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Chasing Francis: A Pilgrim’s Tale
What happens when the pastor of a mega church loses his faith? Discover one man’s life-changing journey to resolve his crisis of faith in Italy by retracing the footsteps of Francis of Assisi, a saint whose simple way of loving Jesus changed the history of the world. Pastor Chase Falson lost his faith in God, the Bible, evangelical Christianity, and his super-sized megachurch. When he fell apart, the church elders told him to go away—as far away as possible. Broken, Chase crossed the Atlantic to Italy to visit his uncle, a Franciscan priest. There, he was introduced to the revolutionary teachings of Saint Francis of Assisi and found an old, but new way of following Jesus that heals and inspires. Chase Falson's spiritual discontent mirrors the feelings of a growing number of Christians who walk out of church asking, Is this all there is? This book is perfect for believers who Hidden in the past lies the future of the church. Explore the life of a saint who 800 years ago breathed new life into disillusioned Christians and a Church on the brink of collapse. Chasing Francis is a hopeful and moving story with profound implications for those who yearn for a more vital relationship with God and the world.
256 pages, Paperback
First published June 22, 2006
About the author
Ian Morgan Cron
13 books577 followersIan Morgan Cron is a bestselling author, nationally recognized speaker, Enneagram teacher, trained psychotherapist, Dove Award–winning songwriter, and Episcopal priest. His books include the novel Chasing Francis and spiritual memoir Jesus, My Father, the CIA, and Me. Ian draws on an array of disciplines—from psychology to the arts, Christian spirituality and theology—to help people enter more deeply into conversation with God and the mystery of their own lives. He and his wife, Anne, live in Nashville, Tennessee.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 551 reviews
December 6, 2016
"Chase Falson has lost his faith so he crosses the Atlantic to visit his uncle, a Franciscan priest, where he encounters the teachings of Francis of Assisi and rediscovers his ancient faith. Follow Chase's spiritual journey in the footsteps of Francis, and then begin one of your own through the pilgrim's guide included in this book."
I read this book for my hometown book club. At first I was very skeptical of it because of the huge religious storyline to the book. BUT this book turned out to be really good and I enjoyed learning about St. Francis and about Ian's religion and his journey. Also, I grew up Catholic so it was interesting to hear about that too from someone else's point of view.
I read this book for my hometown book club. At first I was very skeptical of it because of the huge religious storyline to the book. BUT this book turned out to be really good and I enjoyed learning about St. Francis and about Ian's religion and his journey. Also, I grew up Catholic so it was interesting to hear about that too from someone else's point of view.
May 9, 2011
The Pop-Christian book market is dominated by Evangelicals, so it was interesting to read a book by a mainline priest that follows the formula but contributes an entirely different slant. Instead of a book with an incidental plot that is really just a glorified evangelical street tract, this is a book with an interesting plot that descends into a glorified mainline social gospel essay (since there's no such thing as a tract in liberal circles...).
This is not a bad book. The central idea of a pastor having a crisis of faith (and melting down in front of his mega-church congregation) makes for great tension at the start. There are places where Ian Cron's pastoral and theological insights are profound, and hint at what the book could have been. The ultimate disappointment is this: the book implies that it's going to teach evangelical Christians about missing components of their faith, re-learned from Francis of Assisi. The final "sermon" ends up being nothing more than a summary of the twentieth-century social gospel, shored up with bullet points from Francis' ministry philosophy. Jesus is also mentioned once or twice to further shore up Francis, the implication being that both of them would agree with the protagonist (and thus with Cron, since the protag is clearly his mouthpiece).
This conclusion is indicative of the year the book was written, when post-modern "future/primitive" Christianity was truly the flavor of the month, and held so much authority. This concept appeals to me too, but my problem is this: instead of name-dropping saints to back up a liberal 1900's social gospel as "true Christianity," why not go further back, all the way to the oldest Christian creeds, which clearly affirm belief in the incarnation and resurrection of Jesus? It would only be fair, since these are the very same creeds that St. Francis spoke.
Ian Cron has publicly declared that he doesn't believe in the resurrection. That's his business, and in liberal theological circles it isn't the least bit surprising. Yet it seems hypocritical for Cron to assert this, and then write a book that relies entirely on the authority and credibility of Francis, who claimed his ministry began with a visitation from the resurrected Jesus Christ. In the end, I just don't get it.
This is not a bad book. The central idea of a pastor having a crisis of faith (and melting down in front of his mega-church congregation) makes for great tension at the start. There are places where Ian Cron's pastoral and theological insights are profound, and hint at what the book could have been. The ultimate disappointment is this: the book implies that it's going to teach evangelical Christians about missing components of their faith, re-learned from Francis of Assisi. The final "sermon" ends up being nothing more than a summary of the twentieth-century social gospel, shored up with bullet points from Francis' ministry philosophy. Jesus is also mentioned once or twice to further shore up Francis, the implication being that both of them would agree with the protagonist (and thus with Cron, since the protag is clearly his mouthpiece).
This conclusion is indicative of the year the book was written, when post-modern "future/primitive" Christianity was truly the flavor of the month, and held so much authority. This concept appeals to me too, but my problem is this: instead of name-dropping saints to back up a liberal 1900's social gospel as "true Christianity," why not go further back, all the way to the oldest Christian creeds, which clearly affirm belief in the incarnation and resurrection of Jesus? It would only be fair, since these are the very same creeds that St. Francis spoke.
Ian Cron has publicly declared that he doesn't believe in the resurrection. That's his business, and in liberal theological circles it isn't the least bit surprising. Yet it seems hypocritical for Cron to assert this, and then write a book that relies entirely on the authority and credibility of Francis, who claimed his ministry began with a visitation from the resurrected Jesus Christ. In the end, I just don't get it.
February 2, 2022
This is the reflection essay I wrote about "Chasing Francis" for my Christian Beliefs course at MidAmerica Nazarene University under Dr. Jacob Lett:
“In Italy, I found a mentor named Saint Francis of Assisi who taught me that the church of the future needs to listen to the church of the past” (191).
Reading the novel "Chasing Francis" by Ian Morgan Cron has been one of the most challenging and spiritually-transformative experiences of my life. A bit dramatic? I don’t think so. The book is centered around the story of Chase Falson, a man whose spiritual pilgrimage takes him from a conservative, evangelical church in New England where he pastors, to the hills of Assisi, Italy chasing after the life of one man: Saint Francis. On his journey, he encounters a Christianity so different that it entirely reshaped his own. I found Chase’s story very similar to mine, so much so, in fact, that his journey soon became my own. Chase, after coming to know Christ in college through a friend named Phil, had been drawn into the evangelical world where he eventually became the pastor of Putnam Hill Community Church. Yet, twenty years into his ministry, he “had begun to suspect that there was something beyond the island of evangelicalism [he]’d been living on” (21), and he “began yearning for something Phil never told [him] about” (28). This feeling, I have come to know well.
I grew up in Omaha, Nebraska, attending a large evangelical church my entire life. I was involved in every aspect of the youth ministry, from the Awana program to the High School Ministry, where I came to lead, teach, and serve. That world of Christianity was all I had ever known. I had even become a sort of “Bible Man,” where people could “just push the button and [I’d] give the answer” (16). As Chase describes, following Jesus had become so tidy; “every question had a logical answer. Every mystery had a rational explanation” (16). By the time I graduated, I had led Bible studies, preached sermons, and ultimately “I thought I had God pretty well figured out. Everything I believe[d] was boxed, filed, and housed on a shelf” (16). Yet, as I accelerated past my peers in maturity and understanding, I began to feel that I had reached the end of the road. I suspected there was more pavement . . . it was just . . . hidden by the haze surrounding me. I felt there was more to Christianity, but I didn’t know where it was or, for that matter, if it even existed. Consequently, as Chase headed to Italy, beginning a pilgrimage into a new world, so did I. I had, with him, become someone “wandering the earth in exile . . . in search of a spiritual homeland” (42).
The first and most important notion that dawned upon me was that “no one tradition [had] a corner on the faith market” (54-55). This was a shocking shift in thinking for me. I realized that by sharing the wisdom each Christian tradition brought to the table, it would “create more well-rounded Christians” (55)—a more well-rounded me. I had naïvely thought that the Christianity I had grown up with was the most-valid expression of faith in Jesus Christ. It was compelling (and convicting) for me to read that Chase’s Uncle, Kenny, a Franciscan friar, found that “there [were] countless mysteries that [he has] to stand before reverently and humbly while saying, ‘I don’t know’” (54); could I do the same? A faith that wasn’t black and white scared me. Chase and I, with minds that were beginning to let their guard down, traveled on in the footsteps of Francis.
