Extravagant Worship (Friday Devotional)

“And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight.”

- Philippians 1:9

Yesterday, in homes across the country, family dinner tables overflowed with food. People were forced to choose between five different kinds of potatoes and three different kinds of dressing (or just try them all), some who normally abstained from dessert sampled three different kinds of pie, and turkeys intended to feed twenty people were set in front of families of four. Even the most spartan of cooks gave their best effort to make sure that the Thanksgiving meal was nothing short of extravagant.

This morning, as we shift from Thanksgiving to the Christmas season, some people braved freezing temperatures to wait in line for hours outside Wal-Mart, Target, or their local electronics store. Whether pursuing a television marked down by 40%, a phone with a discounted data plan, or the season’s hottest toy, people go to great lengths on Black Friday to make sure they afford the most extravagant gifts for their loved ones.

It can hardly be disputed—this is a season of great extravagance, a time when people do their best to materially show how much Thanksgiving and Christmas mean to them. But with so much to cook, prepare, and buy in pursuit of an extravagant holiday season, sometimes the spiritual aspect of these holidays can get short shrift, relegated to an afterthought—a two-minute blessing before the Thanksgiving meal or a speedy Bible reading on Christmas morning.

In a season when our refrigerators overflow with leftovers and our fireplaces are covered with beautifully wrapped gifts, surely our hearts should be filled with love for the God from whom all blessings flow. May your worship be as bountiful as your Thanksgiving table and your devotion as meaningful as your Christmas traditions—in a season of abundance, may your love for God truly be extravagant.

Timeless (Friday Devotional)

“The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.”

- Isaiah 40:7-8

Driving around my hometown is weird for me nowadays. In some places, it’s as though nothing has changed since I moved to Waco—the façade of my high school looks exactly like it did when I graduated 9 years ago, the bushes in my parents’ front yard are right where they always were, and the Sonic where I bought dozens (hundreds?) of Dr Peppers is right where I left it. In some spots, it’s like time has stood still.

But then, without warning, I’ll drive past a strip mall and see three new businesses, or onto a road that’s added two lanes since I last used it, or through a neighborhood development that used to just be an empty field. In these moments my hometown reveals itself to be, at least in some ways, a different place than the version I left in 2008. Just as I have changed since then, so too has the city where I was raised—for though my memory remains frozen in time, reality has moved on.

On my nostalgic drives though my hometown, its changes are jarring. That’s because as a general rule, people are uncomfortable with changes outside our control. We want things to remain as they are; we want a stable equilibrium that we can understand and manage. In a world that sometimes seems to be in constant state of flux, we long for something that remains steady and unchanging.

That is just one way in which God blesses us: “the grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.” For all the mixed messages that the world puts out, God’s message remains true, a foundation we can build our lives upon. Whether it comes to us through the written word of Scripture, the gentle sighing of the Spirit, or the teachings and example of the Word made flesh, God’s word remains an eternal source of comfort, strength, wisdom, and power.

There are a million things to which you can devote your time, attention, and energy, from work to family to entertainment to the day’s headlines. But each of these, if you make them your foundation, will crack and crumble with time. Only the word of the Lord will endure when they fade and wither like the flowers of the field. So may you place your faith in a message that is truly timeless.

A Daily Decision (Friday Devotional)

“Now therefore revere the Lord, and serve him in sincerity and in faithfulness; put away the gods that your ancestors served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the Lord. Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

- Joshua 24:14-15

I’ve been jogging on a regular basis for four years now—first to train for a half marathon, then for a full marathon, then just for fun and exercise—and in many ways it has gotten easier with time. My legs don’t tire out nearly as quickly. It takes a lot longer for me to run out of breath. I know what pace to set.

But there’s one aspect of running which is just as hard today as it was when I first laced up my shoes four years ago: deciding to do it. Whether because it’s too hot outside or too cold, because I’ve had too much coffee or too little, because I don’t have the energy or the time or the desire, whatever my excuse is, every day it’s an interior battle—do I stay inside and enjoy lazy comfort or go outside and get some much-needed exercise? The actual running has gotten easier with time, but making the choice to do it remains something I must recommit to every single day.

That same principle applies to serving the Lord. While placing your faith in Christ for salvation is tied to a singular moment or period in your life, choosing to then follow Jesus in obedience is a daily decision. No one is drafted into the Lord’s army; you must choose to answer the call to service.

