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Unapologetic: Why, Despite Everything, Christianity Can Still Make Surprising Emotional Sense
Francis Spufford's Unapologetic is a wonderfully pugnacious defense of Christianity. Refuting critics such as Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, and the "new atheist" crowd, Spufford, a former atheist and Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, argues that Christianity is recognizable, drawing on the deep and deeply ordinary vocabulary of human feeling, satisfying those who believe in it by offering a ruthlessly realistic account of the grown-up dignity of Christian experience.
Fans of C. S. Lewis, N. T. Wright, Marilynne Robinson, Mary Karr, Diana Butler Bass, Rob Bell, and James Martin will appreciate Spufford's crisp, lively, and abashedly defiant thesis.
Unapologetic is a book for believers who are fed up with being patronized, for non-believers curious about how faith can possibly work in the twenty-first century, and for anyone who feels there is something indefinably wrong, literalistic, anti-imaginative and intolerant about the way the atheist case is now being made.
Fans of C. S. Lewis, N. T. Wright, Marilynne Robinson, Mary Karr, Diana Butler Bass, Rob Bell, and James Martin will appreciate Spufford's crisp, lively, and abashedly defiant thesis.
Unapologetic is a book for believers who are fed up with being patronized, for non-believers curious about how faith can possibly work in the twenty-first century, and for anyone who feels there is something indefinably wrong, literalistic, anti-imaginative and intolerant about the way the atheist case is now being made.
224 pages, Hardcover
First published September 1, 2012
292 people are currently reading
2970 people want to read
About the author
Francis Spufford
20 books821 followersOfficially, I was a writer of non-fiction for the first half of my career, and I certainly enjoyed scraping up against the stubborn, resistant, endlessly interesting surface of the real world. I like awkwardness, things that don't fit, things that put up a struggle against being described. But when I was excited by what I was writing about, what I wanted to do with my excitement was always to tell a story. So every one of my non-fiction books borrowed techniques from the novel, and contained sections where I came close to behaving like a novelist. The chapter retelling the story of Captain Scott's last Antarctic expedition at the end of "I May Be Some Time", for example, or the thirty-page version of the gospel story in "Unapologetic". It wasn't a total surprise that in 2010 I published a book, "Red Plenty", which was a cross between fiction and documentary, or that afterwards I completed my crabwise crawl towards the novel with the honest-to-goodness entirely-made-up "Golden Hill". This was a historical novel about eighteenth century New York written like, well, an actual eighteenth century novel: hyperactive, stuffed with incident, and not very bothered about genre or good taste. It was elaborate, though. It was about exceptional events, and huge amounts of money, and good-looking people talking extravagantly in a special place. Nothing wrong with any of that: I'm an Aaron Sorkin fan and a Joss Whedon fan, keen on dialogue that whooshes around like a firework display. But those were the ingredients of romance, and there were other interesting things to tell stories about, so my next novel "Light Perpetual" in 2021 was deliberately plainer, about the lives that five London children might have had if they hadn't been killed in 1944 by a German rocket. Ordinary lives, in theory; except that there are no ordinary lives, if you look closely enough. It was longlisted for the Booker Prize. Then in 2023 I returned to strong forms of story, and to plotting more like "Golden Hill", with a noir crime novel called "Cahokia Jazz", set in the 1922 of a different timeline, where a metropolis full of Native Americans stood on the banks of the Mississippi. I was aiming for something like a classic black and white movie, except one you never saw, because it came from another history than our own. It won the Sidewise Award for alternate history. And now (2025/6) I've written a historical fantasy, "Nonesuch", set during the London Blitz, where as well as German bombs the protagonist Iris needs to deal with time-travelling fascists, and the remnants of Renaissance magic, preserved in the statues of the burning city. As writers of fantasy, I like C S Lewis, Ursula Le Guin, John Crowley, Tamsyn Muir, Guy Gavriel Kay, Katherine Addison. If you like them, you may like this.
Biography: I was born in 1964, the child of two historians. I'm married to the Dean of an Anglican cathedral in eastern England, I have two daughters, and I teach writing at Goldsmiths College, London.
Biography: I was born in 1964, the child of two historians. I'm married to the Dean of an Anglican cathedral in eastern England, I have two daughters, and I teach writing at Goldsmiths College, London.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 337 reviews
March 26, 2013
This is an extraordinary book. Alive; wriggling; surprising, it seems to come from a place no book has ever come from. Spufford writes as one who knows atheism from the inside; grasps its inner logic; is not unsympathetic to its causes, but who also now has the same insider knowledge of faith.
His claim, in a nutshell, is that the one is no less emotionally viable than the other. Intellectually, it is impossible to come to a final ruling on the central questions posed in the atheism vs faith conflicts. Even in the closing pages of this faith-soaked book, Spufford is prepared to admit that he doesn’t know if there is a God: that such a thing is unknowable. But emotionally, it is possible to decide whether faith makes sense; whether the Christian story ‘fits’ the picture of who we are as human beings. And here Spufford excels as a guide and essayist. He relentlessly exposes the inner workings of his own emotional journey, to tell us how it feels to have faith, and why it is that no bus-borne atheist propaganda can erase that feeling. The feeling is real, it is emotionally true. It matters. It all makes – as the book’s sub-title suggests, surprising emotional sense.
What is unusual and powerful about this book is the language it is written in. Not just because of Spufford’s game-changing use of the ‘F’ word, but because he writes from the heart of contemporary culture. He out-Dawkinses Dawkins and out-Hitchenses Hitchens, describing faith in words that those who don’t have faith can readily appropriate. This is hugely refreshing. How often are ‘defenses’ of faith written in such a way that only those who already have faith can appreciate them? What’s the point of that? Nobody gets points for self-congratulation. But to face the challenge of describing faith for those who don’t believe; who, perhaps for very good reasons, cannot, that is something new.
You won’t agree with every opinion Spufford expresses – why would you? He writes with a acerbic wit that occasionally polarises, and some in his own faith community will argue that he has gone too far in re-negotiating faith to make it palatable. Some will question the logic of his views on sexuality; or the adequacy of his doctrine of the cross; or his stark lack of interest in life after death. There may well be conversations to be had in these areas. But these considerations shouldn’t distract from the immense achievement at the heart of this book. At it’s core, it relates – beautifully and eloquently – the meaning of grace, and argues powerfully for the continued place of Christianity in our world and its future.
His claim, in a nutshell, is that the one is no less emotionally viable than the other. Intellectually, it is impossible to come to a final ruling on the central questions posed in the atheism vs faith conflicts. Even in the closing pages of this faith-soaked book, Spufford is prepared to admit that he doesn’t know if there is a God: that such a thing is unknowable. But emotionally, it is possible to decide whether faith makes sense; whether the Christian story ‘fits’ the picture of who we are as human beings. And here Spufford excels as a guide and essayist. He relentlessly exposes the inner workings of his own emotional journey, to tell us how it feels to have faith, and why it is that no bus-borne atheist propaganda can erase that feeling. The feeling is real, it is emotionally true. It matters. It all makes – as the book’s sub-title suggests, surprising emotional sense.
What is unusual and powerful about this book is the language it is written in. Not just because of Spufford’s game-changing use of the ‘F’ word, but because he writes from the heart of contemporary culture. He out-Dawkinses Dawkins and out-Hitchenses Hitchens, describing faith in words that those who don’t have faith can readily appropriate. This is hugely refreshing. How often are ‘defenses’ of faith written in such a way that only those who already have faith can appreciate them? What’s the point of that? Nobody gets points for self-congratulation. But to face the challenge of describing faith for those who don’t believe; who, perhaps for very good reasons, cannot, that is something new.
You won’t agree with every opinion Spufford expresses – why would you? He writes with a acerbic wit that occasionally polarises, and some in his own faith community will argue that he has gone too far in re-negotiating faith to make it palatable. Some will question the logic of his views on sexuality; or the adequacy of his doctrine of the cross; or his stark lack of interest in life after death. There may well be conversations to be had in these areas. But these considerations shouldn’t distract from the immense achievement at the heart of this book. At it’s core, it relates – beautifully and eloquently – the meaning of grace, and argues powerfully for the continued place of Christianity in our world and its future.
May 15, 2019
Yet another book on my wobbly journey to discover if some sort of faith or spiritual practise could be part of my life.
This book is like sitting in a washing machine, with the temperature at very hot and the rotations set to breakneck speed. Spufford's style is vaguely stream of consciousness, and rather florid. He gallops along, tossing everything up in the air and chomping his way through various aspects of Christianity, embracing difficult issues with gusto.
From his perspective, belief in God is primarily a feeling or emotion, with the tenets of Christianity following in the wake of that. He talks of listening to Mozart's Clarinet Concerto, and experiencing that as a pivotal moment in understanding this as the sound of mercy. Yet in many ways his beliefs are the beliefs of a regular Anglican churchgoer...and he's keen to stress that this is the case. The Eucharist and what it means is important to him, as are the teachings of Christ, especially his repeated instruction to love one another.
In many ways though he explores Christianity as a tenuous experience.
He discusses his experience of prayer, which I found interesting ....
I think I got most from his chapter about how the world is so cruel in many ways, and how atrocities happen, yet Christians somehow try and come to terms with an ever present God, who so often doesn't help. Sometimes on a massive scale he doesn't help. He discusses this in detail, to show the reader that he really isn't evading these issues. He also discuss the ways in which Christianity has tried to address this over the millennium, and then he dismisses these traditional arguments. He ends by saying
He talks about the fact that Christians are a band of brothers and sisters - and that includes the Sarah Palins of this world. He may disagree with nearly everything she says and stands for, but in one way or another, she too is a Christian seeker looking for mercy. He argues though that he is no more responsible for her than an atheist would be for the atrocities of Mao. I found the ideas in this part of the book , a bit of a struggle....
