{"product_id":"learning-to-speak-god-from-scratch-isbn-9781601429308","title":"Learning to Speak God from Scratch","description":"In a rapidly changing culture, many of us struggle to talk about faith. We can no longer assume our friends understand words such as \u003ci\u003egrace \u003c\/i\u003eor \u003ci\u003egospel\u003c\/i\u003e. Others, like \u003ci\u003elost \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003esin\u003c\/i\u003e, have become so negative they are nearly conversation-enders. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     Jonathan Merritt knows this frustration well. After moving from the Bible Belt to New York City, he discovered that the sacred terms he used to describe his spiritual life didn’t connect as they had in the past.  This launched him into an exploration of an increasing American reluctance to talk about faith—and the data he uncovered revealed a quiet crisis of affecting millions.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     In this groundbreaking book, Jonathan revives ancient expressions through incisive cultural commentary, vulnerable personal narratives, and surprising biblical insights. Both provocative and liberating, \u003ci\u003eLearning to Speak God from Scratch \u003c\/i\u003ewill breathe new life into your spiritual conversations and invite you into the embrace of the God who inhabits them.“At a time when religious language has been hijacked by politicians and exploited by hypocritical, profiteering ministers, the idea of an honest-to-God spiritual conversation feels alienating to many Americans. In \u003ci\u003eLearning to Speak God from Scratch\u003c\/i\u003e, Jonathan Merritt’s groundbreaking analysis of this new reality is a welcome revelation. This engaging, important book will appeal equally to the devout and the spiritually alienated.” \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Kirsten Powers, CNN political analyst and \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e columnist\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “In \u003ci\u003eLearning to Speak God from Scratch\u003c\/i\u003e,\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003emy friend Jonathan Merritt tackles the challenge I’m confronted with every time I sit down to prepare a message. Language. Words. Nouns. Pronouns. Like you, I have a version of God-speak. And while it works for me, it doesn’t always work for the world around me. If you’re content to speak of God with only those who share your version of God-speak, then you will find this book curious at best. But if, like me, you’re convinced God has done something in the world, for the world, you will find this book indispensable.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Andy Stanley, North Point Ministries, Inc. \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Meister Eckhart said something to the effect of ‘We cannot speak of God. And we must never stop speaking of God.’ If we must speak of God, I’m glad Jonathan Merritt is on the case. He writes with uncommon eloquence, curiosity, and compassion about the ever-evolving role of religion and faith in our culture, with the hard-earned wisdom of one who’s been both scarred and healed. His words—and his reimagining of words—are needed now more than ever.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Josh Radnor, star of NBC’s \u003ci\u003eRise\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eHow I Met Your Mother\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “In a time when thoughtless opinions run rampant, Jonathan uses his brilliance to help us think better. He is a masterful writer, who has a gift for language and communication. How fitting that he would use his gifts to help us communicate on the highest level!” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Lecrae Moore, two-time Grammy winning hip-hop artist\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Fascinating, inspiring, creative, and frequently brilliant, Jonathan Merritt’s new book restores these sacred but often forgotten words to their rightful place in the life of belief.” \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—James Martin, SJ, editor-at-large for \u003ci\u003eAmerica\u003c\/i\u003e magazine and best-selling author of \u003ci\u003eJesus: A Pilgrimage\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “As a fellow writer for whom words matter almost more than anything, Jonathan has laid new pavement for reimagining the language of our faith until they recover their meaning, power, depth, and beauty. I felt several things while reading this book: permission, relief, and the gentle invitation to find my way back to language that has, in every way possible, rescued my soul. As it turns out, specific words may change but everything good and right remains.” \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Jen Hatmaker, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e best-selling author of \u003ci\u003eFor the Love \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eOf Mess and Moxie \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “People who have a lot of information are not unique. People who have a lot of wisdom, profound thought, and a passion to communicate effectively \u003ci\u003eare\u003c\/i\u003e. Jonathan embodies that to me. For way too long, people have been left out of conversations that hold life-or-death weight, especially about who God is, simply because of a cultural language barrier. This has to change. So if anybody is remotely interested in actually helping people with what “they know,” this book will be a blessing. My city, New York, is full of people who are listening. The question is whether we can be humble enough to relearn the way we are talking. If the message you love is worth it, this book is for you.