January Reading Log

It was a good month for reading—and unfortunately for my to-be-read pile, book buying too. Here's a look at what was on the nightstand this past month. 

7 Articles I Like This Month

"Trump Used Her Slain Daughter to Rail Against Illegal Immigration. She Chose a Different Path." by Terrence McCoy, The Washington Post. 18 minutes.

When Mollie Tibbets was killed by an undocumented immigrant last July, the story sparked outrage over U.S. immigration policy on cable news, which President Trump fanned into a full-blown flame. What did not make headlines until now was what happened next: Mollie's mother Laura took an undocumented immigrant, a child of farm workers who had known her daughter's murderer personally, into her home. An incredible story of grief and grace.

"America's New Religions" by Andrew Sullivan, New York Magazine. 15 minutes.

For two centuries, Christianity—or at least Christendom—gave most Americans their answers for the Big Questions about the meaning of life. In the wake of Christianity's decline in America, Andrew Sullivan argues that politics has filled the void, and both the right and the left are looking to new gods—President Trump on the right, social justice on the left—to answer existential questions.

"Where Have All the Music Magazines Gone?" by Aaron Gilbreath, Longreads. 27 minutes.

The parallel declines of the music industry and print journalism have been thoroughly documented. This article takes a look at another decline that traffics in both those streams: the sad, steady fall of print music journalism. Part history, part overview, part prediction of what's to come, this article is worth a look for any music fan who misses the heydays of Rolling Stone, Spin, and Vibe.

"What's It Like for an Immigrant to Have a Glimpse of the American Dream, Then Have It Taken Away?" by Ginger Thompson, ProPublica. 16 minutes.

You know about the Trump administration's zero-tolerance family separation policy at the border. What you probably don't know is how it affected the children affected by it. Here ProPublica tells the story (in strictly-the-facts fashion, with no editorializing) of Wilder Maldonado, who was smuggled into the U.S. with his father by coyotes, detained at the border and separated from his father, fostered by an American family for months, and ultimately returned to El Salvador and reunited with his family.

"True Story" by Tish Harrison Warren, The Point Magazine. 12 minutes.

A beautiful, personal explanation of what the church is, what it does (sometimes well and sometimes poorly), and why it matters. Written by an ordained Anglican priest, but applicable for any believer.

"The Weight I Carry" by Tommy Tomlinson, The Atlantic. 20 minutes.

This book excerpt is about one man's struggle with weight. It's a struggle which I, genetically blessed with an excellent metabolism, have never dealt with—but despite the foreignness of the subject matter, this article is written so well and so personally that I read the last few paragraphs through tears.

"The Roots of American Rage" by Charles Duhigg, The Atlantic. 40 minutes.

Politically speaking, everyone is angry right now. Where did that start? What does that mean? How do we fix it? This article, which comes at the problem from psychological and sociological angles instead of from a political perspective, looks for the answers.

A LONG OBEDIENCE IN THE SAME DIRECTION: DISCIPLESHIP IN AN INSTANT SOCIETY by Eugene H. Peterson

When A Long Obedience in the Same Direction was published in 1980, it was unlike anything else on the shelves at the Christian bookstore: a book that offered no easy answers and no 5 step plans, just a biblical call to the slow, methodical work of discipleship. Nearly 30 years later, it remains as singular a work as ever.

In this, Peterson's first book, he sounds what would become the clarion call of his written and pastoral ministry, a call to discipleship. In a society used to getting so much quickly, if not instantaneously, he writes that becoming more like Christ is something that takes a lifetime's worth of prayer, study, and effort. It is not always glamorous, but it is worthwhile.

To illustrate what he calls the biblical model for discipleship, he uses the Song of Ascents, a.k.a. Psalms 120-134. Each shows a different facet of discipleship, from worship to service to blessing, with Peterson using both personal and pastoral anecdotes alongside his breakdown of the biblical text. Each chapter works both as an individual sermon on the topic and as a piece of the larger message on what it means to be a disciple.

In many ways, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction is the ur-text for everything Peterson would write afterwards—his call to incarnational, rooted, lifelong ministry is one he wrote about, preached about, and lived for most of his life. Whether you've never heard of Peterson or own all his books, this one is not to be missed.

