I love biography. That’s probably the tenth time I’ve begun a review with those words, yet it’s no less true now than the first time I penned them. The more I read of biography, the more I am enamored with it and the more I see just how valuable it is to my life and faith.

I was in Virginia recently, spending a week on vacation. I decided the occasion merited a biography of a Virginian. That led me to choose between Robert E. Lee and Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson. In the end Jackson won in a shootout. I turned to the epic work by James Robertson. Written in 1997, this biography remains the definitive word on Jackson. I can’t imagine how it will ever be equaled.

Over the years Jackson has been variously portrayed as a great general and a great Christian. It seems that few biographers have managed to do equal justice to the two most notable emphases of this extraordinary man. On the one hand he was a brilliant military strategist who time and again relied on speed and surprise to catch his enemy off-guard. On the other hand, he was a man who deeply loved the Lord and who cherished his relationship with the Savior. He was a man who suffered much from his earliest days to his final days. Fatherless at two, orphaned at seven, he also witnessed the death of two of his siblings, two of his children and his first wife. Some of his closest friends died and he was estranged from others by the war that devastated his nation. Yet through it all Jackson remained absolutely fixed upon the firm foundation of God’s sovereignty. Always he placed his trust in God and always he sought to submit himself to God’s will and to delight in God’s providence.

The facts of Jackson’s life are well-known so I will forego those to comment instead on the lessons I’ve learned from Jackson and to comment on what makes this biography so sublime.

I have just one memory that involves Ted Kluck. A year ago, maybe a little bit less, he and I were together in Chicago at a small gathering of young(ish) Christian authors. Ten or fifteen of us were gathered there, sitting around a group of tables in a hotel conference room. We had the opportunity to spend an evening with D.A. Carson, the D.A. Carson, to ask him any question we wanted. It’s no small thing to have open access, even for an hour or two, to one of the world’s greatest theologians. The questions were flying fast and furious. Unfortunately for Ted and for me, we were the only two there who weren’t involved in some level of graduate degree in theology. I was rooming with a guy who, if I have it right, is significantly younger than me but the owner of two PhD’s. Meanwhile, I have a three-year degree in history and Ted, well, he’s a former football player who undoubtedly took a few knocks on the head along the way. Ted and I sat opposite one another at this table, both feeling like the dumb guys. We didn’t understand the questions and we sure as shootin’ didn’t understand the answers. Later we commiserated, celebrating being the dumb guys. It’s a good memory.

But really, that memory has very little to do with this book review, a review of a book dealing with adoption.

Adoption is all the rage today. Is that an obnoxious thing to say? I simply mean that lots of Christians, and Reformed Christians in particular, are talking about adoption and, even better, getting involved in adoption. In recent years we’ve seen the birth of a great organization and conference dedicated to it and we’ve seen the release of a couple of excellent books on the topic. Best of all, we’ve seen more and more people actually adopt children, welcoming them to their homes, to their churches. Like many of you, I’m excited for this trend and hope it continues.

Mark Driscoll must be a busy guy. As if his ministry at Mars Hill isn’t enough to keep him busy every hour of the day, he has also written a long line of books, the most recent of which is titled simply Doctrine: What Christians Should Believe. Like several of his previous volumes, this one is co-authored with his friend and theological mentor Gerry Breshears. While using the term “systematic theology” may not be entirely helpful in describing this book, it at least gives an idea of its contents. Doctrine exists to provide an overview of what Christians ought to believe.

As theological tomes go, this one is particularly interesting, particularly effective, in its structure. Each chapter introduces a topic through a single word and then shows how that topic is really all about God. The first chapter is “Trinity: God Is” while the second is “Revelation: God Speaks.” That sets that pattern that continues through each of the book’s thirteen chapters (the last of which, not surprisingly, is “Kingdom: God Reigns.” This beautifully takes doctrine out of the abstract and applies it directly to God himself. It takes a noun and matches it with a verb, showing for example how the doctrine of the church is not about us, but about God, about his desire to send his Word into all the world (the chapter is titled “Church: God Sends”).

“I look back upon him with awe, as on the saints and martyrs of old. A holy man, in spite of all his delusions and errors. He is now with his God and Saviour, whom he wronged so much, yet, I am persuaded, loved so sincerely.” So said Robert Murray McCheyne of Edward Irving. And in those words McCheyne aptly summarizes the legacy of Irving, a man of unusual ability, a man who by so many appearances genuinely loved the Lord. And yet he was a man who had some very strange and dangerous beliefs and a man who was fascinated with spectacular manifestations of spiritual gifts. He was the forerunner of the contemporary charismatic movement.

