There is nothing wrong with being purposeful in our reading. Do you want to be a better dad? Then read a book about fatherhood. Do you want to have a better marriage? Then read a book about marriage. Do you want to come to a deeper understanding of the attributes of God? Then read a book on his attributes. Well and good.
But there is also something to be said for reading a book that isn’t quite so straightforward or quite so easily categorized. It is sometimes good to read a book that is beautifully written and that uses a certain topic to offer reflections on living the Christian life. And that’s what Andrea Burke has provided in A Bit of Earth.
The book is structured around a year of tending to a garden, from the deadly frosts of winter to the joys of autumn’s harvest. Yet it’s not really a book about gardening. Rather, it’s a book about living as a Christian. It’s got a bit of memoir in it, along with a bit of poetry, a bit of devotion, and a bit of much else. It is made up of short chapters and though each takes place in a garden, it’s more about tending to our hearts than tending to our crops and more about the growth of Christian character than the growth of flowers or vegetables. It’s perhaps a little difficult to easily describe, but I can attest that it’s a pleasure to read.
Maybe it will be helpful if I let Nancy Guthrie describe it. “In this rich and poetic book, Andrea Burke welcomes us into her garden so that we can almost feel the dirt on our fingers, the waiting for growth, the battle against weeds and bugs, the joy of the harvest, and taste of its bounty. But far more than that, she plants in us as readers a desire for Christ to dwell richly in us, ridding us of what will choke out spiritual life and beauty, and growing in us abundant fruit of his Spirit.”
Indeed she does. A Bit of Earth is as well-written as any book I’ve read in the past few years and as enjoyable to read. Whether or not you’re into gardening, I recommend you pick it up and give it a read. I’m quite certain you’ll be glad you did.
