God, Please Help (Friday Devotional)

Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving. 

- Colossians 4:2

Every time an ambulance speeds past, I can count on hearing two things. The first, naturally, is the siren. But the second sound is the quiet voice of my daughter Katherine in the backseat.

“Dear God, please help the people where the ambulance is going. Amen.”

The origin of this prayer comes from a day, years ago, when Katherine had a lot of questions after an ambulance drove by. Who were they going to help? What was wrong with the person? What were the paramedics going to do when they got there?

At the time, we told Katherine we didn’t have the answers to her questions, nor did we have a way to find out those answers. But what we told her we could do was pray for the people in need and for the paramedics seeking to help them. And so, without fail or hesitation, she does so every time she hears a siren screaming.

There are times when, even as adults, we find ourselves like Katherine in the backseat, filled with questions and concerns but no answers. Grown-ups like to imagine we can solve all our problems on our own, but life has a way of disabusing us of that notion. Sometimes you just don’t know what to do.

In such moments of confusion and disorder, the best thing to do is to turn to the one who has the answers we don’t, offering the simple prayer that has sustained God’s people since the beginning: “God, please help.”

Such a prayer won’t necessarily result in God intervening to solve your problem for you. Praise the Lord when he does, but it’s not exactly the point. Prayer is simply your acknowledgement that you are not sovereign over all things—and that you know who is. It’s an act of trust.

So today, let me encourage you to turn your anxieties, whatever they may be, over to God. You don’t have all the answers, and you may not get them. But there’s something humble, something faithful, and something powerful about looking to the Lord, and simply saying, “God, please help.”

April Reading Log

I don't know if you've heard, but April was kind of a busy month for pastors. So my normal daily reading routine (30 minutes of church reading, 30 minutes of comics, 30 minutes of a novel, plus bedtime reading with the kids) definitely fell by the wayside a lot of days. Nevertheless, here's what I was able to finish last month!

THE CROSS OF CHRIST by John Stott

Christians of all stripes are unanimous on this simple statement: Jesus Christ died on the cross for our sins. That's a fundamental truth of the faith, really the fundamental truth of the faith.

But what does it mean? Why did Jesus die, how does his death save us, and how does the manner and the meaning of his death affect the way we live in the world?

Those are the questions which pastor and theologian John Stott seeks to answer in The Cross of Christ, one of the 20th century's best-loved books about Christianity. In this theological masterpiece, Stott covers everything from the historical meaning of crucifixion to the various atonement theories to ethics, all with the erudition of a scholar but the tone and diction of a pastor. For all the heavy subject matter, this is a remarkably readable book, more akin to a sermon than a dusty tome.

I am grateful especially for this book's defense of the idea of substitutionary atonement, which has been taking a beating in moderate-to-liberal theological circles over the last few years. Those critics rightly point out that, taken to the extreme, the picture of the Son dying to appease the wrath of his Father paints God as a monstrous, abusive deity. But it's virtually impossible to read the epistles (especially Paul's) and deny that Jesus on the cross in some way stands in as a substitute for us. Stott's defense, largely on incarnational, Trinitarian lines (i.e. Christ's sacrifice is God's self-sacrifice) is effective and far more persuasive than the more hard-edged cases I've seen from Reformed types like Piper and Sproul, who sometimes seem more intent on defending Paul than proclaiming God's love.

The Cross of Christ, which I picked up as Lenten reading this year and finished shortly after Easter, is a book I'd gladly put in the hands of anyone wanting a primer on why the cross matters. Highly recommended.

THE SURVIVOR: BILL CLINTON IN THE WHITE HOUSE by John F. Harris

I am fascinated by Bill Clinton as a historical character. Some of that is nostalgia talking—he was the president for most of my childhood, which also happens to be the last time it felt like we knew what we were doing as a country. But more than that, I find him interesting because of how contradictory a person he is, almost to a literary degree. He was always, as was said so many times it became a cliché, 'a man whose gifts were matched only by his appetites.'

On the one hand, Clinton was universally regarded as a brilliant politician, as adept at the ins and outs of campaigning, fundraising, and and wooing legislators as he was at governing domestically and internationally. His mind was matched by both his work ethic—the Clinton White House was as known for all-nighters as a college library—and his love for the job. In so many ways, Bill Clinton seemed tailor-made to be President of the United States.