The next realization I came to was about my own faith tradition. “I grew up in a faith that was highly individualistic” (154). In my church, we had been told our whole lives that it was all about our “personal evangelism, personal relationships with Christ, personal devotions, etc.” (154). So, when Chase began to encounter people who thought differently than that, I was directly confronted. He befriended a Franciscan nun, Irene, who expressed to him, “I’ve always found the phrase ‘personal relationship with Jesus’ a little puzzling. I don’t mean to be rude, but it sounds so self-interested” (132). Remember now, this “personal relationship” is all I’ve ever known. Was she calling me selfish? She went on to say, “I’ve always had an intimate relationship with Jesus, but my faith is more rooted in the communal than personal” (132). Having no context for what this meant, I soaked in the way that the characters in the story lived out their communal faith. It showed in the way they “actually lived” Jesus’s call to love, peace, and reconciliation found in the Sermon on the Mount, as opposed to “just admir[ing] it as a nice but unrealistic ideal” (197). Together, they ate, prayed, lived (132), fed the hungry (163), visited the homeless (166), and washed the sick (171). The faith lived out by each of the friends that Chase made in Italy was poured out for the love of others, with others. I began to see how my individualistic, personal faith in Jesus was, indeed, self-centered in many ways.
Another theme, which challenged my and Chase’s perceptions, was the value placed by his new friends on the liturgy of the church. Chase expressed my thoughts well when he said, “I was moved that people were offering up the same words, giving expression to the same truths, in different languages and time zones all around the globe that very day . . . Where or how it was said didn’t matter. Solidarity mattered” (88). What a beautiful picture! I realized what a tragedy it was that I had lived my life until that point looking at the liturgy as stale words uttered in old churches. It wasn’t just the liturgy that began to come alive as I read, but “the faces of saints captured in stained-glass, the frescoes that adorned the walls and ceilings” (88) as well. Along with Chase, “it dawned on me that the liturgy was connecting me to a long and ancient line of believers” (88), a line which was united with “one chorus” as “one communion of saints” (88). We were each “but one soul in the long procession of the faithful that wound its way down and along the hilly landscape of history” (88). The mere idea of this now gives me shivers. Never again will I look at an image of a saint with contempt, but, rather, will consider them a brother or sister who, along with me, is giving praise to the risen king. I think regretfully of how the church I grew up in did not emphasize a respect and love for the ancient community of believers.
While I have much yet to learn and many ways yet to grow as a believer, "Chasing Francis" has opened my eyes to a broader Christianity than I have ever known. I journeyed vicariously through Chase as he discovered a rich and ancient faith in Saint Francis. The people he met, I met. The people he loved, I came to love. The lessons he learned—as challenging as they often were—I learned as well. I praise God that He used the creative mind of Ian Morgan Cron to put together a novel such as this. It has further revealed to me the depth of the Christian faith, and I pray that God’s Spirit would not relent in transforming my heart and life to look more like that of those saints in the past who loved Him so deeply.
“In Italy, I found a mentor named Saint Francis of Assisi who taught me that the church of the future needs to listen to the church of the past” (191).
Reading the novel "Chasing Francis" by Ian Morgan Cron has been one of the most challenging and spiritually-transformative experiences of my life. A bit dramatic? I don’t think so. The book is centered around the story of Chase Falson, a man whose spiritual pilgrimage takes him from a conservative, evangelical church in New England where he pastors, to the hills of Assisi, Italy chasing after the life of one man: Saint Francis. On his journey, he encounters a Christianity so different that it entirely reshaped his own. I found Chase’s story very similar to mine, so much so, in fact, that his journey soon became my own. Chase, after coming to know Christ in college through a friend named Phil, had been drawn into the evangelical world where he eventually became the pastor of Putnam Hill Community Church. Yet, twenty years into his ministry, he “had begun to suspect that there was something beyond the island of evangelicalism [he]’d been living on” (21), and he “began yearning for something Phil never told [him] about” (28). This feeling, I have come to know well.
I grew up in Omaha, Nebraska, attending a large evangelical church my entire life. I was involved in every aspect of the youth ministry, from the Awana program to the High School Ministry, where I came to lead, teach, and serve. That world of Christianity was all I had ever known. I had even become a sort of “Bible Man,” where people could “just push the button and [I’d] give the answer” (16). As Chase describes, following Jesus had become so tidy; “every question had a logical answer. Every mystery had a rational explanation” (16). By the time I graduated, I had led Bible studies, preached sermons, and ultimately “I thought I had God pretty well figured out. Everything I believe[d] was boxed, filed, and housed on a shelf” (16). Yet, as I accelerated past my peers in maturity and understanding, I began to feel that I had reached the end of the road. I suspected there was more pavement . . . it was just . . . hidden by the haze surrounding me. I felt there was more to Christianity, but I didn’t know where it was or, for that matter, if it even existed. Consequently, as Chase headed to Italy, beginning a pilgrimage into a new world, so did I. I had, with him, become someone “wandering the earth in exile . . . in search of a spiritual homeland” (42).
The first and most important notion that dawned upon me was that “no one tradition [had] a corner on the faith market” (54-55). This was a shocking shift in thinking for me. I realized that by sharing the wisdom each Christian tradition brought to the table, it would “create more well-rounded Christians” (55)—a more well-rounded me. I had naïvely thought that the Christianity I had grown up with was the most-valid expression of faith in Jesus Christ. It was compelling (and convicting) for me to read that Chase’s Uncle, Kenny, a Franciscan friar, found that “there [were] countless mysteries that [he has] to stand before reverently and humbly while saying, ‘I don’t know’” (54); could I do the same? A faith that wasn’t black and white scared me. Chase and I, with minds that were beginning to let their guard down, traveled on in the footsteps of Francis.
The next realization I came to was about my own faith tradition. “I grew up in a faith that was highly individualistic” (154). In my church, we had been told our whole lives that it was all about our “personal evangelism, personal relationships with Christ, personal devotions, etc.” (154). So, when Chase began to encounter people who thought differently than that, I was directly confronted. He befriended a Franciscan nun, Irene, who expressed to him, “I’ve always found the phrase ‘personal relationship with Jesus’ a little puzzling. I don’t mean to be rude, but it sounds so self-interested” (132). Remember now, this “personal relationship” is all I’ve ever known. Was she calling me selfish? She went on to say, “I’ve always had an intimate relationship with Jesus, but my faith is more rooted in the communal than personal” (132). Having no context for what this meant, I soaked in the way that the characters in the story lived out their communal faith. It showed in the way they “actually lived” Jesus’s call to love, peace, and reconciliation found in the Sermon on the Mount, as opposed to “just admir[ing] it as a nice but unrealistic ideal” (197). Together, they ate, prayed, lived (132), fed the hungry (163), visited the homeless (166), and washed the sick (171). The faith lived out by each of the friends that Chase made in Italy was poured out for the love of others, with others. I began to see how my individualistic, personal faith in Jesus was, indeed, self-centered in many ways.
Another theme, which challenged my and Chase’s perceptions, was the value placed by his new friends on the liturgy of the church. Chase expressed my thoughts well when he said, “I was moved that people were offering up the same words, giving expression to the same truths, in different languages and time zones all around the globe that very day . . . Where or how it was said didn’t matter. Solidarity mattered” (88). What a beautiful picture! I realized what a tragedy it was that I had lived my life until that point looking at the liturgy as stale words uttered in old churches. It wasn’t just the liturgy that began to come alive as I read, but “the faces of saints captured in stained-glass, the frescoes that adorned the walls and ceilings” (88) as well. Along with Chase, “it dawned on me that the liturgy was connecting me to a long and ancient line of believers” (88), a line which was united with “one chorus” as “one communion of saints” (88). We were each “but one soul in the long procession of the faithful that wound its way down and along the hilly landscape of history” (88). The mere idea of this now gives me shivers. Never again will I look at an image of a saint with contempt, but, rather, will consider them a brother or sister who, along with me, is giving praise to the risen king. I think regretfully of how the church I grew up in did not emphasize a respect and love for the ancient community of believers.
While I have much yet to learn and many ways yet to grow as a believer, "Chasing Francis" has opened my eyes to a broader Christianity than I have ever known. I journeyed vicariously through Chase as he discovered a rich and ancient faith in Saint Francis. The people he met, I met. The people he loved, I came to love. The lessons he learned—as challenging as they often were—I learned as well. I praise God that He used the creative mind of Ian Morgan Cron to put together a novel such as this. It has further revealed to me the depth of the Christian faith, and I pray that God’s Spirit would not relent in transforming my heart and life to look more like that of those saints in the past who loved Him so deeply.
