The Best Laid Plans (Friday Devotional)

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”

- Jeremiah 29:11-13

A few weeks ago, as my monthlong sabbatical began drawing to a close, I embarked upon something I’d been looking forward to for weeks: a 5-day retreat to practice solitude, enjoy some reading, and work on a few writing projects. My plan was to criss-cross the state, exploring the open road and hitting a new town each day. As for lodging, I had waited too long making my plans to budget properly, so I decided I’d camp in state parks.

Monday evening, after a lovely afternoon in Tyler’s public library and a great coffee shop downtown, I pulled into my campsite at Tyler State Park, pitched my tent, and once the sun went down, I crawled in and zipped the door shut. It was time for a good night’s sleep.

Roughly 1.7 seconds later, I was coated in sweat. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s been hot the last few weeks. Burn your hand on the car door hot. 24-hour heat advisory hot. 90 degrees in the middle of the night hot. As I’d been warned beforehand by my wife and some wary friends, my plan for the week had run into the reality of a Texas summer.

That was one of the worst night’s “sleep” I’ve ever experienced (and the company of the world’s most aggressive raccoon digging around my campsite didn’t help matters). So the next morning, I drove to Waco, paid for 3 nights at the cheapest motel I could find, and bailed on the original plan. My retreat wound up being less scenic than I’d intended, but a lot more air-conditioned.

As the poet Robert Burns famously told us, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. You can think you know what your day, your year, even your life are going to look like, only to have your preconceptions shattered in an instant. Whether because your plans are at fault or because life simply throws you a curveball, sometimes you find yourself completely at a loss, having to feel around in the dark for a new way forward.

In such times, it’s helpful to remember the promise God made to his people in the days of Jeremiah. They found themselves facing an imminent exile into a foreign country, the most humiliating and faith-shaking future imaginable for a nation whose identity was so tied to the Promised Land their God had given them. Needless to say, exile was not their plan.

But even as God warned them of what was to come, the broader perspective he offered was encouraging—that ultimately, his plans for them were for good, not harm. The road ahead was not going to be smooth, and it certainly wasn’t going to be what they would have chosen for themselves. But even as God punished them with exile for their idolatry and faithlessness, he was still going to keep his covenant by preserving them in the midst of their trial. Life was going to look different moving forward, but God had not abandoned them.

For you today, there’s no telling what the future holds. Your big plans for tomorrow may play out exactly as you’ve drawn them up. Then again, they may be ripped to shreds by things far beyond your control, leaving you grasping for new options.

Whatever the case, know that when you cry out to your Father in heaven, he hears you. He has not left you alone in your struggle; he has not abandoned his child. The future may be uncertain, but his love remains steadfast. Your plans may fail you, but your God never will.

August Book Log

Buckle up; this is almost certainly the most books I've read in a month since I started writing these logs in December 2016. A 34-day sabbatical will do that, especially when 5 of those days are intentionally spent in solitude, doing virtually nothing but reading and writing.

So below are a bunch of books about rest, pastoring, and the dual themes of time management and work-life balance. Oh, and then a couple of books just for fun :)

THE SABBATH by Abraham Joshua Heschel

This has been on my to-read list for a long time, and my sabbatical seemed a perfect time to dive in. At barely 100 pages, you'd think it's the kind of book I'd breeze through in a couple days. But in truth, it was one I consumed with small sips throughout my sabbatical rather than a few big gulps. I'm convinced that's the right way, given both the subject matter and the writing's depth.

The Sabbath is not a Christian work, but a Jewish one, though the broad strokes can certainly carry over between faiths. Abraham Heschel was a rabbi, professor, and mystic in the Orthodox tradition, and one of the world's most prominent Jewish theologians post-Holocaust. In The Sabbath, he seeks to look at the fourth commandment from all angles, and makes a compelling argument that it is partly through Sabbath keeping that a believer in God sets themselves apart as holy—because while the world is grasping after space, God is sanctifying time.