LOOKING AT LIFE THROUGH THE REAR VIEW MIRROR by Paul W. Powell
THE LAST LEAF ON THE TREE by Paul W. Powell

In last month's reading log, I read and reviewed one of Paul Powell sermon collections; this month I read two more. Nothing new to say about these two collections, so look at last month's log to get an idea of what to expect from these books.

EAST OF EDEN by John Steinbeck

I'm always intimidated by the classics, especially lengthy epics. Thankfully, John Steinbeck had my back with East of Eden, a deep, compelling family story packed with biblical allusions that I eagerly devoured. This was the kind of classic anybody can and should read, a readable book with interesting characters that will touch you whether you're reading closely or at a surface level.

East of Eden tells the story of the Hamilton and Trask families of Salinas Valley, two clans plagued by sibling rivalries. At different turns, both families play out the story of Cain and Abel in allegorical fashion, with one son failing to please his father while the other cannot seem to help doing so, and the former son subsequently lashing out at his brother. While in a broad sense these events play out as expected in the story, Steinbeck does a brilliant job playing with his readers' expectations and sympathies, and the appeal is less in guessing what will happen next than in watching it unfurl.

Ultimately, East of Eden's questions are fundamental: are some people destined for good and others for evil? Can people change? What does it mean to be part of a family? As any great novelist does, Steinbeck answers these questions not with a philosophical treatise, but with fictional characters and a story as old as time. I loved East of Eden, which I've heard from numerous people is better and easier to read than Steinbeck's more famous The Grapes of Wrath. Don't be scared away by the length (600 pages) or its lofty reputation.

THE SOUL OF BASKETBALL: THE EPIC SHOWDOWN BETWEEN LEBRON, KOBE, DOC, AND DIRK THAT SAVED THE NBA by Ian Thomsen

The 2010-2011 season was a pivotal one for the NBA. In the offseason, LeBron James had moved from Cleveland to Miami via the infamous television special, "The Decision." Kobe Bryant's Lakers and Doc Rivers' Celtics were each gearing up for one last ride after having met in the NBA Finals in 2010. And in Dallas, Dirk Nowitzki and the veteran-laden Mavericks were quietly toiling away, with no one (including them) imagining that they were about to go on a playoff run that would change everything.

Ian Thomsen's The Soul of Basketball is a chronicle of that season and its most important characters, from LeBron and Kobe on the court to Doc and Mark Cuban off it. Thomsen's approach is what sets the book apart, for good and ill. Rather than tell the story strictly chronologically, each chapter is a character study of the key players in the story, with Thomsen often linking them to their spiritual predecessors in the NBA's 1980-1990s golden age. By making these connections and highlighting these individuals, Thomsen argues that the 2010-2011 season was a sea change in the NBA, a year that saw the league finally emerge from Michael Jordan's shadow.

The thesis is an interesting one, but the structure makes for a confusing read. Read one chapter at a time, as if they were separate magazines articles (Thomsen is a longtime writer for Sports Illustrated), the book works well, but when you read several chapters in one sitting you start to wonder if the parts are stronger than the whole. Furthermore, some of the chapters seem to be a stretch, based more on the subjects' accessibility than their importance—did we really need chapters on Isaiah Thomas or referee Joey Crawford?

Despite these flaws, The Soul of Basketball is a fun walk down memory lane for NBA fans, and Thomsen's main point about the 2010-2011 season as a turning point is well taken. Not the best basketball book I've ever read, but an interesting reflection on this Mavs' fan's favorite season.

BLACK PANTHER VOL. 1-4 by Ta-Nehisi Coates, Brian Stelfreeze, Chris Sprouse, and Laura Martin

After reading the first volume of Ta-Nehisi Coates' run on Black Panther, I decided I was out—Coates, as masterful an essayist as he is, didn't seem to have this whole comics thing figured out yet, and I wasn't interested in spending money to watch him get his sea legs. But when my brother bought my the second, third, and fourth volumes, I gave him another shot. Good news: it got better!

Coates' run sees Wakanda in crisis, with T-Challa's sister Shuri in a coma-like state and the crown reluctantly resting back on his head. After a series of invasions, the people are distrustful of the monarchy and some are in open revolt. In the face of such turmoil, T'Challa must try to not only be a king, but a hero.