August 1, 2009
I found myself relating to what the character, Chase, was experiencing and going through but I never quite felt like I was emotionally invested. I found the story to be a bit predictable, a little cheesy, and felt like I would rather have just read something by St. Francis than a non-fiction story about some of his theology. I think the thing is that I have already been through much of what the character was facing. It wasn't new to me or eye opening and so it didn't hit me in a way that really grabbed my attention. The downside is that it wasn't a well-written piece of literature. The upside is that I do leave it with a greater interest in St. Francis. We'll see where that takes me.
April 30, 2025
Call me unreligious or even just blasphemous but I genuinely had never truly heard about any of the long long list of achievements and fables of St. Francis of Assisi nor was I sure about how Ian would do expressing his knowledge and passion in more of a literary fiction type format… but this was a more than satisfying read that left me 100% wanting to read more on the history of the most written about man in history but also a deeper appreciation to his teaching and the overall ideals that a good Christian or really anyone in the face of their god shouldn’t be just acting from one’s mind as a scholar but also through one’s heart as a compassionate human and friend. 3.75/5
April 16, 2012
At the end of 2011 I was invited to write a brief review for a best-of list. The book was Jesus, My Father, the CIA, and Me, a memoir by Ian Morgan Cron about growing up in a car wash. Just kidding. The title was as accurate to the content as it was creatively uncreative, and the book was absorbing. I wrote an effusive review of the book and resolved that I would eventually, finally, read his first book, Chasing Francis: A Pilgrim's Tale.
Then I forgot about it for a while.
Then I had the chance to meet Cron, where I told him face to face how much I enjoyed his memoir, and where he asked what I thought of his first book, and where I had to red-facedly admit I'd let it slip by. I was embarrassed for a number of reasons: Chasing Francis has been influential on a number of my friends as they think about living out their faith in the twenty-first century, and because I admire them, I really should have read what they admire by now. As an editor for a Christian publisher, I've solicited endorsements for several books from Cron in the few years since Chasing Francis was released, itself a tacit acknowledgment of his importance, but never bothered to read what this important writer had written. And perhaps most embarrassingly, I had advance notice that I might get to meet him, might get to talk about his writing with him, and I still let his book go unread. Lame lame lame all around. In any event, Cron was gracious and, in an act of Franciscan charity, gave me two copies of the book. This being my personal Year of Overdue Books, I chalked it up to providence and read Chasing Francis over the weekend--maybe a bit faster than I should have--and thoroughly enjoyed it.
My copies of the book bear the subtitle "A Novel," which is a change from the subtitle at first release: "A Pilgrim's Tale." That change is unfortunate, as calling it a novel sets up the wrong expectations of the book and would likely disappoint. This isn't a novel; it's "wisdom literature," a style that's been used to good effect in recent years by philosophers such as Peter Kreeft and Christian gadfly Brian McLaren, among many others. Cron's goal for the reader in this particular wisdom writing is not to enjoy a subversive work of literary fiction but to enter into a time of reflection by way of imagined scenario: an accomplished but increasingly frayed pastor of an evangelical church, who represents the angst felt by many such pastors and laypeople today (including myself, I freely admit), loses it in the pulpit one day and is forced into a leave of absence by his elder board (who represent the tyranny of sameness that actively, though unconsciously, suppresses the redemptive imagination in all kinds of settings, not just the church), and sets out on a pilgrimage to the world of St. Francis of Assisi, the medieval child of privilege whose epiphany on the road to war led him to arguably (and it's a strong argument) rescue Christianity from its own obsolescence.
That's a long sentence, but it gets the gist of the book across. The main character, pastor Chase Falson, reads a little thin and implausible at the beginning; so does his church, actually. Both sound more like an amalgamation of evangelicals from all over America, moreso than a congregation specifically set in New England; Chase's initial ignorance of St. Francis, his casualness in the face of a startlingly unsympathetic reaction to his breakdown, his utter innocence in the face of betrayal by the congregation that he planted and cultivated--this initial setup serves the story almost too well. I would have liked to see Chase's feet of clay a little more clearly in the beginning.
But to ask for that is to judge the book as a novel, which is not what it is. And you'll grow quickly to root for and identify with Chase as he flies to Italy and takes up with several Franciscan brothers and sisters, conveniently speakers of English and mostly American, and makes the compelling case that the church at the beginning of the third millennium CE looks a lot like the church at the beginning of the second millennium CE: unmitigated materialism, regular scandals of the predictable sort, and a growing irrelevancy to the daily lives of loosely committed adherents. Francis, who expressed his faith in such wild and crazy ways as kissing lepers, walking through a war zone unarmed to offer a blessing to a Muslim emir, and stripping naked in front of a crowd to divest himself of his family's wealth, was a shock to the church's system--just the shock, it turns out, that the church needed. A Christian counterculture spread across Europe in Francis's wake, taking vows of poverty and simplicity, blessing communities in real, tangible and agendaless ways, and just generally taking the words of Jesus really, really seriously while taking the serious challenges of life lightly and joyfully. No wonder Chase falls in love with Francis; no wonder he has his world rocked.
I was surprised and impressed at the end of the book by how Chase was able to offer a vision for the contemporary church that is informed by Francis but achievable by modern evangelicals. Cron identifies five themes that capture the heart of Francis's ministry and challenge the mores and protocols of today's churches: transcendence, community, beauty, dignity and meaning. That these sound a little "duh" to me is a tribute both to how effectively Cron portrayed the zeitgeist in this book (he's not the only person to have been thinking along these lines in the past decade) and how influential his book has been in the six years since its release. The most interesting books do exactly that: they make you think that you already accepted the premise by showing how self-evident the premise is, even while honestly representing how controversial the premise will be. That's what good wisdom literature does too, frankly: we get fooled by the parable into thinking that we're something we've never yet been, and then we start to live into that something in redemptive and joyful ways. Chasing Francis is fiction in service to the pursuit of truth.
A running tension throughout the book is the contrast between evangelicalism and Catholicism, and the mutual suspicion between the two traditions. I've personally been on both sides of this chasm, which may be why I got this book so much more quickly than I've gotten similar treatises by other writers. Brian McLaren and others have written compellingly about the latest emergence in the arc of Christianity's history, and I have a great deal of sympathy toward the insights from those writings. But this look backward, this story of a textbook evangelical learning from an unmitigated Catholic, is for me touched with a special grace. There's no going back, Chase seems to understand, as he resists moving permanently to Italy, converting to Catholicism and joining a traditional Franciscan order. But there is historical continuity to the work of God in the world through the church: when there's nothing new under the sun, then what Francis discovered in his day can be rediscovered and freshly applied in our day. We move forward into history best when we carry the best of our history with us. As one of the priests in Chase's adventure reminds him, and us, "the pilgrimage is never over."
Then I forgot about it for a while.
Then I had the chance to meet Cron, where I told him face to face how much I enjoyed his memoir, and where he asked what I thought of his first book, and where I had to red-facedly admit I'd let it slip by. I was embarrassed for a number of reasons: Chasing Francis has been influential on a number of my friends as they think about living out their faith in the twenty-first century, and because I admire them, I really should have read what they admire by now. As an editor for a Christian publisher, I've solicited endorsements for several books from Cron in the few years since Chasing Francis was released, itself a tacit acknowledgment of his importance, but never bothered to read what this important writer had written. And perhaps most embarrassingly, I had advance notice that I might get to meet him, might get to talk about his writing with him, and I still let his book go unread. Lame lame lame all around. In any event, Cron was gracious and, in an act of Franciscan charity, gave me two copies of the book. This being my personal Year of Overdue Books, I chalked it up to providence and read Chasing Francis over the weekend--maybe a bit faster than I should have--and thoroughly enjoyed it.
My copies of the book bear the subtitle "A Novel," which is a change from the subtitle at first release: "A Pilgrim's Tale." That change is unfortunate, as calling it a novel sets up the wrong expectations of the book and would likely disappoint. This isn't a novel; it's "wisdom literature," a style that's been used to good effect in recent years by philosophers such as Peter Kreeft and Christian gadfly Brian McLaren, among many others. Cron's goal for the reader in this particular wisdom writing is not to enjoy a subversive work of literary fiction but to enter into a time of reflection by way of imagined scenario: an accomplished but increasingly frayed pastor of an evangelical church, who represents the angst felt by many such pastors and laypeople today (including myself, I freely admit), loses it in the pulpit one day and is forced into a leave of absence by his elder board (who represent the tyranny of sameness that actively, though unconsciously, suppresses the redemptive imagination in all kinds of settings, not just the church), and sets out on a pilgrimage to the world of St. Francis of Assisi, the medieval child of privilege whose epiphany on the road to war led him to arguably (and it's a strong argument) rescue Christianity from its own obsolescence.