It's a heady work, and relies more on philosophy, parable, and mysticism than Scripture, so my fellow evangelicals may find it wanting on that score. And indeed, there are elements I'd certainly take with a grain of salt. But the concept of sanctifying time through regular Sabbath was a fascinating one for me, and I appreciated Heschel's thoughts. If, like me, you don't think Christians take the Sabbath seriously enough (if they think about it at all), this is worth a read.

 
 

FIVE SMOOTH STONES FOR PASTORAL WORK by Eugene Peterson
WORKING THE ANGLES by Eugene Peterson
UNDER THE UNPREDICTABLE PLANT by Eugene Peterson
THE CONTEMPLATIVE PASTOR by Eugene Peterson

One of the most persistent themes of Eugene Peterson's writings is that the American church doesn't understand what a pastor is supposed to be doing—including, sometimes, the pastors themselves. Instead of regarding pastors as spiritual guides, believers seek to make them religious professionals, nonprofit CEOs, motivational speakers, and the like. So in these four books (the first three are an intentional trilogy; the fourth is a sort of capstone), Peterson turns to Scripture for a better understanding of how the pastor can navigate a culture that does not understand or appreciate his God-given calling.

In Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work, Peterson looks to the Old Testament's Megilloth—the five scrolls of Song of Songs, Ruth, Lamentations, Ecclesiastes, and Esther—for wisdom in the pastoral roles of prayer directing, story making, pain sharing, naysaying, and community building. Readers wanting basic, a+b=c biblical exposition may be frustrated by Peterson's more freewheeling approach to the text, but will have a hard time arguing he doesn't understand it. With this books as a guide, Peterson ably explains some key pastoral functions, none of which match the business world's understanding of how a pastor should be spending his or her time, but all of which lead people to God.

Working the Angles keys in on the three pastoral acts that, according to Peterson, are so basic that they affect everything else the pastor might do: prayer, reading Scripture, and giving spiritual direction. He accurately points out that these are, on the one hand, understood to be the pastor's primary responsibilities but, on the other hand, are rarely as valued in the moment as more managerial tasks. In other words, if you miss a finance meeting because you got caught up in prayer, you will be reprimanded, not encouraged. Of the three books in the official trilogy, this was the one I'd have marked up the most had I had a highlighter handy. Written before The Contemplative Pastor, this volume feels like its unintended prequel.

Under the Unpredictable Plant, which I first read for a class in seminary, uses the book of Jonah as a guide through the topic of vocational holiness. This book is somewhat more personal that its predecessors, as Peterson talks about his own experience realizeing that his personal piety was not measuring up to his role as a pastor. As in the previous books, this one is a call to pastors to avoid the siren song of "ministerial professionalism," where the pastor becomes a glorified small businessperson, and to embrace a role in which character and closeness to God are valued more highly than ROI.

Finally comes The Contemplative Pastor, one of Peterson's most cited books. This one, in many ways, is summarizing and synthesizing the prior trilogy, offering Peterson's vision for what a pastor ought to be like: unbusy, subversive, and apocalpytic (meaning revelatory). One last time, Peterson rages against the pastor as middle manager, responsible for keeping paying customers happy and growing the business. With wit and winsomeness, he calls pastors to slow, thoughtful, prayerful, and loving care for their churches in the Lord's name. It's hard, countercultural work, to be sure. But he's convinced me it's worth aiming for.

 

MEDITATIONS FOR MORTALS by Oliver Burkeman
FOUR THOUSAND WEEKS by Oliver Burkeman

Oliver Burkeman, who first made his name with a cheekily named weekly column in The Guardian entitled "This Column Will Change Your Life," got famous on these two books, both of which seek to help people become more productive by discarding modern preconceptions about how to do that. Both books are more philosophical than practical, more about principles than plans, but I found both useful in their own way.

Though it was the second to be published, I read Meditations for Mortals first (no reason, I just picked it up first.) In this book, Burkeman introduces and explains his notion of "imperfectionism," which essentially boils down to this word of advice for high achievers trying to do everything at once: take a chill pill. Rather than trying to squeeze 40 hours' worth of personal development into every day, Burkeman advocates for focusing on what matters most to you and then living your life as it is, rather than as you think it should be. Laid out in 28 chapters meant to be read daily over a month gives it the format of a secular devotional book, and while I didn't read it that way, I imagine doing so would be helpful. For those prone to anxiety that they're not doing enough, there's a great deal of wisdom to be found here.

