While You Wait (Friday Devotional)

I wait for the Lord; my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning, more than those who watch for the morning.

- Psalm 130:5-6

Yesterday I had the privilege of joining my son’s 1st grade class on a field trip to Dallas’ Old City Park, my first time chaperoning a trip like that. As a parent volunteer, I did a number of things on the field trip. I helped guide kids from station to station at the park. I walked children to the restroom. I helped pass out lunches.

But more than anything else, I did a lot of waiting. Waiting in my car for the school buses to arrive at the park. Waiting outside the buses for the kids to file off class by class. Waiting for park personnel to give us our instructions. And after lunch, waiting for the bus drivers to give the signal that it was time to return to school. As best I can determine, roughly 60% of chaperoning an elementary school field trip is waiting.

In that respect, it’s not a bad training ground for life, where key moments of action are bookended by long periods of boredom, stillness, and delay. Whether you’re in traffic or at the doctor’s office, whether you’re impatiently refreshing your email inbox or checking the oven timer for the 10^th time, everyone knows the impatience of wanting the next thing, the anticipated thing, to happen now.

This is true in the life of faith too. When you pray, you are telling God what you want, confiding your hopes and trusting him to be faithful. But when you say amen, you then have to wait on his will and his timing—rather than trying to force the issue, you simply act in obedience and have faith in God.

As much as we long for the finality of answered prayers and advancing to new things, it is in the waiting that spiritual growth happens, because waiting demands faith. So whatever you’re waiting for right now, however impatient you may feel, draw close to the Lord—and watch him change you while you wait.

What Family's For (Friday Devotional)

 

And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

- Hebrews 10:24-25

This week, my house has been quieter than usual. Lindsey left Tuesday morning for a girls’ trip with some friends and family, leaving me and the two big kids to stay behind and go about our normal weeks. For four days (she gets back late tonight), all the typical household responsibilities—cooking, cleaning, chauffeuring the kids around, etc.—that we normally split between the two of us were all on me.

The good news: the walls didn’t come tumbling down. The children got three meals a day, nobody had to go to the hospital, and nothing’s actively on fire. I can, it turns out, handle things by myself for a week.

But I was reminded of something: I don’t want to. I’m blessed with a wonderful spouse who shoulders her share of the load—and often more than her share. She lets me employ my strengths and she shores up my weaknesses; she’s my safety net when I fall down and my biggest encourager when I rise up. I don’t have to fly solo because I’ve got an amazing copilot.

Following God, like managing a household, can be done for a while singlehandedly—but it doesn’t have to be done that way. The Lord didn’t call one disciple to carry out his mission, he sent twelve apostles. We’re not meant to be a multitude of Christians all going our own individual directions, but to be one church.

When God saved you, he didn’t just give you salvation, he also gave you a family—brothers and sisters with whom you get to laugh, cry, play, argue, and rejoice. They are part of your story, and you are part of theirs. So as you walk with the Lord, don’t do it alone—that’s what family’s for.

The Glory of the Son (Friday Devotional)

Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.

- James 1:17

On any given day, our nation is a fractured place. Where we once rallied around universal principles, we are now divided along party lines. Where we once shared communal dinner tables, now we eat alone and on the go. Where we all used to watch the same TV shows and then talk about them the next day around the water cooler, now we are so inundated with content that no one can keep up.

But for four minutes on Monday, everybody was doing the same thing.

On any given day, we are obsessed with efficiency and productivity and ambition. We define ourselves by what we do for a living, placing an outsized value on our jobs. Success is our ultimate goal and work is where we find meaning.

But for four minutes on Monday, lawyers and teachers and gas station attendants alike left their posts for something bigger.

On any given day, we are a cynical, skeptical people. We’re quick to contextualize things that seem incredible, lessening their immediate impact. We’re hard to impress, and reluctant to admit amazement. Being cool means staying at a remove and never being overtaken with emotion.

But for four minutes on Monday, we were awestruck.

The total solar eclipse, a momentary celestial phenomenon, was enough to change our ingrained habits and overcome our natural inclinations, if only for an afternoon. It provoked the kind of unabashed wonder normally reserved for children, leaving us all enthralled in its wake. God’s creation left an unmistakable impression.

But then, of course, it was over. Darkness gave way to light, we threw our eclipse glasses away, and we went back to who we were before.

The lesson? Creation is amazing, but it’s merely a shadow of the Creator. Its glory pales in comparison to His. If you want to know real change, lasting power, eternal glory, you won’t find it in the stars—you’ll only find it in the Son.

A New Season (Friday Devotional)

 

In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.

- Acts 2:17

On Sunday afternoon, my family traded our Easter outfits for baseball jerseys and headed to Arlington to watch the Texas Rangers take on the Chicago Cubs in the third game of the young season. This was a particularly special opening weekend for Rangers fans—last year, after more than 50 years of mostly futility, Texas won its first World Series trophy. So the start of this season was full of signs of the times, from gold-lined jerseys to new murals in the concourse to the giant World Series Champions banner hanging by the scoreboard.

As we walked from the parking lot toward the stadium, I was struck by the different ways my family would be experiencing the game and all its accompanying celebrations. For my dad, who has been a fan since the Washington Senators moved to Arlington when he was 12, this was the culmination of a lifetime of fandom, decades’ worth of exultation and disappointment. He’d been there for Toby Harrah and Bump Wills, for Juan Gonzalez and Pudge Rodriguez, and now for Corey Seager and Adolis García.  He’d endured the same casual small talk with other fans—“what they need is more pitching”—year after year. He’d seen it all.

But for my 4-month-old son Isaac, none of that means a thing. He has literally never lived in a world where the Rangers aren’t champions. The air-conditioned Globe Life Field isn’t “the new ballpark” to him, it’s just “the ballpark.” Nolan Ryan might as well be Babe Ruth to him, because as far as he’s concerned, both are ancient history.

And yet, on Sunday—for the first but not the last time—they both enjoyed an afternoon at the ballpark. One had the context of history, the other saw everything with fresh eyes. One had the wariness of familiarity, the other the unbridled joy of innocence. Their experiences were obviously different, but they both had fun.

On the Day of Pentecost, when God poured out his Holy Spirit upon the church, one thing that was promised was that the empowerment to come wouldn’t be reserved for one age group. Wisdom wasn’t going to be reserved for the old, nor was envisioning the future solely the prerogative of the young. “Your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams,” promised the prophet Joel.

Different generations have different things to offer, diverse strengths and experiences and outlooks. But everybody—from the smallest child to the most senior adult—has something to offer the kingdom, some way to serve. Nobody is too young or too old to contribute.

If something as ultimately trivial as baseball can be appreciated by all ages, then surely the same can be true for the gospel. So whether this Easter was your first or your 75^th, make this is a season to remember!