That's a long sentence, but it gets the gist of the book across. The main character, pastor Chase Falson, reads a little thin and implausible at the beginning; so does his church, actually. Both sound more like an amalgamation of evangelicals from all over America, moreso than a congregation specifically set in New England; Chase's initial ignorance of St. Francis, his casualness in the face of a startlingly unsympathetic reaction to his breakdown, his utter innocence in the face of betrayal by the congregation that he planted and cultivated--this initial setup serves the story almost too well. I would have liked to see Chase's feet of clay a little more clearly in the beginning.
But to ask for that is to judge the book as a novel, which is not what it is. And you'll grow quickly to root for and identify with Chase as he flies to Italy and takes up with several Franciscan brothers and sisters, conveniently speakers of English and mostly American, and makes the compelling case that the church at the beginning of the third millennium CE looks a lot like the church at the beginning of the second millennium CE: unmitigated materialism, regular scandals of the predictable sort, and a growing irrelevancy to the daily lives of loosely committed adherents. Francis, who expressed his faith in such wild and crazy ways as kissing lepers, walking through a war zone unarmed to offer a blessing to a Muslim emir, and stripping naked in front of a crowd to divest himself of his family's wealth, was a shock to the church's system--just the shock, it turns out, that the church needed. A Christian counterculture spread across Europe in Francis's wake, taking vows of poverty and simplicity, blessing communities in real, tangible and agendaless ways, and just generally taking the words of Jesus really, really seriously while taking the serious challenges of life lightly and joyfully. No wonder Chase falls in love with Francis; no wonder he has his world rocked.
I was surprised and impressed at the end of the book by how Chase was able to offer a vision for the contemporary church that is informed by Francis but achievable by modern evangelicals. Cron identifies five themes that capture the heart of Francis's ministry and challenge the mores and protocols of today's churches: transcendence, community, beauty, dignity and meaning. That these sound a little "duh" to me is a tribute both to how effectively Cron portrayed the zeitgeist in this book (he's not the only person to have been thinking along these lines in the past decade) and how influential his book has been in the six years since its release. The most interesting books do exactly that: they make you think that you already accepted the premise by showing how self-evident the premise is, even while honestly representing how controversial the premise will be. That's what good wisdom literature does too, frankly: we get fooled by the parable into thinking that we're something we've never yet been, and then we start to live into that something in redemptive and joyful ways. Chasing Francis is fiction in service to the pursuit of truth.
A running tension throughout the book is the contrast between evangelicalism and Catholicism, and the mutual suspicion between the two traditions. I've personally been on both sides of this chasm, which may be why I got this book so much more quickly than I've gotten similar treatises by other writers. Brian McLaren and others have written compellingly about the latest emergence in the arc of Christianity's history, and I have a great deal of sympathy toward the insights from those writings. But this look backward, this story of a textbook evangelical learning from an unmitigated Catholic, is for me touched with a special grace. There's no going back, Chase seems to understand, as he resists moving permanently to Italy, converting to Catholicism and joining a traditional Franciscan order. But there is historical continuity to the work of God in the world through the church: when there's nothing new under the sun, then what Francis discovered in his day can be rediscovered and freshly applied in our day. We move forward into history best when we carry the best of our history with us. As one of the priests in Chase's adventure reminds him, and us, "the pilgrimage is never over."
May 14, 2013
First I'd like to thank the publisher and BookSneeze for allowing me a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I give out 5 star reviews very rarely....meaning, about 1-2% of the books I read, are truly what I consider worthy of 5 stars. It has to change my life in some way, and this book did exactly that. It was such an interesting look into St Francis of Assisi's life, and such a modern story that it was hard not to get caught up in it.
Ever since I started reading this book, it was as if Francis was trying to reach out to me through this book. Every where I turned, there was a statue of him, a church of him, a book of him, a quote about him....things that I had never seen before or experienced before were suddenly popping up. As a child growing up, I picked St Francis as my patron saint in confirmation (much to the consternation of the Catholic teachers that believed a girl should pick a girl saint, not a boy saint!). This book showed me how wonderful and apropos of a choice he really was.
Because of this book, I'm definitely hunting down more books on him.
I give out 5 star reviews very rarely....meaning, about 1-2% of the books I read, are truly what I consider worthy of 5 stars. It has to change my life in some way, and this book did exactly that. It was such an interesting look into St Francis of Assisi's life, and such a modern story that it was hard not to get caught up in it.
Ever since I started reading this book, it was as if Francis was trying to reach out to me through this book. Every where I turned, there was a statue of him, a church of him, a book of him, a quote about him....things that I had never seen before or experienced before were suddenly popping up. As a child growing up, I picked St Francis as my patron saint in confirmation (much to the consternation of the Catholic teachers that believed a girl should pick a girl saint, not a boy saint!). This book showed me how wonderful and apropos of a choice he really was.
Because of this book, I'm definitely hunting down more books on him.
February 1, 2015
I loved the idea behind this book, as well as the insights about St. Francis. I felt less lonely when I read this book and more connected to those who are disillusioned with the religion of their youth. This is a book best read slowly (which I did not) and perhaps in a setting where it could be discussed with others. I'd like to read more about St. Francis as it seems he and I may have been kindred spirits, at least at some time in my life. I may be a bit to cynical these days.
What I didn't like -- and what almost got this book 2 stars or less was the unbelievable flow of the narrative. I get that Cron was attempting to tell his readers about Francis through a modern-day story, but it was just a bit too neat for my tastes. Life is far messier and this felt just a bit too hopeful for me (see -- my cynicism is showing). But I did love learning about Francis and seeing the possibility for his life and teachings to change a life. And for that, this book is worth a slow reread at some point again in my life.
What I didn't like -- and what almost got this book 2 stars or less was the unbelievable flow of the narrative. I get that Cron was attempting to tell his readers about Francis through a modern-day story, but it was just a bit too neat for my tastes. Life is far messier and this felt just a bit too hopeful for me (see -- my cynicism is showing). But I did love learning about Francis and seeing the possibility for his life and teachings to change a life. And for that, this book is worth a slow reread at some point again in my life.
October 29, 2016
In this book, Ian Morgan Cron skillfully weaves together an inspiring biography of Francis of Assisi with an emotionally engaging fictional account of a modern-day pastor's doubt-ridden, earnest spiritual journey. By embedding a historical biography of Francis in an otherwise fictional tale, Cron makes Francis' life more accessible to readers who would be unlikely to read non-fiction for pleasure. While the story of "Chasing Francis" is ultimately a hopeful one, Cron admirably depicts church conflict and spiritual struggles with raw honesty, thereby issuing a call to sincere Christ-following with eyes wide open to the inevitable accompanying messiness and pain.
February 21, 2011
Although this book is a novel, I kept wondering how much is somewhat autobiographical because the author is(was) the pastor of a church in Connecticut. When I went on the church website it shows another person as being senior pastor and he is not listed among the staff. So, being curious, I googled him and found that he is a doctoral student, studying Thomas Merton.
Well, anyway, I do agree that we should be "the body" of Christ and therefore, be His hands and feet when it comes to helping the poor and ministering to the sick and downtrodden and that is basically what the book is about. The book follows Chase Falson around Italy as he discovers who St. Francis of Assisi is, and then follows him home to face the mega-church he founded as it proceeds to ask him to resign because he questioned his Christianity.
However, there were some things that really trouble me. On page 128 it states, " We should love our enemies because their injurious conduct gives us an occasion to gain eternal life by returning love for hatred". Oh no, my Bible says that eternal life is a free gift from God when we confess our sins and accept it. Then again, on page 173 it's talking about Chase giving a bath to someone who is dying of aids. His friend says, "What happened up there?" He responds, "I think I became a Christian". Dear readers, please get your Bibles out and read the book of Romans. We are saved, not by works, but by Christ's sacrificial gift to us. It's free. We don't deserve it and we can't earn it. Post-modern Christianity must not throw out what Christ did for us.
Well, anyway, I do agree that we should be "the body" of Christ and therefore, be His hands and feet when it comes to helping the poor and ministering to the sick and downtrodden and that is basically what the book is about. The book follows Chase Falson around Italy as he discovers who St. Francis of Assisi is, and then follows him home to face the mega-church he founded as it proceeds to ask him to resign because he questioned his Christianity.