Four Thousand Weeks, similarly, seeks to reframe the productivity conversation by arguing that trying to find meaning (or productivity) in every minute of the day leaves you more exhausted than fulfilled. The average person, Burkeman says, is given four thousand weeks in their life, and the key is understanding that some of those weeks will be better than others. Rather than beating yourself up over a "wasted" week, Burkeman urges readers to look at the bigger picture. While bordering on fatalistic at times, this book is a cold splash of water for those too enmeshed in hustle culture.

In retrospect, you probably don't need to read both of these books—the overall message is essentially the same—but I found them to be helpful bookends for my sabbatical. Their reminder about the nature of time was a useful one for me, and Burkeman's criticisms of hustle culture are valid. There's more to life than 'getting things done,' and these books encourage you to make the main thing the main thing.

 

DEEP WORK by Cal Newport
SLOW PRODUCTIVITY by Cal Newport

Cal Newport has become something of a guru for those who think hustle culture is inherently flawed, offering insights through articles and books about how it is actually more productive long-term to work fewer and more foused hours than to burn out with a frenetic and fractured lifestyle where you try to be available at all times to all people for all reasons. So during my sabbatical, I read his best known book, Deep Work, and then reread the follow-up, Slow Productivity, which I had previously read last year. 

The two books essentially chart the same course (indeed, this time I wound up skimming Slow Productivity more than reading it closely): find small blocks of time when you can concentrate intensely, eliminate common distractions like social media from your life, allow yourself true down time, and be where your feet are (i.e. working during work and resting during rest). The key to productivity, according to Newport, is not how much you are working, but how focused you are. 3 hours of "deep work" is better than 8 hours of unfocused multitasking.

For someone reading these books on sabbatical, the concept of deep work was obviously appealing, and I can see how those with a lot of freedom in how they set their time would find it appealing. However, just as was the case when I first read Slow Productivity, I remain skeptical that there are a lot of people who can get away with applying Newport's principles without losing clients/customers or getting in trouble with your supervisor. Rightly or wrongly, our society values hustle culture and hasn't bought into deep work, so it feels like applying the lessons of this book wholesale would lead to some unintended consequences before it makes you a better worker.

I'm on board with Newport in theory, and there's certainly something to be said for valuing quality over quantity when it comes to knowledge work. But these were the kinds of self-help/leadership books where I found myself initially nodding while reading, only to put the books down and immediately think, "Wait, but what about..."



AT YOUR BEST by Carey Nieuwhof

After really enjoying my first Carey Nieuwhof book last month, I had high hopes for this one, my final piece of self-assigned sabbatical reading. If Didn't See It Coming was the wakeup call regarding burnout, my hope was that At Your Best would be the prescription, offering practical tips on how to use limited time well and stave off overworking, undue stress, and burnout. Unfortunately, this book fell into the classic self-help/leadership category: this should have been a 2,000 word blog post, not a 200+ page book.

Nieuwhof begins with the insightful point, borrowed from Cal Newport, that human beings aren't meant for 8-10 hours of deep work each day; most of us are good for about 3. Furthermore, he says that most of us know when we're at our best, whether that's first thing in the morning, right after lunch, or at 10:00 PM. Equally, we know when we're close to useless in terms of productivity. The key then is to do your deep work when you know you will be in the so-called Green Zone, the hours you work best, to save low-effort and automatic tasks for the Red Zone, when you're at your worst, and do everything else in the in-between Yellow Zone.

And...that's it. That's pretty much the whole book in a paragraph. It's not a bad argument, but there's not much meat on those bones.

Nieuwhof, a former pastor, writes with an easy-to-read, persuasive voice, and I never felt like I was wasting my time while reading At Your Best, but by the end it just felt like I had devoted hours to something I should have spent 10 minutes on. And given the subject matter, wasting time reading this book is a little too ironic to stomach. There are good thoughts in here, but you'll get most of what you need from the dust jacket.