March Reading Log

March brought spring break and with it, my first reading slump of the year. For nearly 2 weeks this month I just couldn't bring myself to read more than a few pages a day...not the fault of the books necessarily, just general laziness and fatigue. But I rallied late in the month (this log is good at giving me motivation to finish books), and I wound up finishing 5 books in March. Take a look!

THE SOUL OF AMERICA by Jon Meacham

No matter where you stand politically, chances are you're worried. We had four years of Donald Trump as president, we're in the middle of four years of Joe Biden as president, the next four years we're going to get one of the two of them all over again, and nobody seems particularly happy about it. People are anxious, angry, and afraid.

The tumultuousness of the last few years has led to a lot of talk about what it really means to be an American, about which characteristics can progress and evolve over time and which values must endure through all the ebbs and flows. In The Soul of America, author and historian Jon Meacham looks to American history for answers, pinpointing specific times in our past when the "soul" of the nation has been endangered by forces without and within and examining how we made it through.

In each chapter of the book, Meacham chooses an era of American history—from Reconstruction to the Great Depression to the Civil Rights Movement—and lays out how and why the nation's character was tested. Sometimes there's a scapegoat to point to (the Ku Klux Klan, for example), but more often, the threat arises organically, the natural byproduct of a diverse nation built on an idea instead of along ethnic lines.

And the solution, frustratingly, doesn't always come in one bold moment or courtesy of one heroic figure. Leaders matter, to be sure—in every chapter, at least one figure emerges to call the nation back to its better angels—but the fever only breaks when the American people are ready.

Nevertheless, again and again Meacham describes how we have been tugged away from the precipice by a commitment to the American ideal of liberty and justice for all. For the anxious, this book offers the hope of history—not a promise that we will do the right thing now, but at least the reassurance that what we face is not a new fight.

One disclaimer: this book was published in 2018 and is pretty transparently—especially in the foreword and afterward—making the case that Donald Trump is the kind of existential threat to America that the chapters of this book describe. Given that the 2024 presidential election is going to feature Trump again, that means your level of appreciation for the book will almost certainly depend on which candidate is getting your vote. Don't say I didn't warn you.

DESERT SOLITAIRE by Edward Abbey

One of the joys of visiting America's national parks is the opportunity for true solitude. Miles away from the nearest human being, much less any semblance of civilization, one is able to think, to get perspective, and to appreciate the simple things in life. In the National Parks, modernity's distractions are set aside for something more primal and beautiful.

Desert Solitaire is writer Edward Abbey's account of his time spent in Arches National Park (a national monument at the time of his stay; it was later upgraded). Living in a small trailer and working several days a week as a ranger, the rest of his time is his own, leaving him free to wander and explore the wonders of the Utah desert.

The book does two things well. The first is to serve as the preeminent nature book for the Southwest, a Walden for the region. With his descriptions of the flora and fauna and his clear affection for the area, Abbey is a compelling tour guide who makes you want to strap on a backpack and head westward in search of both the peace and the adventure that the desert brings.

The second is periodic polemics against modernity, specifically urban and suburban development. Most readers, I suspect, will not share his extreme views of conservation—in one section he argues, without irony, for the abolition of drivable roads in our national parks—but his passion is compelling and his writing entertaining. These are the kinds of views to which it's valuable to be exposed, even if you can't get on board with what he's saying.

I read Desert Solitaire after our spring break trip to Big Bend, where it was available in every visitor's center I saw in that park. Not sure how Abbey would feel about that—I suspect he would find those centers, which are 90% gift shops, appalling—but I'm glad I gave it a read.

BLOOD MERIDIAN by Cormac McCarthy

Cormac McCarthy is on the short list of greatest authors of the last 50 years, perhaps at the very top. With books like The Road, All the Pretty Horses, and No Country for Old Men, he established a reputation for bleak, violent, yet beautiful prose, often in a Western setting. Blood Meridian is generally considered his finest and most difficult work.

Telling the story of a frontier teenager, "the kid," who joins up with a band of scalp hunters making their way along the Texas-Mexico border, the book is an anti-Western in the mold of Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven, shattering the romantic notions given to us by Hollywood with its relentless violence, nihilistic characters, and bleak outlook. The kid's time with the gang exposes him to all the worst mankind has to offer as he is on both the giving and receiving ends of profound terror.

I admired Blood Meridian more than I enjoyed it. McCarthy's writing style is objectively brilliant, written in a cadence that recalls both Moby Dick and the Bible. Yet this neo-biblical style, with its matter-of-factness, lack of detail, and avoidance of dialogue, requires a lot of concentration. If you let your eyes glide over a paragraph without truly reading it, you can get lost quickly.

What's more, the relentless violence—this book is absolutely soaked in blood—is more off-putting than I expected it to be. I'm far from squeamish, but even I was surprised by how gruesome the book could be in parts. In making the West seem like a savage, primal place instead of a romantic one, McCarthy is entirely successful—after 100 pages, the West he portrays is a place where no one would want to live.

For serious readers, Blood Meridian is an important contribution to American literature and one worthy of your time, but be warned that it's not an easy read. It took me the whole month to get through its 350 pages, and even that may have been too fast to fully appreciate it. But if you're willing to take your time, McCarthy will reward you.

STREAMS OF LIVING WATER by Richard Foster

There isn't one way to be a Christian. There are certain beliefs you must hold and certain commands you must obey, to be sure, but the apostle Paul and Francis of Assisi and Martin Luther and Billy Graham are far from spiritual clones of each other. So what are the normative paths of discipleship?

In Streams of Living Water, Richard Foster lays out what he calls the six great traditions of Christian faith—the contemplative, holiness, charismatic, social justice, evangelical, and incarnational traditions—to show the different routes faithful people have taken over the generations. Part religious biography, part exegesis, each chapter examines the life of a saint from church history and then another from the Bible before arriving at conclusions about that particular tradition, including the pros and cons of each approach.

As you might expect, the final conclusion is that no one way is perfect or even superior to the others—God gives us different spiritual gifts for a reason! But each of these streams is worthy of study, reflection, and application for the faithful believer.

One more thing: the appendices make for a great reference material. Appendix 1 looks at critical turning points in church history, with Appendix 2 offering one paragraph biographies of notable religious figures and movements throughout church history. An invaluable resource for those wanting bite-sized morsels of church history.

THE ETERNALS: THE COMPLETE COLLECTION by Jack Kirby

In 1970, Jack "the King" Kirby, the co-creator of most of what we now call the Marvel Universe, did the unthinkable and jumped ship to make his mark at DC Comics. In 5 years there, he created what many fans consider his magnum opus, an entire modern mythology known as the Fourth World, including New Gods, Mister Miracle, and The Forever People. The series were bombastic, epic, and utterly imaginative, full of overwhelming dynamism.