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Carl Lentz, pastor of Hillsong Church NYC and author of \u003ci\u003eOwn the Moment \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “With each turn of the page, you realize with increasing urgency how necessary and important this book is. Applying a journalist’s eye to the language of faith, Jonathan Merritt breathes new life into familiar words and phrases, expertly employing history, etymology, biblical studies, survey data, and personal narrative to show that how we “speak God” really matters. Smart, eclectic, and delightfully readable, \u003ci\u003eLearning to Speak God from Scratch\u003c\/i\u003e is packed with little gems of knowledge and insight that will get you thinking. It deserves a place of honor on the bookshelf of every writer, every pastor, and every person of faith who understands that, as Mark Twain put it, ‘the difference between the almost-right word and the right word is…the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.’” \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Rachel Held Evans, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e best-selling author of \u003ci\u003eSearching for Sunday\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eInspired\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Am I the only Christian who doesn’t (want to) speak ‘Christianese’? Tell me about your relationship with God, and I’m all ears. But preach to me about the ‘secular world’ or how when ‘God closes a door, he opens a window,’ and I’m looking for a window to jump out of. As a television personality, there is so much at stake when it comes to the language of faith, and the last thing I want to do is lose the understanding of my spiritual experiences because of a vocabulary that is not relatable. In \u003ci\u003eLearning to Speak God from Scratch\u003c\/i\u003e, Jonathan fills this awesome book with entertaining stories and clever tools for speaking God more freely. Aah…insert praise hands emoji.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Jeannie Mai, TV personality and cohost of the \u003ci\u003eThe Real\u003c\/i\u003e on Fox\u003c\/b\u003eJonathan Merritt is one of America’s most prolific religion and culture writers. An award-winning contributor for \u003ci\u003eThe Atlantic\u003c\/i\u003e, he has published thousands of articles in outlets such as \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e, Buzzfeed, and \u003ci\u003eThe Washington Post\u003c\/i\u003e. As a sought after commentator, Jonathan has appeared on CNN, Fox News, MSNBC, ABC News, and NPR. He holds two graduate degrees in religion and resides in Brooklyn, NY.\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eChapter 1. \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA life coach once told me that adults searching for meaning should pursue their childhood dreams. Which seems reasonable enough if you fantasized as a kid about becoming a tax attorney or insurance adjuster as a kid. The principle doesn’t work as well for people like me, who dreamed about becoming a cowboy.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy mother reminisces about the way I played pretend in the living room, wearing nothing except pajama bottoms, a mini Stetson hat, and black boots with silver spurs. I’d force my cowboy boots onto the wrong feet, which made the whole scenario a little more precious and a lot more absurd. On more than one occasion, I sauntered around the house, knock-kneed, waving a plastic six-shooter and asking where I could find a good watering hole.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“When I grow up,” I told my mother, “I’m movin’ to El Paso.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI had never been to El Paso. Heck, I’d never even seen pictures. In my version of El Paso, the townsfolk rode horses and never left home without pistols strapped to their hips. Only one lawman lived there, and he could usually be found outside the jailhouse smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. I assumed most residents wrangled cattle during the day, lay under a blanket of stars at night, and after a hard week’s work, gathered at the saloon for a frothy mug of sarsaparilla and a hand of Texas Hold ’Em.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen I was old enough to move to the city of my choosing, however, El Paso didn’t even make the Top 10. My cowboy dream had long faded. When I decided at the age of thirty-one to join the 8.5 million city slickers who call New York City home, I wondered if that wrangler spirit had led me there.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYou won’t find horses in the Big Apple unless they’re dragging carriages around Central Park. The only cows we have are served medium rare and will cost you a second mortgage. The city’s strict gun laws mean you’re unlikely to see a pistol unless it’s resting in a police officer’s holster, and the closest thing you’ll find to a tumbleweed is a windswept potato chip bag.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd yet, New York City has a certain frontier-like quality. Countless people arrive each year—in moving vans, like modern covered wagons—with hopes of forging a new life, conquering the iron wilderness, and if they’re lucky, maybe even striking gold. The scent of opportunity is everywhere—I’ve caught whiffs on street corners and nearly choked on it on Wall Street.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAmerica’s biggest metropolis is diverse enough that citizens can curate their own version. The New York of the Upper East Side is not at all like the New York of Astoria, Queens. So different are the two neighborhoods that it’s almost laughable for them to claim the same city of residence.