That’s why Joshua, Moses’s successor as the leader of the ancient Israelites, took a moment after the conquest of Canaan to make God’s people decide whom they would serve. They had seen miraculous wonders in their lives and the lives of their parents and grandparents: deliverance from Egyptian slavery, safe passage through the parted waters of the sea, provision in the desert, and now entrance into the land God had promised them. There could be no doubt that God was with them.

Yet Joshua recognized what the people had been proving for years, what we continue to prove today: no matter how evident God’s grace is in our lives, we have a wandering eye for something better to come along. We are always searching, whether passively or actively, for an idol which will answer to us, a false god we can craft in our own image.

So in their moment of victorious celebration, when God’s power was self-evident, Joshua called the people to decide once again who they would faithfully serve. They had desperately needed God’s power in Egypt and in the desert, so they had eagerly committed to follow Him then. But now, as a more comfortable life beckoned, Joshua recognized the people needed to decide once again who their God was.

You must make the same decision every day. If Christ lives in you, are you faithfully and regularly serving him? Are you daily lacing up your shoes to go to work for the Lord? Some days it’s easier than others; some days your head fills with reasons why you can’t, shouldn’t, or simply don’t want to. On those days, may you seek God in prayer, and may your heart ultimately echo Joshua’s: “as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

A No-Proxy Gospel (Friday Devotional)

“So deeply do we care for you that we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you have become very dear to us.”

- 1 Thessalonians 2:8

One of our nation’s most enduring political traditions is the State of the Union address. Every year, upon receiving his invitation from the Speaker of the House, the president comes before a joint session of Congress to thunderous applause and delivers a speech full of statistics, anecdotes about “everyday hardworking Americans,” and inevitably declares that “the state of our Union is strong.” With every big name in the federal government assembled in one room and with millions of people watching on television, the president reflects upon the successes of the past year and sets the agenda for the future, to cheers from his party and mostly silence from the opposition. No matter who the president is, no matter what party they belong to, that is basically always how the State of the Union works.

But it hasn’t always been that way. For more than a hundred years, the president did not appear before a joint session of Congress, nor did he deliver a speech. Starting with Thomas Jefferson, presidents simply wrote a letter to Congress, which was then read by proxy. Not until Woodrow Wilson came before Congress with his speech in 1913 did presidents once again appear in person to deliver their addresses. For more than a hundred years, the delivery of the State of the Union wasn’t an event, just another dreary day in Congress—no pomp, no ceremony, and no presidential appearance.

You can imagine the outcry is a president tried that today.  For better or for worse, the State of the Union address is more than a message now; it is a televised spectacle, a chance for the president to not only address Congress, but the American people. It’s not even about the content of the speech necessarily—we all understand that presidents don’t write these speeches themselves, that they are crafted primarily by paid speechwriters in consultation with various agencies, cabinet offices, and congresspeople—nevertheless, we demand that the president himself say the words. The message is important, but so too is the messenger.

That principle is one God validated when He gave us the gospel—not as a set of principles or a path to salvation, but as a person. “The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen His glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth,” says John 1:14. When the time came for God to unveil his plan for the salvation of the world, He didn’t send a proxy, He came in the flesh. Christ didn’t just talk about the kingdom of God, he showed it to us with his miracles, his ministry, and ultimately his death and resurrection. The gospel is not a sermon or a book, it is Christ himself.

So it’s no wonder that the apostle Paul, seeking to imitate his Lord, tells his beloved church in Thessalonica that “we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves.” Jesus taught him—and us—that ministry is supposed to be incarnational, not distant, that your presence is as important as your preaching. People are not just listening for the gospel, they are watching for it too. The message matters, but so too does the messenger.

As you go into the world, may you share the gospel not only with your words, but with your whole self, preaching and practicing compassion, forgiveness, grace, and love. Give more than a speech, give yourself—because from the manger to the cross, that’s what our Lord did.

October Reading Log

Buckle your seat belts, it's a long one this month! Lots of different genres, 9 total reviews, and a new feature at the beginning: since, in addition to books, I also read plenty of excellent online journalism and opinion pieces every month, I thought I'd let you know the 5 articles which I enjoyed most in the last month. Expect lots of politics and sports, since that's the easiest way to get me to click. I'll also let you know roughly how long it takes to read the article (according to Instapaper, my go-to app for saving online articles) in case you want to read these for yourself.

Without further ado, here's what I've been reading this month!

