So, I’m a few pages away from wrapping up Donald Miller’s first book, “Prayer and the Art of Volkswagen Maintenance.” It’s the story of Don and his friend and their road trip from Texas to Oregon, and it’s by far his best book. I wasn’t looking for it, or wanting to read it. I was actually helping my kids pick out books at the library and there it was on display on the shelf. Hey, why not.  In a conversation with a friend last night we were trying to examine why this is, and over much wonderfully intelligent deliberating, we arrived at the conclusion that this book is very simply, a story, and story can be related to, because I have a story too, and I too, continue to look for and anticipate the moments of connection with God, within my story. All of Donald Miller’s books have story in them. Wonderful, average Don, I can relate with that, story. But the ratio of story to theological point changes throughout his books, and we find more theological point and less story. Enter the publisher. Here’s the conversation as I imagine it…
Publisher: “We like your writing Don. Your style is fresh and we think it can reach a demographic that we haven’t tapped into very well.”
DM “Well, thanks I think.”
Publisher: “We’d be willing to pay you to write a few more books, but we have a few conditions we’d like to put on your writing.”
DM: “Conditions, but…”
Publisher: “Hear us out Don. Keep telling your stories. You are a great story teller. But American Christians are dumb Don. They need to be told what to think and how to act. It’s the very reason why we get to publish so many books Don. So you need to fill your books with more theological points. We can’t leave the reader confused. Wrap it up for them nice and neat. We need them to think that the spiritual life is nice and neat and if they just keep reading books, they’ll find all the answers.  That way, we get to keep selling books.”ÂÂ
DM: “I see…”
Of course I mock myself as I have spent a great deal of exhausted, frustrated time on the search for the nice and neat. My book shelves testify to it. As my story has unfolded over the last two years, I have begun to understand the fallacy of the nice and neat.  ”Prayer and the Art of Volkswagen Maintenance” sort of feels like Donald Miller’s discovery of the same thing…
“I was raised to believe that the quality of a man’s life would greatly increase, not with the gain of status or success, not by his heart’s knowing romance or by prosperity in industry or academia, but by his nearness to God. It confuses me that Christian living is not more simple. The gospel, the very good news is simple, but this is the gate, the trailhead. Ironing out faithless creases is toilsome labor. God bestows three blessings on man: to feed him like birds, dress him like flowers, and befriend him as a confidant. Too many take the first two and neglect the last. Most believers on the path have found that life is constructed specifically and brilliantly to squeeze a man into association with the owner of heaven. It is a struggle with labor pains and thorny landscape, bloody hands and sweaty brow, head in hands moments of ache and desire. All this leads to God. God is not merely the reason behind existence, nor the curer of ills and confusion. Matter and thought are a canvas on which God paints, a painting with tragedy and delivery, with sin and redemption. Life is a dance toward God. And the dance is not so graceful as we might think. For while we glide and swing our practiced sway, God crowds our feet, bumps our toes, and scuffs our shoes. He lowers His head, whispers soft and confident, “You will dance to the beat of Amazing Grace, or you will not dance at all.” So we learn to dance with the One who made us.  And it is a taxing dance to learn. But once learned, don’t we glide. And don’t we sway.  And don’t we bury our head in His chest.  And don’t we love to dance.”               (Miller,pg 111)
“I started this trip in search of joy, in search of fulfillment. And now I wonder if my aim was suffecient. To know God, and get to know Him better and better, surely involves some effort. It is not all joy and fun and games. It is serious business. I guess I’ve always hoped that earnestly seeking God would bring joy. And I still believe it does. But it also brings sorrow and anger and hardship. This seems to be part of how God works with people. Even among the saints you see the full gamut of emotions. We learn from the pain of life as well as the pleasure. Perhaps we even learn more from the pain.”             (Milller, 228)