However, there were some things that really trouble me. On page 128 it states, " We should love our enemies because their injurious conduct gives us an occasion to gain eternal life by returning love for hatred". Oh no, my Bible says that eternal life is a free gift from God when we confess our sins and accept it. Then again, on page 173 it's talking about Chase giving a bath to someone who is dying of aids. His friend says, "What happened up there?" He responds, "I think I became a Christian". Dear readers, please get your Bibles out and read the book of Romans. We are saved, not by works, but by Christ's sacrificial gift to us. It's free. We don't deserve it and we can't earn it. Post-modern Christianity must not throw out what Christ did for us.
April 24, 2022
Wow wow wow. This book is one of my new all time favorites. I love Ian Morgan Cron but have never ready any of his fiction books before this. I also never knew much about Francis of Assisi but now I want to learn everything!
This book resonated with my soul in a way that is difficult to convey with words at 1am so hopefully this stream of consciousness review makes sense!
This book came to me at the most perfect time as I’m struggling with my faith and what I believe about who God is. I have been feeling like there is more and something is missing in the “Christian faith” today and this book was of great comfort to me as a reminder of the greatness of God and how He simply cannot be put in a box no matter how much to world tries to do so. To me the book got right to the core of what Christianity is - the true authentic raw version of it. Politics, religion, and time do not exist in the larger picture of everything - people, love and connection do.
This book reminded me what it means to be alive and live in this universe and how God is integrated into all of it.
This book resonated with my soul in a way that is difficult to convey with words at 1am so hopefully this stream of consciousness review makes sense!
This book came to me at the most perfect time as I’m struggling with my faith and what I believe about who God is. I have been feeling like there is more and something is missing in the “Christian faith” today and this book was of great comfort to me as a reminder of the greatness of God and how He simply cannot be put in a box no matter how much to world tries to do so. To me the book got right to the core of what Christianity is - the true authentic raw version of it. Politics, religion, and time do not exist in the larger picture of everything - people, love and connection do.
This book reminded me what it means to be alive and live in this universe and how God is integrated into all of it.
May 15, 2026
Chase Falson is a burnt-out pastor who built a thriving megachurch, Putnam Hill, in New England but who has become plagued by the arrogance, affluence, and shallowness of evangelicalism. One day he breaks down in his church service and is put on leave. He decides to go to Italy to visit his uncle Kenny, a Franciscan friar and the novel unfolds as a didactic pilgrimage through the life of St. Francis and the places he went.
Subtle Chasing Francis is not. It reads like Emergent-church, ancient-future faith fan-fic. Sermons and certainty are kiboshed; ritual and imagination are in. At one point, a character opines:
Yeah, man, everyone watching 'The Bachelor' and belting out 'Pink Pony Club' have definitely rejected evangelicalism because mainstream culture has such a higher regard for "art" than the Southern Baptists.
There are a lot of disgruntled evangelicals like Chase who deplore conservative Christianity's marriage to the Republican party, who critique flashy churches for being more concerned about performance than piety, who preach a comfortable, middle-class gospel rather than the radical good news of the Kingdom. But it's all so exaggerated in this novel that it doesn't make things interesting. On his return to his church, one of Chase's rebukes is that Putnam Hill has a high-end, "full-court gym" but why isn't the church doing more to help the poor and marginalized? Fair question (even as one recalls "The poor you will always have with you"), but isn't a potential redeeming factor that a church gym can be an attraction to kids who may not be religious but who appreciate sports programming after school? Chase is in awe of the medieval cathedrals but, in a way, both the cathedral and the megachurch are making an appeal; the breathtaking beauty of an adorned cathedral testifies to the transcendence and wonder of God, but megachurch facilities, though far more utilitarian, provide programs to welcome people - including the non-religious - into community.
Towards the end of the story, in a climactic moment, .
For all of Chase's complaints about evangelicalism's abhorrent attitude towards art, his creator is the one who has written a preachy and moralistic tale.
Subtle Chasing Francis is not. It reads like Emergent-church, ancient-future faith fan-fic. Sermons and certainty are kiboshed; ritual and imagination are in. At one point, a character opines:
The church is realizing there is an awareness of God sleeping in the basement of the postmodern imagination and they have to awaken it. The arts can do this. All beauty is subversive; it flies under the radar of people's critical filters and points them to God. As a friend of mine says, 'When the front door of the intellect is shut, the back door of the imagination is open.' Our neglect of the power of beauty and the arts helps explain why so many people have lost interest in church. Our coming back to the arts will help renew that interest.
Yeah, man, everyone watching 'The Bachelor' and belting out 'Pink Pony Club' have definitely rejected evangelicalism because mainstream culture has such a higher regard for "art" than the Southern Baptists.
There are a lot of disgruntled evangelicals like Chase who deplore conservative Christianity's marriage to the Republican party, who critique flashy churches for being more concerned about performance than piety, who preach a comfortable, middle-class gospel rather than the radical good news of the Kingdom. But it's all so exaggerated in this novel that it doesn't make things interesting. On his return to his church, one of Chase's rebukes is that Putnam Hill has a high-end, "full-court gym" but why isn't the church doing more to help the poor and marginalized? Fair question (even as one recalls "The poor you will always have with you"), but isn't a potential redeeming factor that a church gym can be an attraction to kids who may not be religious but who appreciate sports programming after school? Chase is in awe of the medieval cathedrals but, in a way, both the cathedral and the megachurch are making an appeal; the breathtaking beauty of an adorned cathedral testifies to the transcendence and wonder of God, but megachurch facilities, though far more utilitarian, provide programs to welcome people - including the non-religious - into community.
Towards the end of the story, in a climactic moment, .
For all of Chase's complaints about evangelicalism's abhorrent attitude towards art, his creator is the one who has written a preachy and moralistic tale.
September 13, 2024
I liked the premise of this book. I bought it at my local Christian bookstore. Chase, An evangelical preacher has a crisis of Faith and takes a sabbatical to visit his uncle who is a Franciscan monk in Assisi. For me, that made a great start to a Christian story.
I liked the start of the story and the circumstances that led to his crisis of Faith. I could see how this could happen. I also liked the character of Kenny, his uncle.
However, the story itself from there on in seemed pretty formulaic, and the writing style swung between good and amateurish. But the most jarring for me in a Christian book was that it kept giving off new age vibes! This is a bit of a warning sign for me. At the end of the day it had very little to do with finding Christ Himself.
Also Chase’s journal entries read more like a text book.
I felt this idea and premise could have been done so much better and without the new age vibes.
I liked the start of the story and the circumstances that led to his crisis of Faith. I could see how this could happen. I also liked the character of Kenny, his uncle.
However, the story itself from there on in seemed pretty formulaic, and the writing style swung between good and amateurish. But the most jarring for me in a Christian book was that it kept giving off new age vibes! This is a bit of a warning sign for me. At the end of the day it had very little to do with finding Christ Himself.
Also Chase’s journal entries read more like a text book.
I felt this idea and premise could have been done so much better and without the new age vibes.
February 11, 2022
I really loved this book! (Even though I put it down for a year part way through). This is a really wonderful picture of ecumenism. No one is trying to convince anyone of their ‘side’, rather it is all about teaching and learning about St Francis of Assisi. I thought that was beautiful and necessary. I also didn’t realize until the day after I finished this book that it is not, in fact, a memoir. It is fiction. This was both impressive and disappointing, but I’m choosing impressive.
April 17, 2015
I came to a realization reading Ian Cron’s work: Mystics are empiricists. They’re trying to meaningfully express experiences. I’ve always been a theorist. I try to fit my own experiences and those of others into pre-conceived patterns and structures. I had always imagined (without much thought) that this was the other way around. I imagined the mystics were the theorists and that my own thoughts were grounded more firmly in empirical evidence. Meeting and reading Cron made me realize that the true mystic always speaks from experience.
I say all this because I do believe Cron is a modern-day Christian mystic. He came and spoke at my university at the beginning of this semester, and I had the privilege of meeting him as he visited and had lunch with one of my classes. He is deeply passionate, well-spoken, and kind. His words and vision are compelling, and he left behind stirred minds as well as hearts, a campus buzzing with what he had expressed, and a stack of his books generously gifted to my class.
So it was I found myself reading Chasing Francis, a book several of my students assured me was “the best book they had ever read.” I’m not sure what I was expecting, but within the first chapter I realized it wasn’t this: Francis through the lens of the fictional disillusioned, burned-out megachurch pastor Chase Falson. Though my opinion on the text differs significantly from that of my students, I believe what Cron is doing here is excellent and immensely important: unpacking aspects of Catholic mysticism and social gospel through the eyes of a mainstream evangelical.