It's a great setup, but in Coates' hands you have to read the book carefully. My mistake in volume 1 was thinking that I could come in with fresh eyes and assume everything was going to make perfect sense. Instead, I found a Black Panther book for Black Panther fans, one that thrusts the reader into the world of Wakanda without any explanation of its customs, mythology, and characters. Having read volume 1 initially before the movie came out, I was lost. This time, with the movie serving as a primer, I fared much better.

The first three volumes are all one story arc, dealing with how Black Panther fends off enemies from within and without; the fourth volume starts a new arc that tackles Wakanda's mythology. If you liked the movie, you'll appreciate these books, and Coates adds some Game of Thrones-esque palace intrigue and complexity to keep things interesting. Glad I came back to this book—thanks, Nathan!

HAWKEYE VOL. 1-4 by Matt Fraction, David Aja, Annie Wu, Javier Pulido, et al.

Ever read a virtually silent comic told from a dog's perspective? How about one told silently from the perspective of someone whose hearing was impaired? How about one where the villains say "bro" every other word? I have, because I read Matt Fraction and David Aja's run on Hawkeye. And boy am I glad I did.

The story being told in these issues is about Clint Barton, the down-on-his-luck Avenger, and Kate Bishop, his youthful friend and protege. Clint finds himself taking on some tracksuit-wearing Russian mobsters who want to buy out his apartment building and evict his neighbors; Kate finds herself repeatedly saving his bacon, getting fed up with him and moving to L.A., then returning to New York just in time to save him again. Supervillains factor into the story, but only on the fringes—this is a book about superheroes that nevertheless feels more like a buddy cop comedy.

Anyway, the plot is peripheral—this book is all about the characters, all about the writing, and all about the incredible, creative art of David Aja. I really didn't think there was new ground to break in superhero comics, but Fraction and Aja proved me wrong multiple times over the course of their run. The aforementioned issue narrated by Clint's dog is a master class in visual storytelling, one that other artists will try and fail to mimic for decades to come.

Readers wanting a conventional superhero book will need to look elsewhere, but anyone looking for a superhero book that reads like an indie comic will be thrilled. Creative, moving, clever, and fun, Hawkeye is one of the best books Marvel has put out in the last decade.

The Case for Compassion (Friday Devotional)

As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.

- Mark 6:34

We’ve all been there: you’re stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the interstate, mentally calculating how late you're going to be, wondering whether it’s worth it to cut over to the service road, when suddenly a motorcycle comes roaring up from behind you, driving along the shoulder at a ridiculous speed. Your face turns red with indignation, rage really, as you see him zoom past the line of cars in front you, bypassing the rules of the road for the shortcut you wouldn’t dream of choosing.

In such a moment, there are several things you want to do. You may want to lay on your horn—I’m sure if you did, you’d been in good company with the other drivers impatiently waiting alongside you. You may want to utter a few choice words, whether screamed out the window or muttered under your breath. And if you’re not having your best day, you may even want to let them know how you feel with a universally understood hand gesture.

But there’s another choice you can make, one we tend to forego or forget. You can give the driver the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they’re just an idiot, sure. Maybe they think the rules don’t apply to them and that their priorities override those of everybody else waiting in traffic. But then again, maybe their baby is running a 103 degree fever and they’re trying to get home with medicine. Maybe they’re on their way to their first job interview since getting laid off two years earlier. Maybe they’re trying to get to the airport in time to welcome their son home after his fourth deployment to Iraq.

You just don’t know. How could you? So you have to make a choice: cling to the rules that excuse your indignation or choose compassion.

In Mark 6, we see which choice Jesus made. His ministry had begun to reach a fever pitch, with crowds constantly begging for his attention—they wanted to be seen, to be taught, and most of all to be healed. Needing a break, Jesus told his twelve disciples to hop in a boat with him so that they could cross the Sea of Galilee and find some quiet time on the other side. But when the eager crowd saw what Jesus was up to, they made a beeline for the towns on the other side. By the time Jesus and the disciples came ashore, they found no refuge from the attention, just a throng of needy hangers-on, each wanting a piece of him.

In such a moment, Jesus could have yelled at the crowd or deputized his disciples to act as bouncers—for that matter, he could have done any number of miraculous things to get rid of these people and give himself some space. But instead he looked at them, and what he saw was not an abstract inconvenience, but flesh-and-blood people, each with their own desperate needs, each hoping that Jesus might do for them what no one else would. Jesus had compassion on them, and instead of sending them away, he sat down to minister to them.

