I found this to be the most uncomfortable book that I have ever read. Frida's account of the slaughter of her family and the wider genocide are almost too harrowing to bare. And yet by the end this extraordinary and compelling book is so uplifting. Her account of finding Christ and her journey of faith is almost as wonderful as the slaughter was awful. What a joy to read of the forgivenenss and transformation in her life.
However, this book still remains uncomfortable to the end, it convicts. When Frida forgives so much - how can I struggle to forgive so very little?