He feels strongly that life is challenging, and bad things happen. He talks about sin, or in his terms, the Human Propensity to Fuck Things Up. In his eyes, God can help us negotiate our transgressions. There is no punitive God here, but rather one who can help us through our mistakes and weaknesses.....
He dismisses hell as a human invention, a way of exerting social control, and something totally at odds with the concept of a loving God. He thinks that the church has made many mistakes over the centuries...the idea of hell being one of them. But he still thinks it has always had something of value to offer people.
Finally, I got a lot from his description why Christianity (as opposed to another spiritual path), holds meaning for him.
I found it extremely rewarding to read this book. He describes a tenuous experience of Christianity, with some very real problems, but it made a lot of sense to me.
This book is like sitting in a washing machine, with the temperature at very hot and the rotations set to breakneck speed. Spufford's style is vaguely stream of consciousness, and rather florid. He gallops along, tossing everything up in the air and chomping his way through various aspects of Christianity, embracing difficult issues with gusto.
From his perspective, belief in God is primarily a feeling or emotion, with the tenets of Christianity following in the wake of that. He talks of listening to Mozart's Clarinet Concerto, and experiencing that as a pivotal moment in understanding this as the sound of mercy. Yet in many ways his beliefs are the beliefs of a regular Anglican churchgoer...and he's keen to stress that this is the case. The Eucharist and what it means is important to him, as are the teachings of Christ, especially his repeated instruction to love one another.
In many ways though he explores Christianity as a tenuous experience.
He discusses his experience of prayer, which I found interesting ....
I think I got most from his chapter about how the world is so cruel in many ways, and how atrocities happen, yet Christians somehow try and come to terms with an ever present God, who so often doesn't help. Sometimes on a massive scale he doesn't help. He discusses this in detail, to show the reader that he really isn't evading these issues. He also discuss the ways in which Christianity has tried to address this over the millennium, and then he dismisses these traditional arguments. He ends by saying
He talks about the fact that Christians are a band of brothers and sisters - and that includes the Sarah Palins of this world. He may disagree with nearly everything she says and stands for, but in one way or another, she too is a Christian seeker looking for mercy. He argues though that he is no more responsible for her than an atheist would be for the atrocities of Mao. I found the ideas in this part of the book , a bit of a struggle....
He feels strongly that life is challenging, and bad things happen. He talks about sin, or in his terms, the Human Propensity to Fuck Things Up. In his eyes, God can help us negotiate our transgressions. There is no punitive God here, but rather one who can help us through our mistakes and weaknesses.....
He dismisses hell as a human invention, a way of exerting social control, and something totally at odds with the concept of a loving God. He thinks that the church has made many mistakes over the centuries...the idea of hell being one of them. But he still thinks it has always had something of value to offer people.
Finally, I got a lot from his description why Christianity (as opposed to another spiritual path), holds meaning for him.
I found it extremely rewarding to read this book. He describes a tenuous experience of Christianity, with some very real problems, but it made a lot of sense to me.
June 20, 2016
I picked this book up from a random recommendation online. It sounded intriguing—an articulation of Christian faith from the inside—from a well-regarded British and Christian writer. It sounded worth my time, considering it is a short book at 220 pages.
Unfortunately, I discovered the book is far from Chesterton’s Orthodoxy, and it is certainly far from the genre. On page 21 he writes, “No, I can’t prove it. I don’t know that any of it is true. I don’t know if there’s a God. (And neither do you, and neither does Professor Dawkins, and neither does anybody. It isn’t the kind of thing you can know. It isn’t a knowable item.)”
If this isn’t enough to tell you what kind of book this is, perhaps this will help clarify matters. When Spufford refers to “sin” he doesn’t use the biblical term, instead, he uses his own, less offensive euphemism: HPtFtU. What is that you ask? It stands for the “Human Propensity to F*** things Up.” Oh, did I forget to mention that in the preface he defends his use of swearing in the book?
One might raise the question, here, then why bother? What’s it all about? I kept reading, hoping to find something redemptive in the book. Surely there is, right? On page 23 Spufford comes straight out and tells us his purpose in writing. He says, “This, however, is a defense of Christian emotions—of their intelligibility, of their grown-up dignity. The book is called Unapologetic because it isn’t giving an ‘apologia,’ the technical term for a defense of the ideas…And also because I’m not sorry.”
Well. Are you interested in reading a book about the “grown-up dignity” of “Christian emotions.” What might one find in such a book? On page 67, Spufford tells us, as though we already knew, that “we don’t need God to explain any material aspect of the universe, including our mental states; while conversely, no material fact about the universe is ever going to decide for us whether He exists. God’s non-necessity in explanations is a given, for me. For me, it means that I’m only ever going to get to faith by some process quite separate from proof and disproof; that I’m only going to arrive at it because, in some way that it is not in the power of evidence to rebut, it feels right.”
Spufford has come to ‘faith’ because he has “found that it answers my need, and corresponds to emotional reality for me.” Such ‘faith’ has a poor foundation, no? He admits himself, that while it “explains ...reality more justly, more profoundly, more scrupulously and plausibly than any of the alternatives. (Am I sure I’m right? Of course not…)" p. 75
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised by Spufford’s explanation and defense of evolution and rejection of the Genesis account. That’s there and it is throughout the work. Never does he bother to question if Christianity has lost its appeal (not to mention its judgment from God) in England because its explanatory power is so neutered by the British institutional acceptance of evolution and rejection of special creation?
So does Christian faith offer anything more than emotional resonance? It seems not. For Spufford confesses on page 211 that “you can be ‘good without God.’” In case you want to think better of him—surely he’s not so daft—is he? He adds, “there’s obviously no necessary connection at all between belief in God and virtue.”
Again, I shouldn’t be so surprised by the rampant relativism of his theology, when he includes “Christian Socialism in nineteenth-century England” and “Marxism in Central America in the 1980s” as “intelligible developments of the gospel.” p. 213
If socialism and Marxism are so great, perhaps we can learn morality from other religions too? Sure! He writes on page 218, “I don’t, myself, see a problem with having Anglican bishops in the House of Lords, so long as it goes on being a revising chamber rather than an elected senate, especially if they were to be joined ex officio by some Catholic bishops, the Chief Rabbi, an imam or two, some Hindu and Buddhist representatives and a selection of secular philosophers. Why wouldn’t you want the accumulated moral traditions of the country on hand to look at our legislation?”
Such moral relativism has consequences, and among those consequences for Spufford are his thorough defense of homosexuality and “transgenderism.” You see, the church has only been bigoted against such people because they’re stuck in the old traditions and they’re finally waking up to the new moral climate. Thank heavens!
So what can we take away from Spufford’s book? His conclusion leaves no doubt open. Whatever you take away from the book, you may not grab hold of certainty—for there is none. Even on the last page he expresses his uncertainty of the existence of God—for it is not “a knowable item.” p. 220 We’re left with Pascal’s wager about God. He is sometimes lucky to “feel as if there is one.” And here’s the compelling part: “it makes emotional sense to proceed as if He’s there; to dare the conditional.”
For some, what I’ve written is sufficient warning against the book, but not all readers will share my presuppositions, and paint me as a right-wing fanatic. And this is the crux of the matter—presuppositions and epistemology. Spufford is beholden to a materialistic empiricism that reduces knowledge to what we can see, touch, or feel. This is not the Christian world, nor can it be part of the Christian gospel.
God does exist and we can know it. With certainty. How you ask? Because the world doesn’t make sense without him. God’s “existence is essential to all reasoning.” (Greg Bahnsen, Pushing the Antithesis, p. 8) The Bible teaches us that “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.” Spufford starts from the same presuppositions as an atheist, and unsurprisingly, arrives at the same basic conclusion—he just chooses to follow his emotional intuition to God, rather than away.
Whatever good there is in this book, and there is some, is muddled in the theological confusion in Spufford’s “confession.” Avoid this book, it will do more harm than good. I should have reflected on the title of this book further before reading it.
Unfortunately, I discovered the book is far from Chesterton’s Orthodoxy, and it is certainly far from the genre. On page 21 he writes, “No, I can’t prove it. I don’t know that any of it is true. I don’t know if there’s a God. (And neither do you, and neither does Professor Dawkins, and neither does anybody. It isn’t the kind of thing you can know. It isn’t a knowable item.)”
If this isn’t enough to tell you what kind of book this is, perhaps this will help clarify matters. When Spufford refers to “sin” he doesn’t use the biblical term, instead, he uses his own, less offensive euphemism: HPtFtU. What is that you ask? It stands for the “Human Propensity to F*** things Up.” Oh, did I forget to mention that in the preface he defends his use of swearing in the book?
One might raise the question, here, then why bother? What’s it all about? I kept reading, hoping to find something redemptive in the book. Surely there is, right? On page 23 Spufford comes straight out and tells us his purpose in writing. He says, “This, however, is a defense of Christian emotions—of their intelligibility, of their grown-up dignity. The book is called Unapologetic because it isn’t giving an ‘apologia,’ the technical term for a defense of the ideas…And also because I’m not sorry.”
Well. Are you interested in reading a book about the “grown-up dignity” of “Christian emotions.” What might one find in such a book? On page 67, Spufford tells us, as though we already knew, that “we don’t need God to explain any material aspect of the universe, including our mental states; while conversely, no material fact about the universe is ever going to decide for us whether He exists. God’s non-necessity in explanations is a given, for me. For me, it means that I’m only ever going to get to faith by some process quite separate from proof and disproof; that I’m only going to arrive at it because, in some way that it is not in the power of evidence to rebut, it feels right.”