Born in 1792, Edward Irving was a Scottish preacher, a man who had inherited the legacy of a deeply theological faith. Licensed to preach in the Presbyterian churches, he quickly became noted as a speaker and preacher for his intellectual and eloquent sermons. But he was also known as a kind and attentive pastor who found great joy in visiting the homes of the people in his care. He loved these people deeply and was committed to them. He was at times shockingly arrogant and at other times deeply humble.

In 1822, after several years of ministry in Scotland, Irving was invited to take the pastorate at Caledonian Church in London. His eloquent speech was soon noticed by many of the London elite and Irving’s star rose quickly until his church was one of the most popular in the city. In these years Irving became interested in, and then obsessed with, prophecy and the charismatic gifts. And it was not long before these emphases dominated his ministry and dominated his church. Services became a cacophony of tongues, of prophecy, of elements that began to overtake the preaching of the Word.

If ever there was a book destined to see a lot of negative reviews it has to be Burning Down The Shack. Written by James De Young, professor of New Testament Language and Literature at Western Seminary, Portland, Oregon, this book takes on the bestselling novel The Shack, telling, according to the subtitle, how “The ‘Christian’ Bestseller is Deceiving Millions.” The Shack has a huge community of devoted fans and many of them will be distressed to see this book, and especially so if it begins to sell well and gain some kind of prominence.

It seems that I should begin this article by reviewing the facts of The Shack. But surely you know them already. The Shack has sold millions and millions of copies, has been translated into a host of languages and has remained on the besteller lists for over 100 weeks; it was self-published by an unknown author and an unknown publishing company and had an initial marketing budget of just a few hundred dollars; it is largely a word-of-mouth success that has seen many pastors buy boxes to give away within churches; it is, in short, an absolute phenomenon, the kind of phenomenon that will some day be a case study in a marketing text book.

This would all be well and good if The Shack was a good book. Sadly, though, it is not. Not only is it substandard in its writing, but more distressingly it teaches theology that is at times sub-bibical and at other times fully anti-biblical. Among its predominant themes are the Trinity, the character of God and the nature of good and evil—themes that strike to the very heart of the Christian faith. And in so many ways it is fully opposed to what is true.

Now that I pause to think about it, I don’t know that I’ve ever blogged about the always-contentious issue of the consumption of alcohol. If you must know, I don’t touch the stuff but that is more out of preference than conviction. I just can’t stand the taste of alcohol in general and beer in particular. But I have no moral qualms with those who drink in moderation and am actually quite pleased to see a general drift in that direction amongst evangelical Christians. It is a sign of the times, I think, that a Christian publisher would print a book about beer.

In The Search for God and Guinness author Stephen Mansfield offers “A Biography of the Beer that Changed the World.” If there is hyperbole in that subtitle, it is only slightly so. One of the world’s most successful brands of beer for almost 250 years now, Guinness has a long and dignified history as both a product and as a company. Today more than 10 million pints are consumed every day. What many people do not know is that the company has long been a force for social good and that the Guinness name has created a long line of faithful men who have served the Lord even while brewing their beer.

There are few issues of theology that confuse me more than issues related to social justice. Those who advocate Christian humanitarianism, those who tell Christians that they are responsible before God to fight injustice, to feed the hungry, to free the oppressed, are able to provide a compelling case and they are able to tap into a deep vein of guilt. It is difficult to hear of poor and hungry children and not feel that the primary mission of Christians must be to feed such people. And yet when we look around we see that ministries or organizations that make such a task their primary calling so quickly fade into theological obscurity. The social gospel so often trumps the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Into the fray step Christian Buckley and Ryan Dobson with their book Humanitarian Jesus: Social Justice and the Cross. They want to find that sweet spot between justice and gospel, that place where we can hold tightly to the gospel of Jesus Christ while still emphasizing the importance of social action.

In my recent review of Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy I mentioned that it might just make it onto my top ten list of favorite biographies. A couple of people subsequently asked if I’d write out such a list. It took some thinking and some rummaging around my bookcases, but eventually I got one together. Now I can’t remember every biography I’ve ever read, but I rummaged through my mind to recall as many as possible, put together a list of favorites and then winnowed that down to ten. And so here you have them in no particular order—ten favorite biographies.

