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And the Shofar Blew was not exactly what I expected it to be–thankfully. After reading the back, I expected a straightforward story about a pastor’s wife and her rocky marriage to a man of God. What I got instead was an intricate story about a town and a church that only wanted to serve God, a town and a church that got trapped in the same mire as a lot of others: claiming the works of the Lord, but serving only oneself. What I thought would be a story of one couple’s struggle turned into a prayer battle waged by generations, behind the scenes. I’ve come to think as Rivers’ books as "frantic reads." I turn the pages quickly simply so that I can demand of the characters, "Don’t do that! What are you thinking?" much as I demand of people in the everyday world. And Rivers is always a step ahead of me. She weaves the story so that the reader falls into the same trap as the characters, proving our humanity above our righteousness, then brought to our knees when we realize it. In And the Shofar Blew, I got fed up with the charismatic minister long before his mild-mannered wife did, and it got to the point where I was glad when he sinned simply so that she would have an excuse to get rid of him. Then "Pow!" Our female lead, Eunice, falls to her knees in the debate of what she should do about her marriage, and God gently reminds her that her prayer should not be how to get out of her marriage, but how to heal it. Ouch! It takes an inspired author and an amazing book to make the reader realize they were hoping for the sin of another, even a fictional other, for their own amusement. Once again, she has delivered a story that might not end as a fan of novels would have it end, but manages to portray how life works when God is given control of our lives. Not perfectly, not painlessly, but rightly. Like the attendees of the vast church the book’s pastor, Paul, founded, I wanted entertainment. What I got, and what I needed, was an understanding knock over the head. In every moment of our lives, in church and out, the Lord needs to come first. It’s always easy to say He does. . . until someone blows the shofar.
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