The basic premise of the novel (Cron calls it “wisdom literature”) is that a pastor of a successful megachurch has a crisis of faith and finds himself traveling to Italy to spend some time with his uncle, a Franciscan. In the company of his Uncle Kenny and a few other jovial monks, he lives for a time as a spiritual tourist, shuttling back and forth through the Italian countryside visiting historic sights linked to the life of St. Francis and taking up a correspondence of sorts with the saint through his journal. New characters are introduced as needed to explain to Chase aspects of the Catholic spiritualism Francis exemplified: the love of artistic beauty, community, peace-building, and service, for examples. Chase learns there is a lot more to being Christian than the conservative, consumeristic view of the Church he previously held, and he returns to his church a changed man.
First, the value of this book: if you want to learn about the life of Francis, there are better ways. If you want a tour of Italy and Church history, there are better ways. But if you don’t know much about either and if you’ve been raised in the kind of Christianity Chase’s character represents, this might be your window into a new world. For me, this is why-- despite the flat characters and the forced plot-line-- it’s still gratifying when my students tell me they enjoyed reading it. Because the perspectives they take away from that are important. For someone, for instance, who sees in the symbols and practices of liturgical worship nothing but empty form or at worse harmful superstition, Chase’s realizations are going to be essential.
These themes aside though, the story itself is a bit tedious. The characters-- most particularly Chase himself-- are caricatures. They have conversations about spirituality and faith and beauty, but they’re simply observers, even the group of Franciscans. Even the most emotionally powerful portion-- the account from a survivor of the Rwandan genocide-- is staged and somehow sterile: we’re sitting beside Chase as he listens to a lecture at a peace seminar. The entire book is like this: Chase is staring through windows, meeting people who deliver information and perspective. This sense of disconnect reaches its climax in the chapter on beauty, when Chase happens to meet a concert musician, and then they happen to meet an Anglican priest conductor who gives a lecture on the role of beauty in theology, and then they all go out for dinner.
There’s a deeper problem here though, and one that caused a nagging worry as I continued to read. Chase begins the story as a self-centered individualist who realizes the answers he had are no longer working. For the duration of the story he functions as a self-centered spiritual tourist (Cron uses the term “pilgrim,” but I remain unconvinced. Chase is a tourist. He never abandons the Western tourist mentality.)
Chase’s church had been the “Chase Falson” show; he returns to it with new and transformed ideas, but his goal upon his return appears to be to simply reinvent it into the new, improved Chase Falson show. Nothing about his idea of church has essentially changed. He has absorbed apparently nothing from the Franciscans about humility, menial service, church hierarchy, or putting oneself under the authority of a spiritual superior or mentor. Chase’s McMegachurch is certainly transformed upon his return-- and some of the twists here will be familiar to anyone who has experience with church politics-- but it’s not a transformation away from the dominant paradigm of one man with a dedicated cadre of followers. As the final scenes make clear, this will still be the Chase Falson show, now simply informed by some ideas of St. Francis.
I say all this because I do believe Cron is a modern-day Christian mystic. He came and spoke at my university at the beginning of this semester, and I had the privilege of meeting him as he visited and had lunch with one of my classes. He is deeply passionate, well-spoken, and kind. His words and vision are compelling, and he left behind stirred minds as well as hearts, a campus buzzing with what he had expressed, and a stack of his books generously gifted to my class.
So it was I found myself reading Chasing Francis, a book several of my students assured me was “the best book they had ever read.” I’m not sure what I was expecting, but within the first chapter I realized it wasn’t this: Francis through the lens of the fictional disillusioned, burned-out megachurch pastor Chase Falson. Though my opinion on the text differs significantly from that of my students, I believe what Cron is doing here is excellent and immensely important: unpacking aspects of Catholic mysticism and social gospel through the eyes of a mainstream evangelical.
The basic premise of the novel (Cron calls it “wisdom literature”) is that a pastor of a successful megachurch has a crisis of faith and finds himself traveling to Italy to spend some time with his uncle, a Franciscan. In the company of his Uncle Kenny and a few other jovial monks, he lives for a time as a spiritual tourist, shuttling back and forth through the Italian countryside visiting historic sights linked to the life of St. Francis and taking up a correspondence of sorts with the saint through his journal. New characters are introduced as needed to explain to Chase aspects of the Catholic spiritualism Francis exemplified: the love of artistic beauty, community, peace-building, and service, for examples. Chase learns there is a lot more to being Christian than the conservative, consumeristic view of the Church he previously held, and he returns to his church a changed man.
First, the value of this book: if you want to learn about the life of Francis, there are better ways. If you want a tour of Italy and Church history, there are better ways. But if you don’t know much about either and if you’ve been raised in the kind of Christianity Chase’s character represents, this might be your window into a new world. For me, this is why-- despite the flat characters and the forced plot-line-- it’s still gratifying when my students tell me they enjoyed reading it. Because the perspectives they take away from that are important. For someone, for instance, who sees in the symbols and practices of liturgical worship nothing but empty form or at worse harmful superstition, Chase’s realizations are going to be essential.
These themes aside though, the story itself is a bit tedious. The characters-- most particularly Chase himself-- are caricatures. They have conversations about spirituality and faith and beauty, but they’re simply observers, even the group of Franciscans. Even the most emotionally powerful portion-- the account from a survivor of the Rwandan genocide-- is staged and somehow sterile: we’re sitting beside Chase as he listens to a lecture at a peace seminar. The entire book is like this: Chase is staring through windows, meeting people who deliver information and perspective. This sense of disconnect reaches its climax in the chapter on beauty, when Chase happens to meet a concert musician, and then they happen to meet an Anglican priest conductor who gives a lecture on the role of beauty in theology, and then they all go out for dinner.
There’s a deeper problem here though, and one that caused a nagging worry as I continued to read. Chase begins the story as a self-centered individualist who realizes the answers he had are no longer working. For the duration of the story he functions as a self-centered spiritual tourist (Cron uses the term “pilgrim,” but I remain unconvinced. Chase is a tourist. He never abandons the Western tourist mentality.)
Chase’s church had been the “Chase Falson” show; he returns to it with new and transformed ideas, but his goal upon his return appears to be to simply reinvent it into the new, improved Chase Falson show. Nothing about his idea of church has essentially changed. He has absorbed apparently nothing from the Franciscans about humility, menial service, church hierarchy, or putting oneself under the authority of a spiritual superior or mentor. Chase’s McMegachurch is certainly transformed upon his return-- and some of the twists here will be familiar to anyone who has experience with church politics-- but it’s not a transformation away from the dominant paradigm of one man with a dedicated cadre of followers. As the final scenes make clear, this will still be the Chase Falson show, now simply informed by some ideas of St. Francis.
June 9, 2024
One of the most incredible books I’ve ever read. This made me want to know God more, want to live out the life of Jesus, and want to be more loving to all people. I cannot recommend it enough.
May 15, 2013
Chasing Francis: A Pilgrim's Tale by Ian Morgan Cron
published by Zondervan and released May 7.13
Ian Cron introduces us to Francis of Assissi via his impact on a contemporary pastor, Chase Falson, who hits the wall in his faith journey after the death of one of his parish children. Taking a much needed break to restore, refresh and rediscover faith, he travels to Italy to spend time with his uncle, a Fransiscan priest.
While he's on this spiritual journey, the youth pastor back home is on a campaign to aggrandize his position to the elders and ingratiate himself to the congregation in order to become the replacement senior pastor. Chase had planted the church after his graduation from college, and seen it through all the early struggles, growth and building enlargement to its current place of respectability in the academically and intellectually wealthy area of Thackery.
Chase's beliefs and the teachings of Francis collide in the experiential realities Chase encounters during his time in Rome and pilgrimage in the steps of Francis. God orchestrated connections and relationships speak deeply to him, re-orient his spiritual direction and focus that dramatically impacts his future upon returning to his US homeland.
I'm including some of author Ian Cron's quotes to introduce readers to Francis and inspire us as readers to new ways of being Light to our world as well ...
“First, if Francis were around today, he'd say our church community relies too much on words to tell others about our faith. For Francis, the gathered community was as potent a form of witness as words. He was convinced that how we live together is what attracts people to faith.”
“Francis taught me that if we spent less time worrying about how to share our faith with someone on an airplane and more time thinking about how to live radically generous lives, more people would start taking our message seriously.”
“Beauty can break a heart and make it think about something more spiritual than the mindless routine we go through day after day to get by. Francis was a singer, a poet, an actor. He knew that the imagination was a stealth way into people's souls, a way to get all of us to think about God. For him, beauty was its own apologetic. That's why a church should care about the arts. They inspire all of us to think about the eternal.”
― Ian Morgan Cron, Chasing Francis: A Pilgrim's Tale
I appreciate the thought provoking challenges of this novel that had me countering with my own spiritual insights and responses. Definitely an interactive read. Thank you, Ian.