5 Articles I Like This Month

Our Minds Can Be Hijacked: The Tech Insiders Who Fear a Smartphone Dystopia by Paul Lewis, The Guardian. 19 minutes.

A compelling look at how smartphones and social media shape our attention spans, social interactions, and even our democracy...and how the architects of our most addictive technology are retreating from the monsters they've created.

How America Lost Its Mind by Kurt Andersen, The Atlantic. 51 minutes.

Hundreds of articles have been written since the 2016 election about the breakdown of truth in American political life. This article separates itself from the pack by going broader, looking not just at politics but culture in general to see how we came to a place where, to paraphrase Daniel Patrick Moynihan, people feel entitled to not only their own opinions, but their own facts.

The First White President by Ta-Nehisi Coates, The Atlantic. 34 minutes.

You probably heard about this one--when a Ta-Nehisi Coates piece drops, the media lights up for a few days. And this one doesn't disappoint. As usual, I didn't agree with everything Coates said. But as usual, he made me think, and he did so with brilliant, compelling writing.

How Essential Oils Became the Cure for Our Age of Anxiety by Rachel Monroe, The New Yorker. 22 minutes.

A fascinating look at the origins of the direct marketing scheme that has made your unfriend at least a dozen people on Facebook. If you think Young Living and doTERRA are modern snake oil salesmen, you'll like the implications of this article and be mildly interested (count me in this camp.) If you think essential oils are superior to a lot of Western medicine and that you can make a living selling them, you'll probably be offended by parts of this article, but you should read it anyway.

When Politics Becomes Your Idol by David Brooks, The New York Times. 3 minutes.

Sneaking onto this list on the last day of the month, this may be my favorite op-ed of 2017. Brooks argues that in the age of Trump, politics have become elevated above what they should be, one aspect of life, and become all-encompassing, affecting everything from your family to your faith. The word for that is idolatry, and making politics your idol isn't just bad for your soul, it's bad for the nation's. Read this.

A CRY FOR MERCY: PRAYERS FROM THE GENESEE by Henri Nouwen

One of the great devotional gifts I've discovered the last few years is the written prayer. Having been raised in a tradition where prayers were almost exclusively extemporaneous, the idea of journaling your conversations with God was a pretty foreign one to me at first, and even now it takes some getting used to. Nevertheless, there is tremendous wisdom to be found when you stop and listen to (or read) someone else's prayers; doing so offers new perspectives on God you'd never considered before.

That was my experience the last month and a half as I read through Henri Nouwen's A Cry for Mercy, a collection of prayers written during his time among the Trappist monks of the Genesee in upstate New York. Nouwen, a Catholic priest and professor, was widely regarded as one of the 20th century's greatest spiritual writers, so it's no surprise that there are some golden quotes to be found in this book's 98 pages. What is surprising is how personal the book is, full of not only his joys but his doubts and fears.

Reading these prayers was often the highlight of my daily devotionals. While you could theoretically burn through this book in one sitting, I'd recommend taking it at that pace, one prayer per day. Doing so gave me the opportunity to let Nouwen's words sink in and to piggyback on his words with my own prayers. As I said above, written prayers are a gift, and this collection of them is one worth opening.

THE PIETIST OPTION: HOPE FOR THE RENEWAL OF CHRISTIANITY by Christopher Gehrz and Mark Pattie III

*I wrote a brief review of this book for the Baptist Standard. So as to neither plagiarize nor repeat myself, allow me to simply link to that review here.*

THE JESUS WAY: A CONVERSATION ON THE WAYS THAT JESUS IS THE WAY by Eugene Peterson

In my ongoing mission to reread all the books I bought for seminary (or in some cases, read for the first time!), there have been hits and misses, some books where I stand by my initial decision to skim them for the good parts and others where I'm grateful I now have the time to savor what I had no choice to gobble up back then. The Jesus Way, part three in Eugene Peterson's series on spiritual theology, definitely falls into the latter category--this has instantly become one of my favorite books on discipleship.

A favorite verse of most Christians is John 14:6, in which Jesus says, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." Peterson argues in his introduction that, while believers are quick to claim Jesus as the Truth and the Life, we tend to be much slower to embrace him as the Way. Being a disciple of Jesus, he argues, means more than accepting a series of propositions or claiming an eternal reward, it means shifting your entire worldview. As he has argued in the previous books, following Jesus means that not only your do ends change, but so do your means.