THE ILIAD by Homer, translated by Robert Fagles

Like a lot of people, I walked out of Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey ready to dive into a Greek epic. But since I'd already read The Odyssey last year, I decided now was as good a time as any to read Homer's other famous work, The Iliad. As with The Odyssey, I opted for the Robert Fagles translation, which until Edith Wilson came along was the most modern version, putting Homer's words into a free verse that often reads like prose.

I won't lie, folks. This was a slog.

First of all, I must confess my ignorance. I thought The Iliad was the story of the Trojan War, from beginning to end. Nope. In fact, the whole epic poem, told over 24 books, takes place over the final weeks of that war, with much of the action happening in about four days. Also, the Trojan horse is nowhere to be found, to my surprise and disappointment (you want Virgil's Aenid for that tale).

What The Iliad is actually about is, as the introduction to Fagles' translation states, "the rage of Achilles," how the mighty warrior feuds with the warlord Agammemnon and then sits out a series of crucial battles before swooping in at the end, after the death of a dear friend, to lay waste to his enemies. It is a story that simultaneously glorifies war and showcases its costs, which (along with Homer's poetry) is probably why it has endured for so long.

That weighty theme doesn't make it any more fun to read, though. While not a difficult read in the vein of Ulysses or Gravity's Rainbow—line by line, Fagles' translation is as accessible as advertised—I found it to be repetitive and dull, filled with battle after battle that never seemed to go anywhere and a catalog of Greek names that would make a phone book blush. Switching to audiobook midway through helped my reading, but didn't make me enjoy it any more.

Overall, if you want to try Homer, definitely start with The Odyssey, which I liked a lot more and has a tighter focus and fewer characters. I'm glad to be able to say I've read this, but I didn't enjoy the process.

ESSENTIAL AVENGERS VOL. 4 by Roy Thomas, John Buscema, Sal Buscema, Neal Adams, et al.

The fun of Essential Avengers Vol. 3 continues as the team exits the Silver Age and makes their way into the Bronze. Generally that's bad news for Marvel books, but this volume has the benefit of ending with one of that era's most beloved arcs.

With every issue in this volume written by Roy Thomas, the vibe of the book is pretty similar to what you'll find in the previous 20+ issues, as is the flexible roster: in any given story, you get some mixture of Vision, Goliath (née Hawkeye), Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Black Panther, Iron Man, Thor, and Captain America. Many of the stories are self-contained (a short-lived early 1970s experiment at Marvel, based on the notion that they might be losing readers confused by serial storytelling), which means a lot of issues feel a little rushed. The art, by John and then Sal Buscema, isn't as impressive as John's work a few years earlier, but is nothing to sneeze at. It's all fine, perfectly fine.

Then, starting in issue #89, Thomas begins a story that would come to be known as "The Kree-Skrull War." It sees the longtime rival alien races erupt into full-blown war across the galaxy, with Earth serving as a beachhead for their conflict. By the time it reaches a crisis point, everyone from Captain Mar-Vell to the Inhumans has been brought into the mix, Ant Man has had to take a "Journey to the Center of the Android" (shrinking down and navigating Vision's internal organs), and onetime sidekick Rick Jones is mentally summoning Golden Age superheroes to serve as the cavalry.

Most importantly, the key issues (except, unfortunately, the finale) are drawn by Neal Adams, whose cinematic realism is a sharp departure from the Buscemas' house style, but serves as a breath of fresh air. The aforementioned "Journey to the Center of the Android," in particular, is a tour de force, a double-sized issue that you linger over just to drool at the pretty pictures. Adams is best known for his work at DC Comics, but his contribution to the Kree-Skrull War is arguably some of his most important.

Much of what's found in this volume is forgettable Bronze Age material, but the Kree-Skrull War elevates it to a must-read for any Marvel fan. For a fan of comics history, that's one story you can't miss.

Can't Beat the Heat (Friday Devotional)

Note: This will be the last weekly devotional I write until September, owing to a 5-week sabbatical my church has granted me from July 27 through August 29. I will endeavor to use that time for rest, reflection, and development, including some travel and a couple of special projects.