None of us like to be inconvenienced by other people; none of us like it when somebody else breaks the rules while we’re left to pick up the pieces. But when someone else's desperation becomes your inconvenience, take a moment to see things as they might see them. Ask whether the situation is as black and white as your anger assumes it is. And if you can, choose compassion.

More Than a Story (Friday Devotional)

“Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

- Luke 10:36-37

“It’s only a story.”

From a parent to a child, those words come as a comfort in a darkened movie theater—the dragon onscreen isn’t real, the stakes are imaginary, it’s all just pretend. As you get older, you silently repeat those same words to yourself when a novel or a film captivates you so much that your eyes fill with tears or the hairs on your arm stands straight up—“Those aren’t real people,” you think, “you’re being silly. It’s only a story.”

Stories compel us in ways that abstract ideas do not. By putting ourselves in a character’s shoes, imagining their joys and pains, we’re able to learn something about ourselves from a safe distance. But when a story—whether told in a song or on a stage, whether it’s something you hear from someone else or even something you make up yourself—draws you in so deeply that you start to feel intensely, uncomfortably vulnerable, four simply words pull you out of the fantasy and put you back on solid ground: “it’s only a story.”

Stories are powerful, which is why Jesus used them so frequently when he was teaching about the kingdom of God. With parables about prodigal sons and unforgiving servants, pearls and mustard seeds, he made the spiritual comprehensible and brought us in on the Father’s plan. We cherish his parables to this day.

One of the best known, of course, is the Parable of the Good Samaritan. When a man, seeking to justify himself, demanded that Jesus explain exactly who God was talking about when He commanded us to love our neighbors, Jesus told him a story. In the tale, a man is beaten, robbed, and left for dead, then left to his fate by two bystanders he’d have expected would help. Only when a Samaritan—a name most Jews would have spat out with contempt—comes by does the man find rescue, recovery, and restoration.

It’s a wonderful story that has much to tell us about who we are called to love (everyone, regardless of their background), what makes a neighbor (relationship, not proximity or affiliation), and what true compassion looks like (deeds, not just good intentions.) But at the end of the day, it’s easy to hear the parable and dismiss it with those four words we know so well: it’s only a story.

But Jesus is ready for those four words with four of his own: “go and do likewise.” The call to love your neighbor is not something Jesus consigns to fiction; it isn’t something he lets us explain away. With the story, Jesus shows us what mercy looks like, and with a command he makes explicit what the parable should have already made apparent: unconditional mercy is our calling. Don’t just hear the story, he’s saying, live it.

In a cynical time, it’s tempting to think of the Good Samaritan’s story as nothing more than a fantasy, the kind of fable that’s fine for children but which won’t stand up to the scrutiny of the real world. It’s easy to see the compassion on display in that parable as unrealistic and extravagant, to say that life is more complicated than the parable’s black-and-white portrayal. You can read Jesus’s words and conclude with the a mixture of sadness and self-justification that, ultimately, it’s only a story. But the cross shows us that unconditional mercy is no fiction—it’s the way of Christ. Go and do likewise.

Taking the Shots (Friday Devotional)

A dispute also arose among them as to which one of them was to be regarded as the greatest. But [Jesus] said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you; rather the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves.”

- Luke 22:24-26

If you’ve ever talked with my son for more than five minutes, chances are you’ve heard him excitedly say these two words: “basketball hoop!” For whatever reason, nothing captivates him quite like the opportunity to put a ball in a basket, even it’s just crumpled up paper in a trash can. So when the sun finally came out earlier this week after days of cold, dreary weather, I decided it was time for the two of us to head to the park and shoot some hoops.

Sure enough, when we pulled into the parking lot and he saw the basketball court, he could barely contain his excitement, running towards the court as fast as his little legs could carry him. I handed him the ball and fully expected him to shoot to his heart’s content. But instead he surprised me—as soon as I caught up to him, he threw me the ball with a grin and shouted, “Daddy shoot!” And for fifteen minutes he delightedly rebounded and passed for me, never once taking a shot. Every time I offered him the ball he’d shake his head and tell me to shoot, and every missed shot was rewarded with a “so close!” just as every basket earned a cheer. As much as he loves shooting the ball himself, that afternoon he was more than happy to just help me take the shots.

