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A review by readsewknit
Falling Free: Rescued from the Life I Always Wanted by Shannan Martin
5.0
My faith is intact, but, as anyone intent on learning what it means to live out those truths in light of current divisions in the world and in the church, it has come a long way from where it started. Such an evolution is necessary to remain alive and not fall into complacency and stagnation, but it can be painful and come with seasons of sadness and loneliness if it is being navigated alone. I've been fortunate to have kindred spirits around me for some of these transformations, who wrestle alongside me as we wonder what it looks like to care for the widow, the orphan, the stranger. But there can be a disconnect as I try to reconcile it all, how to acknowledge the impact mentors had on my early life even as I recognize we wouldn't agree now on our priorities.
There are authors who have been pivotal for me in this, as well. Foremost was Rachel Held Evans, coming into my life at a time of change and reminding me I was not alone in asking these big questions. Now I find myself retreating into the words of Shannan Martin; her convictions and her frankness are refreshing and I have a particular delight in imagining how we might have crossed paths, had we stayed in Indiana longer. She lives in nearby Goshen, where two dear friends also lived, and when she mentions the local coffee shop on social media, I think fondly to my own gatherings there.
As is becoming habit for me, I may hear of an author and make a note to read a popular book of theirs, but instead of ingesting it, I find myself with a newer release, then playing catch-up with their canon later. Such was the case for Shannan Martin, when I was given an ARC of her 2018 title The Ministry of Ordinary Places, where I discovered the gift of her words and, a couple years later, reading this debut.
Reading Martin reminds me of conversations with dear friends. What does it mean to truly exhibit this Christian life? In Falling Free, they decide to sell their ideal homestead for a smaller house in a neighborhood not in a desirable part of town. Old friends caution them, concerned about how the children will fare, whether they can ever truly be safe, but the Martins proceed faithfully with their call. Her husband becomes a jail chaplain and she digs into the community.
Her stories, which feel deceptively simple, can bring me to tears because of the truths they call forth. Like the communion in the shared Sweet Slam, sacrificially made. Or when as a child Shannan struggled to fall asleep and her mother casually says, "When I can't sleep, I pretend I have a bunch of extra money, and I think about who I would give it to."
There are authors who have been pivotal for me in this, as well. Foremost was Rachel Held Evans, coming into my life at a time of change and reminding me I was not alone in asking these big questions. Now I find myself retreating into the words of Shannan Martin; her convictions and her frankness are refreshing and I have a particular delight in imagining how we might have crossed paths, had we stayed in Indiana longer. She lives in nearby Goshen, where two dear friends also lived, and when she mentions the local coffee shop on social media, I think fondly to my own gatherings there.
As is becoming habit for me, I may hear of an author and make a note to read a popular book of theirs, but instead of ingesting it, I find myself with a newer release, then playing catch-up with their canon later. Such was the case for Shannan Martin, when I was given an ARC of her 2018 title The Ministry of Ordinary Places, where I discovered the gift of her words and, a couple years later, reading this debut.
Reading Martin reminds me of conversations with dear friends. What does it mean to truly exhibit this Christian life? In Falling Free, they decide to sell their ideal homestead for a smaller house in a neighborhood not in a desirable part of town. Old friends caution them, concerned about how the children will fare, whether they can ever truly be safe, but the Martins proceed faithfully with their call. Her husband becomes a jail chaplain and she digs into the community.
Her stories, which feel deceptively simple, can bring me to tears because of the truths they call forth. Like the communion in the shared Sweet Slam, sacrificially made. Or when as a child Shannan struggled to fall asleep and her mother casually says, "When I can't sleep, I pretend I have a bunch of extra money, and I think about who I would give it to."