But the man just couldn't get out of his own way. His high-minded morality on issues of public policy was contrasted with a relativistic private character that was lawyerly at best, sleazy at worst. From the friends he kept to the sexual affairs he hid to the lies and half-truths he told (often in an attempt to wriggle out of scandal), you always felt there was something grimy under the surface of Bill Clinton, something he wasn't nearly careful enough to keep contained.

The result is a president and a presidency that feels, some 30 years later, small. The 1990s was a time of peace, in between the end of the Cold War and the catastrophe of 9/11. It was a period of prosperity, when Clinton and the Republican Congress he was saddled with managed to balance the budget and grow the economy. By all accounts, it was exactly what voters want from their president.

But instead of newspapers being filled with Clinton's accomplishments, they were dominated by his self-inflicted (and, yes, Ken Starr-exacerbated) wounds. For every legislative victory, there was a new lawsuit. For every international summit, there was another whisper about a woman. For every speech, there was a leak.

So The Survivor, a journalistic account of the Clinton presidency, winds up being a conventional reflection of its subject. At times it feels like a Doris Kearns Goodwin-esque treatment, the kind of historical work that stands the test of time. Other chapters feel like tabloid fodder, gossipy inside baseball all about who's up and who's down in Washington. It's well-reported and easy to read. It just feels like it should mean more.

We're still waiting to see how history will ultimately judge Bill Clinton, and this book, published in 2005, doesn't have the perspective to deliver that judgment. Will he be remembered for his gifts or his failings? After reading The Survivor, I can't help but wonder if the answer will be neither—if, in a true nightmare for a man who wanted above all things to be loved, we will eventually just forget about him.

GEORGE'S MARVELLOUS MEDICINE by Roald Dahl
ESSIO TROT by Roald Dahl
BILLY AND THE MINPINS by Roald Dahl

George's Marvelous Medicine tells the story of a boy who, tired of being mistreated by his wicked grandmother, whips up a concoction that mixes virtually every chemical in his house and gives it to her grandmother. The result? She grows as big as the house, prompting his father to demand that George make more medicines for profit, until that plan inevitably goes awry. It all makes for a silly little fable.

Esio Trot is probably the most obscure Dahl book we've read, and for good reason. It's a quirky little story of a lonely old man who woos his upstairs neighbor by caring for her beloved pet tortoise and lying about how he helped it grow. Dahl somehow makes the book's questionable moral—a little white lie will win you love—seem sweet. But yeah, this is definitely the kind of story Dahl wouldn't have been able to get published earlier in his career before he was a big name.

Finally comes Billy and the Minpins, a tale about a boy who discovers a whole society of miniature creatures living in the tree in his backyard. That intriguing premise doesn't really go far, but it's a charming enough story, most notable for being the last one Dahl published.

All three of these books are slim (less than 100 pages apiece) and forgettable entries in the Dahl oeuvre, necessary to knock out as we come to the end of our box set of his works. None were favorites of mine, but the kids enjoyed them all to varying degrees.

ESSENTIAL X-MEN VOL. 10 by Christ Claremont, Marc Silvestri, Jim Lee, et al.

Ok, story time.

If you've been reading these monthly logs for a while, you know that, from the late 1970s through the 1980s, the X-Men were written exclusively by Chris Claremont. Through highs and lows, his vision dictated the path the team took, for better and for worse. And since the title exploded in popularity over that time, Marvel editorial let him play in his sandbox without much supervision, content to cash the checks.

Then in the early 1990s, fissures started to form. For one thing, the X-verse had expanded far beyond the Uncanny X-Men title, with the additions of The New Mutants, X-Factor, and Excalibur, not all of which were written by Claremont. For another, Claremont's ideas, like breaking up the team and having them spend more than 5 years in a disassembled state, started to become unfeasible from a sales perspective. Finally, a new superstar artist, Jim Lee, came on board, armed with not only talent but ideas of his own.

So Essential X-Men Vol. 10, and especially the line-wide crossover event "X-tinction Agenda," marks the beginning of the end for Claremont, as Marvel editorial started dictating direction in a way they never had before. That story, which takes up nearly half this volume, sees the X-Men kidnapped by a former ally and taken to the mutant apartheid state of Genosha, where the intention is to enslave them. Entertaining but waaaaay too stretched out, it ends with the board reset, many of Claremont's loose ends having been tied up not by his storytelling but by editorial fiat.