That’s an attitude that can be hard to come by nowadays, when it often seems like the only way to succeed is by putting yourself center stage. On social media, in the news, and at the office you witness example after example of people who demand all the attention, and who seem to be rewarded for doing so. Success, it can appear, comes by taking a shot every time you get the ball.

Jesus gives a different definition of success, saying that true greatness isn’t found in the spotlight, but in service. He acknowledges that the world doesn’t see it that way, that powerful people are always looking for ways to dominate and boast over those they see as beneath them. But rather than buying into the world’s narrative, Jesus rejects it outright, trading it for a kingdom perspective. He encourages us to do the same.

Our culture doesn’t offer many rewards for those who serve when they could be striving, but Jesus says it is these kinds of disciples who are the greatest among us. So in a self-centered world, may your life be cross-centered, more concerned with sacrificing for others than with shoving them aside. The world says to take every shot you get—listen instead to Jesus, and throw some passes.

More than a Quick Fix (Friday Devotional)

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

- 2 Timothy 1:7

A few weeks ago, Lindsey and I were rudely awakened by a loud, shrill chirp outside our bedroom door. Rubbing our eyes groggily, we were still trying to figure out where the sound was coming from when we heard it again, just as piercing as before. It was the smoke detector, letting us know—at 3 AM—that it needed batteries…which we didn’t have.

I grabbed a stool and reached up to examine it, but without my contact lenses in, it was hard to tell what I was supposed to do. I pulled the battery out, but the chirping continued every 10 seconds ago. I could see wiring going into the ceiling, but was hesitant to disconnect anything. Unsure what to do and getting more frustrated by the second, I desperately searched for some button to press, some switch to flip. The smoke detector just kept chirping every 10 seconds at a volume and pitch that made me long for nails on a chalkboard.

Finally, Lindsey decided she’d had enough. Practically pushing me off the stool, she reached up and did what I’d been unwilling to do—yanked the smoke detector straight out of the ceiling, disconnecting the wire and, yes, stopping the chirping. The problem wasn’t really solved—the smoke detector still needed batteries—but with one quick, violent gesture she’d found a quick fix for the meantime.

In life, we long for those kinds of solutions—quick, easy remedies that will wipe away our problems, even if just for a moment, even if we have to do something we know we shouldn’t. We know these sorts of quick fixes aren’t real solutions, we know they’re too ugly and makeshift to really do the job. But when you’re at a loss, when the problem seems too complicated and overwhelming to handle the right way, you’ll settle for anything. That’s how sin creeps into your heart—it tells you that your problems are too big to handle God’s way, that you need to take matters into your own hands, that that the ends justify the means.

In the face of such temptation, Scripture reminds us that God has shown us another way. It is insecurity that pushes us toward quick fixes, it is fear that makes us shove the better angels of our natures to the side in pursuit of some solution, any solution. But as 2 Timothy 1:7 reminds us, the spirit God gives us is not one of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind.

Fear points you in the opposite direction that God does. Fear compels you to isolate those who are different from you, but God calls you to embrace them as neighbors. Fear prompts you to lash out at those who hurt you, but God says to seek forgiveness and reconciliation. Fear tells you that you are on your own, but God tells you that He is with you.

God’s way is harder than fear’s, there’s no doubt about that. It takes more effort, more discipline, and courage to love than it does to fear. But when you follow Him instead of retreating into yourself, you find more than a patch for your problems, you find true mending. In God’s way you won’t find a quick fix—by choosing love instead of fear you’ll find an actual solution.

December Reading Log

December is always a short reading month for me, since the week of Christmas is too full of family and church festivities for much solitary downtime. Nevertheless, I did plenty of reading in the three weeks available for it. Take a look!

3 Articles I Like This Month

"Why Are Young People Having So Little Sex?" by Kate Julian, The Atlantic. 51 minutes.

Statistics show that my generation and those younger than me are marrying less, dating less, and, yes, having less sex than previous generations were at our age. The reasons are legion and are explored in this fascinating article, but all boil down to a truly terrifying reality: as a society, we're losing the ability to be intimate with other human beings. Note: this is an article about sex. So, while it is a professional and research-based article, expect some mature content.