Spufford has come to ‘faith’ because he has “found that it answers my need, and corresponds to emotional reality for me.” Such ‘faith’ has a poor foundation, no? He admits himself, that while it “explains ...reality more justly, more profoundly, more scrupulously and plausibly than any of the alternatives. (Am I sure I’m right? Of course not…)" p. 75
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised by Spufford’s explanation and defense of evolution and rejection of the Genesis account. That’s there and it is throughout the work. Never does he bother to question if Christianity has lost its appeal (not to mention its judgment from God) in England because its explanatory power is so neutered by the British institutional acceptance of evolution and rejection of special creation?
So does Christian faith offer anything more than emotional resonance? It seems not. For Spufford confesses on page 211 that “you can be ‘good without God.’” In case you want to think better of him—surely he’s not so daft—is he? He adds, “there’s obviously no necessary connection at all between belief in God and virtue.”
Again, I shouldn’t be so surprised by the rampant relativism of his theology, when he includes “Christian Socialism in nineteenth-century England” and “Marxism in Central America in the 1980s” as “intelligible developments of the gospel.” p. 213
If socialism and Marxism are so great, perhaps we can learn morality from other religions too? Sure! He writes on page 218, “I don’t, myself, see a problem with having Anglican bishops in the House of Lords, so long as it goes on being a revising chamber rather than an elected senate, especially if they were to be joined ex officio by some Catholic bishops, the Chief Rabbi, an imam or two, some Hindu and Buddhist representatives and a selection of secular philosophers. Why wouldn’t you want the accumulated moral traditions of the country on hand to look at our legislation?”
Such moral relativism has consequences, and among those consequences for Spufford are his thorough defense of homosexuality and “transgenderism.” You see, the church has only been bigoted against such people because they’re stuck in the old traditions and they’re finally waking up to the new moral climate. Thank heavens!
So what can we take away from Spufford’s book? His conclusion leaves no doubt open. Whatever you take away from the book, you may not grab hold of certainty—for there is none. Even on the last page he expresses his uncertainty of the existence of God—for it is not “a knowable item.” p. 220 We’re left with Pascal’s wager about God. He is sometimes lucky to “feel as if there is one.” And here’s the compelling part: “it makes emotional sense to proceed as if He’s there; to dare the conditional.”
For some, what I’ve written is sufficient warning against the book, but not all readers will share my presuppositions, and paint me as a right-wing fanatic. And this is the crux of the matter—presuppositions and epistemology. Spufford is beholden to a materialistic empiricism that reduces knowledge to what we can see, touch, or feel. This is not the Christian world, nor can it be part of the Christian gospel.
God does exist and we can know it. With certainty. How you ask? Because the world doesn’t make sense without him. God’s “existence is essential to all reasoning.” (Greg Bahnsen, Pushing the Antithesis, p. 8) The Bible teaches us that “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.” Spufford starts from the same presuppositions as an atheist, and unsurprisingly, arrives at the same basic conclusion—he just chooses to follow his emotional intuition to God, rather than away.
Whatever good there is in this book, and there is some, is muddled in the theological confusion in Spufford’s “confession.” Avoid this book, it will do more harm than good. I should have reflected on the title of this book further before reading it.
November 11, 2012
Is it possible this glorious book was largely written at the corner table by the window in Costa Coffee, Sidney Street, Cambridge, as the author claims? Surely not. For how could coffee inspire such a vigorous stream of consciousness, such a tsunami of words, such a font of creativity, such reverently unshackled irreverence? Where in Cambridge could you possibly expect to hear the words 'auto-sneer' and 'sodomitical', and the acronym 'HPtFtU'?
It's simply a masterpiece, and like any great masterpiece, demands to be read, and read again. Or even better, heard and heard again.
For this is a book to read out loud - preferably with someone else in the room. Because you won't be able to stop yourself; I have never read a book I wanted to quote from quite as much as this one. It reads like a radio broadcast; a flow of creative consciousness with inescapable logic. I happened to be reading CS Lewis's 'Broadcast Talks' at the same time as 'Unapologetic'; the similarities are remarkable - with the exception of the liberal use of profanity! But profanities always used in context. It's sad that many of a still find language more shocking than truth.
He is also a great story teller. Read chapter 5, and like me, find the gospel coming to gritty life again in a way I wouldn't have thought possible.
You won't agree with his theology all the time - I certainly didn't - but he has done more to restore and challenge my faith than just about any other writer.
Another book I would plead to read.
It's simply a masterpiece, and like any great masterpiece, demands to be read, and read again. Or even better, heard and heard again.
For this is a book to read out loud - preferably with someone else in the room. Because you won't be able to stop yourself; I have never read a book I wanted to quote from quite as much as this one. It reads like a radio broadcast; a flow of creative consciousness with inescapable logic. I happened to be reading CS Lewis's 'Broadcast Talks' at the same time as 'Unapologetic'; the similarities are remarkable - with the exception of the liberal use of profanity! But profanities always used in context. It's sad that many of a still find language more shocking than truth.
He is also a great story teller. Read chapter 5, and like me, find the gospel coming to gritty life again in a way I wouldn't have thought possible.
You won't agree with his theology all the time - I certainly didn't - but he has done more to restore and challenge my faith than just about any other writer.
Another book I would plead to read.
January 31, 2014
Nick Hornby called this book: "...an incredibly smart, challenging, and beautiful book, humming with ideas and arguments." The annoying title almost made me put it back on the library shelf until I read that blurb. As usual, Hornby is right. The book has come in for some flack from some Goodreads readers, mostly, I think, conservative Christians and Biblical literalists. But I felt as though it was written specifically for someone like me (liberal American protestant). There was hardly a sentence with which I could disagree, and mostly it displayed a very refreshing contemporary wit, unusual in this kind of book, and certainly not evident from the title. It was written not for me, but for the British public, of which only 6% go to church regularly. There is a special foreword for the American edition, calling attention to the religious differences between the two countries. In America it's 26%, with another 16% claiming to go to church when actually they don't. It's that 16% that astonishes Brits; they'd apparently be more likely to lie the other way. In any case, I greatly admired Spufford's ability to make things clear for moderns. What is sin? HPtFtU... the Human Propensity to Fuck things Up. (NB--not just fuck up, but fuck things up.) He gets a lot of mileage out of this concept, as well he should. My only quibble would be his, to me, too casual dismissal of the idea of hell. If he had read Dante with a little more sympathy, he might have tried to include that poet's attempt to reconcile God's unconditional love with the idea of divine justice. Spufford makes it a very logical either/or thing, and he chooses love. He is surprisingly charitable to Richard Dawkins (whom he has debated) and Christopher Hitchins. Philip Pullman comes in for his strongest sarcasm; but he also rightly blames C.S. Lewis for "one of the great Bad Arguments of all time." Overall, an engaging and even inspiring read from a first-rate essayist.
January 17, 2013
I think I would actually give this 6 stars if that were possible. I have read too many books about religion written by overly militant, overly conservative Americans and this book filled a hole that they always miss. 'Unapologetic' describes the particular breed of liberal yet traditionalist Anglicanism which permeates much of the UK - part of the reason why I loved it, yet I suspect also part of the reason why those of a more American/Baptist persuasion may hate it.
Fast-paced, irreverent, comic, this book reads like a conversation I've always wanted to have and my kindle edition is covered in highlighted passages that I wish I could share with everyone as they are just so spot on.
A good book for those willing to ask big questions about their faith and who aren't afraid of the answer 'I don't know', a good book for those who want to understand how and why Christians believe what they do when they don't look like 7 day Creationists, and a book I would love every atheist friend of mine to read as it is like taking a trip inside my head.
Fast-paced, irreverent, comic, this book reads like a conversation I've always wanted to have and my kindle edition is covered in highlighted passages that I wish I could share with everyone as they are just so spot on.
A good book for those willing to ask big questions about their faith and who aren't afraid of the answer 'I don't know', a good book for those who want to understand how and why Christians believe what they do when they don't look like 7 day Creationists, and a book I would love every atheist friend of mine to read as it is like taking a trip inside my head.
February 3, 2014
This highly personal account written by a Brit first raises the question of why many Christians are indeed apologetic today. Lots of reasons – they are accused of being needy, foolish, old-fashioned, and worst of all, humorless. Politicians prefer to avoid mentioning any commitments. When Tony Blair was asked a question about his religious views, his press secretary said, “We don’t do God.” And this is not to mention recent scandals involving homophobia, misogyny, and child abuse.
These are the objections, though, of people who care enough about religion to object to it, or “to rent a set of recreational objections from atheists Richard Dawkins or Christopher Hutchins.” Most Brits, he claims don’t think much about religion at all. They just shrug that there’s probably no God, so you should stop worrying and enjoy your life. It’s perfectly possible, he admits, for atheists to do enormous good in this world. But for him, belief in a Christian god is more satisfying emotionally.
He’s not offering any dreary doctrinal arguments as if he were debating against atheists; as he says, chances are he wouldn’t win if he were. Rational arguments either for or against religion and Christianity are pointless. What he is proposing is a defense of Christian emotions. For starters, he experienced “mercy” when he heard Mozart’s clarinet concerto in l997.
Now that’s not going to convince anyone of anything, but it gets at the heart of Spufford’s “emotion.” He says that science perceives the world without metaphor, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but there are aspects of experience that can’t be perceived, except through metaphor.
It makes emotional sense to proceed as if God is there, to “dare the conditional.” No one really knows whether he exists or not; it’s not a knowable item, but an imaginative one. If you “dare” to believe that God exists, then the idea of Christ as the human face of God acts as a guide to life. It’s life which is otherwise always ruled by what Spufford calls the “HptFtU” (Human Propensity to Fuck things Up). And humanity can always be counted on to do just that. God is definitely NOT in his heaven and all is right with the world. Far from it
Christ embodies a lot of things, things which organized Christianity has gotten wrong over the centuries. For example, Christ said nothing about sex- “no opinions whatsoever about homosexuality, abortion, non-procreative sex, clerical celibacy, masturbation, gay marriage, or how far you should go on a first date.” Christ is about the development of human potential, what he talks about as the” kingdom.” Spufford writes, “He seems to be saying something that only be glimpsed in comparisons, because the world contains no actual example. And yet the world glints and winks and shines everywhere with the possibility of it.” No actual examples because of HptFtU that got to Christ and crucified him.