To illustrate this central point, and to elaborate on what the Way of Jesus is, Peterson uses six Old Testament characters (Abraham, Moses, David, Elijah, Isaiah of Jerusalem, and Isaiah of the exile) as witnesses to the different aspects of the way of Jesus, then three other characters (Herod, Caiaphas, and Josephus) as witnesses to the ways of the world, which are antithetical to Jesus. This clever construction suits Peterson's inductive writing style and helps bring in the whole of Scripture to illustrate what you might otherwise assume was a purely New Testament message.

In the end, Peterson successfully and creatively makes the argument that following Jesus "has everything to do with this world, but almost nothing in common with this world." The ever-present temptation is to make the way of Jesus more accessible and relatable by tying it to power, wealth, and popularity, but this is a siren call that must be resisted. Following the way of Jesus (loving your enemies, giving freely of yourself, valuing spiritual wealth over material wealth, etc.) is counterintuitive, difficult, and sacrificial, but then again, so was the cross.

HIGH FIDELITY by Nick Hornby

The sneaky secret that guys don't want to admit is that we like romantic comedies. Not all of them, mind you...some are just mind-numbing as we claim. But the archetypal story of attraction, love, heartbreak, and (hopefully) reconciliation is not one reserved for the fairer sex. Tell a romantic story with believable characters, some humor, and a happy ending, and even the most cynical of men will probably have a good time.

High Fidelity is just such a romantic comedy, the story of a failing record story owner, fresh off a bad breakup, looking for some mixture of personal meaning and human connection in a life stuck in neutral. By thinking through (and ranking) every romantic relationship he's been in, relating his love life to the pop songs which have misshaped his perceptions of love, and negotiating the aftermath of his breakup, the main character ultimately achieves some kind of forward momentum.

This book is unique for two reasons. One, the main character manages to simultaneously be deeply unlikable and painfully relatable. Nick Hornby skillfully walks this tightrope throughout the book, giving the reader a protagonist who makes poor decisions, treats everyone around him with disdain and disrespect, and wallows in self-pity...yet does all of those things in a way and with a voice that has you rooting for him nonetheless. Two, Hornby makes sure this romantic comedy is actually funny. Writing for laughs is a lot harder than it appears, and he made me chuckle numerous times while reading.

Is this book going to change your life? Nah. But I imagine it'd be a great beach read. Books should be fun, romantic comedies should be funny, and love stories should leave you smiling--so with those as my rubric, I'd say High Fidelity was a success.

HEAVIER THAN HEAVEN by Charles P. Cross

Finishing High Fidelity put me in the mood for another book about music, so I turned to a classic in the rock lit genre, Heavier Than Heaven, the biography of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain. If you know much about Cobain, you will not be surprised to hear that I laughed a lot less reading this book than I did reading High Fidelity.

Heavier Than Heaven traces Cobain's life from his humble beginnings in Aberdeen, Washington to his troubled adolescence (following his parents' divorce, he bounced around from family to family and was even homeless for a while) to the formation and rapid rise of Nirvana, all the way to his tragic death by suicide. A fan of Nirvana's music, I nevertheless went into this book knowing only the basics about Cobain, and even what I knew was general impressions, not facts. Author Charles Cross, a Seattle-based music journalist, does an able job debunking some of those impressions and myths and providing the facts based on his 4 years of research, including 400+ interviews with bandmates family members, and friends.

What emerges from all that research is a picture of a sad, brilliant, disturbed (and often disturbing) individual. Reading about Cobain's dreams, artwork, and poetry, the dark, complex lyrics of Nirvana's songs make sense--their lead singer was the epitome of the tortured artist. This inner turmoil, along with the physical agony of a stomach condition he struggled with his entire adult life, ultimately drove him to mind-boggling drug abuse. In fact, much of the second half of the book is a seemingly endless recounting of Cobain's heroin addiction, a narrative that is as exhausting and repetitive as it surely was for his friends and family.

The book's title, which comes from an early concert poster advertising Nirvana's sound, is well earned. This was not a particularly fun read, because Kurt Cobain was not a particularly fun person. His heavy, raw, tortured music came from a heavy, raw, tortured soul, and that's the story Charles Cross tells. I can't say I'd heartily recommend this book unless you're a big Nirvana fan--the writing is so-so, and it tends to focus on the tabloid stuff to the exclusion of the music--but it did teach me a lot about one of the last true rock stars.