Before that, there are highlights, primarily the introduction of Gambit, the charismatic Cajun thief who brings a refreshing devil-may-care attitude to the proceedings. And Jim Lee's art, whenever you get it for a full issue, is truly a sight to behold—you can see why fans were swooning over him in the 1990s.

Nevertheless, this period of X-history is marked primarily by behind-the-scenes machinations, not the stories on the page. The next and final Essential volume sees the peak of the X-Men's popularity, with the introduction of the bestselling, adjectiveless X-Men title...and Claremont's departure from the book and from Marvel after only 3 issues. Check back in next month to read all about it!

Making the Time (Friday Devotional)

 

Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.

- James 4:8

“Can we read tonight?”

It’s a question that, especially on busy nights, I know the kids are inevitably going to ask me. Bedtime reading is something they never want to skip—I’m not sure if it’s the book they enjoy, the quality time, getting to stay up for a few extra minutes, or all of the above, but regardless, that time is important to them.

In a perfect world, I would say yes every time; I would give them the 10 minutes they’re begging for. But I confess, some nights I don’t. Some nights we don’t get home until an hour past their bedtime. Some nights I’m worn out from a long day and don’t have it in me. Some nights they’re bouncing off the walls and I don’t want to reward them. And so some nights I send them to bed without reading to them.

But here’s the thing: I always regret it afterwards. No matter how good my excuse is in the moment, I always wish later that I’d taken the time—just a few minutes—to read to my children. After all, someday they’re going to stop asking.

Along those lines, I’m reminded of a common teaching in the evangelical church about the importance of a daily “quiet time,” a personal devotional time between you and God. To be clear, there’s no explicit command in Scripture that you devote 15 minutes to Bible reading and prayer every day. But just as obvious is that doing so is fruitful—it’ not a coincidence that the gospel writers tell us Jesus often rose early and spent time alone in prayer.

For my part, I do not legalistically set aside 15 minutes per day to read a few Bible verses and pray as though doing so were one of the Ten Commandments. But I’ll tell you this—when I don’t make that kind of time for the Lord, I miss it.

Some days are so busy it feels like you can’t find time for the Lord. Some days you’re so distracted that you feel like you can’t possibly focus on your Bible. Some days you just don’t feel like having a quiet time. I get it; really, I do.

But just like my kids want that time with their Dad, your heavenly Father wants some time with you. Don’t let momentary priorities pull you away from what truly matters.

Beyond the Trivia (Friday Devotional)

 

All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, so that the person of God may be proficient, equipped for every good work.

- 2 Timothy 3:16-17

Lately, my son Andrew is in a phase I remember well and, if I’m honest, never completely outgrew: he is memorizing as many fun facts about baseball as possible. And he can’t wait to share them with me.

“Daddy, do you know how many players hit more than 700 home runs in their career?” [Yes, there are four: Bonds, Aaron, Ruth, Pujols.]

“Daddy, do you know who has the 2^nd most World Series wins of all time? [Yes, the St. Louis Cardinals. Had to Google how many, though.]

“Daddy, do you know how many 1952 Mickey Mantle cards still exist? [….nope. He’s got me there.]

Rarely does a drive home from school occur without Andrew peppering me with these kinds of trivia questions. He’s just so excited to soak up every bit of baseball history possible that he can’t keep the newfound knowledge to himself.

Some of us are the same with the Bible—we’re always excited to learn something new, whether it’s a connection between two passages, a bit of historical context, or a new interpretation of a familiar verse. Maybe you’re somebody who can rattle off the names of the twelve tribes of Israel or the twelves disciples; maybe you like to scour biblical genealogies for familiar names.

All of that is wonderful, because it shows a love for God’s Word and a desire to know more about him. The trick, however, is to go beyond the fun facts to what they mean—not just to learn trivia, but to apply Scripture to your life.

God gave us the Bible, all 66 books of it, so that we would know him better and know better how to live for him. It’s fun to pick up exegetical nuggets, but it’s far more useful to let God’s Word take root in your heart. So keep reading and keep learning—not just the surface-level fun facts, but also the deeper truths of who God is and what he calls you to do.