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI settled into the Brooklyn neighborhood of Williamsburg, which is less like \u003ci\u003eSeinfeld \u003c\/i\u003eand more like \u003ci\u003eBlue Bloods\u003c\/i\u003e. The buildings are smattered with graffiti and bursting with third-wave coffee shops. Hipsters and Latinos mingle with a remnant population of Hasidic Jews who have decided to stay put even as the neighborhood gentrifies. (I spy more menorahs during Hanukkah than twinkling trees at Christmas.)\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOn the waterfront, Brooklyn residents lounge with loved ones on benches beside the East River and watch the summer sun sink into the skyline. The final rays of dusk wash Manhattan’s skyscrapers with sheets of light on clear nights. During the autumn months, McCarren Park fills with guitarists and flag football teams and a weekend farmer’s market where you can purchase apple cider and tupelo honey and rhubarb jelly.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLiving here is just as lovely as it sounds.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe delights of New York did not blindside me, of course. But I never anticipated, upon arriving, that I’d run into a crippling language barrier. Sure, I could order a late-night kebab from a halal street cart or relay an address to a taxicab driver. I spoke English as well as I always had.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy problem was that I could no longer “speak God.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePrior to moving to New York, I resided in a suburban neighborhood in the heart of the Bible Belt. Almost all my friends were Christian, and most of us attended the same type of church. I worked as a minister to a congregation outside of Atlanta, and before that, I was a full-time seminary student. The community in which I was immersed was so thoroughly Christian, I sometimes forgot that other people practiced different religions or none at all.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn this world, there was a kind of cultural Christian lingo that many speak and almost everyone else understands. If someone sneezed, a stranger might say, “God bless you.” The sneezer would not stop to think, \u003ci\u003eWhat do you mean by “God”? Or by “bless”?\u003c\/i\u003e If someone mentioned that he had been “saved,” “born again,” or “attended a Bible-believing church,” no follow-up question was needed. On meeting a new acquaintance, Southerners will usually ask \u003ci\u003ewhere \u003c\/i\u003ethey attend church rather than \u003ci\u003e if\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI used religious language with ease in the South, rarely pausing to think about the meaning of my words. I grew up surrounded by these syllables of faith, used daily in my home and community. But I was not in Georgia anymore. I penned columns about the intersection of “faith and culture” from my Southern Christian enclave, but as it turns out, pontificating about  a post-Christian society is far easier than living in one.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn New York, religious fluency is not assumed. The majority of residents don’t attend church on any given Sunday, and only about three percent of the population is evangelical Protestant like I was raised. I soon discovered people who had never heard the sacred words I’d long taken for granted—and others who used them with wildly different meanings.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI realized this linguistic chasm en route to visit a church in Manhattan on my first Sunday in New York. Waiting on a subway platform, a woman standing next to me asked where I was headed. I explained that I was going to a “worship service.” She asked for clarification, having never heard that phrase. I clarified that I was new to the city and was going to visit a church. She perked up and said she practiced the Baha'i faith. She held up her crystal amulet necklace and explained that it protected her from evil spirits. If I was spiritually curious, the woman said, she’d read my chakra and access the invisible energy fields around my body.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs we talked about our respective religious practices, it became clear that neither of us understood what the other was saying. I glanced down the dark tunnel in hopes of spotting a train, but rescue wasn’t in sight.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe peppered me with questions about God and the Bible and the afterlife. I fumbled for answers, but what came out didn’t make much sense. When I used terms I considered common—“grace” or “gospel” or “salvation”—my conversation partner stopped me mid-thought to ask for a definition, please. I sputtered, stammered, and stuttered, trying to rephrase those words in ordinary vernacular, but I couldn’t seem to articulate their meanings. It was like trying to define the word \u003ci\u003ecolor \u003c\/i\u003eor \u003ci\u003ethe\u003c\/i\u003e. Though I had used the terms often, I’d never stopped to consider their meanings.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe train finally slid into the station. I thanked the lady for conversing, though I felt anything but grateful, and bolted down the platform to find a separate train car.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNot all New Yorkers are like this woman, I came to realize. Others presented a different set of obstacles. Many are familiar with sacred terms but have experienced them as a source of pain or judgment or coercion. In such cases, I often felt embarrassed to  speak the vocabulary of faith.