Life is tragic,always ending in death, no denying that. And yet there is always the possibility of resurrection, enlightenment, forgiveness, second chances. Spufford says nothing about the hereafter – admits he knows absolutely nothing about it; he’s concerned with this world. The gospel accounts of Christ’s life are poetic, different interpretations are always possible, but they point in a general direction of the opening up of consciousness.
Spufford’s book is serious and at the same time wildly entertaining. He says at the end that while he checked facts and quotations, he did no research. “It is, designedly, just a report from the inside of my head, drawing on what’s already in there.” I'd say plenty is in there. It masterfully and imaginatively describes why Christianity makes good sense to him, worth reading (and fun, too).
These are the objections, though, of people who care enough about religion to object to it, or “to rent a set of recreational objections from atheists Richard Dawkins or Christopher Hutchins.” Most Brits, he claims don’t think much about religion at all. They just shrug that there’s probably no God, so you should stop worrying and enjoy your life. It’s perfectly possible, he admits, for atheists to do enormous good in this world. But for him, belief in a Christian god is more satisfying emotionally.
He’s not offering any dreary doctrinal arguments as if he were debating against atheists; as he says, chances are he wouldn’t win if he were. Rational arguments either for or against religion and Christianity are pointless. What he is proposing is a defense of Christian emotions. For starters, he experienced “mercy” when he heard Mozart’s clarinet concerto in l997.
Now that’s not going to convince anyone of anything, but it gets at the heart of Spufford’s “emotion.” He says that science perceives the world without metaphor, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but there are aspects of experience that can’t be perceived, except through metaphor.
It makes emotional sense to proceed as if God is there, to “dare the conditional.” No one really knows whether he exists or not; it’s not a knowable item, but an imaginative one. If you “dare” to believe that God exists, then the idea of Christ as the human face of God acts as a guide to life. It’s life which is otherwise always ruled by what Spufford calls the “HptFtU” (Human Propensity to Fuck things Up). And humanity can always be counted on to do just that. God is definitely NOT in his heaven and all is right with the world. Far from it
Christ embodies a lot of things, things which organized Christianity has gotten wrong over the centuries. For example, Christ said nothing about sex- “no opinions whatsoever about homosexuality, abortion, non-procreative sex, clerical celibacy, masturbation, gay marriage, or how far you should go on a first date.” Christ is about the development of human potential, what he talks about as the” kingdom.” Spufford writes, “He seems to be saying something that only be glimpsed in comparisons, because the world contains no actual example. And yet the world glints and winks and shines everywhere with the possibility of it.” No actual examples because of HptFtU that got to Christ and crucified him.
Life is tragic,always ending in death, no denying that. And yet there is always the possibility of resurrection, enlightenment, forgiveness, second chances. Spufford says nothing about the hereafter – admits he knows absolutely nothing about it; he’s concerned with this world. The gospel accounts of Christ’s life are poetic, different interpretations are always possible, but they point in a general direction of the opening up of consciousness.
Spufford’s book is serious and at the same time wildly entertaining. He says at the end that while he checked facts and quotations, he did no research. “It is, designedly, just a report from the inside of my head, drawing on what’s already in there.” I'd say plenty is in there. It masterfully and imaginatively describes why Christianity makes good sense to him, worth reading (and fun, too).
November 10, 2018
I dont care that he is atheist, wanted to read what he is thinking and I guess found nothing much.
He is a marxist so he sees the things from a Marxist point of view that wants to replace religion, priests and bible with the Das Capital, the local Marxist consular and the life story of Stalin, Lenin. The arguments and insults of the book and the religion seem to be educated and with good arguments but he forgets that only 22% of the universe is known in terms of matter, the other dark energy is not yet understood. How that smart fellow with only knowledge of the 22% can be sure about the 100% is a question for a debate....
He is a marxist so he sees the things from a Marxist point of view that wants to replace religion, priests and bible with the Das Capital, the local Marxist consular and the life story of Stalin, Lenin. The arguments and insults of the book and the religion seem to be educated and with good arguments but he forgets that only 22% of the universe is known in terms of matter, the other dark energy is not yet understood. How that smart fellow with only knowledge of the 22% can be sure about the 100% is a question for a debate....
Read
June 6, 2013Well written, except for very long chapters. I generally needed to take a break mid chapter.
The book starts with what can be a common view of Christians:
we advocate wishy-washy niceness; promise the oppressed pie in the sky when they die; that we're infantile and can't do without an illusory daddy in the sky; that we oppose modernity and progress;we're embarrassing; that we get all snooty and yuck-no-thanks about transexuals, but think it's perfectly normal for middle aged men to wear purple dresses; that we're the villains in history; that we're stuck in the past ...
Spufford then wonders at the truly devoted way Dawkinsites manage to extract a stimulating hobby from the thought of other people's belief and reserves the right that believers get a slightly bigger say in what faith means than unbelievers do. He describes the book as a defence of Christian emotions - of their intelligibility, of their grown-up dignity.
My favourite part of the book was "The Crack In Everything" which describes the problem of using the word sin in modern culture, and devises an acronym HPtFtU for the human propensity, to fuck things up, our active inclination to break stuff (moods, promises, relationships we care about and our own well-being and other people's as well as material objects.
Spufford describes himself as turning to Christianity after over 20 years of athiesm and why he chose Christanity as his religion, despite his issues with the Church of England. He describes "the uncertainty of his experience, the way it slips out of definite reach, the way it eludes definition. And yet he confirms the way his experience of God has changed him, illuminates the world and reorganises it. it's a presence that may mot be there, but which can draw out trust, that you can come to it in need and know that you're forgiven. That it shines."
The book discusses science, especially the way that modern science is specific to the last two centuries in Europe & North America. How it is "a drastically human-centred, human-scaled selection from the physical universe, which happens withing society. It doesn't acknowledge the radical strangeness of quantum mechanics, it doesn't engage with the perturbing immensity of cosmology, it doesn't admit to the extraordinary temporariness of familiar things" (I needed a lie down during this chapter!)
Spufford gives a very thoughtful discussion of the cruel world and how he has problems with common "theodicies", as well as common problems in the chruch, many of which I share.
This book had me laughing out loud, frowning, concentrating, exhausted, but ended with a shared sense of hopeful sense. "Battered-about-but-still-trying-sense. The sense recommended by our awkward sky fairy, who says:don't be careful. Don't be surprised by any human cruelty. But don't be afraid. Far more can be mended than you think."
The book starts with what can be a common view of Christians:
we advocate wishy-washy niceness; promise the oppressed pie in the sky when they die; that we're infantile and can't do without an illusory daddy in the sky; that we oppose modernity and progress;we're embarrassing; that we get all snooty and yuck-no-thanks about transexuals, but think it's perfectly normal for middle aged men to wear purple dresses; that we're the villains in history; that we're stuck in the past ...
Spufford then wonders at the truly devoted way Dawkinsites manage to extract a stimulating hobby from the thought of other people's belief and reserves the right that believers get a slightly bigger say in what faith means than unbelievers do. He describes the book as a defence of Christian emotions - of their intelligibility, of their grown-up dignity.
My favourite part of the book was "The Crack In Everything" which describes the problem of using the word sin in modern culture, and devises an acronym HPtFtU for the human propensity, to fuck things up, our active inclination to break stuff (moods, promises, relationships we care about and our own well-being and other people's as well as material objects.
Spufford describes himself as turning to Christianity after over 20 years of athiesm and why he chose Christanity as his religion, despite his issues with the Church of England. He describes "the uncertainty of his experience, the way it slips out of definite reach, the way it eludes definition. And yet he confirms the way his experience of God has changed him, illuminates the world and reorganises it. it's a presence that may mot be there, but which can draw out trust, that you can come to it in need and know that you're forgiven. That it shines."
The book discusses science, especially the way that modern science is specific to the last two centuries in Europe & North America. How it is "a drastically human-centred, human-scaled selection from the physical universe, which happens withing society. It doesn't acknowledge the radical strangeness of quantum mechanics, it doesn't engage with the perturbing immensity of cosmology, it doesn't admit to the extraordinary temporariness of familiar things" (I needed a lie down during this chapter!)
Spufford gives a very thoughtful discussion of the cruel world and how he has problems with common "theodicies", as well as common problems in the chruch, many of which I share.
This book had me laughing out loud, frowning, concentrating, exhausted, but ended with a shared sense of hopeful sense. "Battered-about-but-still-trying-sense. The sense recommended by our awkward sky fairy, who says:don't be careful. Don't be surprised by any human cruelty. But don't be afraid. Far more can be mended than you think."
March 31, 2023
DNF
This man is very confusing. Plus, he rambles on and on! I could not stand it.
This man is very confusing. Plus, he rambles on and on! I could not stand it.
February 3, 2014
Unapologetic is not an argument. It is a confession. It is Francis Spufford's confession that, after leaving his childhood faith to become an atheist for 20 years, he finds that life doesn't make sense without Christianity. Unlike many apologists, Spufford's book focuses on the emotional and existential features of Christianity.
I greatly enjoyed the content of the book while disliking the style. In my opinion, Spufford overshot in his attempt to be straightforward, authentic, and accessible. The stream of consciousness writing sometimes inhibits understanding. Some of the pop culture references and idioms I think got lost on their way across the Atlantic (Spufford is British; I am American). Also, a few times I think Spufford got distracted from his examination of how ordinary experience reveals a transcendent orientation. Nonetheless, the book is studded with insights.
I am glad I read this book. I would recommend it to others looking for something fresh in the apologetics department. Spufford is idiosyncratic enough that no one will be happy with everything he says.
I greatly enjoyed the content of the book while disliking the style. In my opinion, Spufford overshot in his attempt to be straightforward, authentic, and accessible. The stream of consciousness writing sometimes inhibits understanding. Some of the pop culture references and idioms I think got lost on their way across the Atlantic (Spufford is British; I am American). Also, a few times I think Spufford got distracted from his examination of how ordinary experience reveals a transcendent orientation. Nonetheless, the book is studded with insights.
I am glad I read this book. I would recommend it to others looking for something fresh in the apologetics department. Spufford is idiosyncratic enough that no one will be happy with everything he says.
November 2, 2012
A book written for atheists. I was giggling all of the way through. A very sweary book but I think the language helps make his point.
For once we have a defence of faith which is predicated not on nit picking arguments but rather on how it feels to believe, and how it feels right to the author. I identify with him a lot. I love the honesty of his writing. He has no pat answers.
I'm sure many traditional Christians will be offended by this book. And that is sad.
Couldn't put it down. And it is no lightweight (in content - not by weight)
For once we have a defence of faith which is predicated not on nit picking arguments but rather on how it feels to believe, and how it feels right to the author. I identify with him a lot. I love the honesty of his writing. He has no pat answers.
I'm sure many traditional Christians will be offended by this book. And that is sad.
Couldn't put it down. And it is no lightweight (in content - not by weight)
July 8, 2024
Apologetikk for pessismisten. Spufford er frekk, ærlig og forklarer synd og det ondes problem på en måte som får meg til å miste alt håp for både verden og menneskeheten. Samtidig forteller han historien om Jesus på en nydelig måte, og kommer med mange fine anekdoter om menighet, kristne og Gud som jeg tror mange som ikke føler seg hjemme i den gladkristne litteraturen kan like.
March 26, 2021
This is not _exactly_ a book of Christian apologetics, in that it isn't trying to show that Christianity is "logical" or "compatible with science" or any of the usual things apologists try to show. Instead, he makes the argument that there is a whole aspect of human experience, which some call "religioius" or "grace", which, however they can be explained by sufficiently clever science, are nonetheless completely real to the person who experiences them.
Along the way he replaces the concept of "sin" with the concept of the Human Propensity to Fuck Things Up (HPtFtU - why the second t is small and the u is capitalized, I surely don't know). And the fact that he uses this phrase is a clue to one of this book's charms (which may be dubious): Spufford uses "language" freely. He may do this with some vague intent of shocking - he is, after all, English - but I suspect it's more of a way of saying "we're all just ordinary people here, not Holy Joes." Indeed, one of the topics he covers is the modern English folks feel severe embarrassment at admitting that they are "religious".
Spufford speaks frankly, if not always explicitly, of his own experiences with HPtFtU, and admits that he has indeed FtU pretty badly at times; but against this he puts the experience of grace. I can't really reproduce his explanation of grace without quoting it, and that would be too long.
The fundamental problem with this book, as with most apologetics books for that matter, is that mostly the people who will read it don't need it except as a bolster for their own faith; atheists, in my experience, rarely read books of apologetics unless they are looking for arguments to puncture or take exception to. The border case, someone who is quavering on the edge of gaining or losing religious faith, is probably the ideal audience for this book.
Still, I enjoyed it. His description of the life and death of Jesus (referred to as Yeshua for the length of the story)is worth the price of admission by itself.
Along the way he replaces the concept of "sin" with the concept of the Human Propensity to Fuck Things Up (HPtFtU - why the second t is small and the u is capitalized, I surely don't know). And the fact that he uses this phrase is a clue to one of this book's charms (which may be dubious): Spufford uses "language" freely. He may do this with some vague intent of shocking - he is, after all, English - but I suspect it's more of a way of saying "we're all just ordinary people here, not Holy Joes." Indeed, one of the topics he covers is the modern English folks feel severe embarrassment at admitting that they are "religious".
Spufford speaks frankly, if not always explicitly, of his own experiences with HPtFtU, and admits that he has indeed FtU pretty badly at times; but against this he puts the experience of grace. I can't really reproduce his explanation of grace without quoting it, and that would be too long.
The fundamental problem with this book, as with most apologetics books for that matter, is that mostly the people who will read it don't need it except as a bolster for their own faith; atheists, in my experience, rarely read books of apologetics unless they are looking for arguments to puncture or take exception to. The border case, someone who is quavering on the edge of gaining or losing religious faith, is probably the ideal audience for this book.
Still, I enjoyed it. His description of the life and death of Jesus (referred to as Yeshua for the length of the story)is worth the price of admission by itself.
October 24, 2021
2.5/5.
Many of my Goodreads friends have read this book already and they provide their own insights that I agree with. One described in as "Equally brilliant and baffling." Others have commented on the stream-of-consciousness, chatty style. Alvin Plantinga and Richard Swinburne this ain't. Someone else commented that they struggled to get into the book until the chapter "Yeshua" where Francis Spufford recounts the life of Jesus (this was the best chapter in my view).
The premise of the book - how can Christianity be plausible "emotionally" rather than "reasonably," is a fresh take on apologetics. Yes, there are the occasional converts who are persuaded by the older style of apologetics that pointed to the ontological argument for God or for evidence of the Resurrection, but I think a lot of people, when (or, even, IF!) they seriously consider religion, don't care too much about the logical premises of Christianity but instead focus on emotionally satisfaction; Neo-Romanticism has trumped Neo-Enlightenment values.
The stream-of-consciousness style makes 'Unapologetic' casual, like a vigorous conversation you'd have with a friend at a pub about ultimate things. I think it DOES succeed as an apologetic book for the unbeliever or skeptic who wouldn't read 'More Than A Carpenter' or 'The Case for Christ.' Spufford drops F-bombs along the way, even rebranding sin as "the human propensity to f*** things up" (HPtFtU). When I was thick into apologetics and the New Atheists I wished that Christians could be as flippant as someone like Christopher Hitchens who, at one point, wanted to title his biography of Mother Teresa 'Sacred Cow.' There's a kind of swaggering strength in being so caustic (it's why people take George Carlin's silly critiques of religion seriously) and where folks like Hitchens and Richard Dawkins can be punchy in their quotes, Christians have demurred and refrained from coarse language. But, as much as I wished at one point that Christians could be as punchy as their belligerents, I actually now find Spufford's use of the F-word as rather cringey, even while not being so puritanical that I think Spufford ought NOT to swear.
Anyways, my own reading of the book resembled a bell curve. It was difficult for me to adjust and get into 'Unapologetic,' then at the midway point I thought the 'Yeshua' chapter made a good presentation of the life of Christ, and then as Spufford started closing his case, he propounded the typical liberal Christian claim that because Jesus did not speak out against homosexuality, he's really A-OK with people doing whatever they want in bed (in keeping with being a stream-of-consciousness book, Spufford admits to not doing any additional research for 'Unapologetic' and here it really shows; at times he can be very gracious, such as when he tells Christians we can't reject each other, that he and Sarah Palin are part of the same body of Christ, and yet in affirming homosexual practice he doesn't give one iota to the traditional case against homosexual practice).
Spufford, to me, seems like the British equivalent (or even heir) to Frederick Buechner. Novelists both, Spufford isn't too concerned with "the REASON for God"; rather, he's much more about "listening to your life" and catches the glimpses of grace that forgive us, that sustain us. Both are at times cheekily irreverent, both are more liberal than an evangelical, but both are committed believers. I could see myself recommending this book to a skeptic as a gateway towards faith but I'd rather suggest more dependable and true guides like C.S. Lewis and Timothy Keller.
Many of my Goodreads friends have read this book already and they provide their own insights that I agree with. One described in as "Equally brilliant and baffling." Others have commented on the stream-of-consciousness, chatty style. Alvin Plantinga and Richard Swinburne this ain't. Someone else commented that they struggled to get into the book until the chapter "Yeshua" where Francis Spufford recounts the life of Jesus (this was the best chapter in my view).
The premise of the book - how can Christianity be plausible "emotionally" rather than "reasonably," is a fresh take on apologetics. Yes, there are the occasional converts who are persuaded by the older style of apologetics that pointed to the ontological argument for God or for evidence of the Resurrection, but I think a lot of people, when (or, even, IF!) they seriously consider religion, don't care too much about the logical premises of Christianity but instead focus on emotionally satisfaction; Neo-Romanticism has trumped Neo-Enlightenment values.
The stream-of-consciousness style makes 'Unapologetic' casual, like a vigorous conversation you'd have with a friend at a pub about ultimate things. I think it DOES succeed as an apologetic book for the unbeliever or skeptic who wouldn't read 'More Than A Carpenter' or 'The Case for Christ.' Spufford drops F-bombs along the way, even rebranding sin as "the human propensity to f*** things up" (HPtFtU). When I was thick into apologetics and the New Atheists I wished that Christians could be as flippant as someone like Christopher Hitchens who, at one point, wanted to title his biography of Mother Teresa 'Sacred Cow.' There's a kind of swaggering strength in being so caustic (it's why people take George Carlin's silly critiques of religion seriously) and where folks like Hitchens and Richard Dawkins can be punchy in their quotes, Christians have demurred and refrained from coarse language. But, as much as I wished at one point that Christians could be as punchy as their belligerents, I actually now find Spufford's use of the F-word as rather cringey, even while not being so puritanical that I think Spufford ought NOT to swear.
Anyways, my own reading of the book resembled a bell curve. It was difficult for me to adjust and get into 'Unapologetic,' then at the midway point I thought the 'Yeshua' chapter made a good presentation of the life of Christ, and then as Spufford started closing his case, he propounded the typical liberal Christian claim that because Jesus did not speak out against homosexuality, he's really A-OK with people doing whatever they want in bed (in keeping with being a stream-of-consciousness book, Spufford admits to not doing any additional research for 'Unapologetic' and here it really shows; at times he can be very gracious, such as when he tells Christians we can't reject each other, that he and Sarah Palin are part of the same body of Christ, and yet in affirming homosexual practice he doesn't give one iota to the traditional case against homosexual practice).