They also didn't sell well. So in 1976, Kirby returned home to Marvel and was given a chance for a do-over. The result was The Eternals, a book with seeds of greatness but whose weaknesses signaled Kirby's career had reached its twilight phase.

First the good: this book, like the Fourth World books, is bursting with energy, especially the early issues. At age 51, Kirby still had a million ideas, and he was throwing them all on the page. In the first issue he introduces three races of immortal beings: the Eternals, their enemies the Deviants, and the immense, mysterious space gods Marvel would later name the Celestials. The Celestials are easily the most compelling of the three, looming throughout the series as an imminent force of judgment upon humanity.

Which brings us to the problem: the titular Eternals just aren't that interesting (and neither, for that matter, are the Deviants.) None, with the slight exception of the mischievous Sersi, are imbued with much personality, and after 19 issues I'm still not entirely clear what their powers are. Furthermore, there are so many that's it's hard to keep track (a problem the MCU's ill-fated movie adaptation suffered from too.)

But the biggest problem is one that Kirby faced at DC as well, though it's worse here: he's not a good writer. In his prime, Kirby's gorgeous art was paired with the voice of Stan Lee, and that partnership was the Lennon-McCartney of comics. Here, with Kirby doing it all, everything from pacing to dialogue to characterization is woefully inadequate. The ideas are there, but it's a slapdash mess instead of a cohesive story.

The 19 issues of The Eternals are pure, unbridled imagination, for better and for worse. There was enough for there for Marvel Studios to make a movie out of it...and it was flawed enough that the movie was soundly rejected by moviegoers. Both make sense to me after reading the source material. For Kirby fans and comics historians, this book is a must-read—but for casual readers just wanting a good time, there are at least 50 Kirby books I'd give you before this one.

Jesus the Savior (Friday Devotional)

It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of the Jews.” And with him they crucified two rebels, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!” In the same way the chief priests, along with the scribes, were also mocking him among themselves and saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe.” Those who were crucified with him also taunted him.

- Mark 15:25-32

Everyone at Golgotha had heard the stories by this time. Five thousand fed with just a few loaves and fish. Demons driven out with an authoritative word. Paralyzed men walking, sick women made well, a dead girl brought back to life.

These stories had inspired so many to welcome Jesus to Jerusalem just a few days earlier the way they would greet a conquering king. Shouting their hosannas and waving their palm branches, the people eagerly awaited a new manifestation of Jesus’ power. Their victory was at hand, their oppression at its end, their salvation assured.

But as the week dragged on, Jesus didn’t work the kinds of wonders the Galileans went on and on about. He threw the money changers out of the temple, and he lambasted the religious officials for their hypocrisy, but he didn’t say a word against the occupying Romans. Worst of all, when his preaching did get political, it wasn’t to raise an army or inspire a revolution—it was to predict Jerusalem’s destruction.

So when the religious officials predictably had enough, the people joined them in condemning Jesus. He hadn’t wielded his power properly, he hadn’t fought the right enemies, he hadn’t met their expectations. He hadn’t saved them.

So now the Romans would do what they did best. With brute force, they would make an example of Jesus, showing what happened to anyone who dared oppose the empire. Jesus, this failed messiah, would see what happened to all would-be saviors.

Repeatedly—voices dripping with sarcasm, but perhaps also with a lingering trace of hope—they called upon Jesus to save himself from his fate. Come down from the cross if you can, they shouted. Call down your angels, they jeered. But, silently bearing the agony of their rejection, their taunts, and their sins, Jesus refused to save himself.

Instead, by his death, he did what they’d demanded all along: he saved them. The Lamb of God was slain for the sins of the world. The righteous one died for the ungodly. He was pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities, upon him was the punishment that brought us peace, and by his wounds we are healed.

Like the people so long ago, we still long to be saved, and we still want it to be on our terms. We expect a new routine or a new job or a new city or a new election to be the cure-all, to fix what ails us. But the truth is that salvation has already come—it is finished—and not through any manner we’d have conceived. Through his own suffering, Jesus brought about our salvation.

He didn’t save himself. He saved you instead.

Too Loud (Friday Devotional)

For every species of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, but no one can tame the tongue—a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse people, made in the likeness of God. 

- James 3:7-9

One of the realities of having three children 8 and under is that Lindsey and I periodically have to deal with tantrums. Yesterday was just such a time—our daughter was tired and hungry, she wasn’t getting her way, and she was making her displeasure known.

At one point in the back-and-forth, Lindsey told her she needed to stop yelling. Katherine protested that she wasn’t yelling—she was mad, but not screaming at the top of her lungs.

“You may not have been yelling as loudly as you can,” I responded, “but you definitely raised your voice. You were much louder than you needed to be.”

You’ve probably heard the old idiom, “actions speak louder than words,” a phrase that dates back to the 17^th century. It means that your deeds are more powerful than your words, that people pay more attention to what you do than what you say.

But especially in an age of mass communication, your words can still speak pretty loudly. That’s why the Bible talks about the importance of taming your tongue, a.k.a. watching your words. The same mouth that can bless people can also curse them, and the same voice that can lift people up can also tear them down.

What you say is a direct reflection on your walk with the Lord, just like what you do. And just as your witness for Jesus is affected by your actions, it is also colored by the things you say—whether in person or online, in public or in private, with a stranger or a friend.

Do actions still speak louder than words? Who can say. But this much is true: if you don’t tame your tongue, your words can wind up being a lot louder than they need to be.

The Most Beautiful Creation (Friday Devotional)

 

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are humans that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? Yet you have made them a little lower than God and crowned them with glory and honor.

- Psalm 8:3-5

On Wednesday evening, Lindsey and I loaded the kids into the car at 8:00 PM—bedtime on a normal night—to see some stars. The next morning we’d be ending our brief vacation at Big Bend National Park, and before we headed back to the suburbs, we wanted to see a night sky unpolluted by artificial light. They say you can see more than 2,000 stars with the naked eye on a clear night in Big Bend—the stars really are big and bright deep in the heart of Texas!

Staring up at the cosmic canvas of black dappled with white, thinking about how every one of those specks represented a celestial body millions of miles away, I admired the splendor set before me. But if I’m being honest, the stars were not the most beautiful thing I saw that night. What took my breath away was not the vastness of the universe, but the sight of my kids, decked out in their pajamas, poking their heads through the sunroof while Taylor Swift’s “Never Grow Up” played in the background. For though the universe inspired awe, it was my kids that filled my heart with love.

In the eighth psalm, David similarly reflects on the glory of creation, awed by both its immensity and its intricacies. But rather than making him feel small and insignificant, the universe’s majesty actually elevates his view of his humanity—for, in a cosmos as big as ours, God cares exponentially more about people than he does about stars.

