As a Christian reader, my first thought was that the plot and story content might offend the sensibilities of those who prefer sweet clean material. After all, aren’t we supposed to meditate on “whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report” and not be of this world?
With that thought, the pastor’s wife in me decided that while the contents of The Blue Cloak might offend some, perhaps—considering the rate at which evil and depravity are unfolding around us—it’s time to challenge our comfort level.
In addition to being a well-written and well-researched story, The Blue Cloak is a good reminder that Christians have a responsibility to minister to and to share the gospel with others, even those we arrogantly find repulsive. This story is, after all, based on real events that occurred in my home state, and it’s written far more accurately than most would imagine. The majority of the “dregs” within the story actually existed. Men who committed brutal crimes and the women they forced into their world, who were kept there with threats of violence. One, the daughter of a minister. Too often, we fail to realize that people like “Harpes’ women” and even some like the Harpes themselves are the sick that Jesus came to save.
That lesson is exemplified in the story by Rachel seeking to help her old friend Sally—who, like so many these days—found herself in a situation she didn’t want or expected to be in, wondering if she was beyond redemption. Likewise, we as Christians are commanded to take the gospel to others, including the Susans, Betseys, and Sallys of this world. They need to hear that though their sins be many and seemingly unforgivable, the Son of God will become a cloak of righteousness for those who believe on His name.
I received a preview copy in exchange for a review. I seldom do this, but I like the author’s stories and especially her writing. The Blue Cloak exceeded my expectations. I appreciate the good read and the reminder that faith often takes place in rough places.