Spufford, to me, seems like the British equivalent (or even heir) to Frederick Buechner. Novelists both, Spufford isn't too concerned with "the REASON for God"; rather, he's much more about "listening to your life" and catches the glimpses of grace that forgive us, that sustain us. Both are at times cheekily irreverent, both are more liberal than an evangelical, but both are committed believers. I could see myself recommending this book to a skeptic as a gateway towards faith but I'd rather suggest more dependable and true guides like C.S. Lewis and Timothy Keller.
September 16, 2020
A defense of Christianity that makes some good points but is defensive more often than not. Of particular interest to me was the theodicy chapter, wherein logical arguments are considered, one by one, as to how there can be a loving God who allows evil in His world. In each case, Spufford admits the defense fails. I was hoping for an argument I hadn't heard before, one that would help me through this admitted problem, but for the most part, Spufford argues for a Christianity despite a, b, c... (and the list goes on and on).
In his defense, Spufford did take aim at religion's stodginess and judgmental ways. He points out that Christ himself had no interest in judging people, for instance, based on their sexual preferences. Spufford wonders aloud, then, why so many "religious" folks overlook this and condemn gay marriage, gay couples parenting, transgender people, etc. As he puts it: "Where consenting adults are concerned, we ought to be as uninterested in lists of forbidden sexual acts as we are in lists of forbidden foods."
In his defense, Spufford did take aim at religion's stodginess and judgmental ways. He points out that Christ himself had no interest in judging people, for instance, based on their sexual preferences. Spufford wonders aloud, then, why so many "religious" folks overlook this and condemn gay marriage, gay couples parenting, transgender people, etc. As he puts it: "Where consenting adults are concerned, we ought to be as uninterested in lists of forbidden sexual acts as we are in lists of forbidden foods."
January 9, 2013
The most fun I've ever had reading a book about faith in Christ! (And yes, i have read a few). Laughed, a lot, cried, a little and I'm still smiling now! Thank you Mr Spufford, for talking good plain sense, for being honest, and for bothering to write it! You really helped me.....he really did! :) I was particularly chuffed by the few cheeky references to 'The Life of Brian' which is one of the funniest things ever ( and I've never understood why so many 'Christians' don't get that). I also loved the retelling of the Gospel story which is brief, fresh and also powerful. I did have to steel myself as I embarked upon the chapter about the church, but that turned out to be as honest and clear as the rest of it, and actually did make a fairly compelling case for church membership, even though it irks me to admit it! What to do about it....well, that is the next question.
November 25, 2016
DAMN SON WRITE THAT BOOK LIKE WOW
Real talk: if you are not interested in Christian testimonies then don't read this because that's what it is. Also in the interests of full disclosure, the author is one of my PhD supervisors and he taught on my MA and I love him a lot. But also I read this on the train and kept wanting to leap up and boomingly read entire sections to my fellow passengers. This is a GOOD FUCKING BOOK if the subject matter appeals to you in the slightest.
Real talk: if you are not interested in Christian testimonies then don't read this because that's what it is. Also in the interests of full disclosure, the author is one of my PhD supervisors and he taught on my MA and I love him a lot. But also I read this on the train and kept wanting to leap up and boomingly read entire sections to my fellow passengers. This is a GOOD FUCKING BOOK if the subject matter appeals to you in the slightest.
October 27, 2012
Very lively and engaging (un)apologetic. Though well written and insightful, it comes across as something written in an almost explosive burst of energy, perhaps created by a pent up well of desire to communicate and frustration with countless misunderstandings and misrepresentations personally felt. It is sweary and personal - and all the better for it.
April 10, 2023
I appreciated this fresh perspective on Christianity and redefining of the essential core of grace.
Ideas I liked:
- redefinition of sin as the "human propensity to fuck things up" or HPtFtU. Particularly useful in a culture where sin has lost all meaning and been used to describe everything from ice cream to chocolate.
- the church is the International League of the Guilty. Because one of Christianity's tenets is that we are sinful beings and as Christians we recognize and acknowledge this.
- Christianity does not tell you HOW to love your neighbor and live your political life. As a result, you'll see lots of different conclusions that are all based in Christianity. Also this means we don't get to say X is not a REAL Christian because they think y.
- a God who wants to interact with flesh and blood humans is going to use the physical world. As a result, explaining spiritual experiences away by describing them physically makes no sense.
Where I don't quite agree:
- Spufford has no belief in the eternal as regards the individual
- Spufford seems to diminish the personal nature of God and that he might be intimately involved in the world (e.g. miracles). Caveat: he seems to accept miracles done by Jesus, but not that events today might be a result of divine intervention.
Ideas I liked:
- redefinition of sin as the "human propensity to fuck things up" or HPtFtU. Particularly useful in a culture where sin has lost all meaning and been used to describe everything from ice cream to chocolate.
- the church is the International League of the Guilty. Because one of Christianity's tenets is that we are sinful beings and as Christians we recognize and acknowledge this.
- Christianity does not tell you HOW to love your neighbor and live your political life. As a result, you'll see lots of different conclusions that are all based in Christianity. Also this means we don't get to say X is not a REAL Christian because they think y.
- a God who wants to interact with flesh and blood humans is going to use the physical world. As a result, explaining spiritual experiences away by describing them physically makes no sense.
Where I don't quite agree:
- Spufford has no belief in the eternal as regards the individual
- Spufford seems to diminish the personal nature of God and that he might be intimately involved in the world (e.g. miracles). Caveat: he seems to accept miracles done by Jesus, but not that events today might be a result of divine intervention.
June 14, 2020
The best part of this book is how smart and flippant Spufford is. He's hilarious, rude, and thoughtful all at once. Despite the confusing reviews, this book is definitely in support of Christianity. The reviewers who claim Spufford is an atheist either didn't read a single word of the book or have a super insular view of Christianity.
May 15, 2025
“You don’t hear that much about God anymore.”
- The Book of Costanza
God and I…man. We’ve been through a lot. I grew up Baptist, with occasional visits to Catholic Mass around holidays with my mom’s side of the family. I’ve been fortunate in many ways, and one of them is that the people at my church didn’t traumatize me from an early age with overt homophobia, racism, sexism—any of the isms. I’m sure it was there—it was southeast Texas, after all—but at least they shut up about it. Still, I remember nights when I woke up my mom from crying because I feared going to hell. I was the kid who would go up to the preacher at every invitation. I wanted to be Baptized twice because I felt like the first one didn’t take. I just felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Over what, I don’t know. It’s not like I was a 7-year-old Tony Soprano or something. But I think I was trying to come to terms with my doubt, even from a young age.
I was definitely more of a New Testament kid growing up. I enjoyed all the crazy fantasy aspects of OT stories, and was really moved by the tales suffering and cruelty, the extremely hard lessons, and perpetually haunted by the questions brought up in the Book of Job. But I’m a basic bitch, so what drew me heart and soul toward Christianity was all the obvious stuff; the stories of unequivocal, unselfconscious, and unapologetic love, kindness when it’s inconvenient, redemption when it’s difficult, and the unending patience and forgiveness in stories like the Prodigal Son.
And if you’re a living, breathing person, you can’t help but see that these stories and themes of grace are at odds with a lot of other sentiments shared in the same damn book. This struggle has plagued me my entire life.
In high school, I told myself I was atheist, only I was too angry at God to truly admit I didn’t believe in him.
As my grandpa got older, I remember my mom worrying over him more and more. I asked her why and she admitted she was terrified of never seeing him again after he died. I took the hint. It was such a primal, intimate fear she shared with me, and it was real. My grandpa was such a private person. He was really funny, ornery, and could be a bit of an asshole in that uniquely “old guy from Massachusetts” way, but he was really mysterious. He came from the generation raised to believe it was uncouth to talk about yourself, and so he didn’t. He never talked to me about WWII until months before he died. But I remember much longer before that, after my mom had confided in me, I asked him if he believed in God. He may have been trying to let me down easy, but he called himself agonistic, and that was the first time I had ever really heard and understood the word for what it was. Previously, I had always assumed atheist/agnostic was a distinction without a difference, but the way he explained it, I saw the difference was everything. An openness. And I guess, now, I’d consider myself agnostic to just about everything.
The soul-searching, the seeking didn’t end there, however. In the years after, quite a few people in my life passed away. It was a stretch of years where I attended far more funerals than weddings. And I would look for a deeper meaning in everything I read, listened to, and watched. I movie I found great wisdom and insight in was the indie drama The Wise Kids by the gay filmmaker Stephen Cone. In it, one of the characters (in a haunting performance by Allison Torem, an amazing actress I’ve never seen in anything else) struggles coming to terms with her best friends since childhood leaving her behind, not only in their hometown, but also in faith. “Don’t leave it lightly,” she begs them. That line has always stuck with me.
The doubt has remained for me, but desire has too; the desire for spiritual fulfillment. The God-shaped hole in my heart is unable to be filled with anything else. With all things, I’m a perpetual Fox Mulder: I want to believe so bad. I’ve never been able to leave it behind, forget it, laugh at it, etc. I’ve always needed to reckon with it. And unlike a lot of religious people I know, I figure this is the case for more faithless people than we’d assume.
There’s this idea a lot of insecure, defensive religious people have that anyone who thinks differently than them, chose it easily. Perhaps for a few, that’s true, but I think for most people, it is a difficult choice, or a completely understanble consequence from trauma.