The Bible tells us that God created the universe day by day—the heavens and the earth, then the sky, then the sea and the earth, then the sun and the moon, then the plants, then the animals. But when, on the sixth day, he created people, he did something new—he created us in his own image, endowing us with purpose and power and responsibility. After each of the first five days, he said that what he had made was good. But on the sixth day, after he made people, he said his creation was very good.

It’s easier for us to admire mountains and oceans and stars than our fellow human beings. Nature never lets you down; its majesty is always readily apparent. But what I realized on Wednesday night, what David realized thousands of years ago, is worth remembering today: as wondrous as the natural world is, you—and your neighbors—are the ones who fill God’s heart with love.

Just One Thing (Friday Devotional)

 

But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things, but few things are needed—indeed only one. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

- Luke 10:41-42

Have you ever walked into a room and completely forgotten what you were there for? Maybe you wanted to grab something, or to ask your spouse a question, but whatever it was, it’s completely slipped your mind.

When that happens, you might even start aimlessly looking around the room, trying to find something that will trigger a recollection of your purpose. Keys? Phone? Wallet? It’s such a frustrating feeling, because you know if you could remember what you needed it would be so simple to take care of. After all, it’s just one thing.

In Luke 10:38-42, the Bible tells the story of two sisters, Mary and Martha, who hosted Jesus in their home. Martha was preoccupied, trying to play the ideal hostess for the Lord. Mary, on the other hand, was content to sit at Jesus’ feet and listen to him. Eventually, Martha spoke up and asked Jesus to rebuke her sister. But he refused—“Martha, you are worried and distracted about many things, but few things are needed—indeed, only one.”

Like Martha, we get easily distracted by the myriad tasks that every day brings. Like when you walk in a room and forget why, our brains are so filled with information that it’s easy to forget what actually matters.

But Mary and Martha’s story is a reminder not to let the urgent overcome the important, not to be so consumed with responsibilities that we lose sight of what—and who—we are made for. There are always a million things to do—but when Jesus is calling, just one counts.

February Reading Log

   

I'm still on track to break my record for pages read in a year after a productive February. I kept things interesting this month, bouncing from genre to genre and interest to interest...take a look and see what I mean!

THE COME UP: AN ORAL HISTORY OF THE RISE OF HIP-HOP by Jonathan Abrams

For at least 30 years, hip-hop has been the dominant genre in popular music, so much so that it has also blended into everything from sports to movies to fashion. More than just music, hip-hop is a whole culture, one that you can like or dislike, but cannot ignore.

So how did we get here? How, in barely 50 years, did hip-hop go from its birth in a Bronx apartment to the dominance it now has over popular culture?

In The Come Up, writer Jonathan Abrams tells the story through an oral history, hundreds of interviews stitched together into a 500+ page narrative that covers 5 decades and at least 4 different regions of the United States. Told by everyone from music executives to artists to journalists, the oral history offers a boots-on-the-ground perspective on hip-hop's rise, told not by an impartial historian, but the people who witnessed it themselves.

As is always the case with an oral history, the success of the book is dependent on the people being interviewed—how reliable they are as narrators, how entertaining they are as storytellers, and how close they were to the action. I'd give The Come Up a B in this regard—there are a lot of artists I'd have been interested to hear from that Abrams couldn't get a hold of, but the people who did sit down for interviews were compelling and informative. Lots of great stories, plenty of good quotes.

One word of caution—this is not a great place to start if you have no foundational knowledge on the subject matter. There are a lot of names, and if you're hearing them for the first time then I imagine it would be like drinking from a fire hose. But for those wanting a solid overview of hip-hop's history with some insider nuggets, I recommend The Come Up.

THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME by Victor Hugo

Disney's 1996 animated feature The Hunchback of Notre Dame has a reputation among fans (and parents) as an unusually dark kids movie, with more mature themes than you'll find in contemporaries like The Little Mermaid or Aladdin. After reading the source material, Victor Hugo's 1831 novel of the same name, let me assure you: they toned it down.

The story centers around three characters: the beautiful Esmerelda, the deformed Quasimodo, and the lustful archdeacon Claude Frollo. Both Quasimodo, who serves as the bellringer in the famed cathedral Notre-Dame de Paris, and his foster father Frollo fall in love with Esmerelda, a Romani dancer. However, her heart belongs to the gallant Captain Phoebus. When Frollo makes his move to win her love—by stabbing Phoebus and kidnapping Esmerelda, naturally—Quasimodo rebels against the man who raised him. The story ends—spoiler alert for a nearly 200-year-old book—not with Disney's happy ending, but with Frollo having been shoved off the cathedral's ramparts, Esmerelda hanged, and, years later, Quasimodo's skeleton found cradling Esmerelda's. Like I said...dark.

As a story, there is much to recommend about The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Hugo's characters are memorable, the themes resonant, and the story easy to follow; I can see why Disney thought they could turn this into a movie. However, as a 500+ page book, there is a lot of fluff here—indeed, any modern editor worth her salt would turn this tome into a 120-page YA novel. Lengthy descriptions of Paris' streets and Notre Dame's architecture get tedious after a while.

Furthermore, while the central characters are memorable, they are also extremely flat. Each can be fully described in one word, really—Quasimodo = tragic, Frollo = creepy, Esmerelda = beautiful, Phoebus = jock. If that feels reductive, I promise I've given you a pretty solid summary of each. There's just not a lot there.

While I'm fundamentally opposed to abridged books, this is the kind of novel that gives me pause on that position. The Hunchback of Notre Dame is definitely a story worth telling, and not with Disney's ending, which transforms a tragedy into a happily-ever-after. I'm just not sure it's a book worth reading.

THE PLOT AGAINST AMERICA by Philip Roth

Everybody loves a good historical hypothetical, right? What if Napoleon won at Waterloo? What if the Union lost the Civil War? And, in the case of The Plot Against America, what if isolationist war hero Charles Lindbergh, not FDR, had won the 1940 presidential election?

This hypothetical is the launching pad for a story that is both personal and wide-spanning, an examination of America's relationship with its Jewish population and a chilling reminder to never forget how dangerous and near antisemitism can be. Built upon a realistic premise—Lindbergh did indeed consider a career in politics at the height of his fame, and was an outspoken voice against the U.S. engaging in any way in the "European war"—it is told through the eyes of a 10-year-old Jewish-American boy from Newark whose parents idolize FDR and are horrified when Lindbergh is elected, assuming it will lead to the sorts of horrors being visited upon the Jews in Germany. As the book progresses, you slowly see how Lindbergh's presidency—both his policies and his rhetoric—divide the nation and even the narrator's family. By the time the book is nearing its conclusion, the prospect of concentration camps in the United States is not farfetched.