"We Asked 12 Mass Killers: 'What Would Have Stopped You?'" by Alex Hannaford, GQ UK. 34 minutes.

Every time there's a mass shooting, we ask "could anything have been done to prevent this?" The left looks to gun control and the right looks to mental health, but the truth is that we're all speculating—the only way to really know what could stop a mass shooting is to ask a mass shooter. So this reporter did, interviewing a dozen convicted mass shooters to learn what measures they think could have prevented their crimes.

"The Redemption of MS-13" by Danny Gold, Longreads. 23 minutes.

In gang-ridden El Salvador, there is one surefire way for young men to escape the clutches of MS-13: become a born again Christian. A fascinating look at the strange respect the feared gang has for the Church, the relationship between pastors and gang leaders, and the twofold salvation pastors offer young men whose only other choice is joining MS-13.

SEARCHING FOR SUNDAY: LOVING, LEAVING, AND FINDING THE CHURCH by Rachel Held Evans

Every Christian has a story to tell about their relationship with the church—for some, it is a story of gentle nurturing, acts of kindness, and boundless grace; for others, it is a story of judgments, hypocrisies, and bullies. And if you stick with the church long enough, chances are you'll experience both kinds of stories.

Such has been the case for Rachel Held Evans, who documents her church journey in Searching for Sunday. Raised in evangelicalism, she finds herself both grateful for its gifts to her and unable to identify any longer with its theological, social, and political constraints. So in the book, she talks about why she left the church, when and where and why she went looking for it again, and what she found. It makes for a lovely, honest, ultimately redemptive story.

This is the book I'd point you toward if you've heard of Rachel Held Evans but never read her work before. You won't agree with her on everything, but you also won't be able to deny the honesty behind her writing—whether you like her answers or not, she's sincerely asking the right questions. Furthermore, the way she asks those questions, the spirit in which she takes up this church journey, is gracious. Though she has plenty of criticisms for the church, especially the evangelical church which is her heritage, this book never descends into a gripe session. Try as she might, she can't quit the church, and she doesn't want to.

I've said before that Evans is one of my favorite Christian authors, and this book only solidifies that for me. She and I would have disagreements if we were in the same local church, and we'd approach certain issues differently, but I'd rejoice in the conversations. At turns witty and thoughtful, prophetic and pastoral, Rachel Held Evans has something to say about the church as it has been, the church as it is, and the church as it should be (and will be.) I urge you to listen. 

ANGELS by Billy Graham

When Billy Graham died earlier this year, his reputation had already been cemented as one of the most successful preachers in the history of the Christian faith. In addition to preaching countless sermons and organizing the crusades at which they were given, he also wrote more than 30 books, including this primer on angels—who they are, what they do, and how they relate to God and humanity. Unfortunately, Graham was not nearly as compelling a spiritual writer as he was a preacher.

Let's start with the positive. Graham, true to his evangelical reputation, grounds everything he writes in Scripture, relying upon verse after verse from the Old and New Testaments to make his claims. He is never firing off the cuff or speculating (at least not without admitting to doing so), merely pointing the reader to the Bible's teachings on angels. Furthermore, even in a book ostensibly about angels, Graham is ever the evangelist, taking time for multiple written "altar calls" in the book on the off chance that it is being read by someone who doesn't know Christ. Finally, the writing is understandable and to the point.

Unfortunately, even at less than 150 pages, it's also a drag to read. Graham's writing has the plainspoken simplicity of his sermons, but lacks the charm and panache he brought to the pulpit—the book is dry and often dull, and I constantly caught myself skimming instead of really reading. Furthermore, the sense of certainty that helped bring authority to his preaching rubbed me the wrong way numerous times when reading this book—on more than one occasion he postulated a principle based on his interpretation of a single verse, stating that principle as unquestionable fact. There is no shame in saying, "we can't really be sure about this," and that is a phrase I wish he'd employed a lot more often in this book, especially given the subject matter.

For anyone interested in angels, this book is a basic primer, albeit one with a few claims I found questionable due to strained interpretations of the biblical text. It is not, as Graham was quick to point out, a scholarly work, and approaching the subject matter for general audiences has pros and cons. For me, in this case, the cons simply outweighed the pros. If you want to borrow Angels, you're welcome to it—I won't hunt you down to get my copy back.

THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL SON by Henri J.M. Nouwen

The nature of a parable is that it doesn't need to be explained—the preacher who begins a sermon on one of Jesus's parables with, "This is what he meant," robs the story of its punch. But that doesn't mean some parables aren't worth exploring in depth to see what themes and messages lurk beneath the surface. By exploring every character, every angle, and every word, sometimes the Big Idea of the story comes alive in a whole new way.

That's exactly what happens in The Return of the Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen's examination of arguably Jesus's most beloved parable. Using Rembrandt's famous painting of the story as a framing device, Nouwen looks at both brothers in the story as well as the father, explaining how he has seen himself in each character at different times in his life. With poetic precision, Nouwen brings new eyes to a story I thought I'd seen every side of (incidentally, there's a lot of good material in here for future sermons on the parable.)

At 139 pages, it's a quick read, and a worthwhile one. If you know the parable well, expect to be made to think about it in at least one new way. Nouwen is a gifted writer and a deep thinker, and you'll be blessed by his thoughts on the story.

RAISING PEANUTS IN A GOLD FIELD by Paul W. Powell

The late Paul Powell, longtime pastor of Green Acres Baptist Church in Tyler and the third dean of Truett Seminary, spent a lifetime preaching relatable, homespun sermons. Some of these messages have been preserved in short collections frequently distributed for free at the seminary. With a few days to myself before Christmas, I spent some time in one of these collections, Raising Peanuts in a Gold Field.

These sermons are gems in the genre of deductive, expository sermons—there are almost always three to five points, those points are often alliterative, and they all tie back to one Big Idea. Furthermore, they are a goldmine for preachers looking for memorable quotes and sermon illustrations. With messages on everything ranging from church growth to the family to money, readers will find something to grab onto.

The sermons are concise, memorable, and Bible-based. While my preaching style doesn't match Powell's to a T, I'm appreciative of the chance to learn from him by reading these messages. For Truett students and alumni, don't miss the chance to pick up Raising Peanuts in a Gold Field and the other sermon collections on the third floor of Truett. They're free; what do you have to lose?!

THE PASSAGE OF POWER by Robert A. Caro

What more can I say about Robert Caro and his multi-volume biography of Lyndon B. Johnson? The research is still astounding, the writing is still thrilling, and the details still jump off the page in The Passage of Power, Caro's fourth and penultimate (at least that's what he's saying for now) book in the series.

This book, after 2,500 pages of buildup in the previous volumes, finally sees LBJ ascend to the presidency, elevated not by an election but an assassin's bullet. The Passage of Power spends its pages telling the story of how, in a single moment, Johnson went from the virtual powerlessness of the Vice Presidency to becoming the most powerful man on earth. The detailed account of what LBJ did on November 22, 1963 and the immediate days that followed shows how deliberate LBJ was in reassuring the federal government, the American people, and the world that, despite the murder of a beloved president, someone was in charge. While that transition was mostly overlooked, then and now, in the wake of questions about the assassination, Caro shows that it was far from automatic, and that Johnson's handling of it was as deft as it was careful.

Other highlights in the book include anecdotes about the relationship between Johnson and Robert F. Kennedy (they absolutely hated each other) and the story of how Johnson used his legislative prowess to propel some of JFK's stalled bills to passage, specifically his tax cut and the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Much like in Master of the Senate, Caro's attention to detail is unparalleled, and his writing skill keeps chapters about the legislative process from getting bogged down in minutia.

The next and presumably final volume of the series will deal with LBJ's second term as president, focusing on his handling of the Vietnam War and its disintegration of his domestic policies. After four books watching Johnson rise to power, I'm eager to see what light Caro will shed on his fall. When book five is released, I'll be first in line to buy it.

ESSENTIAL MAN-THING VOL. 1-2 by Steve Gerber, Chris Claremont, Mike Ploog, Jim Mooney, et. al

"Whatever knows fear burns at the Man-Thing's touch!" It's a good line. Turns out, it's a pretty good series too.

Essential Man-Thing Vol. 1-2 collects the titular character's appearances from the 1970s and early 1980s, whether in Marvel's horror magazines, team-up comics, or his own eponymous title. Shortly after his debut, the Man-Thing became a vehicle for all kinds of weird, wacky stories, especially in the hands of writer Steve Gerber. Crossing genres, from horror to fantasy to crime noir, Gerber managed to tell remarkably compelling stories, all with a character unable to speak.