I received this book from Zondervan Publishers to read and review without obligation. Thank you for the opportunity.
published by Zondervan and released May 7.13
Ian Cron introduces us to Francis of Assissi via his impact on a contemporary pastor, Chase Falson, who hits the wall in his faith journey after the death of one of his parish children. Taking a much needed break to restore, refresh and rediscover faith, he travels to Italy to spend time with his uncle, a Fransiscan priest.
While he's on this spiritual journey, the youth pastor back home is on a campaign to aggrandize his position to the elders and ingratiate himself to the congregation in order to become the replacement senior pastor. Chase had planted the church after his graduation from college, and seen it through all the early struggles, growth and building enlargement to its current place of respectability in the academically and intellectually wealthy area of Thackery.
Chase's beliefs and the teachings of Francis collide in the experiential realities Chase encounters during his time in Rome and pilgrimage in the steps of Francis. God orchestrated connections and relationships speak deeply to him, re-orient his spiritual direction and focus that dramatically impacts his future upon returning to his US homeland.
I'm including some of author Ian Cron's quotes to introduce readers to Francis and inspire us as readers to new ways of being Light to our world as well ...
“First, if Francis were around today, he'd say our church community relies too much on words to tell others about our faith. For Francis, the gathered community was as potent a form of witness as words. He was convinced that how we live together is what attracts people to faith.”
“Francis taught me that if we spent less time worrying about how to share our faith with someone on an airplane and more time thinking about how to live radically generous lives, more people would start taking our message seriously.”
“Beauty can break a heart and make it think about something more spiritual than the mindless routine we go through day after day to get by. Francis was a singer, a poet, an actor. He knew that the imagination was a stealth way into people's souls, a way to get all of us to think about God. For him, beauty was its own apologetic. That's why a church should care about the arts. They inspire all of us to think about the eternal.”
― Ian Morgan Cron, Chasing Francis: A Pilgrim's Tale
I appreciate the thought provoking challenges of this novel that had me countering with my own spiritual insights and responses. Definitely an interactive read. Thank you, Ian.
I received this book from Zondervan Publishers to read and review without obligation. Thank you for the opportunity.
September 3, 2017
“First, if Francis were around today, he'd say our church community relies too much on words to tell others about our faith. For Francis, the gathered community was as potent a form of witness as words. He was convinced that how we live together is what attracts people to faith.”
I read this book quickly because it was the right book at the right time. I needed something about faith, love and hope and so I fell into this and didn’t come up for air until I was finished. At the time, this was a good thing. Unfortunately, I did not write my review when I finished. That was not so good.
It has been more than a month since I finished Cron’s book. The glow that it created for me has subsided a bit, but I am still glad I read this story. It took me awhile to understand how this tale was put together. I am enough of a librarian to rely on the library cataloging to help me pigeon hole a book. So, since this had a Dewey number (271.302) I expected the book to be fact. I started reading it as if it was fact, which was not what the author intended. Chase Falson is not a real person. Cron, the author, considers his book to be wisdom literature, “a delicate balance of fiction and nonfiction, pilgrimage and teaching.” Once, I figured this out, I understood the story and what the author envisioned a little better.
This is not great literature. This is a heartfelt, earnest attempt to introduce modern people to St. Francis of Assisi. It is clear to me that Cron fell in love with St. Francis and wanted other Christians to do the same. I already knew a lot about St. Francis and St. Clare (who worked with St. Francis), but I enjoyed seeing these saints through Cron’s eyes. While I was reading, I was entranced by the story that Cron was telling.
If you are interested in knowing exactly who St. Francis was and what he did, there are probably better books on the subject. However, if you want to read about a man who discovers that there is more to faith and life than following the rules, if you want to meet someone who discovers how important love and community are to religious beliefs, then you might want to try this book.
I read this book quickly because it was the right book at the right time. I needed something about faith, love and hope and so I fell into this and didn’t come up for air until I was finished. At the time, this was a good thing. Unfortunately, I did not write my review when I finished. That was not so good.
It has been more than a month since I finished Cron’s book. The glow that it created for me has subsided a bit, but I am still glad I read this story. It took me awhile to understand how this tale was put together. I am enough of a librarian to rely on the library cataloging to help me pigeon hole a book. So, since this had a Dewey number (271.302) I expected the book to be fact. I started reading it as if it was fact, which was not what the author intended. Chase Falson is not a real person. Cron, the author, considers his book to be wisdom literature, “a delicate balance of fiction and nonfiction, pilgrimage and teaching.” Once, I figured this out, I understood the story and what the author envisioned a little better.
This is not great literature. This is a heartfelt, earnest attempt to introduce modern people to St. Francis of Assisi. It is clear to me that Cron fell in love with St. Francis and wanted other Christians to do the same. I already knew a lot about St. Francis and St. Clare (who worked with St. Francis), but I enjoyed seeing these saints through Cron’s eyes. While I was reading, I was entranced by the story that Cron was telling.
If you are interested in knowing exactly who St. Francis was and what he did, there are probably better books on the subject. However, if you want to read about a man who discovers that there is more to faith and life than following the rules, if you want to meet someone who discovers how important love and community are to religious beliefs, then you might want to try this book.
March 21, 2019
Slow start but gems hidden in and about if you stay with it! Real gems!
September 23, 2012
My wife Karen picked this book up at our local Salvation Army thrift shop and suggested that we read it together during our recent vacation. We did a lot of driving on this vacation and so we would often read it aloud in the car, with Karen doing most of the reading. The author writes as a fictitious lead pastor in a mainstream evangelical church in Connecticut. In the midst of a "successful" ministry in which he had founded a growing church, he began to experience a personal awakening that began to shatter many of the assumptions he had made about what it means to be a follower of Christ and to serve as a minister of the gospel in an evangelical church. Sharing some of these questions from the pulpit gets him into trouble with his congregation and he is forced to take a sabbatical leave from ministry. He chooses to meet up in Italy with his "uncle turned Catholic" in the town of Assisi where St. Francis lived out the Christian gospel in ancient times.
Although the book may not be the most well-written book on the life of St. Francis, the author deserves recognition for his creative attempt to situate Franciscan spirituality in the postmodern era in a fiction novel format. His hokey use of metaphor produced the occasional groan from Karen and I, admittedly along with some laughter. However, I did appreciate some of the parallels between the spiritual awakening of this pastor, with all of its many questions and struggles, with some of my own experience - which currently has led me to distance myself from my own evangelical church where I have attended and actively served for the past 20 years.
Karen and I enjoyed reading the book together. I'm not sure if or how some of the relevant themes in this book will work its way into my own struggles with church, but the pilgrimage encountered by this author was a worthy supplement to our own vacation pilgrimage which took us to parts of Canada we had never experienced before as we traveled the Maritime provinces together.
Although the book may not be the most well-written book on the life of St. Francis, the author deserves recognition for his creative attempt to situate Franciscan spirituality in the postmodern era in a fiction novel format. His hokey use of metaphor produced the occasional groan from Karen and I, admittedly along with some laughter. However, I did appreciate some of the parallels between the spiritual awakening of this pastor, with all of its many questions and struggles, with some of my own experience - which currently has led me to distance myself from my own evangelical church where I have attended and actively served for the past 20 years.
Karen and I enjoyed reading the book together. I'm not sure if or how some of the relevant themes in this book will work its way into my own struggles with church, but the pilgrimage encountered by this author was a worthy supplement to our own vacation pilgrimage which took us to parts of Canada we had never experienced before as we traveled the Maritime provinces together.
May 13, 2013
One important things to know about Chasing Francis is that it is what Cron calls wisdom literature: “a delicate balance of fiction and nonfiction, pilgrimage and teaching.”
Chasing Francis is an appeal more to the mind and soul than to the heart. The story didn’t engage my emotions in a very satisfying way–which is why it was important to understand that what I was reading was not meant to (as opposed to true, straight fiction, which is meant to do just that). Knowing this helped to alleviate disappointment in this regard.
As noted above*, Chasing Francis reminded me of The Shack, the self-publishing phenomenon of a few years back, but I enjoyed this book more. (In hindsight, I believe The Shack to be another example of wisdom lit. If I’d understood this classification at the time, I might have had greater appreciation for what it had to offer. Anyway.) Like The Shack, the spare plot provides the scaffolding for spiritual and theological themes.
I read the first half of the book in a little more than twenty-four hours, and polished off the rest three days later. Lyrical prose lives side-by-side with snarky humor, and I found the expositions on beauty and art in the church deeply resonant. There was also this: ”When the front door of the intellect is shut, the back door of the imagination is open.” Yes! It’s the same reason we love *story* and why Jesus taught in parables.