And then, in the book's penultimate chapter, the whole thing goes off the rails, as Roth abandons his narrator's personal story and shifts to President Lindbergh's mysterious disappearance, the conspiracies that arise as a result, a near coup in the U.S., and more, all before hastily and tidily putting things back in order, with FDR in the White House for a 3rd term and everything back to normal just in time for Pearl Harbor. The whole chapter feels like a fever dream, as though Philip Roth had grown impatient with his simmering story and was ready to blow it all up so he could move on.

The bizarre ending notwithstanding—and I realize that's a big allowance—this book is all about how quickly a nation's bonds dissolve when the reins of leadership are handed over to a celebrity who cares about "real Americans" but not all Americans. Published in 2004, it is, ahem, prescient. While the deus ex machina ending keeps me from loving it, it's overall an excellent story, and a good one to read this election year.

SEASONS IN HELL by Mark Shropshire

In preparation for the first season when the Texas Rangers get to describe themselves as "defending champions," I decided to pick up what is widely considered the best book ever written about the team, albeit as it existed in its earliest iterations, when they still played in the charmless Arlington Stadium and barely qualified as a major league outfit. What I didn't know is that Seasons in Hell would wind up being the funniest baseball book I've ever read—move over, Ball Four.

The book's author, Mark Shropshire, was a part-time sportswriter for the Fort Worth Press and a full-time hedonist during the three seasons he narrates in the book. In the tradition of Hunter S. Thompson, he pairs the stories of the Rangers with his own booze-soaked stories of the press box, the road, and the team plane. The easily offended will be repulsed by his narration, but Texans with a taste for tall tales will eat it up with the necessary grain of salt.

Rangers fans are introduced to a variety of characters, but the stars are undoubtedly the managers, first the candid Whitey Herzog, who was always up-front about the chances his woebegone roster had for success, and then the volatile Billy Martin, who led Texas on a surprising if unsuccessful pursuit of the pennant in 1974 only to flame out in dramatic fashion the next year just in time to get hired by the Yankees. Also featured heavily is David Clyde, the star high school pitcher who owner Bob Short insisted be called up straight to the big leagues without any time in the minors. Barely mentioned are 1974 MVP Jeff Burroughs or ace pitcher Ferguson Jenkins, presumably because consistent excellence doesn't make for very good copy.

If I have one criticism of the book, it's that Shropshire's snarky hedonism starts to feel like schtick after a while—the book, while not exactly War and Peace at 241 pages, is still perhaps 50 pages too long. Nevertheless, I had a great time reading this, and Shropshire did an admirable job painting a picture of an era that feels like ancient history now. This is a must-read for all Rangers fans—we may be champions now, but you need to know your roots.

7 PRACTICES OF EFFECTIVE MINISTRY by Andy Stanley, Reggie Joiner, and Lane Jones

As books on church leadership and practical ministry go, this is one of the most, well, practical I've yet encountered. Authors Andy Stanley, Reggie Joiner, and Lane Jones all rose to prominence as pastors at North Point Community Church in Atlanta (Stanley and Jones are still there; Joiner has gone on to found Orange, a publishing imprint focused on family ministry), and this book is written to pastors. However, those seeking a book with lots of biblical quotations, spiritual insights, and devotional thoughts will want to look elsewhere—for better and for worse, this is a book that deals exclusively with the nuts and bolts of organizational leadership, while the role of faith, prayer, and the Holy Spirit are assumed rather than stated.

While the book barely references Scripture, it does open with an extended parable, an approach they also used in their book Communicating for a Change. The story, about a pastor who attends a baseball game with the enigmatic owner of the ballclub, sets up the titular seven practices that are then delved into more deeply in the how-to section. It's a transparent-bordering-on-tedious way to introduce the subject matter, but does help elucidate the universality of the principles and keep the whole book from being a how-to seminar.

From there the authors get into the seven practices that, according to the owner in the parable, will help make any organization more effective, including a church. Bouncing between explanations of the practices and examples of how they used them at North Point, the authors convincingly explain the importance of things like clarifying the win, narrowing the focus, and teaching more for less. Pastors and other staff members will likely have no problem imagining how these practices could be better employed in their own churches.

The book's chief weakness is also paradoxically the strength it advertises: the idea that these principles would work for any organization, including the church. By intentionally steering clear of spirituality, this reads like a business book that just happens to be written by pastors. There are undoubtedly insights that churches could benefit from here, but the refusal to even allude to the role of the Spirit or the importance of prayer beyond the book's introduction is off-putting and frustrating.

Like any self-help book, 7 Practices of Effective Ministry is what you make of it. If all you want are the list of practices, you can read the table of contents and get what you need. If you're looking for a springboard for a staff retreat, this will get some good discussions going. But if this book is the end-all and be-all for you, you're going to miss some important things every pastor needs to know about leadership. After all, practical ministry has to account for both of the words in its name: practicalities and ministry.

ESSENTIAL IRON FIST VOL. 1 by Chris Claremont, John Byrne, et al.

Some characters just never become stars. The concept can be good, the costume can be cool, the most talented creators can try their hand, and still...something just doesn't click. Iron Fist, whose adventures I followed this month in the Essential volume collecting his solo adventures in the early-to-mid-1970s, is one of those characters, forever relegated to the B-side of the album despite seeming to have the ingredients for greatness.

When Danny Rand was introduced in the pages of Marvel Premiere, he was clearly just an attempt to capitalize on the kung fu fad that Bruce Lee had kicked off (pun not intended) in Hollywood. Still, his origin was more imaginative than it had to be. Writer Roy Thomas imagined a mystical city, K'un-Lun, which only appeared on earth every 10 years, where the greatest martial artists trained. Danny's father, it was explained, had come upon K'un-Lun years ago only to leave it of his own accord. When he sought it out again, both he and his wife perished in the attempt, leaving Danny to enter K'un-Lun alone and to learn the martial arts and acquire the mystical power of the iron fist.

That's not bad, right? If we're being honest, it's better than "he was bit by a radioactive spider!"

By the time Iron Fist spun out of the pages of Marvel Premiere into his own book, the reins were handed over to a team of up-and-coming creators, writer Chris Claremont and artist John Byrne, who would soon become superstars as the team behind Uncanny X-Men. In their hands, Iron Fist was given a supporting cast, the private investigators Colleen Wing and Misty Knight, and tilted away from being a kung fu character to a more mainstream superhero. But despite their best efforts, Iron Fist was in danger of cancellation after 15 issues, leading the Marvel brass to make the decision to team him up with another character, Luke Cage. That partnership is where both characters would ultimately come into their own and make their most enduring mark on the Marvel Universe.

When I look at Iron Fist, on paper he should have become an iconic character. But after reading this Essential volume, I have to concur with the fans of the time—it's hard to explain, but something's missing. The je ne sais quoi that a Spider-Man or a Hulk has is lacking, and even John Byrne's art can't bring it out. This was far from a bad book, but neither did it stand out. Some characters just aren't meant to be stars, I guess.

