Book review: The Familiar Stranger

 

Each year we do a Sunday series based on a book. This year for Pentecost we will be journeying through Tyler Staton’s The Familiar Stranger. To prime us for the series, Dan has turned into a novice book reviewer, writing for us a little review.

There are books you read, and then there are books that read you. Tyler Staton’s The Familiar Stranger is firmly in the latter category. It’s not just a book about the Holy Spirit—it’s a soulful reckoning with the person of God who walks beside us, speaks gently, convicts deeply, and transforms us in the quiet and the chaos alike.

As we head toward Pentecost, this book feels especially timely. As a church in the Vineyard whānau, we carry a particular hope: that the Kingdom of God would break in among us—here and now. We long to encounter the Spirit not only in Sunday at a gathering, but in the everyday. Tyler writes with a similar ache. His is a voice shaped by intimacy, vulnerability, and a holy discontent that refuses to settle for form without fire.


Rediscovering the Spirit We Thought We Knew

Right at the start, Tyler names something that many of us have felt but not often admitted:

I want the Holy Spirit, but I don’t always know what to do with Him.

It’s disarming in its honesty. For those of us who’ve been around church circles long enough, the Spirit can become more of a concept than a companion—acknowledged in theory, but sidelined in practice.

Staton reminds us that the Holy Spirit is not some vague force or doctrinal footnote, but the living presence of Jesus with us:

The Holy Spirit is not a substitute for Jesus’ absence. He is the presence of Jesus himself.


This lands deeply in our Vineyard bones. We often say we’re “people of the presence”—those who wait, welcome, and respond to God-with-us. The Familiar Stranger stokes that fire. It invites us not just to believe in the Spirit but to be with Him—to learn His voice, to follow His lead, to make space for Him to do what only He can do.


Vineyard Values, Spirit-Shaped

One of the gifts of this book is how seamlessly it carries Vineyard DNA—whether intentionally or not. Tyler doesn’t offer us hype or technique. He offers us availability. His stories are grounded in real life—prayer rooms, pastoral pain, protests for justice, whispered nudges of the Spirit in moments of doubt. And through it all, a deep trust in the Spirit’s ability to lead us into the fullness of life.

He writes:

The Spirit will not be tamed. He is not impressed by our competence, nor limited by our weakness.

This sounds like the Spirit we’ve encountered in our story again and again—the one who comes to the hungry, who bypasses performance, who delights in showing up in power and tenderness alike. As John Wimber often said, “Everybody gets to play.” Staton’s stories reinforce this Kingdom truth: the Spirit speaks and moves through ordinary people who dare to listen.


Not Just Power—Presence

Tyler is beautifully clear: the Spirit doesn’t always come with fireworks. Sometimes He comes in a whisper, in waiting, in quiet resilience. In a season of burnout, he writes: “I was praying because I didn’t know what else to do. And the Spirit didn’t fix me—He stayed with me.”

This is deeply Vineyard. We expect the Spirit to heal, to renew, to empower—but more than anything, we expect Him to come. And we know His coming often looks like being with. Like comforting presence in the pit. Like a companion in the in-between.


Leading into Pentecost

Over the next five weeks, we’re stepping into a series shaped by the Spirit. It’s a series based on this book actually. We’ll explore what it means to walk with the Holy Spirit.

The Familiar Stranger feels like a faithful guide into this journey. It raises the right questions:

  • Who is the Spirit really—and how do we relate to Him as a person?

  • What does it mean to wait on the Spirit in a culture of hurry?

  • How do we cultivate a lifestyle of listening, not just on Sundays but in the school run, the staff room, and the silence?

Staton’s answer isn’t to strive harder—it’s to open wider.

To know the Spirit is to be known by Jesus again and again.

That’s the invitation of Pentecost. Not just fire from heaven, but friendship with God. Not just an event to remember, but a life to live in step with the Spirit.

Final Thoughts

This is a book for the curious and the weary, the sceptical and the desperate. For those who feel stuck in their faith or hungry for more. It is not a manual; it’s a mirror—and a gentle hand on the shoulder, reminding us that God is closer than we think.

Let’s lean in with fresh expectancy this Pentecost. Let’s not settle for a faith explained but a God encountered. The Spirit is among us—the familiar stranger, longing to be known.

Join us this pentecost for a series on the familiar stranger

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The Familiar Stranger - pt 1: The Spirit we hardly know

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An Easter Homily: Enter the New Story