All in all, it was an interesting read, and I’m glad I picked it up. It left me with much to think about in terms of the way the church does business–which was exactly the author’s intent. I recommend it to anyone who has ever questioned his faith or the relevance of his church in the postmodern world.
(Note: I read the 2013 re-release from Zondervan, who provided me a free copy for review.)
Chasing Francis is an appeal more to the mind and soul than to the heart. The story didn’t engage my emotions in a very satisfying way–which is why it was important to understand that what I was reading was not meant to (as opposed to true, straight fiction, which is meant to do just that). Knowing this helped to alleviate disappointment in this regard.
As noted above*, Chasing Francis reminded me of The Shack, the self-publishing phenomenon of a few years back, but I enjoyed this book more. (In hindsight, I believe The Shack to be another example of wisdom lit. If I’d understood this classification at the time, I might have had greater appreciation for what it had to offer. Anyway.) Like The Shack, the spare plot provides the scaffolding for spiritual and theological themes.
I read the first half of the book in a little more than twenty-four hours, and polished off the rest three days later. Lyrical prose lives side-by-side with snarky humor, and I found the expositions on beauty and art in the church deeply resonant. There was also this: ”When the front door of the intellect is shut, the back door of the imagination is open.” Yes! It’s the same reason we love *story* and why Jesus taught in parables.
All in all, it was an interesting read, and I’m glad I picked it up. It left me with much to think about in terms of the way the church does business–which was exactly the author’s intent. I recommend it to anyone who has ever questioned his faith or the relevance of his church in the postmodern world.
(Note: I read the 2013 re-release from Zondervan, who provided me a free copy for review.)
April 30, 2008
This is an introduction to the theology of Francis of Assisi in novelized form. It didn't quite win me over, but I have to give the author credit for trying something different. As a novel, it had some flaws--kind of hokey, "happy-friends" character interactions, not much dramatic tension, forced-sounding dialogue. To get factual information across, the author used the device of journal entries by the main character. My personal preference would be to get factual info straight-up, but some people might like this. I think the strongest part of the book is when the main character, a pastor whose faith is in crisis, spells out his vision for church after his pilgrimage to Italy. The ideas are actually similar to those in books like The Shaping of Things to Come, in a different form. I did pick up a new term, post-evangelical, which I've now adopted and probably should find out more about. Although I'm only giving this two stars, I do think it has merit and I would encourage others to read it if the subject sounds interesting to them.
December 24, 2016
Chasing Francis was a pretty big letdown. The majority of the "radical" ideas discussed throughout the book were concepts and practices that I've heard regularly discussed in evangelical Christianity; none of it seemed particularly new or transformative to me. The apparent doubts that Chase was experiencing couldn't have been too intense, as letting go of foundational beliefs (or leaving Christianity completely) was never an option presented in the story. And can we just talk about that church showdown scene at the end - that was pretty gross and unnecessary, and it solidified my opinion that this book isn't much more than your typical cheesy Christian fiction.
As for the format of the book, it felt very much like a work of non-fiction that was shoved into a fictional skeleton without reason, and it didn't work. Also, it may just be because I was recently spoiled by Elizabeth Gilbert's amazing descriptions of Italy in Eat, Pray, Love, but Cron's depiction of the country was less than intriguing.
I love ya, Ian Cron, but... yikes.
As for the format of the book, it felt very much like a work of non-fiction that was shoved into a fictional skeleton without reason, and it didn't work. Also, it may just be because I was recently spoiled by Elizabeth Gilbert's amazing descriptions of Italy in Eat, Pray, Love, but Cron's depiction of the country was less than intriguing.
I love ya, Ian Cron, but... yikes.
February 17, 2020
This was a novel I wish was a true story, so I could follow up on the life of the main character, Chase Falson. Cron did a wonderful job of weaving fiction with reality and allowing us to be taken on the pilgrimage with Chase to Assisi, where we meet St. Francis and learn so much about and from him. You cannot help but be changed by this book, as we're led to ask the same questions faced by Chase, who's struggling with faith and purpose in a church that is more influenced by the world than influences for Christ.
The crucial point that touched me, along with all the lessons learned, is the simple need for us all to be open to learning from saints of the past. Church history has so much to teach us all, and as Chase learned from Francis, so too can we each learn from the good and bad lessons of those who've journeyed before us. In the end, the book gives us permission to question, to take time away from the noise, to listen to God speak through his Word, his people and the world at large.
Thank you, Ian, for a beautiful work.
The crucial point that touched me, along with all the lessons learned, is the simple need for us all to be open to learning from saints of the past. Church history has so much to teach us all, and as Chase learned from Francis, so too can we each learn from the good and bad lessons of those who've journeyed before us. In the end, the book gives us permission to question, to take time away from the noise, to listen to God speak through his Word, his people and the world at large.
Thank you, Ian, for a beautiful work.
May 26, 2013
The supposed tale of a pastor's search for Christianity, this introduces us to the history and significance of Francis of Assisi. In the hands of a more competent author, it might have worked. We have only Cron's word for this being "wisdom literature."
I'm not familiar with Connecticut evangelicals but those in Colorado, Kansas, and Virginia would have been less surprised than Putnam Hill's folks about the need to experience, not just know about, God. In fact, the whole Connecticut framing story seems contrived. Yes, so was the Italian journey, but it had a point. Falson's "pilgrimage" was a good tool for making Francis come alive to those unacquainted with him.
It's not an original premise (think: In His Steps, circa 1896) and not particularly well done, but it was a good attempt. I'll re-read it someday.
A good read.
I'm not familiar with Connecticut evangelicals but those in Colorado, Kansas, and Virginia would have been less surprised than Putnam Hill's folks about the need to experience, not just know about, God. In fact, the whole Connecticut framing story seems contrived. Yes, so was the Italian journey, but it had a point. Falson's "pilgrimage" was a good tool for making Francis come alive to those unacquainted with him.
It's not an original premise (think: In His Steps, circa 1896) and not particularly well done, but it was a good attempt. I'll re-read it someday.
A good read.
August 29, 2020
I loved this book. Although i never read a book more than once I could see myself reading this one again. Chase Falcon, a pastor at an evangelical Christian church becomes more and more disillusioned with his faith and his congregation. Caught up in “rote Christianity”, he has lost sight of God and questions his beliefs. It reminds me of Charlie Brown caught up in the “ tinsel Christmas” shouting “Can someone tell me what Christmas is all about???” Chase’s “ Linus” tuns out to be his Uncle Kenny who now lives in Italy as a Franciscan monk. Thus begins a pilgrimage for Chase as Kenny and his Franciscan monk friends lead Chase down the path of Francis of Assisi and what he taught. This is not a book about Catholicism but about how we are called to live as Christians. An easy read with lots of history and depth, intertwined with humor and perhaps questioning of our own level of faith, which is a good thing. Have your highlighter ready.
April 13, 2009
I like the concept of this book, introduce a saint to modern Christians through story and not just biography. Saint Francis, was a transitional Christian and is very relevant to today's Christians, maybe especially to evangelicals.
The weakness is that it isn't great literature. At one point it talks about the purpose of great art to be the great art and not propaganda and occasionally this seems to dip to propaganda instead of focusing on the art.
The positive is that it does what I perceive as its purpose, it makes you reconsider your understanding of the church, your role as a Christian, Christ and especially Francis.
I would recommend it. I have been reading a lot of heavier works on the spiritual disciplines and this was a good contribution as well as balance.
http://bookwi.se/chasing-francis-by-i...
The weakness is that it isn't great literature. At one point it talks about the purpose of great art to be the great art and not propaganda and occasionally this seems to dip to propaganda instead of focusing on the art.
The positive is that it does what I perceive as its purpose, it makes you reconsider your understanding of the church, your role as a Christian, Christ and especially Francis.
I would recommend it. I have been reading a lot of heavier works on the spiritual disciplines and this was a good contribution as well as balance.
http://bookwi.se/chasing-francis-by-i...
December 23, 2018
I am a big fan of Ian Morgan Cron. This easily read book about a man who loses his faith and journeys to Italy to find it again is refreshing. So much of what the main character, Chase, learned really hit me as relevant in the post-evangelical culture we are living in today. What a beautiful church we would have if more heeded the sage wisdom of St. Francis is Assisi. Lots to ponder after reading.
March 18, 2022
I enjoyed this thought provoking book. There is a lot in it that deserves a second reading. The added benefit of being challenged in my faith and seeing thoughts and feelings I've had over the years put into words made this much more than reading another novel.
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March 3, 2016Good read - the journey of a burnt out "megachurch" pastor into a more contemplative spirituality. Well written and undemanding, yet thought-provoking. A bit didactic in places for me, but worth reading and helpful on my own spiritual journey.
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