Some background for context: I was raised in a high-demand fringe-Christian religion, and I have read the Bible cover-to-cover several times and studied it extensively. I left both that religion specifically and all supernatural belief generally about eight years ago. Leaving involved a loss of most of my friendships, and that experience affects my views on religion. Most of my family is still religious.
My thoughts on religion as a whole are complex; I have an academic interest in world religions and find different theological systems to be fascinating. At the same time, I also resent the socio-political impact of the specific brands of religion that tend to dominate in the United States. I respect those that use religion to inspire them to be kinder people; I have no patience for those that use religion as a tool to consolidate power, a weapon to further disenfranchise the marginalized, or a high horse from which to put down others in order to fuel their own sense of moral superiority.
I actively and knowingly chose to go into a space that wasn't meant for me in reading this book, and I went into it knowing full well that any discomfort I might feel would be entirely my own fault for putting myself in that situation. Dana didn't make me read this, she isn't proselytizing to nonbelievers with this book, she's just trying to help her fellow believers, and I am simply paying for the privilege of eavesdropping.
I am not necessarily going to go out and actively recommend this book to other atheists/general nonbelievers/non-Christians. It's exactly what it says on the tin, right? It's not *for* us, and that’s totally fine. I am firmly convinced that life would be disproportionately improved for literally everyone if we could all simply accept the fact that not everything anyone says or does is directed at us, and that is okay. That said, I don’t regret reading it, I had a perfectly nice couple hours reading it, I laughed out loud on several occasions (at things that were meant to be funny, okay? I’m not *that* kind of atheist.), and I found numerous parts to be quite profound.
One thing that helps is that while we are not coming from the same point of motivation, I share a lot of the same values that Dana expresses in her book. Dana says, “I firmly believe (and am willing to argue, even with a pastor) that having the ability to meet a need and not meeting it is a sin.” Well, sin is an inherently religious concept and thus not really a part of my worldview. But what I would say is, “Having the ability to meet a need and not meeting it is completely antithetical to both my own moral values and the ethical society to which I think we should all aspire.” We’re conceptualizing it differently, but we agree on the general point that failing to help someone when we are capable of doing so is not good. So even if I’m not going to be motivated by the Biblical references, I’m wholeheartedly on board about what for me is the main point of that chapter – that truly helping others means understanding them and meeting them where they are at, not making thoughtless comments based on our own assumptions about their motivations and shortcomings.
This approach of finding the commonality and adapting it for my own situation and worldview helped me find a lot of meaning in several chapters – in particular, the aforementioned chapter (“Technically Helping Versus Actually Helping”), “The Myth of Arrival,” “Paying for Toothpaste Isn’t a Sin,” “‘How I’m Made’ Versus ‘Just the Way I Am,’” “Don’t Deny Reality,” “Twenty-Year-Old, Brand-New Tires,” and “Happily Sometimes After.” That’s seven chapters out of a fourteen-chapter book, and while under any other circumstances that wouldn’t be a great review, in this case I’d say it’s positively glowing. The other chapters weren’t bad, to be clear. It’s just that reading them was just me eavesdropping on a conversation that has nothing to do with me.
I can really see the good that this book will do for believing women. One thing Dana goes into is the way that women are uniquely pressured to be “good” at housekeeping, and that that they often feel or are made to feel that they are woman-ing wrong if they aren’t. This is true for all women – society is still patriarchal and we’re probably never going to be entirely free of culturally entrenched gendered expectations – but it gets its own special little dash of awful in a religious context when these expectations are equated with moral goodness. I felt it when I was religious, and I see it still in the lives of my religious friends and family. As I said above, I have no patience for those that use religion as a weapon to put down others and prop themselves up. It’s clear from reading this book that neither does Dana. In her characteristic kind-yet-firm style, she presents and factually dismantles the internal and external arguments that make women feel that the state of their homes is a moral issue. I can see this book being a great source of comfort and of resolve for many religious women.
In summary: to any other fellow-heretics, I’m not necessarily actively recommending this book – it’s not for us, we know that. That said, if you’re already curious, or are just a big fan of Dana’s work, I do think it's worth checking out from the library – that’s what I’d have done if I didn’t feel quite so indebted to the author for the impact of her previous work. It’s very religious (obviously) but it isn’t preachy, which is quite the feat. In fact, Dana spends a chapter defining and exploring the concept of miracles but I’d like to submit my own definition of “miracle”: writing a faith-based book that isn’t super preachy. It’s entertaining, it’s interesting, and I feel that my time reading it was well-spent.
Jesus Doesn't Care About Your Messy House: He Cares About Your Heart
4.8 | 5 ratings
Price: 16.71
Last update: 02-16-2025
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Norienne C.An Atheist's Review
Norienne C.