THE SUNSET LIMITED by Cormac McCarthy

When an atheist and a Christian talk about faith in the context of entertainment (whether a book, movie, or TV show), it's almost always insulting. Sometimes it's insulting to atheists, portraying them as cold-hearted, arrogant jerks who delight in nothing more than belittling people of faith, a la God's Not Dead. Other times it's insulting to Christians, making them look like backwoods fundamentalists with no critical thinking skills and no desire to look at other people's perspectives, a la Religulous. And just about every time it's insulting to the audience, since the conversation is almost never an honest one, but rather an excuse for one side to preach at the other and score points.

So what a relief to read The Sunset Limited, Cormac McCarthy's 2006 one-act play (or, as the publisher somewhat pretentiously calls it, 'a novel in dramatic form.') The play is one long conversation between Black, a kind, faithful ex-con living in a New York tenement building, and White, a cultured professor whose existential crisis led him to nearly throw himself in front of a train, only to be intercepted by Black. Their conversation back at Black's apartment after the aborted suicide attempt, in which White calmly explains why he has nothing to live for and Black tries to convince him otherwise, covers everything from life and death to faith and unbelief to hope and despair. You know, the small stuff.

Those looking for a happy ending that ties everything in a bow have obviously never read anything by Cormac McCarthy. But what you will get is a deep, thoughtful conversation about the meaning of life, told both from the perspective of simple, sincere faith and worldly (but equally sincere) unbelief. The play is beautiful, insightful, and, despite the subject matter, funny. And while the ending is ambiguous, it manages to leave both the atheist and the Christian reader feeling as though their perspective has been fairly represented--and rooting for the opposing character to see the light not because you want a convert, but because you've grown to love him.

I read this in an hour and couldn't put it down. In a month with plenty of books, this was probably my favorite. Highly recommended for any friends who want to see faith debated without smugness, something I wish was easier to find, in entertainment and in life.

SUPERMAN: THE GOLDEN AGE VOL. 1 by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster

Before there was a Justice League, a Fortress of Solitude, or kryptonite, there was still a Superman. Superman: The Golden Age, an affordable series of paperback volumes, collects the earliest adventures of the Man of Tomorrow, and the amazing thing about reading the stories from volume 1 is how much has changed about the character, as well as to see what still endures.

Beginning with Action Comics #1, the first superhero comic book, we are given the foundation of the Superman mythology: a scientist from an alien planet "destroyed by old age" sends his infant son to Earth, where he grows up with incredible abilities: "leaping over skyscrapers, running faster than an express train, springing great distances and heights, lifting and smashing tremendous weights, [and] possessing an impenetrable skin." That's all in the first page. Gifted with these abilities, Superman devotes himself to the cause of justice, using his secret identity as mild-mannered Daily Star reporter Clark Kent to uncover villainous schemes which only Superman can smash.

All of that probably sounds familiar. So too is Lois Lane, there from the first issue as a fellow reporter who is fascinated by Superman and repulsed by her meek coworker, Clark Kent. And as Superman settles into a monthly segment of Action Comics, critical readers will probably also recognize that the Ultra-Humanite (or Ultra, as his henchmen call him), a bald super-genius bent on world domination, would later serve as the inspiration for Lex Luthor.

But there is a lot that has changed about Superman since his earliest adventures. Instead of fighting supervillains (with Ultra being the notable exception), Superman almost exclusively takes on villains guilty of social injustice in these earliest stories: mine owners who don't enforce safety regulations, evil orphanage superintendents, slumlords, even reckless drivers. There is zero concern from the reader that Superman will be unable to combat these forces; the fun is in seeing how he will do it. Superman walks the earth not as the greatest superhuman among dozens of such characters, but as a walking, talking deus ex machina, an exemplar of good in a world full of bad.

Golden Age comics always take some getting used to, simply because of how compact the storytelling is compared to the modern style, but I was pleasantly surprised by how much more I enjoyed these stories than other 1940s comics I've read. Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster are automatic national treasures simply for inventing the Man of Steel, but it turns out they were a good storytelling team too. For anyone interested in reading Superman's earliest adventures, I can heartily recommend this book, which is only $20 retail for almost 400 pages of color comics, an absolute steal. I fully intend to buy and read volumes 2 and 3 soon.