Never Forsaken (Friday Devotional)

 

At three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

- Mark 15:34

Of the seven things Jesus said from the cross—from the pitiable “I thirst” to the climactic “it is finished,” it is his despairing cry to heaven that has always struck my heart the deepest.

“Eloi, Eloi, lema sabacthani?”

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

You may know that, when Jesus shouted those words, he was quoting Scripture, specifically Psalm 22. That particular psalm is one that sees David taken from the depths of depression to the heights of faithful worship—over the course of its 31 verses, David reminds himself that, even when he was in the most severe danger, God never left his side. Therefore, David declares in the song’s final verses, he remains certain that, despite his present circumstances, the Lord is worthy of all praise.

For this reason, there’s some disagreement on what Jesus was getting at when he quoted Psalm 22 from the cross. For some, Jesus obviously means exactly what it sounds like—he is in utter despair, and from the depths of his humanity he is lamenting the physical, emotional, and spiritual suffering he is enduring on our behalf. For others, the reference to the psalm shows that Jesus’ anguish is tinged with faith—just as David despaired but knew God would not truly leave him, the Son of David weeps on the cross but knows that resurrection is coming.

Reasonable people can (and do) disagree on which interpretation is right. But this week when I looked to Psalm 22, I kept reading to the next chapter, and was met with another verse, one you’ve undoubtedly heard before: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.”

It got me thinking. I don’t know whether Jesus, fully human, experienced true hopelessness on the cross or whether Jesus, fully divine, remained totally in control. I don’t know whether Jesus believed himself to be abandoned by God or whether he was actually foreshadowing glory yet to come. I don’t know for certain whether, having taken on all the sins of the world, Jesus was truly forsaken at his death or not.

What I do know is that, because of Jesus’ death on the cross, you can sing every word of the psalms—the travails and the triumphs—with conviction. I do know that even when you feel abandoned, you are never alone. I do know that, even though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you need not fear any evil—for God is with you.

Because Jesus endured suffering that was rightfully ours, we can lay claim to the glories of eternity. Because he gave his body and his blood, we are cleansed of sin and guilt. Because Jesus died, we get to know resurrection.

Eloi, Eloi, lema sabacthani? From the mouth of Jesus, those words are now carved in our hearts for eternity. But because of Jesus, we know they are not our story. You are never forsaken—God sent his Son for you.

Easier Than You Think (Friday Devotional)

 

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.

- Ephesians 2:8-9

All day long Tuesday, I was a bundle of nerves. That night, my son Andrew’s Little League team was going to have their first game of the season. As one of the coaches, I was especially invested in seeing them have fun and play well, but it wasn’t the team’s success that had me sweating. What was making me anxious was having to pitch.

You see, at this age level, for the first half of the season, the coach is responsible for pitching to his team, and I had learned two things in our practices leading up to the game. First, the 46 feet from the pitching rubber to home plate felt a lot further than I’d expected. Second, 6 to 8-year-olds have reeeeeally small strike zones. Even after several weeks of practice, I still wasn’t consistently giving the kids perfect pitches—and now I was going to have to do it in a game situation, with their parents watching (and judging) me.

So by the time we got to the field, I was tense, enough so that I didn’t even eat dinner. I tried to have fun while we warmed the kids up, but my eyes kept shifting over to the mound. My moment of reckoning was at hand.

Then, just a few minutes before the game was supposed to start, I saw the coach from the other team—a man who’s been doing this for years—throwing some warmup pitches to his catcher, and I noticed he wasn’t doing so from the rubber, or even off the mound. In fact, he was a good six feet in front of where I’d been practicing.

I approached him and said, “Hey, sorry, I’m new at this. Just checking, are we supposed to throw off the mound or can we scoot closer?”

He chuckled. “Technically you’re supposed to throw from the front edge of the mound. But don’t worry too much about it…they don’t care where you stand, they just want the kids to see some good pitches.” After all that concern and anxiety and neuroticism, it turns out I’d been worried about nothing—my effort wasn’t what mattered at all.

That lesson reminds me of the fundamental truth we remember and rejoice in next week as our eyes turn to the cross of Christ—for all the import we place on our behavior, it isn’t ultimately what matters to God. What we do isn’t really the point.

