With or Without Me: A Memoir of Losing and Finding

With or Without Me: A Memoir of Losing and Finding

With or Without Me is a book for everyone – believer or unbeliever, Christian or atheist– who refuses to surrender to the idea that there are easy answers to the big questions in life. Doubt about God’s goodness in the face of grief is natural. With or Without Me is one woman’s unsparing and eloquent memoir about the inadequacy of religion and philosophy to answer her emotional pain. Yet Esther Maria Magnis’s rejection of God is merely the beginning of a tortuous journey back to faith – one punctuated by personal losses retold with bluntness and immediacy.  Magnis knows believing in God is anything but easy . Because he allows people to suffer. Because he’s invisible. And silent.  “A must read for anyone who has ever pondered the meaning of life” – Lydia S. Dugdale, Author of The Lost Art of Dying “I have not known anyone since Nietzsche who shows so shockingly what a catastrophe it is to not believe in God." — Robert Spaemann "There are not many who dare to speak of God as unabashedly as Esther Maria Magnis." — Public Forum With or Without Me is utterly necessary. Breathtakingly honest with unflinching rawness, this book   is a must read for anyone who has ever pondered the meaning of life. — Lydia S. Dugdale, author of The Lost Art of Dying: Reviving Forgotten Wisdom Seldom have I read a Christian book that possessed such raw energy and passion . With or Without Me  is an honest account of death, bereavement and grief which lays bare what it means to love and lose. — Inspire Magazine Faith is like a piece of quartz that Magnis turns over in her palm, examining all its angles, the sharp edges and the shine. This lends With or Without Me a thoughtful and introspective quality, contemplative without being meandering... She deftly balances the transcendent and immanent as she recounts her walk towards God, yet never reduces her discussion of faith to abstractions. — Today's American Catholic Esther Maria Magnis addresses traditional philosophy and religion head on in this unflinching memoir, which details her difficult sojourn away from the Christian faith and then back to it. Amid the spate of personal deconstruction narratives of the past few years, readers will appreciate this German author’s distinct perspective. With or Without Me is essential reading for anyone who has ever doubted God’s goodness in the midst of personal loss. — Christian Century Magnis recounts with brutal honesty the depth of her loss. — War Cry Magazine , UK A mesmerizing, compelling story about loss, family, and faith… Magnis refuses to give easy answers about her difficult faith journey, leading to life-giving answers in ways a cuter treatment wouldn’t provide. — Connor Salter , Evangelical Church Library Association With or Without Me is quite extraordinary . It’s poetic, written in such a way that it really draws you in, into your experiences and your inner life. It took me back to being a child and an adolescent and made me feel the way it felt then. —Justin Brierley, Re-Enchanting podcast Esther Maria Magnis, a German writer, was born in 1980. She studied comparative religion and history in Germany and Italy and has worked as a journalist. She now lives and works in southwestern Germany. Alta L. Price, a translator, runs a publishing consultancy specializing in literature and nonfiction texts on art, architecture, history, and culture. A recipient of the Gutekunst Prize, she translates from Italian and German into English. 1 A thorn had scratched my leg. It was from a blackberry bush. I had spotted three red dots in a field of yellow grain, and immediately sent my bike’s silver handlebars, whose pink plastic grips gave me blisters because they were too small for my hands, swerving toward the side of the road. I had hopped off, letting my bike fall into the grass, and jumping over a little ditch. I’d heard a ripping noise – a thorn had torn a red gash into my leg, and a thin line of blood emerged. It wasn’t much, just enough to turn the cut bright red without flowing any farther. But I didn’t care, because there they were: poppies. I wanted them. And now they were within reach. The wind was barely audible, the day and the fields were dozing in the sun, and the flowers’ delicate petals fluttered as I yanked their roots from the soil, squashed their stems between my hands and the handlebars, and rode home. One leaf was lost on the way, and another as I pulled up to the door. And then, in the vase that evening, the blossoms drooped and all the petals fell to the table. I tried this over and over as a kid. I’d always pluck another poppy, and was always a little disappointed when it wouldn’t bloom as bright or red in our kitchen. Behind my closed eyes it was also red. From there, it was easy to sink into sleep. It was dark, too, but not dangerous; I knew this darkness, and found it comforting. Only when someone turned on the light, or I tried to sleep at the beach – then it was to