This book was recommended to me by a good friend. He noticed I was going through a severe bought of depression, and though it wasn’t entirely spiritual, he told me this book might be something I’d want to check out. I’m so glad I did. It was a comfort.
I don’t know if I’ll ever come to a conclusion. I don’t know if I want to.
When you call for help, The deafening silence that follows is so heavy.
The undeniable feeling that sometimes follows, the assurance that you are not alone, is light itself.
“Far more can be mended than you know…”
- The Book of Costanza
God and I…man. We’ve been through a lot. I grew up Baptist, with occasional visits to Catholic Mass around holidays with my mom’s side of the family. I’ve been fortunate in many ways, and one of them is that the people at my church didn’t traumatize me from an early age with overt homophobia, racism, sexism—any of the isms. I’m sure it was there—it was southeast Texas, after all—but at least they shut up about it. Still, I remember nights when I woke up my mom from crying because I feared going to hell. I was the kid who would go up to the preacher at every invitation. I wanted to be Baptized twice because I felt like the first one didn’t take. I just felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Over what, I don’t know. It’s not like I was a 7-year-old Tony Soprano or something. But I think I was trying to come to terms with my doubt, even from a young age.
I was definitely more of a New Testament kid growing up. I enjoyed all the crazy fantasy aspects of OT stories, and was really moved by the tales suffering and cruelty, the extremely hard lessons, and perpetually haunted by the questions brought up in the Book of Job. But I’m a basic bitch, so what drew me heart and soul toward Christianity was all the obvious stuff; the stories of unequivocal, unselfconscious, and unapologetic love, kindness when it’s inconvenient, redemption when it’s difficult, and the unending patience and forgiveness in stories like the Prodigal Son.
And if you’re a living, breathing person, you can’t help but see that these stories and themes of grace are at odds with a lot of other sentiments shared in the same damn book. This struggle has plagued me my entire life.
In high school, I told myself I was atheist, only I was too angry at God to truly admit I didn’t believe in him.
As my grandpa got older, I remember my mom worrying over him more and more. I asked her why and she admitted she was terrified of never seeing him again after he died. I took the hint. It was such a primal, intimate fear she shared with me, and it was real. My grandpa was such a private person. He was really funny, ornery, and could be a bit of an asshole in that uniquely “old guy from Massachusetts” way, but he was really mysterious. He came from the generation raised to believe it was uncouth to talk about yourself, and so he didn’t. He never talked to me about WWII until months before he died. But I remember much longer before that, after my mom had confided in me, I asked him if he believed in God. He may have been trying to let me down easy, but he called himself agonistic, and that was the first time I had ever really heard and understood the word for what it was. Previously, I had always assumed atheist/agnostic was a distinction without a difference, but the way he explained it, I saw the difference was everything. An openness. And I guess, now, I’d consider myself agnostic to just about everything.
The soul-searching, the seeking didn’t end there, however. In the years after, quite a few people in my life passed away. It was a stretch of years where I attended far more funerals than weddings. And I would look for a deeper meaning in everything I read, listened to, and watched. I movie I found great wisdom and insight in was the indie drama The Wise Kids by the gay filmmaker Stephen Cone. In it, one of the characters (in a haunting performance by Allison Torem, an amazing actress I’ve never seen in anything else) struggles coming to terms with her best friends since childhood leaving her behind, not only in their hometown, but also in faith. “Don’t leave it lightly,” she begs them. That line has always stuck with me.
The doubt has remained for me, but desire has too; the desire for spiritual fulfillment. The God-shaped hole in my heart is unable to be filled with anything else. With all things, I’m a perpetual Fox Mulder: I want to believe so bad. I’ve never been able to leave it behind, forget it, laugh at it, etc. I’ve always needed to reckon with it. And unlike a lot of religious people I know, I figure this is the case for more faithless people than we’d assume.
There’s this idea a lot of insecure, defensive religious people have that anyone who thinks differently than them, chose it easily. Perhaps for a few, that’s true, but I think for most people, it is a difficult choice, or a completely understanble consequence from trauma.
This book was recommended to me by a good friend. He noticed I was going through a severe bought of depression, and though it wasn’t entirely spiritual, he told me this book might be something I’d want to check out. I’m so glad I did. It was a comfort.
I don’t know if I’ll ever come to a conclusion. I don’t know if I want to.
When you call for help, The deafening silence that follows is so heavy.
The undeniable feeling that sometimes follows, the assurance that you are not alone, is light itself.
“Far more can be mended than you know…”
December 12, 2012
If you like Theme Parks and fast rides you may very well like this manic excursion of Spufford’s heart and mind.
The author takes on the thinking of the New Atheists and others but not by engaging in the “God is dead debate” from a calm, rational, fact and logic perspective (which, incidentally will never work, as both Christianity and Atheism must come from faith perspectives). He tackles it from the heart wrenching depths of the human experience. He looks at God’s encounter with his life from the point of view of someone who has to go through the mire of life.
Warning: if you are offended by language, particularly a word starting with the sixth letter of the alphabet you may wish to read a book by Max Lucado instead. This word is repeated or implied often. As much as I don’t like it, it is effective because it does describe our propensity to completely foul our lives.
Spufford brings us to the foot of the cross – the God/man who not only lives our lives but takes on himself, our foulness. The image Spufford paints with his words is uncomfortable, yet profound.
The author confronts the image of the church and acknowledges that it has done itself a disservice in history. Yet also reflects on some of it wins. However, the strength of the book lies in the personal journey of the author coming to grips with the personal reality of grace in in his own mucked up life and in a mucked up world.
I have a few quibbles. Spufford glibly glosses over some important issues with a dismissive wave of his hand, such as the creation/evolution debate, same sex marriage and homosexuality. I would rather he hadn't mentioned these as they detracted from the main thrust – and quite frankly his approach annoyed me. At another point Spufford speaks flippantly of the Kingdom as a Republic. This muddies the beautiful picture of Christ the King and the Kingdom, and also takes away from the main thrust of his un-apologia.
His writing style is manic. I described it to a friend as "Stream of Consciousness on Steroids”. I found myself rereading paragraphs and pages just to remind myself where he was going with his thought. But that may just be me.
Overall: not a book for everybody, but for those who see life as it is – warts and all, it is a great reminder of a God who steps into this walk with us and for us. It is also a challenge for those who see God as non-existent, absent or remote –Spufford’s God is none of these.
The author takes on the thinking of the New Atheists and others but not by engaging in the “God is dead debate” from a calm, rational, fact and logic perspective (which, incidentally will never work, as both Christianity and Atheism must come from faith perspectives). He tackles it from the heart wrenching depths of the human experience. He looks at God’s encounter with his life from the point of view of someone who has to go through the mire of life.
Warning: if you are offended by language, particularly a word starting with the sixth letter of the alphabet you may wish to read a book by Max Lucado instead. This word is repeated or implied often. As much as I don’t like it, it is effective because it does describe our propensity to completely foul our lives.
Spufford brings us to the foot of the cross – the God/man who not only lives our lives but takes on himself, our foulness. The image Spufford paints with his words is uncomfortable, yet profound.
The author confronts the image of the church and acknowledges that it has done itself a disservice in history. Yet also reflects on some of it wins. However, the strength of the book lies in the personal journey of the author coming to grips with the personal reality of grace in in his own mucked up life and in a mucked up world.
I have a few quibbles. Spufford glibly glosses over some important issues with a dismissive wave of his hand, such as the creation/evolution debate, same sex marriage and homosexuality. I would rather he hadn't mentioned these as they detracted from the main thrust – and quite frankly his approach annoyed me. At another point Spufford speaks flippantly of the Kingdom as a Republic. This muddies the beautiful picture of Christ the King and the Kingdom, and also takes away from the main thrust of his un-apologia.
His writing style is manic. I described it to a friend as "Stream of Consciousness on Steroids”. I found myself rereading paragraphs and pages just to remind myself where he was going with his thought. But that may just be me.
Overall: not a book for everybody, but for those who see life as it is – warts and all, it is a great reminder of a God who steps into this walk with us and for us. It is also a challenge for those who see God as non-existent, absent or remote –Spufford’s God is none of these.
May 10, 2018
A tweet from Nadia Bolz-Weber brought this book to my attention. Since I like her writing and a lot of her ideas, I thought I’d take it for a spin.
It’s called Unapologetic because he’s writing about his own experience and reason for being a Christian, rather than using apologetics to defend his position. You might see it marketed as an answer to modern atheists like Richard Dawkins—and there are a few snarky footnotes here and there—but it’s less that than his personal experience, understanding, and thoughts on being a Christian. I thought there was a lot of food for thought in this book, especially in chapters 5-8 (the second half of the book).
The first half was a bit more rambling and elusive to me. I was actually thinking about chalking it up as DNF before I got to chapter 5. But I’m very glad I stayed with it. Here are some quotes I liked and took the the time to note for inclusion in the review.
About the swearing—if swearing is a deal-breaker for you, don’t bother with this. It’s not a deal-breaker for me. My opinion is it’s neither here nor there in the evaluation of one’s Christianity, and evaluating other people’s Christianity is not my job anyway.
I don’t know how many people will react to the first half the way I did, but if you’re not feeling it at the beginning, I suggest skimming until you get to the Yeshua chapter. If your experience matches mine, you’ll get more out of it from that point on.
It’s called Unapologetic because he’s writing about his own experience and reason for being a Christian, rather than using apologetics to defend his position. You might see it marketed as an answer to modern atheists like Richard Dawkins—and there are a few snarky footnotes here and there—but it’s less that than his personal experience, understanding, and thoughts on being a Christian. I thought there was a lot of food for thought in this book, especially in chapters 5-8 (the second half of the book).
The first half was a bit more rambling and elusive to me. I was actually thinking about chalking it up as DNF before I got to chapter 5. But I’m very glad I stayed with it. Here are some quotes I liked and took the the time to note for inclusion in the review.
