are a few of the questions I was left with after finishing the book.
After her conversion to Christianity, Butterfield left her life as an academic and as a lesbian; she is now a Reformed Presbyterian pastor's wife and homeschooling adoptive mother. She asserts often that her identity is in Christ alone and not in her roles as wife and mother. Yet something in this assertion feels rather like protesting too much. It's possible this is a misreading on my part. It's also possible this comes across by mistake because of the genre mashup of memoir (minute details of her church and home life) and theology. I'm wondering if a more careful edit of the book's structure might have clarified some of my nagging questions on this point.
In summary, a rewarding read I'm glad I tackled. It's pretty much always rewarding to read the thoughts of a fellow Christian with whom I mostly agree, as I'm forced to ponder where and why my perspective differs. Rosaria Butterfield's voice is unique in the Christian nonfiction world, and it is an important one.
auntiekatie21's review
5.0
This book. Wow. So. So. So good. One I want to own for sure. I really appreciated Rosaria’s humility, openness, passion, and grace. Rosaria’s words are
alisterscriven's review
3.0
This was really well written and interesting. Probably about two-thirds of the book was not even about sexual identity, just about sin and repentance and living in Christian community, which was all pretty solid stuff. Overall there's a lot of stuff I agree with, a lot of stuff I don't agree with, and more stuff which I'm just not sure about. So yeah.
rox74's review
4.0
I’ve read all of Rosaria’s books and I found this one quite deep. This was a good thing. The book made me think and introduced me to new ideas as well. I’m going to have to reread this book soon. Oh and if you listen to the audio book, you’ll be treated to Rosaria’s beautiful singing voice!