Only a Matter of Time (Friday Devotional)

 

Be careful, then, how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time, because the days are evil.

- Ephesians 5:15-16

Yesterday, we lived through something we only get once every four years: Leap Day, a.k.a. February 29. Created to synchronize the calendar year with the astronomical year—because an astronomical year actually lasts 365 ¼ days, not an even 365—the leap day is an idiosyncrasy in the otherwise mundane task of timekeeping.

Its effect is, every four years, we get something we all claim to want: more time. An extra 24 hours to complete tasks, an additional opportunity to get around to something you’ve been procrastinating, a 366^th day of the year to use as you see fit. Nevertheless, chances are you did the same things with that extra time you’d have done with any other day—work, meals, chores, family time, sleep.

We all dream of having more time; we convince ourselves that the clock is all that’s keeping us back from fulfilling our potential. But the trick is not finding more time, it’s wisely using the time we are given.

In Ephesians 5:15-16, Paul warns believers that the days in which we live are evil and unwise, that if we are left to our own devices and the whims of the culture, we will waste the time God has given us. So the Lord calls us not to conform to the patterns of the world, but to make the most of our time, using every precious moment to live for him.

So today, show kindness. Tell the truth. Encourage someone. Pray for wisdom. And in all things, seek God’s will. It’s quite the list of commands, but make no mistake: you have all the time you need.

Granite and Gratitude (Friday Devotional)

We always give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in our prayers, constantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. 

- 1 Thessalonians 1:2-3

I was at an embarrassingly advanced age when I learned that a phrase I’d been using for years was actually a malapropism on my part—I was getting the real expression all wrong.

“I took it for granite,” I said to a friend.

She looked puzzled. “You did what?”

“I took it for granite.”

“You mean you took it for granted?”

I pushed back. “No, no, for granite. You know, I thought it was rock solid, like it would never go away. I took it for granite.”

She was right about the expression, of course. But my confusion aside, there are certainly things—and people—in our lives that we take for granite. I’m talking about the systems that have been operating so efficiently for so long that we assume they run on automatic. I’m talking about the chores around the house that you’ve never had to worry about because your spouse takes care of them. I’m talking about the humble leaders who arrive early and stay late, who do the menial jobs others won’t, who refuse to let something important fall through the cracks on their watch.

When a kind gesture or a gracious act of service is done repeatedly and with no expectation of reward, it’s easy to begin feeling entitled to it, to think that this is just the way things are supposed to be, to turn someone else’s sacrifice into your expectation. It’s easy, you might say, to take it for granite.

So what a helpful reminder the apostle Paul gives us in the epistles which make up much of the New Testament. In letter after letter, he begins with an expression of thanks—thanks to God, thanks to his coworkers in ministry, and thanks to the church who is receiving the letter. Far from considering himself a self-made man, Paul is quick to think of those who have supported him in his ministry, to regard them as indispensable to his work. He seemingly cannot thank others fast enough.

There is a lesson in that for us if we’ll hear it. Think about someone in your life—in your home, your neighborhood, your workplace, your church—whose faithful work you may overlook. They could be anyone from a custodian to a corporate officer, but someone who makes sacrifices without expecting a spotlight. This weekend, take a moment to sincerely, earnestly thank them—not because they need your appreciation, but because they’ve earned it.

Gratitude doesn’t cost a dime of your money or an hour of your time, just a humility of spirit and an ounce of thoughtfulness. So don’t take people for granite—give them gratitude instead.

Knowing the Rules (Friday Devotional)

 

And one of them, an expert in the law, asked him a question to test him. “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.”

- Matthew 22:35-40

There were a million fascinating storylines and conversations coming out of last Sunday’s Super Bowl LVIII. Some wanted to talk about whether this Kansas City Chiefs team—after their 3rd championship in five years—now officially qualifies as a dynasty, and where Patrick Mahomes ranks on the all-time list of quarterbacks. Plenty of folks were talking about a moment in the first quarter when tight end Travis Kelce, frustrated by the team’s play at that point, screamed at and bumped head coach Andy Reid. And speaking of Kelce, more than a few people wanted to dissect every moment caught on camera between him and his girlfriend—maybe you’ve heard of her.

But the story that caught my attention in the days following the Super Bowl was about the overtime period, only the second to ever happen in the big game. Several 49ers players confessed to the media after the game that they didn’t know the rules about possession, which were different from both the regular season and from postseasons in the past. Apparently the coaching staff had never covered that eventuality with them. For all the players’ talent, skill, and preparation, they somehow went out on the field not knowing the rules.

Thankfully, this is not the case for believers in Jesus—we have been told what is expected of us. When Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was, he gave a two-part answer grounded in Scripture: love God and love your neighbor. These two basic laws, he said, were the foundation of everything the Law and the Prophets had to say.

But Jesus didn’t just tell us to do these things, he showed us what a life grounded in these commandments looked like. All the way to the cross, Jesus showed obedience to his heavenly Father even as he showed grace to everyone he encountered.

So in the light of his resurrection, we have been given our marching orders: to live as he lived and love as he loved. We know the rules of the game—and with Jesus as Lord, we know victory is assured.

Who's the Bad Guy? (Friday Devotional)

 

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

- John 10:10

There’s a question my daughter has been fixated on lately whenever she’s taking in a new story. It could be a cartoon on TV, a movie on Netflix, or a picture book—no matter the media, she’s guaranteed to point at a character and ask, “Is that the bad guy?”

Thankfully in kids’ storytelling, it’s not hard to figure out that answer. The bad guy is usually pretty scary-looking and he lurks around the main character menacingly and his entrance is marked by foreboding music. Often the bad guy dresses in all black and lives in a cave or a dark castle. He usually has henchmen of some sort, and while they sometimes serve as comic relief, his bullying of them serves to remind you of his status as the Big Bad.

Despite all these visual cues, whenever we answer Katherine’s question, we try to answer based on what the antagonist is doing. Ursula isn’t the villain of The Little Mermaid because she has slimy tentacles, but because she steals Ariel’s voice. Scar isn’t the bad guy in The Lion King because he has darker, mangier fur than Mufasa, but because he kills his brother. We know who’s good and bad in these stories based on what they do.

The Bible makes clear that as believers, we face an enemy of our own, the same devil who caused Adam and Eve to fall in Eden and who unsuccessfully sought to make Jesus do the same in the wilderness. The Bible depicts him at various times as a serpent in a garden, a prowling lion looking for someone to devour, and a fierce dragon making war on God’s people. Based on those metaphors, you might think it’s as easy to spot him as it is to find the bad guy in a children’s book.