If memory serves, this will be only the third break I’ve taken from writing these weekly devotionals since I began in 2012, the first due to a trip overseas and the second when my family moved from Waco to Garland. I hope that I’ll come back refreshed and that you’ll continue reading these once they resume on September 4.



The heavens are telling the glory of God, and the firmament proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night declares knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words; their voice is not heard; yet their voice goes out through all the earth and their words to the end of the world.

- Psalm 19:1-4

It’s been hot this week. Like, really hot. Really, really hot.

I should explain why this is so front of mind for me. Starting Wednesday, 5 kids and 4 adults from my church, including myself, have been at Mt. Lebanon Baptist Encampment in Cedar Hill for preteen camp. There has been worship, Bible study, and plenty of recreation as we’ve all sought to draw near to the Lord and grow together. The nature of such a camp is that much of what we do happens outdoors, which is certainly a blessing…most of the time. Unfortunately, the two days we’ve been at camp so far have been the two hottest days of the summer, with temperatures hitting triple digits and the humidity doing its part to make things even worse.

That kind of heat takes your breath away. It’s the kind of heat where the only running you want to do is towards an air-conditioned building. It’s the kind of heat where you feel like you need a shower roughly 2.5 seconds after stepping outside. It’s the kind of heat where…well, you get the picture. It’s hot.

Natural extremes—whether severe heat or cold, natural disasters like tornadoes and hurricanes, and awe-inspiring landmarks like the Grand Canyon—have a way of revealing how fragile human beings really are, and how great God is. We like to think we’ve conquered the elements, but all it takes is a change in the weather to reveal the reality.

The psalmist knew that God’s majesty is on display every time we step outside—even if sometimes we don’t notice until things get extreme. The earth and the sky, the plants and the animals, all of creation reveal the glory of God and our dependence on his mercy.

Tonight I’ll join in with hundreds of children and adults in praising God, all from the relative comfort of an air-conditioned worship center, and then we’ll exit into the muggy, mosquito-filled air of a Texas evening. The good news is that God is at work in both places. All we have to do is pay attention.

July Reading Log

 

It was a short month, with youth camp at the beginning and preteen camp at the end, but I managed to cram plenty of reading in. Take a look!

DIDN'T SEE IT COMING by Cary Nieuwhof

I found this leadership book by former pastor and coveted conference speaker Cary Nieuwhof to be far more instructive and helpful than I'd anticipated, and timed perfectly coming right before my sabbatical. It addresses seven of the most common issues that leaders face over time, the sort that drive people out of leadership: cynicism, compromise, disconnection, irrelevance, pride, burnout, and emptiness. Nieuwhof's goal is to give the reader some early warning signs they can recognize, as well as point to better ways of being before it's too late.

Most startling for me was the burnout chapter, which cited eleven signs and symptoms that you're at the end of your rope and in dire need of rest and renewal. Ten of them applied to me. Thankfully, Nieuwhof also offers ten ways to come back from burnout, and taking a sabbatical is one of them.

This book came at just the right time in my life, with me having picked it up on a whim years ago at a used bookstore, but never opening it until now. I would definitely recommend it as education and encouragement for other leaders, especially those in ministry.

COMMON SENSE by Thomas Paine

After spending all of last month reading Democracy in America, I decided to dive into another primary source for July 4, Thomas Paine's Common Sense. This little pamphlet—I read it in two sittings—made the case in January 1776 that the time has come for the colonists to split from England. Part polemic against the king, part Enlightenment-era rational argument why the colonies are deserving of political independence, the pamphlet circulated widely and was considered by the Founding Fathers to be crucial in persuading people that the time for revolution had come.

Blessedly short (especially after 800+ pages of de Tocqueville), this is required reading for every American, right along with the Declaration of Independence. And in a time when "no kings" has become a rallying cry for roughly half the country, you may even find its arguments to be prescient, some 250 years after its publication.