An Atheist's Review
Reviewed in the United States on February 12, 2025
My thoughts on religion as a whole are complex; I have an academic interest in world religions and find different theological systems to be fascinating. At the same time, I also resent the socio-political impact of the specific brands of religion that tend to dominate in the United States. I respect those that use religion to inspire them to be kinder people; I have no patience for those that use religion as a tool to consolidate power, a weapon to further disenfranchise the marginalized, or a high horse from which to put down others in order to fuel their own sense of moral superiority.
I actively and knowingly chose to go into a space that wasn't meant for me in reading this book, and I went into it knowing full well that any discomfort I might feel would be entirely my own fault for putting myself in that situation. Dana didn't make me read this, she isn't proselytizing to nonbelievers with this book, she's just trying to help her fellow believers, and I am simply paying for the privilege of eavesdropping.
I am not necessarily going to go out and actively recommend this book to other atheists/general nonbelievers/non-Christians. It's exactly what it says on the tin, right? It's not *for* us, and that’s totally fine. I am firmly convinced that life would be disproportionately improved for literally everyone if we could all simply accept the fact that not everything anyone says or does is directed at us, and that is okay. That said, I don’t regret reading it, I had a perfectly nice couple hours reading it, I laughed out loud on several occasions (at things that were meant to be funny, okay? I’m not *that* kind of atheist.), and I found numerous parts to be quite profound.
One thing that helps is that while we are not coming from the same point of motivation, I share a lot of the same values that Dana expresses in her book. Dana says, “I firmly believe (and am willing to argue, even with a pastor) that having the ability to meet a need and not meeting it is a sin.” Well, sin is an inherently religious concept and thus not really a part of my worldview. But what I would say is, “Having the ability to meet a need and not meeting it is completely antithetical to both my own moral values and the ethical society to which I think we should all aspire.” We’re conceptualizing it differently, but we agree on the general point that failing to help someone when we are capable of doing so is not good. So even if I’m not going to be motivated by the Biblical references, I’m wholeheartedly on board about what for me is the main point of that chapter – that truly helping others means understanding them and meeting them where they are at, not making thoughtless comments based on our own assumptions about their motivations and shortcomings.
This approach of finding the commonality and adapting it for my own situation and worldview helped me find a lot of meaning in several chapters – in particular, the aforementioned chapter (“Technically Helping Versus Actually Helping”), “The Myth of Arrival,” “Paying for Toothpaste Isn’t a Sin,” “‘How I’m Made’ Versus ‘Just the Way I Am,’” “Don’t Deny Reality,” “Twenty-Year-Old, Brand-New Tires,” and “Happily Sometimes After.” That’s seven chapters out of a fourteen-chapter book, and while under any other circumstances that wouldn’t be a great review, in this case I’d say it’s positively glowing. The other chapters weren’t bad, to be clear. It’s just that reading them was just me eavesdropping on a conversation that has nothing to do with me.
I can really see the good that this book will do for believing women. One thing Dana goes into is the way that women are uniquely pressured to be “good” at housekeeping, and that that they often feel or are made to feel that they are woman-ing wrong if they aren’t. This is true for all women – society is still patriarchal and we’re probably never going to be entirely free of culturally entrenched gendered expectations – but it gets its own special little dash of awful in a religious context when these expectations are equated with moral goodness. I felt it when I was religious, and I see it still in the lives of my religious friends and family. As I said above, I have no patience for those that use religion as a weapon to put down others and prop themselves up. It’s clear from reading this book that neither does Dana. In her characteristic kind-yet-firm style, she presents and factually dismantles the internal and external arguments that make women feel that the state of their homes is a moral issue. I can see this book being a great source of comfort and of resolve for many religious women.
In summary: to any other fellow-heretics, I’m not necessarily actively recommending this book – it’s not for us, we know that. That said, if you’re already curious, or are just a big fan of Dana’s work, I do think it's worth checking out from the library – that’s what I’d have done if I didn’t feel quite so indebted to the author for the impact of her previous work. It’s very religious (obviously) but it isn’t preachy, which is quite the feat. In fact, Dana spends a chapter defining and exploring the concept of miracles but I’d like to submit my own definition of “miracle”: writing a faith-based book that isn’t super preachy. It’s entertaining, it’s interesting, and I feel that my time reading it was well-spent.
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ATHOMASI expect it to be an awesome product. Very bad packaging
ATHOMAS
I expect it to be an awesome product. Very bad packaging
Reviewed in the United States on February 11, 2025
Both packing and packaging failed.
I do expect the book to meet my expectations, and will update after I read it. The cover, however, is basically cardstock and I may add a homemade dustcover.