But truthfully, the way we distinguish between the devil’s lies and the Lord’s truth is not by looks, but actions. Our enemy is destructive, coming to steal and kill and destroy. Jesus, on the other hand, comes to build up and to bring growth. While the devil is an agent of destruction, Jesus is the resurrection and the life.

So as you discern every day what is of the Lord and what is of the world, don’t make your judgment too quickly based on what you see. Looks can be deceiving, and flash can mask a lack of substance. Even the devil, 2 Corinthians 11:14 says, disguises himself as an angel of light. Look instead to the impact made on the world—either for good or ill, to create or destroy, to help or to hurt.

The bad guys don’t always have horns, and the good guys don’t always wear white. So look to their fruits instead—and in all things, be an agent of life and love.

The Shape of Things to Come (Friday Devotional)

 

Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.

Proverbs 19:21

Well, it’s official. Punxsutawney Phil the groundhog saw his shadow and we’re in for six more weeks of winter. Don’t put those coats away yet—we know what to expect now.

…unless, of course, he didn’t see his shadow, which means you can say hello to an early spring. I’m writing this on Wednesday, so I can’t really tell you one way or the other what the future holds. And for that matter, neither can a Pennsylvania rodent!

It would be nice if there was some kind of tool we could use, some guru we could consult to know the future in advance. But absent any psychic groundhogs, we instead make our best projections and plans, trying to shape the future we want.

What Scripture reminds us is that none of us—not you, not me, not Punxsutawney Phil—knows the future. The only one who knows what tomorrow brings is the God who was and is and is to come, the Lord who is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Your job is not to prognosticate or project, but to align yourself with God’s will, trusting him with the future.

We may be in for more winter or spring may be right around the corner. Who knows? Don’t put your faith in a rodent’s predictions, or even your own—instead of playing guessing games about tomorrow, be obedient today.

January Reading Log

  

In 2023, I've resolved to read more. In fact, I want to set a personal record for number of pages read, which means I'll need to read more than 18,000 pages. So look for these monthly logs to get even longer (or the reviews to get shorter!) I got off to a good start in January, so take a look!

THE PIONEERS by David McCullough

In 2019, David McCullough was one of America's preeminent historians, a household name in a field that doesn't have many. A two-time Pulitzer Prize winner for Truman and John Adams, he had earned a well-deserved reputation as both a studious researcher and a talented storyteller, capable of turning monuments into men and dusty tomes into captivating tales. All he had to do was pick a project and any publisher would have printed whatever he wrote, no questions asked.

So he wrote The Pioneers.

Far more narrowly focused than some of his other works, this book tells the history of the Northwest Ordinance, the 1788 opening up of territory northwest of the Ohio River, and specifically of the settlement of Marietta. Ostensibly a case study about the pioneers of that era, McCullough seeks to explain through Marietta's history what drove those early settlers, to describe their living conditions, and to show how their priorities—particularly free public education and the abolition of slavery—would shape the nation moving forward.

Unfortunately, the book is just kind of a drag, a dull, repetitive slog of names and dates without much narrative propulsion. Great history books, like those that made McCullough famous, tell a compelling story...and there's just not much story here. I picked it up expecting Daniel Boone-style frontier tales, but instead got a lot of mini-biographies of farmers and tradesmen.

In the acknowledgements, McCullough explains that the idea for this book came after spending a day at Ohio University's library, where he learned about Marietta's settlement and saw how much untapped research there was related to it. Faced with that treasure trove, he couldn't resist diving in. That explanation, to me, says it all—this book is a historian's pet project, not a story the general public was demanding to hear. David McCullough is an American icon, and deservedly so, but you can skip The Pioneers.

A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN by James Joyce

I am allergic to pretentiousness. It's why I'd rather eat an $8 burger than a five-course meal at a Michelin star restaurant, why I prefer the blues to classical music, why I never seriously considered a career in academia even though there is much I love about it. And it's why James Joyce is just not for me.

Joyce wrote four books in his lifetime, each less accessible than the one that came before it. Dubliners is reportedly the most readable, the kind of book your average high schooler could get through. At the other end of the spectrum is Finnegan's Wake, which even many scholars consider incomprehensible. And in between are his most highly regarded novels, Ulysses and A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. I read Ulysses back in 2017, painstakingly plowing through 5 pages a day until I finished it. My experience with that book—I not only hated it, but resented it, finding it more of a cipher than a story—put me off of reading any more Joyce for years. But, with more than 5 years removed from that experience, I decided to finally tackle his other classic.

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is a borderline autobiographical account of an Irishman, Stephen Dedalus (who would later reappear in Ulysses) who, as he grows up, realizes that he can only achieve his artistic potential by leaving behind the things holding him back—namely religion and family—and devoting himself purely to the pursuit and expression of beauty. Following Stephen from his home to a Jesuit-run boarding school to university, we see him struggle with his upbringing and veer between the extremes of hedonism and religious devotion before finally reaching his artistic enlightenment.

If that's all a little woo-woo for you, join the club. That sense is only heightened by Joyce's storytelling, which is not linear and mixes third-person narrative with sparse dialogue. It's not as ambitious—i.e. cryptic—as Ulysses stylistically, but neither is it direct. This book is not the labor to read that its famed sequel is, but it's not a pleasure either.

My main takeaway from this book was the same one I had in 2017—James Joyce seems far more interested in impressing professors than pleasing readers. I was able to follow A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man without aids most of the time, but I almost never enjoyed the experience. What can I say—I'd rather read an author who wants me to understand than one who wants to show off.

THE ACCOMMODATION by Jim Schutze

The Accommodation is a book possibly better known for its publishing history than its contents. First printed in 1987, it initially sold poorly. But as it was passed around the city, it became something of an underground classic—one that not-so-mysteriously had trouble ever finding a second printing. Into the 2000s, the waiting list to check it out from the Dallas Public Library was months long, and copies went for hundreds of dollars on eBay. In 2020, one Twitter user, @accomodation87, began tweeting the book line by line for those who wanted to read it but couldn't get their hands on a copy. It wasn't until 2021, when the local independent press Deep Vellum rereleased the book, that many North Texans were finally able to read what D Magazine once called "the most dangerous book in Dallas."

So what was all the fuss about?

The Accommodation bluntly tells a story that Dallas' elites never wanted told, about how a soft alliance between the city's white business leaders and its conservative black leaders repeatedly sacrificed the interests of black residents in the name of preventing the kind of outright racial violence that stained the reputations of places like Birmingham, Montgomery, Little Rock, and Watts. Loosely organized around a series of bombings of black homes in the 1950s, Dallas Times-Herald journalist Jim Schutze details everything from Dallas' pre-Civil War history up through the seizure of black residents' homes by eminent domain to expand parking for the State Fair, compellingly showing how race shaped Dallas' history, even as leaders tried to paint the city as a commerce-first beacon of harmony.