HOW TO READ AND WHY by Harold Bloom

Harold Bloom is arguably the most famous literary critic of the 20th century, a Yale literature professor who continued arguing for the existence and importance of a western canon even as many postmodern scholars dismissed the notion. How to Read and Why is an entry-level look into his thinking, as he makes the case that wisdom can be found in reading some of the great novels, plays, and poetry.

Unfortunately, this book has two major problems. First, Bloom assumes the readers familiarity with the books he's examining, rarely offering even a sentence of plot summary before getting into the weeds of Henry James or Flannery O'Connor. This may be fine for Shakespeare or Moby Dick, but it's a barrier to entry for other works.

Second, and most aggavatingly, Bloom is an inveterate snob, the kind of critic who dismisses "grocery store fiction" and who seems to believe that, with two or three exceptions, no great books have been written since 1945. For Bloom, there is no compliment higher than "Shakesperean," and indeed, he compares virtually every author to Shakespeare, whether favorably or unfavorably.

While I stubbornly finished this book—it's less than 300 pages long, and I paid $5 for it at Half Price Books—I won't pretend I enjoyed it, and I will happily be returning it to the store where I got it for pennies on the dollar. If you're wanting a book on books, I can think of at least 20 I'd recommend before this one.

JOHN ADAMS by David McCullough

John Adams' fate, it seems, was to always be an afterthought, always second to come to mind. He was, of course, the second president of the United States, following the revered George Washington. Before that, he was the most vocal and influential proponent for the adoption of the Declaration of Independence by the Second Continental Congress—but history's credit goes not to him, but to Thomas Jefferson, the declaration's author. Even in his own family, it was Abigail Adams who universally beloved and respected, and the comparisons others drew between her and her husband did not tend to reflect favorably upon John.

So David McCullough's authoritative 2001 biography of John Adams is fitting in its approach: on the one hand, it seeks to give the reader a fuller understanding of who the Founding Father really was, offering a sympathetic look at his life and legacy. But on the other hand, one never shakes the feeling that he was overshadowed in life and in death—by Washington, by Jefferson, and even by Abigail.

McCullough, one of America's preeminent historials, offers a traditional, life to death biography here, akin to what he did for Harry Truman in 1992. And as was his approach then, his approach to his subject is to treat him as a protagonist—while never shying away from Adams' faults, he is coming at him from a sympathetic perspective, seeking to glorify his accomplishments and offer explanation for his defects.

For McCullough, Adams is the most approachable and humble of the Founding Fathers, a farmer and family man thrust into service by the American Revolution. Adams in his view never saw himself as a Great Man of History in the way that Jefferson clearly did, but he rose to the occasion nevertheless, whether as a revolutionary, a diplomat, or a president. And so it was at home, whether in his simple birthplace in Braintree, Massachusetts or his later house in Quincy, that Adams felt most comfortable, not the halls of Versailles or the presidential abode of his own young nation.

Adams is often viewed in the popular imagination as a transitory figure, a bridge from the Revolution to the nation's expansion in the 19th century, from Washington to Jefferson. McCullough doesn't really dispell this idea, even as he seeks to show that Adams was crucial in making that transition as smooth as possible. His account of the Adams administration is of a president who could never hope to be as revered as his predecessor nor be given the freedom to move forward that his succesor had—it fell to Adams to prepare the way for a future he would never see.

When we think about John Adams, we inevitably compare him to his peers, and usually unfavorably. He lacked Washington's gravitas, Franklin's genius, and Jefferson's charisma. But McCullough persuasively makes the case that, in an era of titans, Adams deserves his own recognition. Simply put, being second to George Washington is nothing to be ashamed of.

NO CURE FOR BEING HUMAN by Kate Bowler

Kate Bowler, through her research, writing, and personal story, has become a generational voice for those tired of the glib, "power of positive thinking" messages we hear so often in America, particularly in evangelical circles. Her Everything Happens podcast, where she talks about suffering and grief with assorted guests, and her first memoir, Everything Happens for a Reason: And Other Lies I've Loved, deal extensively with the culture's allergy to these difficult subjects, offering an authentic, faithful, and even hopeful alternative. She continues in that vein in No Cure for Being Human, a second memoir that leans more heavily on her personal story than its predecessor while still drawing out some universal messages.

