Reflections on Where the Light Fell by Yancey

I recently read a book that I really appreciated, Where the Light Fell: A Memoir by Philip Yancey.  It is a recounting of his experience growing up in a fundamentalist upbringing, raised by a single mom (pastor husband died when Yancey was 1), who swore that her children would become missionaries (that was a very damaging promise).  She dedicated her life to ministry, teaching the Bible, raising her children, protecting them from temptations and the dangers in the culture, all the while seeing/feeling the increasing distance and hostility from her sons towards God while she tries to control them.  It feels similar to the stories of Educated by Tara Westover or Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance, except it's a picture from a fundamentalist upbringing and the hope at the end is God and grace.  

A number of the topics were very appropriate for me: thinking about racism, control, fear, and culture war Christianity.  It was a helpful look into the mindset that drove this culture and people, especially since I'm feeling like the culture and people that are around me are just a little downstream of it.  It's certainly not exactly the same: the control/criticism is not as overt, the fears not as sharp or shaming, but sadly enough, the similarities and echoes are there.  I appreciated it.  It helps me see a little more clearly those same tendency/patterns that I have been imbibing in my own heart.  

The thing that struck me most was just how much I appreciated reading it now, compared to my previous avoidance of Yancey's books.  This is the first book by Yancey that I've read all the way through.  I remember picking up one of his books in college and thinking that all his emphasis on grace was flimsy and not finishing it, instead turning back towards whatever popular calvinist book was being recommended.  That was my loss then, and I'm glad that my prior mistake of ignoring him doesn't have to haunt me.