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen a new friend in my co-working space asked me whether I was like the hypocritical Christians he saw on television shamelessly stumping for politicians, I was drenched in shame. But I could understand his contempt.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe way certain groups of people use sacred words gives the rest of us the holy heebie-jeebies. Holy phrases become tools of manipulation in the hands of angry religious leaders. They are fashioned into clubs by combative evangelists. And when shouted from the mouth of a street preacher outside a football stadium, Scripture becomes downright annoying.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAbout a month after I moved to New York City, my new barber asked me what I did for a living.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Wow, I’ve never met a religion writer,” he said. “I’m still pissed off about my childhood. I was raised in the country. My parents were Southern Baptists—the hard-core fundamentalist kind. You know anything about those kinds of people?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe had no idea that I was raised the son of an evangelical minister, a former president of the Southern Baptist Convention, and I wasn’t about to disclose it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I mean, what do you think about all that sin and hell and judgment stuff?” he pressed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“That’s a good question.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThen I used the ultimate conversation distraction for a New Yorker: “You a Yankees or a Mets fan?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI soon caught onto the pattern emerging in my conversations. Exchanges flowed freely when I stuck to benign topics like the dreaded winter weather or the maddening sound of jackhammers on the street. But the conversation stalled the moment the subject turned spiritual.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo avoid having to define every sacred term, I swept them into a pile and out the door. Not wanting to be associated with those in society who spoke God fluently but irresponsibly, I started avoiding spiritual conversations altogether.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI am not alone. I’ve been meeting people from all over, with similar histories of belief, who feel they too have been struck mute in a strange land. Terms like \u003ci\u003esin \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003ehell \u003c\/i\u003ehave become so negative they lodge in our throats. Others, like \u003ci\u003ebelief \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003esalvation \u003c\/i\u003ehave been uttered so often we don’t know what they mean anymore. Definitions and connotations of words like \u003ci\u003emercy \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003elove \u003c\/i\u003ecan no longer be assumed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAn acquaintance of mine, Kyle, is a high school pastor in the Midwest. He tells me that he struggles to motivate his students to talk about God outside of church. The issue for them, Kyle says, isn’t a lack of courage. They aren’t afraid of being rejected or ostracized by nonreligious friends. Rather, they lack confidence in the words they’ve been given. They aren’t totally sure what the words mean or whether they believe they are as true as they once thought. And many in this generation have seen the hypocrisy of words not backed up by authentic actions, which causes them to pause.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eKyle’s students may feel a pang of guilt for keeping quiet about sacred matters, but as it turns out, their elders are just as mute, if not more so.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePartnering with the Barna Group, a prominent  social research firm focused on religion in America, I commissioned a national survey of more than 1,000 people to shine some light on this matter. The survey revealed that millions of Americans—more than half of them, actually—are not speaking God often.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMore than one-fifth of respondents admit they have not had a spiritual conversation \u003ci\u003eat all\u003c\/i\u003e in the last year. Six-in-ten say they only had a spiritual conversation on rare occasions—either “once or twice” (29 percent) or “several times” (29 percent) in the last year. An additional 14 percent are more spiritually vocal—claiming to have had a spiritual conversation between ten and fifty times in the last year.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHere’s the shocker: Despite widespread religiosity, a paltry 7 percent of Americans say they talk about spiritual matters on about a once-per-week basis (more than fifty times in the past year). That means that for most of us, our conversations almost never address the spirituality we claim as important.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat’s not the only significant revelation. Political conservatives are about twice as likely as liberals to have had more than fifty conversations (10 percent versus 5 percent). More conservatives claim religious faith than do liberals, and this faith bubbles up in their conversations more often. However, liberals are still more apt to have spiritual conversations than those who claim “somewhere in between” as a political ideology—this moderate group is twice as likely as either liberals or conservatives to say they “never” have those conversations (29 percent compared to 14 percent and 16 percent, respectively). Moderates, it would seem, are more likely to keep conversations neutral, avoiding hot topics like religion and politics.