The year was 2003. I was perusing the shelves of a local bookstore the day before a cottage weekend with some buddies. The plan was to eat good, relax, play obnoxiously nerdy board games and do some studying. I needed a good book–something compelling with a story that gripped but wasn’t pointless.
The book I chose did not disappoint. I picked it off the shelf, not knowing the author in the slightest, and it instantly became one of my favorite books. I read it from cover to cover before we even left for the retreat. I simply couldn’t put it down. Then I read it again.
Blue Like Jazz was unlike anything I had ever read before. It was like Salinger meets theology conversations in the lounge of my college dorm. It was compelling, hilarious and real. Not much of what I was reading by Christian authors at the time was real. I loved it and it launched me on a journey of deeper thinking and healthy spiritual exploration.
Since that time I’ve read every Don Miller book there is. Searching for God Knows What is the best, if you want to know the truth. I’m so obsessed that I even read Prayer and the Art of Volkswagen Maintenance and Through Painted Deserts even though they are the same book. I couldn’t help it. I love the authenticity of Don’s style and the fresh way he approaches the Christian faith. His books have helped me rethink, jettison or shore up many of the ideas I grew up with. Quite simply, he’s my favorite author–which brings me to the point of this post.
You see, I like to use Don’s Storyline book as part of our college transition curriculum. It’s a great tool for exploring who you are and what exactly God might be calling you to. I love the idea of drawing students into the mission of Jesus as they explore their future.
Anyway, I ordered about 30 of the Storyline books and not only did they ship exceptionally quickly but they also came with a handwritten note.
Now, I’m sure you can understand my excitement in receiving a handwritten note from Don Miller, whose books have so deeply shaped my thinking. And, this isn’t one of those photocopied prints of a handwritten note that important people sometimes give out. This is the real deal. Or is it…
As I looked closely at the note, I couldn’t help but notice that it appears a certain “Dan” wrote it and not Don. Who is Dan? No offense but I don’t know you, Dan. Or wait, is the note from Don and he sort of ran the “o” into the “n?” Now I’m really confused.
Don, if this is from you could you please work on your handwriting? And Dan, if this is from you, do you think you should be going around signing notes with simply “Dan” when you work with “Don?” I’m just saying. I mean, I feel bad for not being happy with a handwritten note from you “Dan,” but the truth is, you aren’t a famous author an I haven’t read each of your books 3 times. Perhaps you could switch things up and go with “Danny” or “Dan-o” so that people don’t get confused.
But, on the off-chance that this is from “Don,” thanks for writing a handwritten note. That’s classy. And yes, I would like some help with my story. Could we do coffee? Or maybe we could ride bikes across the country? A trip in a Volkswagen van to the grand canyon? I still have a blockbuster card. I can come to you. My sister lives in Portland. Call me.
