The high point is definitely her struggle to overcome her religious/cultural tradition, wrest free from her family’s and her religion’s narrow expectations, and enter the modern world as a liberated and open-minded woman. She tells the story of the struggle to overcome fundamentalist Islamic thinking to forge a progressive faith and worldview. Whereas other Muslim women on similar journeys like Irshad Manji and Ani Zonnefeld landed on and now promote a reformed version of Islam, Hirsi Ali becomes an atheist, the epitome of an “infidel.”  Whatever your faith or lack-of-faith position, hers is a highly engaging and eye-opening journey. Don’t miss Infidel.

There are three things I really liked about this book. First, it’s the very human story of a normal person growing up in the Bible Belt, who later realizes his own religious indoctrination. Despite the conflict between his new doubts and his childhood community’s faith, Seth remains grateful for his family’s love and care in his life. This is not a bitter rant against people.

Second, Andrews leaves no stone unturned when he goes into his “unraveling” stage to carefully examine the elements of his fundamentalist past. His honest critique is refreshing—of Bible contradictions, atrocities in the Old Testament supposedly condoned by God, and the psychological and spiritual abuse found in many church practices and beliefs.

Third, Andrews does a great job focusing on reason—a virtue often missing in the religious conversation. He carefully dissects the phenomenon of how rational thought is thrown out the window in the name of “Bible-believing” faith.

I found his story a parallel of my own. Every few pages I blurted hearty “amens,” like when he assessed evangelical subculture and the contemporary Christian music industry; I sympathized with his struggles over the reactions of his family and friends. I rode the same orbits for much of his journey, with the exception that we arrived on different planets—he concluding there is no God and I discovering God is more inclusive and progressive than I ever imagined.

My only critique of the book is not about how he shares his journey, but how he navigates his conclusions when he confronts his past. Like him, progressive or liberal believers (and even some evangelicals) critique creationist theology, its unscientific assertions, Biblical literalism, and other fundamentalist mindsets; but unlike him, they don’t lose their faith. Most embrace a form of theistic evolution. For me, Andrews failed to intellectually justify his rationale for swinging the pendulum to full skeptic; he only confronts the black and considers the white, as if the gray doesn’t even exist. We learn why he rejects fundamentalism but not adequately why he rejects a more moderate or liberal faith.

It’s easy to settle on atheism if you jump from Oral Roberts to Richard Dawkins and totally ignore what’s in the middle. In challenging faith, he seems unaware of the intellectual fluency, historical scholarship, scientific vigor, and nuanced views on sacred texts of progressives, not to mention the spiritual-but-not-religious community.

For Andrews, the continuum of reasoning voices like theologians N.T. Wright, Marcus Borg, John Dominic Crossan, and John Shelby Spong, theistic evolutionists Francis Collins and Ken Miller, serious intelligent design proponents like Stephen Meyer, who are not creationists, and the rising number of intellectuals who are sympathetic to a teleological (purposeful) view of nature and life, such as physicist Paul Davies and philosopher Thomas Nagle (who, although an atheist, argues intelligent design should not be rejected as non-scientific), are silent.

Do check it out! >

Thomas Talbott takes us on a journey to find the real heart of God and shows us how far off many of the Western theologians throughout history were (Augustine, Calvin, Edwards, Acquinas, and modern conservative scholars). He makes a overwhelmingly persuasive plea that traditional theology is one of fear, where each human is either pre-determined to be saved or damned (Calvinism) OR must freely choose redemption even if they are cut off from a true Christian message and have the capacity to lose their salvation (Arminianism). Both fear-based views see all humans as depraved sinners who, by default, deserve eternal torment by a retributive, exclusive God.

Talbott makes an impassioned, reasoned case that, historically and linguistically, there’s always been a third, more consistent, and solidly biblical position called the universal reconciliation of all humankind–a view that is intellectually, scripturally, and historically honest. For example, it beautifully reconciles God’s love with his judgment and explains in depth why most have misread hell and the afterlife.