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen it comes to practicing Christians who attend church regularly, I expected the frequency of spiritual conversations to skyrocket. But I was wrong, wrong, wrong. Only 13 percent of practicing Christians had a spiritual conversation more than fifty times last year, which again, would be about once per week. That means only about one in eight self-identifying Christians speak God with regular frequency.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAll this may sound depressing to religious leaders and spiritual seekers, but here is the surprising silver lining: Younger generations are having \u003ci\u003emore \u003c\/i\u003espiritual conversations than older generations.  In fact, Millennials are having more conversations about religion or spirituality than any other generation.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe older you are, the less likely it is that you will have a spiritual conversation. Thirty-five percent of Elders say they “never” had a conversation with someone in the last year, compared to a steadily decreasing percentage from Boomers (29 percent) to Gen Xers (20 percent) to Millennials (10 percent). This trend holds true on the other end of the spectrum: Millennials are the most likely to have had between 10 and 50 conversations in the last year (18 percent compared to 11 percent of Boomers).\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThis renewed interest in spiritual matters among young people creates an opportunity to revive sacred speech.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eReviewing this data roused the wrangler spirit in me once more. I decided to discover why people had lost confidence in the vocabulary of faith and what, if anything, could be done to revive it. What I uncovered proved to be shocking, awakening, and transformative.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePerhaps sometimes you struggle to speak God like I did. You don’t need to move to New York City, or any other urban context, to feel this tension. The world is changing from top to bottom and east to west. Our lives are now saturated with people who differ from us in race, religion, age, education, and cultural mores.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn neighborhoods across America, people don’t read from the same script or work with a common spiritual vocabulary. So you may feel the pinch whether you’re living in a Rocky Mountain mining town or a Great Plains farm community, in a bungalow overlooking the ocean or an HOA-friendly house in the suburbs. It doesn’t matter whether you’ve been fluent in the vocabulary of faith since you were old enough to eat solid food or have never learned your religious ABCs.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMillions of Americans now struggle to find sacred language that can adequately describe life’s deeper truths. Perhaps you’ve run into this awkward language barrier in recent days.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe you were spoon-fed religious words since infancy but now wonder, as you’ve matured, whether many of those terms need to mature too.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe you once believed that accepting faith meant praying certain words but now you know better.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe you formerly assumed that using particular words and avoiding others somehow increased your spiritual standing.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe the rigid religious tradition that you come from has made you so anxious about speaking God with precision that you end up not speaking God at all.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe your parents, pastors, or friends used religious words as weapons to oppress, repress, shame, or scold you.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe you’ve been turned off by the sharp syllables of street preachers, the slick pitches of televangelists, or the trite words of pious politicians.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe you feel guilty speaking God because deep down you believe God (probably) exists on even-numbered days.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe you squirm when you hear people use words to convert others, without ever considering that perhaps \u003ci\u003ethey \u003c\/i\u003eare the ones who need converting.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe you still walk into church most weeks but object to what you hear while there.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhatever the cause of your spiritual lockjaw, I’m grateful you haven’t given up. That’s powerful. Because despite our frustrations, we share a common ache and desire to experience the possibility of what can happen when we’re courageous enough to use the vocabulary of faith.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOurs is an expedition to rediscover a love for consecrated terms and discover why speaking God matters now more than ever. To express our spiritual stirrings, to articulate our transcendent experiences, to share our truest selves with friends. In these pages, I hope you learn to speak about faith with greater confidence than ever before.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe world needs a revival of these sacred words.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd so do we.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLet’s learn to speak God from scratch.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Convergent Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304268058853,"sku":"NP9781601429308","price":20.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781601429308.jpg?v=1767731244","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/learning-to-speak-god-from-scratch-isbn-9781601429308","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}