That story is about how Bowler, a successful professor at Duke University with a husband and a baby boy, was unexpectedly diagnosed with Stage IV cancer and told she had mere months to live. The book traces her journey through an experimental immunotherapy treatment that, shockingly, ended up proving completely effective. Along the way, she traces all the fears, surprises, and ultimately, cautious joy that came with her experience. This is not a "and they all lived happily ever after" kind of book, but rather one that wrestles with the struggles she endured and seeks to find meaning in them.

Perhaps my favorite part of the book comes at the very end, a quick 2 page chart that contrasts superficial cliches (like "everything happens for a reason") with what she has found to be the truth. The last one gives the book its title: instead of "you're invincible!" she reminds the reader, "there's no cure for being human." The world (and the church) needs more people willing to tell those kinds of truths.

THE VOYAGE OF THE DAWN TREADER by C.S. Lewis

I remember when my dad first read The Chronicles of Narnia to me as a child, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader was my least favorite. Between all the nautical vocabulary and the episodic nature of the adventures, it didn't compel me as much as the other books in the series.

Based on the four months it took for me and my kids to finish Dawn Treader, it seems I haven't changed my mind.

The third book in The Chronicles of Narnia sees the two youngest of the Pevensie children, Edmund and Lucy, transported back to the magical realm along with their spoiled, obnoxious cousin Eustace. They find themselves aboard a Narnian ship, the Dawn Treader, where their friends King Caspian, the valiant mouse Reepicheep, and a crew of sailors are sailing to find the end of the world. Along the way, they encounter all sorts of friends and foes, seeing strange sights they'd never known back in Narnia. Oh, and Eustace grows up (thank goodness—if you thought Edmund was bad in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, he's got nothing on his cousin.)

Mostly absent in this tale is Aslan, though he makes a few important appearances. That may be another reason this one never gripped me like other Narnia stories. Once you've met a Jesus lion, you don't really want to go without him for too long.

Jokes aside, this is not a bad book by any means, but I do think it's a weaker story than The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe or Prince Caspian, and that Lewis spends too much time on description and too little time on characterization. I doubt this one will make anybody give up on The Chronicles of Narnia, but I suspect I'm not the only person who ever rejoiced at finishing it and moving on to the next book.

ESSENTIAL AVENGERS VOL. 3 by Roy Thomas, John Buscema, Gene Colan, et al.

THIS is where The Avengers starts to get good. Following nearly 50 issues by the likes of Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Don Heck, and friends, writer Roy Thomas and artist John Buscema were handed the keys and they stepped on the gas. Black Panther, having first been introduced in Fantastic Four, is added to the roster. The villainous Ultron enters the picture, followed soon after by his android offspring, the Vision. Hank Pym has his first mental breakdown, resulting in a new superhero identity and his marriage to the Wasp (I know how it sounds...you had to be there.) And after years of somewhat aimless storytelling, the book starts to find its identity.

Thomas bears much of the responsibility for that, and indeed his vision (pun intended) for the team would arguably shape the book for decades. But the real star of this volume is John Buscema, who alongside inker Tom Palmer puts out some of his best work. With a look that would eventually become Marvel's house style for the 1970s, Buscema combines realism with dynamism...and, crucially for these Essential volumes, it looks great in black and white.

The seeds planted in this volume would come to bear fruit for at least the next decade (as you'll see over the rest of the year while I make my way through all nine of the Essential Avengers books). To see where it all really began, these issues are the best place to start.

Cleaning Up the Mess (Friday Devotional)

Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.

- Colossians 3:12-13

Don’t cry over spilled milk, they say. Little messes are unworthy of big reactions, and it’s important to keep your head when something goes awry in life.

But here’s the thing—when your kitchen table is covered in milk, it’s hard to remember that lesson. You’re scrambling for a towel, you’re trying to contain the mess, and you’re wondering why nobody is helping you. And in that moment, crying over spilled milk feels pretty reasonable.