North Texas residents will quickly hone in on Schutze's keen feel for the ethos of Dallas, a place where business always wins and the real power is found in the hands of the wealthy, not necessarily the political or social elite. What may come as news is how, for most of the city's history, that reality was practically codified, with the city effectively managed by a Citizens Council of business leaders. Those leaders consistently trumpeted the importance of looking out for "Dallas as a whole"—and the citizens who were required to make sacrifices for that whole were almost always black. Schutze puts it this way in the book's final pages:

"In politics anyway, Dallas was annexed and became an integral part of the United States in 1978. Up to that moment, it was a well-run, pre-democratic city-state, ruled by a board of elders who valued wealth and ritual over truth and law."

I found The Accommodation to be an informative, explosive, if somewhat disorganized account of Dallas' racial history. The framing device of the 1950s bombings is used so loosely that it feels like the writer keeps forgetting about it, only to be reminded and return. I would have probably preferred a more linear storytelling format for such a sprawling history. Nevertheless, there is a lot of meat on these bones, and Schutze writes with both an eye for detail and a flair for the dramatic. The Accomodation isn't the most unbiased or flawless history book you'll ever pick up, but it's essential reading for North Texans—and, thanks to Deep Vellum, now you can actually get your hands on a copy!

LETTER FROM BIRMINGHAM JAIL by Martin Luther King, Jr.

My review from January 2023:

I make a point to read this American epistle every MLK Day, and this year was no exception. Addressed to a collection of white, moderate pastors who were concerned with Dr. King's protest-centered approach to social change, its central theme can be summarized by its most famous quote: "injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."

Drawing from Scripture, American history, and outright common sense, King systematically dismantles the concerns of his fellow pastors, showing how both his faith and his heritage demand that he remain outspoken on the subject of civil rights, and how the methodology of the movement is not only effective, but moral. Furthermore, King respectfully but forcefully decries the caution of his fellow pastors, convincingly arguing that there are times when God calls his children to boldness, not moderation.

For someone who proudly identifies as a moderate on social and political issues, Letter from Birmingham Jail challenges me on an annual basis. I consider it to be right up there with the Gettysburg Address among the greatest works of American political writing—if you've never taken the time to read it in its entirety, do it now.

THE CASE FOR THE PSALMS by N.T. Wright

The Book of Psalms is, theoretically, the church's hymn book, a treasure trove of ancient praises, laments, reflections, and songs that gives us language to worship our God. So why do so few churches use the psalms as intended, instead picking out a few beloved verses while mostly ignoring the rest? Why do we settle for silently reading words that were meant to be sung?

In The Case for the Psalms, theologian and biblical scholar N.T. Wright argues that the psalms are essential for believers. Using the lenses of time, space, and matter, he argues that they give us insight into creation as it is and the new creation to come—they invoke the past and anticipate the future, they celebrate both the Temple and the world to come, they delight in not only the heavens, but also the earth. It's a structure that isn't immediately intuitive, but fits his theology well and is well-sourced (Wright cites a lot of psalms!)

While I appreciated the core of the book, my favorite part was the afterword, when Wright explained how the psalms have been there for him at various times in his life. This personal touch, which you don't always expect from theologians, was appropriate to the subject matter and helped drive home his overall point: the psalms are here for you, so use them! Sing them!

The highest compliment I can pay this book is that, immediately after finishing it, I read five psalms. Mission accomplished, Professor Wright.

THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER by Tom Clancy

It's easy for me to understand why The Hunt for Red October was a box office hit in 1990. With Sean Connery, Alec Baldwin, Sam Neill, and James Earl Jones in the cast, there was plenty of star power. Its story of a Russian submarine commander defecting to the U.S. provided a great framework for a military thriller. And after the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, who wasn't in the mood for a pro-America Cold War story? Yes, the film adaptation of Tom Clancy's 1984 novel was an easy sell for audiences everywhere. The same was true for Clancy's future offerings, which spawned movies, TV shows, and video games that endure to this day. 

I'm just surprised the book that started it all has as many fans as it does.

Clancy, to be clear, plotted out a great story, with an appropriate balance between military plausibility and Hollywood drama. The problem is his storytelling, which is wooden at best. Clancy loves military and technical jargon, and this reader was quickly put off by it. Indeed, there were times when reading this novel felt more like homework than entertainment, a feeling I wasn't expecting from a popular novel. Some have dubbed Clancy the father of the "techno thriller", and after reading The Hunt for Red October, it's clear which of those two words was the priority in his debut.

For the weekend warrior who plays Call of Duty for 10 hours straight, falls asleep to World War II documentaries, and owns way too many paintball guns, this book may be right up your alley. After all, somebody was buying all those Tom Clancy books in the 1990s and 2000s. But that somebody isn't me. Half Price Books can have this one back.

EX MACHINA BOOKS 1-5 by Brian K. Vaughan and Tony Harris

Proof that Brian K. Vaughan is one of the best comics writers of all time: Ex Machina isn't usually even mentioned as one of his best books. Better known for Y: The Last Man, Runaways, and his ongoing work on Saga, Vaughan has rightfully earned a reputation over the years for witty dialogue, memorable characters, slowly unfolding plots, and last-page cliffhangers. And with Ex Machina, which ran for 50 issues and a few specials, Vaughan put his powers to good use, crafting an ongoing story that kept readers entertained from issue to issue even as they waited to see where it was all going. It's not his best work, but it's better than most runs you'll ever read.

Ex Machina is the story of Mitchell Hundred, a onetime New York superhero who parlayed his stint as a vigilante into a successful run for mayor of the Big Apple. Issue to issue, readers see him working his way through city politics even as he is repeatedly confronted by the life he left behind. As you might have gathered, it's basically The West Wing meets Superman, a fantasy for all those comic nerds who got straight A's in poli-sci.

The book's greatest strength is Vaughan's ability each issue to balance the A-plot (whatever political issue Hundred is facing that week) with the simmering mysteries of how he got his powers, where they come from, and whether some extradimensional looming threat is waiting to take him on. The book's political plots are episodic even as its mysteries are serialized, a balance that would serve Vaughan well when he moved to TV writing on shows like Lost and Under the Dome.

The book's biggest weakness is that it is very much of its time, the not-remotely-subtle response of a center-left writer to the excesses of the second Bush administration. Both the book's ethos and the specific issues it addresses plant it firmly in the mid-2000s, when the world was a very different place than it is today. This is the persistent danger when your book tries to tackle politics, and in this case it leads to some moments where I rolled my eyes when the authorial intention was for me to be inspired.

All in all, the nerds who draw equal inspiration from Aaron Sorkin and Christopher Reeves will find a kindred spirit in this book, and Vaughan's consistently excellent writing (not to mention the underrated art of Tony Harris) will keep you hooked throughout. This book is dated, but it's an original concept and a great way to spend some time.