By Melissa Fu
China
As the daughter of a refugee and immigrant from Germany (via Ukraine) whose young life was upended in World War 2, I was surprised by the similarities between my family and Meilin and Renshu’s family. But then again, a family uprooted by war shares the same kinds of experiences of fleeing, loss, grief, and trauma. And the lucky ones share a history of resilience and strength.
In this enthralling novel, a young wife, Meilin, must flee her home in China in 1938 as the Japanese army approaches. Her beloved husband has been lost in the war and now Meilin and her 4-year-old boy, Renshu, must survive on instinct and the wisdom of an ancient scroll filled with fables.
Although I was captivated by this novel throughout, I especially liked the section about how Renshu, now a brilliant science student, wins a place at Northwestern University in Chicago and makes his way in a new world. As with every migrant, he lives with one foot in the old world and one foot in the new; far from the mother who gave him wings to fly. If you love multigenerational historical fiction sagas, you will embrace these complex characters and the engrossing story they inhabit. (Hachette)
By Lisa See
Korea
I read The Island of Sea Women during my trip to Korea two summers ago, so I was thrilled when we spotted a changing hut on the East Sea for the haenyeo, Korea’s fabled female deep-sea divers and the heroines of this book. I was entranced by Young-sook and Mi-ja, the two indelible main characters in this immersive novel. Their friendship is so strong, so bonded, that when a matter of life and death comes between them, the reader can feel the tear in their hearts.
The haenyeo are fascinating. In a deeply patriarchal culture, they reigned as breadwinners and de facto heads of the household. With every dive into the dangerous ocean, they risked life and limb to harvest sea creatures such as anemones and octopuses. Even on dry ground, they faced the horrors of World War II and Japanese occupation.
I cared deeply about these characters and could hardly put the book down. Christian readers will find the theme of forgiveness to reflect our faith but might be disturbed by the graphic violence in the book. Mesmerizing and evocative. (Simon &Schuster)
By Tiffany Bluhm
India
Our culture defines self-care as bubble baths, a rom-com with a glass of wine, and a half day at the spa for a facial and a massage. Those are all good things, but according to this barrier-breaking devotional from Tiffany Bluhm, they don’t begin to touch on what self-care truly means and how it can restore, energize, and even galvanize us into being agents of justice and renewal.
In 40 in-depth, lyrical devotions, readers discover a weightier, more transformative definition of self-care, including rest, lament, advocacy, and empowerment. Bluhm and a group of contributors, including Ashlee Eiland, Kayla Craig, and Pricelis Perreaux-Dominguez, knit together Scripture, prayerful liturgies, and stories of historical figures to “show women that caring for themselves is the first step toward renewing their own souls and tackling the social problems they care most about.”
The dedication before the book begins sets the tone: “To the women who have gone before us, the ones who have dismantled systems that made no room for our flourishing: May we glean from your lives well lived.”
Lives well lived indeed. The women highlighted here are brave, prophetic, strong, and attuned to their deepest emotions, including lament. Women such as Deborah and Jael work with God to remake their communities into those that flourish and enjoy peace and shalom.
I was intrigued by a devotional about the daughters of Zelophehad: Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirza. They courageously advocated for themselves as brotherless daughters of Israel. “Give us the property along with the rest of our relatives,” they request in Numbers 27:4, an audacious ask in that time and culture.
Moses, the leader of Israel, brought their claim before the Lord, who affirmed that it was “legitimate.”
The daughters’ wisdom and diplomacy is striking. Their argument, to not “let their father’s name be lost to his clan,” rang true to the powers that be. And it worked. “In using this tactic, the women displayed an understanding of the constraints of the patriarchal society in which they lived.”
They worked within the system to get what they needed, and God approved. He “aligns with five female image bearers to upend a patriarchal practice that doesn’t recognize the feminine as worthy.” In other words, they used a workaround, and they advanced their own rights and those of others in the process.