If Christianity is anything, it’s a refusal to see human behavior as ruled by the balance sheet. We’re not supposed to see the things we do as adding up into piles of good and evil we can subtract from each according to some calculus to tell us, on balance, how we’re doing...the bad stuff cannot be averaged. It can only be confessed.
Good Friday should be the day of all days in the Christian year when we are ashamed of even our tiniest and most necessary cruelties—seeing before us the image of their consequences...it’s righteous anger, in this world, with guilt pushed out of sight, that gets crucifixions done.
For us, you see, the church is not just another institution. It’s a failing but never quite failed attempt, by limited people, to perpetuate the unlimited generosity of God in the world.
About the swearing—if swearing is a deal-breaker for you, don’t bother with this. It’s not a deal-breaker for me. My opinion is it’s neither here nor there in the evaluation of one’s Christianity, and evaluating other people’s Christianity is not my job anyway.
I don’t know how many people will react to the first half the way I did, but if you’re not feeling it at the beginning, I suggest skimming until you get to the Yeshua chapter. If your experience matches mine, you’ll get more out of it from that point on.
August 4, 2014
Preaching to the converted
I'm on chapter 2. I gave up on chapter 1 halfway through because it was a boring tirade against the imagined criticisms of Christianity (yes, Mr Spufford spends the whole chapter-or at least as much as I could bear to read- putting words into the mouths of critics in a sneering way).
Chapter 2 is beginning to go the same way. Non-religious people are shallow because all they want is enjoyment. Hmmm. Sin is humanity's tendency to f**k things up, which is inevitable without the intercession of God. Oh, really? So bad things happen because man is sinful and good things happen by the Grace of God I suppose. PLEASE! Perhaps I should thank Mr Spufford for reminding me why I gave up on Christianity many years ago, (although I have managed to find God elsewhere)
I imagine this will make reassuring and enjoyable reading for like-minded people, but I can't see it winning over many waverers
I'm on chapter 2. I gave up on chapter 1 halfway through because it was a boring tirade against the imagined criticisms of Christianity (yes, Mr Spufford spends the whole chapter-or at least as much as I could bear to read- putting words into the mouths of critics in a sneering way).
Chapter 2 is beginning to go the same way. Non-religious people are shallow because all they want is enjoyment. Hmmm. Sin is humanity's tendency to f**k things up, which is inevitable without the intercession of God. Oh, really? So bad things happen because man is sinful and good things happen by the Grace of God I suppose. PLEASE! Perhaps I should thank Mr Spufford for reminding me why I gave up on Christianity many years ago, (although I have managed to find God elsewhere)
I imagine this will make reassuring and enjoyable reading for like-minded people, but I can't see it winning over many waverers
February 8, 2023
I really disliked this book and would have given it up had it not been lent and recommended to me. The style was like a stream of consciousness with no breaths and it all seemed self indulgent, let alone irrational. A traditional evangelical message (we should all feel guilty etc) was wrapped up in a supposedly modern style complete with swear words; it made me think of a child shouting out rude words just for effect. His version of Christianity is presented as the one with which we should agree and yet he does not really show any certainty in his beliefs and even argues that this doesn't matter. He is trying to rebut Dawkins but merely gives the impression of a toddler having a tantrum. Not a book I can recommend I am afraid.
January 13, 2024
This was one of those “I cannot believe I haven’t read this till now” books. I absolutely devoured it, and loved every second of it. (The audiobook is read by the author and is especially enjoyable.) Its like mere Christianity for the 21st Century and with sharper teeth.
It is also a very imperfect book. I’ll come back to this but it is both a pro and con of this book is that it is distinctly, intentionally uncareful. Even (as the author himself admitted in a recent interview) irresponsibly uncareful. The result is that a few statements in the book are now painfully dated and come across as ignorant or dismissive.
Some other things I loved about the book:
- It is roaringly funny. I didn’t know Christian books were capable of being this funny. It’s funny in the same elegantly scornful (to use the author’s own phrase) and biting style of Christopher Hitchens. He takes down New Atheist tropes and assumptions without holding back. And occasionally Christian ones too. He swears like a—well let’s say like a Brit.
- For the most part at least (I’ll get there later), he has no truck with cheap or easy answers, especially when it comes to suffering & the goodness of God. He goes to the depths, where those questions you don’t want to ask—or can’t help but scream in your most private prayers—linger. He doesn’t offer neat bows to tie it all up with, but he does offer a way to go on trusting and believing.
A few other things that left me wanting:
- There are some issues where, instead of offering cheap answers, he offers none at all and casually waves them away and substitutes wit for any kind of substance. When he talks about hell and sexual minorities / sexual ethics this problem was most glaring. I think this kind of thing is also a casualty of the fast & loose & uncareful nature of the book that makes it so compelling and fun to read. It’s a very personal book and it doesn’t pretend to be objective or, well, apologetic. But still those bits just sucked.
- Sometimes he’s so good at articulating and steelmanning the critiques he aims to address that I thought “Okay where you going with this? You tryin to make me an atheist?” I appreciated this because it feels like he’s really thought it through, like he’s really gone to those depths and these questions have bothered him like they bother me. But it’s possible many would only find it troubling or confusing.
Overall, the biggest thing the book does is basically admit that theodicies often just miserably fail to offer good enough answers to make sense of God in the face of the senseless unjust suffering that exist, but contend that the gospel offers consolation and meaning that is worth it nonetheless. That, combined with his stunning retelling of the gospel story (to which he brings the skill of a masterful novelist) left me with a renewed hunger to run to Jesus in the face of doubt & despair and to trust and obey the Gospel story over the other stories I am always tempted to believe and act out.
It is also a very imperfect book. I’ll come back to this but it is both a pro and con of this book is that it is distinctly, intentionally uncareful. Even (as the author himself admitted in a recent interview) irresponsibly uncareful. The result is that a few statements in the book are now painfully dated and come across as ignorant or dismissive.
Some other things I loved about the book:
- It is roaringly funny. I didn’t know Christian books were capable of being this funny. It’s funny in the same elegantly scornful (to use the author’s own phrase) and biting style of Christopher Hitchens. He takes down New Atheist tropes and assumptions without holding back. And occasionally Christian ones too. He swears like a—well let’s say like a Brit.
- For the most part at least (I’ll get there later), he has no truck with cheap or easy answers, especially when it comes to suffering & the goodness of God. He goes to the depths, where those questions you don’t want to ask—or can’t help but scream in your most private prayers—linger. He doesn’t offer neat bows to tie it all up with, but he does offer a way to go on trusting and believing.
A few other things that left me wanting:
- There are some issues where, instead of offering cheap answers, he offers none at all and casually waves them away and substitutes wit for any kind of substance. When he talks about hell and sexual minorities / sexual ethics this problem was most glaring. I think this kind of thing is also a casualty of the fast & loose & uncareful nature of the book that makes it so compelling and fun to read. It’s a very personal book and it doesn’t pretend to be objective or, well, apologetic. But still those bits just sucked.
- Sometimes he’s so good at articulating and steelmanning the critiques he aims to address that I thought “Okay where you going with this? You tryin to make me an atheist?” I appreciated this because it feels like he’s really thought it through, like he’s really gone to those depths and these questions have bothered him like they bother me. But it’s possible many would only find it troubling or confusing.
Overall, the biggest thing the book does is basically admit that theodicies often just miserably fail to offer good enough answers to make sense of God in the face of the senseless unjust suffering that exist, but contend that the gospel offers consolation and meaning that is worth it nonetheless. That, combined with his stunning retelling of the gospel story (to which he brings the skill of a masterful novelist) left me with a renewed hunger to run to Jesus in the face of doubt & despair and to trust and obey the Gospel story over the other stories I am always tempted to believe and act out.
June 22, 2021
Spufford is the Jack Kerouac of apologetics – or unapologetics. This rambling, stream of consciousness romp through most any topic that interests Spufford is in turn humorous, profound, vulgar, and eloquent. He joyously riffs on pop cultural references in seemingly endless paragraphs. It’s far different from most books of the genre.
However, the cover claims the books is “for believers who are fed up being patronized.” I’m not particularly fed up with being patronized, and if I were, I’m not sure what this book did to help me. It is avowedly “unhampered by niceness,” which I have a hard time squaring with the admonition to give an answer “with gentleness and respect.” Ranting back at the New Atheists probably feels good, but it doesn’t seem to be a good option, at least for me.
It’s a fascinating look at Spufford’s spiritual struggles and development. As an insight into another believer’s life, it’s interesting (if he is a believer since he states several times that he doesn’t know whether there is a God).
However, the cover claims the books is “for believers who are fed up being patronized.” I’m not particularly fed up with being patronized, and if I were, I’m not sure what this book did to help me. It is avowedly “unhampered by niceness,” which I have a hard time squaring with the admonition to give an answer “with gentleness and respect.” Ranting back at the New Atheists probably feels good, but it doesn’t seem to be a good option, at least for me.
It’s a fascinating look at Spufford’s spiritual struggles and development. As an insight into another believer’s life, it’s interesting (if he is a believer since he states several times that he doesn’t know whether there is a God).
March 4, 2020
His language can get spicy, but his writing sparkles. His views are not always orthodox, but his musings are thoughtful and thought-provoking
February 14, 2024
So here's the deal. This took me MONTHS to read. The language got so tangly and rambly that there were so many times I got lost or had to reread... all of this would typically lead me to give it 2/3 stars.
BUT - the amount of concepts and passages and metaphors and images that absolutely rocked my world upside down and will change me/live in my head forever is insane. So, we compromise with 4 stars. Definitely recommend, but be patient with it.
BUT - the amount of concepts and passages and metaphors and images that absolutely rocked my world upside down and will change me/live in my head forever is insane. So, we compromise with 4 stars. Definitely recommend, but be patient with it.
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