John Adams by David McCullough. Probably the most important work by a highly-regarded historian and biographer, this is about as much of a must-read as you will come across. If you’ve watched the PBS series you have the basics, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the book. As with all good biographies, try to get a copy of the hardcover rather than the more recent paperback. (my review)

Calvin by Bruce Gordon. One of several biographies of Calvin to be released by publishers this year, this one is, I think, the best of the bunch. Gordon does an especially good job of setting Calvin within his historical context, showing how Calvin was a product of his time, his nation, his church. (my review)

Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxas. One of two excellent biographies by Metaxas to make it to the list, Bonhoeffer is hot off the press. A lengthy but still not exhaustive (or exhausting) account of his life, this is a fascinating account of a fascinating life. (my review)

Amazing Grace by Eric Metaxas. Metaxas’ second biography, which was actually written first, this one deals with the life of social reformer William Wilberforce. I have heard it has close competition with Kevin Belmonte’s William Wilberforce: A Hero for Humanity. But since I haven’t read that one, all I can say is that Metaxas’ book is well worth the read. (my review)

Spurgeon by Arnold Dallimore. Dallimore also gets two books on the list. Spurgeon was the first of all the books on this list that I read but it is one I remember having a profound impact on me. I find it quite surprising that there is not a longer, more recent go-to biography of Spurgeon. I doubt, though, that any could be significantly better than this one. (my review)

Jack by George Sayer. This is a life of C.S. Lewis written by a friend and contemporary. He tells the life of Lewis very well and at a very human, personal level. (my review)

George Whitefield by Arnold Dallimore. Where Dallimore’s biography of Spurgeon is quite short, this biography of Whitefield is a massive two-volume set that tells the life of one of God’s more unusual servants. This may be one of the most impactful biographies you’ll ever read. (my review)

Jonathan Edwards by George Marsden. Marsden brings to life the great preacher and theologian Jonathan Edwards. I haven’t yet read Iain Murray’s biography of Edwards, so cannot compare the two. I’ve heard great things about it but have a tough time believing it could be better than this one! This would be very near to the top of my list, were I to put them in order. (my review)

The Most Famous Man in America by Debby Applegate. Henry Ward Beecher was everything Edwards and Whitefield were not. A fake, philanderer and apostate, he still remained one of America’s most celebrated preachers in his day. This biography is worth reading to see how men, both good and evil, may rise to prominence even within the church. (my review)

Fearless Pilgrim by Faith Cook. Faith Cook is one of my favorite biographers and in this book she tells the life of John Bunyan. Well-written and nicely paced, this is one of the better biographies of Bunyan and certainly the best from recent years. (my review)

And here are a few biographies I’ve heard are really good, which I’ve got on my to-read shelf, but which I haven’t actually gotten to yet:

D. Martyn Lloyd Jones by Iain Murray.

American Lion by Jon Meacham (a biography of Andrew Jackson).

Truman by David McCullough.

Benjamin Franklin by Walter Isaacson.

Churchill by Martin Gilbert.

It was several years ago now that I began meeting regularly with a few Christian guys who live in this area. We would read through good books and then get together once a week to discuss them. Every Friday morning at 6(!) AM, we would meet in a local coffee shop and spend time dissecting and digesting classic books. It was in this effort, in this precursor to Reading Classics Together, that I first encountered Dietrich Bonhoeffer. The Cost of Discipleship was the second book we read together, moving through it week by week, chapter by chapter. Like so many people before and since, I was introduced to the man by what most people consider his greatest work.

When I was a teenager, growing up within Canada’s Dutch Reformed tradition (despite not being Dutch—long story), Tuesday nights were Catechism nights. My parents would drive me to the church where the pastor, or occasionally one of the elders, would teach us the Heidelberg Catechism. Every class would begin the same way—with reciting the questions and answers we had been told to memorize the week before. I would always sit my friend Brian so we could whisper hints to one another when we got stuck. Actually, he and I continually found new and inventive ways of cheating, of making the pastor believe that we had done our work even when we hadn’t. Nevertheless, over the years I did press that catechism into my mind and at one point probably could have recited almost all of it. Many years have gone by and most of it has faded, though interestingly I can still recite the first and the last of the 129 questions; I still know what is my only comfort in life and death and what ‘amen’ means.