“We had to wait a long time, didn’t we?”

Sometimes our prayers take a long time to answer because we don’t know what to ask for. At the conclusion of Gilead, the narrator finds his peace only when he is able to let go of a nurtured grudge he could barely admit to holding. Strangely, only the troublesome Jack Boughton can release him from the snare he set for himself; he does so in a surpriseing revelation that manages to tie up many of the loose ends in Reverend Ames’ life, even as it leaves many of the people he loves in a wilderness with only the God of Hagar and Ishmael to provide for them. By the novel's close we are left wondering what it means to trust in God, and whether the gospel message of personal salvation and liberation from fear might also be linked to America's ability to be a braver country. Has this quiet novel about a small town--where Lithuanian Lutherans count as diversity—told us something important about racial injustice in America? Can our Christian callings give us the strength to seek out and proclaim a grace that transcends our comfort zones and to participate in a church that must sometimes stand in opposition to conventional morality? What would we want to include in our life stories, our letters to the next generation? And what does God will for us in the brief span of time before we also get to "sleep"?

Suggested Readings:
Gilead, pp. 209-247