God sent Jesus to die on the cross because our salvation isn’t something we’re capable of earning—it had to be given to us. Our righteousness isn’t the point, his is. Our works aren’t the point, his grace is.

We make it all too difficult, too complicated, sometimes—and too self-focused. So as Good Friday approaches, let me encourage you to take your foot off the metaphorical rubber. Scoot up a few feet. Relax and take a deep breath, because it’s not all about you anyway. Jesus has done what’s needed—and because of him, there’s grace for you.

March Reading Log

I had a reading slump midway through March, where I went nearly 2 weeks reading little and barely registering what I did read. Nevertheless, there are 31 days in the month of March, so I was able to make up for that slump on the front and back ends. Here's what I completed last month!

THINK: THE LIFE OF THE MIND AND THE LOVE OF GOD by John Piper

About once per year, I decide to read a book by John Piper, the enormously influential and prolific former theologian and pastor who served as the godfather of the Young, Restless, Reformed movement within evangelicalism. Inevitably, I get a few pages in and remember: while I respect Piper (even though we are not 100% aligned theologically), I really don't enjoy his writing style.

Such was the case, once again, when I read Think, his treatise on how believers should regard intellectual curiosity. I appreciate Piper's mission with this book, seeking to find a middle path between the anti-intellectual attitude of fundamentalism and the cold, sometimes faithless liberalism of the academy. Turning to Scripture, he argues for the importance of reading, research, and critical thinking, even as he disputes the notion that thoughtful consideration must be undertaken absent sincere faith.

Unfortunately, as I've learned and relearned so many times, I think Piper's just kind of a boring writer. As a preacher, he's always been the type that has you flipping from reference to reference, prooftext to prooftext, a style which analytical types appreciate but more artistic/creative temperaments find tiresome. As someone closer to the latter category, I see the same pattern in his writing. I don't question his passion or sincerity, but functionally it's a drag to read.

I appreciate the project of Think, and Piper's contention that you can be full of curiosity and faith, that you can be a scholar and a pastor. But, at least for my taste, I think there are authors who make the case in a more compelling way. See you again at this time next year, John Piper.

ANATOMY OF A REVIVED CHURCH by Thom S. Rainer

As part of my church's strategic planning process, I assigned this book as required reading, having previously read and benefitted from it myself in 2020. That review can be read here,

THE ONLY RULE IS IT HAS TO WORK by Ben Lindbergh and Sam Miller

In 2015, baseball writers Ben Lindbergh and Sam Miller had an idea while cohosting an episode of their Effectively Wild podcast: what if statistically minded baseball fans like themselves were given free reign to run a baseball team as they saw fit? It didn't take long before, after a series of phone calls and meetings, they got their wish: for the 2015 baseball season, they joined the front office of the independent Sonoma Stompers, where they were empowered to make whatever changes they felt they could get away with without burning the team to the ground. Their only self-imposed limitation became the title of the book chronicling their experience: The Only Rule Is It Has to Work.

Ben and Sam—forgive the informality; I've been listening to their podcast for years, so we have that weird parasocial relationship where I feel like they're my friends even though we've never met—learned a lot over their season running the club. For one thing, they almost immediately saw why front offices have such conservative approaches—baseball players and coaches are creatures of habit, and anyone looking to change those habits needs to tread lightly. For another, they observed how the kinds of stat-based innovations which fans obsess over—everything from infield shifts to using relief pitchers in nontraditional situations—make minimal (though not nonexistent) differences to the outcomes of games.

But truthfully, their experiment is not what I found most interesting about the book, nor do I think it's what they found most interesting themselves. What makes this book such a fun ride is its portrait of independent league baseball, which runs on shoestring budgets and big dreams. Far removed from the affiiated minor leagues, indy ball is where unsigned college players go to keep chasing their dream and where veterans who can't hack a AA roster go to delay getting a real job for a few more months. It's a place where the general manager leaves in the middle of a game because the video crew needs an extension cord. It's a place where a late round draft pick can get traded for half a dozen donuts—literally.

The charm of the smalltime league contrasted with the incredibly high stakes for the players—all of whom, delusional or not, still dream of making the majors—makes for captivating human interest stories. And it's when the people, not the strategies, are center stage that this book sings. Sam's chapters in particular—he and Ben alternate—focus heavily on the writers' attempts to get to know the players in pursuit of making them better.