SILVER SURFER VOL. 1-3 by Dan Slott and Michael Allred

I wasn't sure what to think of this series at first. When issue #1 came out in March of 2014, I picked up a copy, swayed by rave reviews and an affinity for the character. By issue #3, I'd reached my verdict. The writing was inconsistent, seemingly unsure whether it was telling an action-adventure story or a comedy. The lighthearted tone felt out of character for the traditionally operatic Silver Surfer. And Mike Allred's art, sort of a cross between a Silver Age-retro style and Darwyn Cooke-ish cartooning, just wasn't working for me. I dropped the book from my pull list and never looked back. Until, that is, my brother got me the first three trades (15 issues) as a birthday present. Nathan has excellent taste in comics, so I decided to try the series again and see if I'd changed my mind in the last 3 years. 

Revised verdict: this is a darn good series (though, in defense of my original opinion, the first three issues are the shakiest part of the run.) The breezy style which initially gave me pause actually winds up being a fitting choice for a character who, let's face it, is kind of ridiculous to begin with. The comedic notes are toned down as the series goes on, and when there are jokes, they land better. Most importantly, regarding Allred's art, I was just flat out wrong. While an acquired taste, his style is beautiful, colorful, and adaptable for goofy moments (such as a stop at an intergalactic ice cream shop) and dramatic ones (like the literal end of the universe) alike. It took me a few issues to get used to what he had to offer, but he won me over--anything Mike Allred is drawing from here on out, I'm interested in.

In terms of plot, there's too much to cover in a few sentences, but suffice it to say that the series follows the sentinel of the spaceways as he explores the universe with a new human companion, a woman named Dawn Greenwood who fate thrusts into his life. If that sounds like a Doctor Who rip-off, well, it is (which Slott is not shy about admitting.) Together, Dawn and the Surfer take on Galactus, save the Never Queen, escape a time loop, and outrun the end of the universe, among other things. Like I said, these issues cover a lot of ground.

But the plot's secondary, really. The star of this book, despite my initial druthers, is its happy-go-lucky style, present in everything from the script to the coloring. If you think comics should not only be good, but should also be fun, this is a great place to start.

ULYSSES by James Joyce

On almost any list of the greatest literature of all time, you'll find Ulysses in the top ten. James Joyce was long ago declared a genius and Ulysses is his opus, an expansive work that uses Homer's Odyssey as a template, Joyce's beloved Dublin as a setting, and an average day as a canvas on which to illustrate the variety, debauchery, and power of humanity. Readers willing to engage with Joyce's difficult but brilliant stream-of-consciousness prose are rewarded with insights and beauty such as literature rarely achieves.

That's what they say, anyway. I'm just glad I finally finished the stupid thing.

I started Ulysses in May as a vanity project. I knew it was an undisputed literary classic and also that it's often considered one of the most difficult books out there, and I wanted to cross it off my list. That was the primary motivation--not to enjoy it, but to be able to say I'd read it. it's a good thing that's what I was wanting, or I'd have never gotten past page 20.

As I mentioned, Joyce writes in a stream-of-consciousness style favored by other greats from William Faulkner to Samuel Beckett. No doubt, this style is not an easy one to understand at first blush, but this wasn't my first experience with it, so I thought I could power through. But Joyce's use of stream-of-consciousness, instead of putting me in the characters' heads, just baffled me and had me running for the Cliff Notes. After reading 782 pages about them, I still can't tell you more than 3 bullet points about Leopold Bloom, Stephen Dedalus, and the rest of the cast, because I found so much of the book incomprehensible.

Joyce draws on everything from the Western canon to Irish history and politics to Greek philosophy to tell his story, and this only makes reading it harder. In the rare moments when I thought I was starting to grasp what was happening, he'd drop a reference I was unfamiliar with, and back to the Cliff Notes I went. It's illustrative of how difficult I found this book that there were times when I'd read the Cliff Notes summary of a section after finishing the section itself and truly feel like there was no connection between the two.

Having finally conquered Ulysses (I read five pages every day, all I could stomach, with periodic breaks for sanity's sake), I'm not here to tell you that the lists are wrong, that Joyce is an impostor, or that the professors who proclaim Ulysses to be the greatest piece of literature ever written are wrong. I'm not so arrogant as to presume that I'm smarter than the thousands of legitimate geniuses who love it. But I will say this: if your book needs a decoder ring just to be comprehensible, that's not entirely the fault of the reader. For me, Ulysses wasn't difficult, it was impossible, and when I closed it for the final time, my only satisfaction was in having finished it--I got nothing out of the experience but bragging rights. My youngest brother, who suffered through Joyce's shorter but equally inscrutable A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, put it best: "life's too short to read Ulysses."