That’s why Scripture ties virtues like patience and forgiveness to something bigger than doing the right thing merely for the sake of doing the right thing—living well is tied to life in Christ. We forgive because Christ has forgiven us. We bear with one another because we are one in Christ. We love because he first loved us.

It’s not about what you’re capable of, in other words, but remembering what he has done for you. If you count on yourself to be a saint at all times, you will find yourself yelling when you should have listened and holding grudges when you know you should forgive. You will cry over spilled milk. So focus less on your abilities, your strength, and your will, and lean instead on the Lord’s.

Losing Jesus (Friday Devotional)

My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand

- John 10:27-28

Over the last few years, my family has picked up a small assortment of miniature rubber Jesus figures, some given to us by friends and others picked up as giveaways. So last week, Andrew and Katherine decided it would be fun to hide four of them around the house and then send me and Lindsey on a scavenger hunt.

They hid them well—one on a light switch, another on the fireplace, still another on a wall decoration. But as we ransacked the house for the final Jesus figure, neither Lindsey nor I could find it anywhere. When we asked for a clue, Andrew said he didn’t know where it was either, that Katherine had hidden that one. And when we asked her, she couldn’t remember where she’d put it.

We kept searching, but to no avail. And no matter how hard she tried, Katherine couldn’t recall in what room she’d hidden it. As the minutes crawled by and Lindsey and I prepared to give up, Katherine grew more upset that she couldn’t remember where she’d put it. Finally, in tears, she exclaimed, “I lost Jesus!”

What a nightmare it would be if believers could really do that—not lose a rubber figurine, but lose their relationship with the Lord. Having placed your faith and your hope in Jesus to save you, what a terrifying thought that he might leave you if you step out of line.

After all, that happens sometimes with earthly relationships. Parents get divorced and only one sticks around to help raise the child. Spouses determine their differences are irreconcilable and call it quits. Friends drift apart. Some earthly relationships wind up having a shelf life far shorter than you ever anticipated they would.

But the Lord promises that he never leaves nor forsakes us, and that no one can snatch us out of his hand. Once you follow the call of the Good Shepherd, you are part of his flock—and he will never abandon you to the wolves.

You can lose possessions. You can lose friends. You can even lose family members. But praise God, you can never lose Jesus.

Prayers for Our Nation (Friday Devotional)

“...if my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.”

- 2 Chronicles 7:14

I’ve spent the past week at youth camp with 16 campers and 3 adult sponsors from our church, along with hundreds of other participants from around the state. Youth camp is one of my favorite weeks of the year, and something I’ve made a priority since my first year as a pastor—I love everything from the bad food and the silly games to the inspiring worship services and the infectious earnestness of teenagers captivated by their love for Jesus.

At Mt. Lebanon Baptist Encampment, where our church typically goes every summer, camp ends with the “Concert of Prayer,” a 2+ hour service that is routinely the most meaningful gathering of the week. No sermon is preached. The band leads in a few worship songs, but the vibe is considerably more muted than at the more raucous morning and evening worship services. Mostly it’s just a morning of guided prayer, huddle after huddle of teenagers bowing their heads and lifting their requests to God. It never ceases to move me.

Camp is over now, but I can’t shake the sight of hundreds of young believers repenting and confessing and thanking and petitioning their God. And on this weekend when we celebrate 250 years as a nation, I don’t want to forget it.

In 2 Chronicles 7:14, God promises his children that, by turning to him in a spirit of humility and repentance, they will receive his forgiveness and blessing. To be sure, America is not Israel, and a promise given to one group of ancient Israelites ought not necessarily be read as a universal guarantee for God’s people for all time.

Nevertheless, James 5:16 reminds us that the prayers of the righteous have great power. I saw it myself just yesterday in a crowded auditorium in Cedar Hill. When believers cry out to God—not triumphally, but humbly; not demanding power, but offering repentance; not wanting to see our will done, but God’s—we see change come.

If you’re wanting a spiritual awakening in America, don’t fix your eyes on the ballot box, but on Jesus. Don’t focus on the White House, but the church house. For it is to the humble, obedient, repentant prayers of his children that the Father responds.