From 2000-2001, Francine Rivers and Tyndale House published five novellas based on the five women mentioned in the lineage of Jesus. This Lineage of Grace story takes on the stories of Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, and Mary to shed some light on these important women and their stories. Unfortunately, Rivers fails to do the hard work of creating believable cultural contexts, often importing modern-day assumptions, particularly modern-day romance, on these ancient Near Eastern people.
The purpose of the series appears to have been to connect women to the stories of Scripture. Redeeming Love drew upon Rivers’ skill as a secular romance novelist while superimposing the biblical story of Hosea onto contemporary times. The hope was to reverse that in a sense and bring an element of contemporary romance to a biblical storyline, with the goal of women being able to see themselves in Scripture. While that’s a noble goal, Rivers often brings too much of the modern-day into her retellings—while yet retaining a firm sense of patriarchal culture—which does a disservice to the women and to the story.
Rivers also goes to great lengths to connect her story to biblical context, if not biblical culture. That means that great swaths of the story exist only to set up the actual storyline. For instance, in Tamar’s story, Rivers feels the need to begin with the story of Joseph to provide some nuance for Judah’s character. But since it’s told didactically as a summary of Scripture and not as fictionalized story, it comes across as unnecessary and doesn’t add to the text.
I feel like Rivers’ intention was for this to be used as a women’s Bible study, for it to jumpstart conversations, for it to be a piece of discussion—about patriarchy, about marriage, about romance, about the role of women, and more. While those intentions were good, the stories simply do not hold up. They seem poorly-researched, hastily-written, and, sometimes ideologically dangerous.
For instance, In Rivers’ imagination of the Bathsheba narrative, Bathsheba is the daughter of one of David’s mighty men, fighting with him before he was king. Bathsheba has known of David since her childhood and always been smitten by him. Rivers portrays an eight-year-old Bathsheba openly wishing that she could be David’s wife and hoping that David will notice her. It uncomfortably and grossly portrays Bathsheba as the sexual aggressor, even when everything in the biblical narrative paints her as a victim. This is not consensual adultery. This is not the end of an unrequited love. This is rape. And to call it anything else gaslights those who have been sexually abused and justifies sexual abusers. This is dangerous theology and for it to come from the pen of a woman revered in Christian fiction circles and widely read, even outside the Christian community, is categorically abhorrent.
In other stories, the storytelling is just anemic. In the Rahab story, there’s too much telling and not enough showing. Rivers spends too long on explaining the story of Israel in a non-story context. The interactions with Joshua are stilted and stiff. The references to the forty years of wilderness wandering come across as almost parodical. There’s very little depth to the characters and, for all the conversations about Rahab’s virtue, her faith is portrayed as both selfish and sanctimonious.
Overall, the series has a “Bible study” mentality about it, but still feels okay with going on wild speculative tangents. That unpredictability in storytelling gives the series a stilted, formal feel that makes it a painful read.