This devotional, based on the author’s year-long journey with the first “book” of Psalms (psalms 1-41), is the author’s first published book, born out of an intensive Bible study of the Psalms provided by her pastor (“Pastor Brian,” affectionately nicknamed “the rabbi”). The exegetical goal of the course was to read the Psalms over against the record of David’s life in the books of Samuel. However, Rabbi/Pastor Brian included an unusual stipulation for the participants. For every psalm they studied, they had to compose a psalm of their own in response. The process, it seems, worked out in four stages: read the psalm, revisit the life of David, look at your own circumstances, write your own psalm. The result, then, is a unique work-equal parts devotional, poetry journal, and memoir.
The book achieves its best moments because of Dabaghian’s unflinching honesty. We walk with her as she experiences the death of her best friend, Jim, as she deals with the effects of her own husband’s battle with alcoholism (and her own co-dependency), as she struggles to reconcile her own acceptance of scientific evolution with belief in the inerrancy of Scripture…and other matters big, small, and indifferent.
As the bibliography and notes attest, she is acquainted with some good Psalms scholarship, including Kidner, Waltke, and Craigie. Though she wrestles with deep theological questions, however, she does so as non-specialist. I found this sometimes inspiring and sometimes highly problematic. Inspiring because I think Dabaghian’s work can go a long way to removing theological reflection from its typical “ivory tower”…sequestered as the work of that specially-trained (and ultimately unrelatable) species of über-nerd, the “theologian.” However, it also proved troubling because there were points of deep inconsistency to which Dabaghian appeared oblivious. Most notable among them was her construction of the idea of sin. In the early part of the book, she espouses a relational view of sin’s reality (meaning that what we call “sin” is the product of broken relationships) that really cuts against the ontological view of sin’s reality that is a common feature of most Reformed theology. However, later on, she surprisingly turns back to that ontological view, making the claim that sin may even be “inscribed” within our DNA (perhaps an explanation for same-sex attraction?). Then, the most shocking statement of all: “Our sin is a gift, allowing us to bear witness to and participate in God’s redemptive work” (p. 208). Of course, in a Reformed universe, controlled by an ultimately sovereign God, I guess I could not expect her to reach any other conclusion, as twisted as it might be. When sin itself becomes a “gift,” we’ve strayed quite far from Scripture.
To be honest: I thought that I would enjoy this book more than I did. I assumed that Dabaghian’s degree in rhetoric would ensure that the book was well-written. However, I found the language (in places) to be overwrought. And, though I’m sure others will vehemently disagree, I found the poetry to be often mediocre. Of course, the point of the book was not simply to read Dabaghian’s poetry but to attempt to write your own (something I did not do). So perhaps the mediocrity serves an important encouraging purpose. Finally, and most offensive to that obsessive-compulsive part of my personality, she did not provide reflections on each of the 41 psalms in Book I! Several of her poetic reflections were relegated to an appendix, without any attendant extended reflection.
Overall, the book works and would, most likely, serve as a great supplementary resource for a small-group Bible study on the psalms. I think it would be valuable to see Dabaghian continue her journey through the rest of the book of Psalms but, when I checked just this morning, she had shuttered her blog just about a year after this book was published (2015). I must say that I’m sorry that we don’t get to see this journey with Psalms continue. ( )