There is a prayer at the end of each devotional, and this prayer reads: “God of Zelophehad’s daughters, grant me wisdom to advocate for myself and others.”
Every devotional also ends in a “Declaration,” and this one reads: “What I deserve is not defined by others but is given by the God who loves me.”
Each reading gives the reader an increased understanding of how self-compassion and care can lead to a life of meaning and purpose that restores the world around us.
“Within our commitment to follow the creator is a measure of self-denial, but this is not at odds with our actualized self-care,” Bluhm writes. “These two things work together to forge an embodied life of deep trust in the Divine and wise decision-making that centers the flourishing of our heart, mind, soul, and strength.”
Rahab is a key example of a woman who cared for herself and “refused to honor unjust systems.” She stood unwaveringly to protect herself and her family, making an astute decision that reverberates through history. Rahab is one woman out of many in these pages who inspire the reader to form a resilient faith that heals and strengthens themselves and others.
“We’ll likely never be in a position to broker a deal with foreign spies,” writes Bluhm, “but the woman we become along the way—noble and humble, unapologetic and empathetic—that’s the woman the world has been waiting for.” (Brazos Press)
Tell Me the Dream Again: Reflections on Family, Ethnicity, and the Sacred Work of Belonging
By Tasha Jun
Korea
Tasha Jun remembers how uncomfortable she felt sharing about her experience as a biracial Korean American with some women in a Bible study at her church.
Things got even more awkward when one of the women tried to smooth over the discomfort. “I don’t even think of you as Asian!” she said, brightly, oblivious to the fact that she was blithely expunging half of Jun’s heritage. It was yet another instance of someone trying to fit Jun into their own version of who she should be.
“Colorblind theology has always been a sugarcoated death threat to everything Korean in me,” Jun writes in her debut book, a sumptuously written memoir-in-essays about being biracial, feeling too Asian and not Asian enough, and learning to accept the full spectrum of her identity and her family’s broken stories. “True unity requires whole people, full of their colors—and hard, holy humbling work.”
As the mother of a Korean daughter, I gleaned valuable truths about my daughter’s homeland, culture and what it is like to try and belong in a white world. Because, as Jun points out, there is a big difference between fitting in and belonging. To fit in or assimilate, you must hide pieces of yourself in order to be acceptable. But belonging means you are fully accepted for all your unique colors and cultures, enfolded just the way God intended for you to be when he made you.
Though Jun tried to hide certain aspects of her Koreanness (she greeted school friends outside the front door so they wouldn’t smell the kimchi emanating from the kitchen), she ultimately realized that God was calling out her true identity. “Like David, there was nowhere I could go from his spirit, no way I could flee the intentions of his creation.”
I also gained insights into healing the fractured parts of my own story as the daughter of a World War II refugee and immigrant, who suffered deep trauma and loss during his childhood.
Jun’s mother, a childhood trauma survivor of the Korean War, carried heavy secrets and losses, the pain of which filtered through her attempts to cover them up. “My mom didn’t want my sister or me to carry any of it, but the more hidden the truth, the more shame passes on from one generation to the next,” she wrote.
But Jesus faithfully enters our messiest family dynamics; he always shows up to redeem, restore and heal. Grief might swim through oceans, cross borders, and even stretch across centuries, but it doesn’t have the last word. “We carry the stories of our families alongside God’s intentional redemption of those stories,” she writes. In other words, the pain is real, but so is the healing.
Lyrically rendered and woven with wisdom and mercy, this book holds many transforming truths.
For anyone who has ever hidden a crucial part of themselves to be more acceptable to others, Tell Me the Dream Again leads us to embrace who we were divinely knit to be, in every color and scent, cultural and family detail. (Tyndale)
About the Author
Lorilee Craker, a native of Winnipeg, Man., lives in Grand Rapids, Mich. The author of 16 books, she is the Mixed Media editor of The Banner. Her latest book is called Eat Like a Heroine: Nourish and Flourish With Bookish Stars From Anne of Green Gables to Zora Neale Hurston.