A new edition of a book I compiled
Twenty years ago I had the privilege of spending hours and hours in the archives of the collected papers of the late priest and author Henri Nouwen. The book that resulted from my compiling and editing, Turn My Mourning into Dancing, has not only helped unnumbered people, it has gained even more compelling significance during the pandemic. The folks at Thomas Nelson/Word Publishing Group, decided a new, more gift-like edition was warranted. It’s just out! Here’s an excerpt from my preface:
I would, of course, sort through the hundreds of pages of lecture notes and sermon transcripts that Henri Nouwen had left behind in shelved archive boxes. That went without saying. And I had every confidence that the files full of unpublished writings of the late priest and author would yield ample material for a book. Decades of reading Nouwen’s books on the spiritual life and ministry in a needy world had demonstrated his concern for prayer and his insight into human nature. That much I knew. But I wanted to gain also a greater sense of the person. As I worked with his archived files, I wanted to absorb more of the pastoral presence behind the jotted pages and typewritten notes.
That opportunity came serendipitously. My friend, John Mogabgab, Henri’s assistant during Henri’s years at Yale Divinity School and now editor of the esteemed journal Weavings, suggested that I also visit Daybreak, the community that serves the profoundly disabled where Henri spent his final years as pastor. Because the archives sit within easy driving distance of Daybreak, the way seemed clear. I would spend the days of that week in the library of St. Michael’s College in Toronto. And then spend the evenings at Daybreak, talking with Henri’s associates, getting to know the community members, eating dinner with the “core members” and their assistants, even stay in the Cedars, a combination house and library that Henri himself once used for a writing sabbatical.
I learned much in those moments about the man behind the words, even from the moment I stepped off the plane. Kathy, Henri’s secretary for the last years of life, met me at the airport to drive me to Daybreak; she stood with a sign that read “Daybreak Community welcomes Timothy.” And welcome me they did. Sue Mosteller, Henri’s executor, and countless other members of the community welcomed me into their morning worship services, group homes, evening meals, and spur-of-the-moment conversations around a photocopier.
Kathy and Sue and others gave me glimpses into a man with a heart that constantly reached out to hurting souls. He lived with immense and inspired energy, I learned. He got calls from people with deep needs constantly—people with no prior relationship to Henri that most public figures would ask to be shielded from. …
After Henri Nouwen’s death in 1996, interest in his writings has only gathered momentum. The key has to do, I believe, with far more than his sometime artful turn of phrase or his striking accomplishments. More than anything, I believe, the continued interest grows out of who he was: a heart broken before God and opened for his fellow friends and readers.
The new edition can be found here: