“We have all spit in the face of our Creator. Thinking that we have not is self-righteous—which is itself a form of spitting.”
Ted Dekker’s When Heaven Weeps is the second part of his Martyr’s Song series, but like many of his novels it can be read as a standalone without having prior experience with the preceding books. It was recommended to me as a standalone and that is how I read it.
The novel is divided into four “books”—The Priest, The Sinner, The Lover, and The Beloved. The first book, The Priest, is the strongest of the four. Told from multiple points of view and unmoored in time and space, the narrative focuses on an idyllic Bosnian village during World War II, where an Anglican priest has cultivated a righteous flock of Christians. They are celebrating the birthday of a young girl named Nadia when they are interrupted.
Led by a bloodthirsty commander, Karadzic, a group of Serbian soldiers enter the peaceful village and bring death into their lives. Karadzic forces the women to carry unearthed concrete cross gravestones on their backs, threatening to beat the priest if they drop them. Nadia bravely protests and tries to reason with the commander, even offering her own life in place of the priest’s. Father Michael is almost upset with how well his lessons of suffering for Christ have been ingrained in his people. He recalls a conversation in which he compares death to a wedding, painting it in a romantic light:
“And the crucifixion of Christ was a grand wedding announcement. This world we now live in may indeed be a beautiful gift from God, but do not forget that it’s our union with him beyond this life for which we wait with breathless anticipation.” He let the truth finger its way through their minds for a moment. “And how do you suppose we arrive at the wedding?”
Nadia answered. “We die.”
He looked down into her smiling blue eyes. “Yes, child. We die. So if you should die sooner than later, I suppose it would be like dispensing with the gifts a little sooner and crossing the threshold to your groom a few minutes earlier than some of the guests thought proper.”
Father Michael begins having visions and hearing God speak to him. He imagines a white desert, which morphs into a field of thornless white roses. He is intrigued by the pleasant sound of children laughing, wishing he could see them and laugh along with them. The encounter in the town square seems inconsequential when he is in this realm. But then his spiritual vision vanishes and he is back in the village, his shoulder crushed and his face battered. Karadzic gives the priest an ultimatum—he must renounce Christ or the commander will kill the girl. Nadia winks at Father Michael, and tells him that she has heard the laughter as well, and has seen Father Michael in the field of white flowers. Father Michael remains steadfast and the commander shoots the girl. As he threatens to continue with the killing, various members of the village recover from their initial shock and, strengthened by Nadia’s display of faith, offer their own lives in place of Father Michael’s.
One of the soldiers, Janjic Jovic—a philosopher forced to join the war effort—flees the scene in revulsion at his own actions. Struck by the faith that the villagers displayed in the face of pure evil, he returns to the village the next day and asks for their forgiveness, pledging his life to the Christ that so profoundly affected the lives of these people.
The entire first section of the novel is meant to be read as if Ivena—Nadia’s mother—is remembering the event as she reads from The Dance of the Dead, the book that Janjic wrote about the events several years after they occurred. After we read the first-hand account, the bulk of the story is focused on Janjic about a decade later when he has moved to America and become famous from his book.
For my tastes, the rest of the narrative isn’t nearly as engaging or affecting as the first portion (which, unfortunately, only lasted ~50 pages). For the rest of the novel, Jan goes through another trial that will test his faith. The financial success of his book led to his engagement to one of his publicists, but he soon breaks off the engagement when he falls in love with Helen, a drug addict whom he met by chance. However, Helen is the plaything of a powerful man, Glenn Lutz, who exerts control over by continuously luring her back to him with promises of getting her high. Jan must deal with the bureaucracy of a global, multimillion dollar ministry and the image that he portrays as an unofficial spokesman of the “invisible church.” After he marries Helen, she continues to relapse and returns to Lutz several times—each time promising herself it will be the last.
Throughout the book, Janjic is supported by Ivena—an almost too faithful mentor who is imperturbable, always a voice of wisdom even as her circumstances change drastically. She keeps a greenhouse, and as her daughter’s rosebush begins to die, a graft that she does not remember placing on it begins to bloom into the white roses that populate the characters’ visions of Heaven. The story’s culmination—the actual situation they find themselves facing—is not that important; the different plot elements all attempt to serve the novel’s central point: the importance of dying to oneself as a necessary part of working out one’s salvation.
The story of Jan and Helen is most likely based on the book of Hosea. The Old Testament prophet wrote of his own marriage, in which his wife Gomer was unfaithful to him—but just as God forgave the Isrealites for worshipping false gods, so Hosea forgave Gomer. In the same way, though Jan is repulsed by Helen’s actions, he believes God has given him a spirit of love and that he should continue his spiritual battle rather than forsake his wayward bride.
There are several things that hamper the effectiveness of When Heaven Weeps. Too often the characters speak to themselves or pray in unremarkable fashion. The italicized words simply distract the reader and their content is not unique, which ultimately causes the pacing to suffer. The book’s message gets a bit confusing when Janjic tries to use his attraction to Helen as a sign from God that he is called to end his current relationship and marry her. With his influential ministry, he could have arranged for her to go to rehab, to meet with a spiritual mentor (Ivena would be a perfect candidate for this), or even to simply go to a church, etc. But to assume that because a person is deserving of Christ’s love that you must love them romantically is a huge stretch. It could be intentional—i.e. we are meant to understand that Janjic is twisting the tenets of his faith in order to fulfil his fleshly desires—but it is not written that way. My last complaint is that Helen is only cured of her unfaithfulness to her husband when she literally sees Heaven, which only cheapens her redemptive arc. The love that Jan had shown her—supernatural in its resiliency, literally a stand-in for the love of Christ—had not been enough to sway her, she had to have a vision of Heaven to finally make up her mind. (Whether or not a person living in sin should unquestioningly accept a mystical vision as genuinely from God rather than from, say, a demon, is a question well worth asking, but not here.) I suppose what would have been more satisfying is a bit less romance and a bit more spiritual discernment from the characters.
Obviously, I had my issues with When Heaven Weeps, but it was still an engaging read, especially the first portion with Father Michael and the villagers. Although the romance was a bit much for me, the novel’s globetrotting thriller elements as well as its blatantly negative portrayal of bloated parachurch organizations were welcome. And although its pastoral message was a bit muddled in trying to connect it to a fictional story that was not a perfect allegorical match, the sentiment was genuine and it provoked some introspection, and for that I appreciate it.