For baseball fans, this book is a fun ride, the kind that will make you fall in love with the game all over again and have you Googling the nearest indy league game. Highly recommended.

BILLY LYNN'S LONG HALFTIME WALK by Ben Fountain

Until just a few months ago, when he returned home to North Carolina, Ben Fountain was Dallas' literary light, largely due to the popularity and critical acclaim of this debut novel, 2012's Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk. Ostensibly, this is the story of a group of Iraq war veterans who, following a heroic operation overseas, are paraded around the U.S. in support of the war effort even as they struggle with the trauma of what they endured.

But in Fountain's able hands, there is much more going on beneath the surface. Told mostly from the perspective of Specialist Billy Lynn, this novel examines everything from the propaganda of the military-industrial complex to the guilt non-veterans feel for not serving to the reality of PTSD for soldiers. What is exposed throughout the book is hypocrisy: that of a government that sends young people off to die with too little regard for the consequences, and of the soldiers themselves who are treated like heroes even as they behave like ordinary men.

This was a captivating, if not a particularly enjoyable, read. Due to both its reputation and the author's local connections, I finally picked it up midway through March, and was glad I did, but didn't find myself eager to read it once I began. While immensely readable and even funny at times, it's a heavy read. Recommended, but with the qualifier that it'll go slower than you expect.

DANNY, THE CHAMPION OF THE WORLD by Roald Dahl

My kids were eager to read this every night, and distraught whenever I said we couldn't. Was it the quality time with Daddy they were hungry for? The chance to stay up a little longer? Or did they really just love the tale of Danny, the Champion of the World?

If the last answer is the right one, they were seeing something I wasn't. While far from Roald Dahl's worst book, this one was a slog for me, 214 pages of book for a plot that only warranted 75. It tells the story of nine-year-old Danny and his father, who live in a gypsy caravan and operate a filling station. Early in the book, Danny learns that his father has a secret past as a poacher of pheasants on the nearby land of mean Mr. Victor Hazell. So clever Danny devises a plan to help his dad bring in the biggest haul of pheasants anyone's ever seen.

That's pretty much it. The book leans heavily on the admittedly endearing relationship between Danny and his father—there are no fantastic chocolate factories to be found in this book, no witches or BFGs. As a result, this is a grounded (and pro-poaching!) father-and-son tale. If it was half its length, I probably would have found it charming. As is, I thought it was bloated and a little boring, at least by Dahl's standards. If I were to give this a one word review, I'd have to borrow from modern slang: mid.

ESSENTIAL X-MEN VOL. 9 by Chris Claremont, Marc Silvestri, Jim Lee, et al.

This volume serves as a sort of bridge between the so-called "Outback Era," when the X-Men were presumed dead but secretly operating out of a remote headquarters in Australia, and the reconstitution of the team with the bestselling X-Men #1. As a result, this is a book full of side quests—indeed, for a good chunk of this volume, there is no true X-Men team, even as the main title was coming out every 2 weeks.

As a result, this volume is a mixed bag. On the bright side, you get the introduction of Jubilee, who wins readers over almost the moment she is introduced with her irreverence. You get the famous image of Wolverine crucified on an X-shaped cross by the Reavers. And you get the boldness of Chris Claremont dismantling Marvel's most famous team and refusing to put them back together again until the story calls for it.

But on the downside, this book spend months feeling like it's treading water. Even for a writer as talented at juggling storylines as Claremont, there are a lot of balls in the air, and at times it feels like he's just forgotten about storylines the readers are invested in. According to Reddit, Claremont wanted the X-Men to remain disbanded until issue #300 (this volume only runs through #268), and I'm grateful that Marvel editorial put their foot down before that point.

The true highlight of this book is the introduction of Jim Lee on art. While Marc Silvestri did an admirable job before Lee, his style winds up feeling like he was merely setting the table for his successor, as Lee brings a dynamism this title had been missing since the days of John Byrne in the early 1980s. There will be more Lee to come in volumes 10-11, but this is where he gets his feet wet.

I doubt this is a particularly beloved era of X-Men comics, but it's a necessary one. Required reading for all X-fans, but definitely not a good starting place for the casual fan.