The Man-Thing, for those unfamiliar with him, is a scientist-turned-swamp monster, the result of a nasty encounter with the famous Super Soldier Serum. Dwelling in the swamps of the Florida Everglades, he keeps to himself and is devoid of any semblance of intelligence. With that being said, he is also empathic, able to intuitively sense the emotions of those around him. And there is no emotion he despises so much as fear—to be afraid in the presence of the Man-Thing is a threat to your very life.

Such a character naturally lends himself to the horror genre, but Gerber (and later writers) managed to find other kinds of stories to tell with the Man-Thing. Pirates, demons, construction barons, and book burners all make appearances in these stories, with some making not-so-subtle sociopolitical statements (the aforementioned money-hungry construction baron is named F.A. Schist) and others just taking the reader on a wild romp. It makes for a ride that is quintessential Bronze Age comics—zany, over-the-top, and fun.

My only exposure to the Man-Thing prior to reading these volumes was guest appearances, and frankly, I'd never been too impressed. However, these books won me over. Whatever knows fear burns at the Man-Thing's touch—and whoever appreciates a good story will enjoy the Man-Thing's adventures.

My Resolutions for 2019

Last year, I spent much more time than usual thinking about resolutions for the New Year, ultimately compiling a list of 13 goals (of varying difficulty) that I mostly took pretty seriously. It was a fun exercise, so here we go again...here are my resolutions for 2019!

1. Spend 30 minutes per day in personal Bible study

Sometimes people seem to assume pastors are walking Bible encyclopedias, that we've got the answer to any theological or biblical question at our fingertips. We don't. As it turns out, even really really good seminaries can't teach you all the secrets of heaven and earth in 3 years.

So it's my job to be a lifetime learner...I don't mind at all telling someone "I don't know" when they ask me a Bible question, but I'd like to be doing it less in 50 years than I am now. For that matter, I'd like to be doing it less in one year than I am now.

So resolution #1 is to spend 30 minutes every weekday studying some area of the Bible where my knowledge needs a refresher. The prophets, biblical geography, and Paul's missionary journeys will get a lot of attention.

2. Develop and stick to a prayer plan

I hope you won't be surprised to hear that I'm a regular prayer, but I admit the objects of my prayers are pretty scattershot...it just depends on who and what are on my mind at the moment. So for 2019, I want to be more intentional about the prayers with which I start my day. Here's the plan, which I reserve the right to change as the year goes on:

Sunday- Pray for the local and universal church.
Monday- Pray for the hurting, hopeless, and lost.
Tuesday- Pray for governmental leaders at the local, state, and national levels.
Wednesday- Pray for my friends.
Thursday- Pray for victims of poverty, oppression, war, and injustice.
Friday- Pray for people I don't like (to use Jesus's words, my "enemies".)
Saturday- Pray for my family.

3. Memorize one Bible verse per day

I am admittedly terrible at Scripture memory, particularly at being able to cite where a verse is found. Frankly, it's embarrassing. So here goes. One verse per day will give me 365 plus all the ones that a lifetime in church did manage it imprint upon me.

4. Run the Dallas Marathon

After I ran Waco's marathon in 2015, I was satisfied to cross "run a marathon" off my bucket list and stick to 5Ks and half-marathons from then on.

...well, it took 4 years, but I've got the itch again. So I'm setting a goal to run in the 2019 BMW Dallas Marathon, held on (of all days) Andrew's birthday. I hope and expect to beat my time from 2015, but I'll be satisfied just to finish.

5. Volunteer one hour per week (outside of church)

I'm a big believer in being involved in the community, but I need to do a better job of proving it, and doing so outside of the friendly environment of church activities. After all, those activities can't really be considered "volunteering" in my case, since my paychecks have the church's name on them. So whether at the library, parks and recreation department, nursing home, or elsewhere, I'm making it a priority this year to spend at least one hour per week volunteering, not as Pastor Daniel but as Citizen Daniel.

6. Listen to 3 songs every day

Since college, my commuting playlist has gone from 'whatever CDs are in the car' (boy, that's a dated phrase) to exclusively podcasts. I listen to podcasts when I'm running, driving around town, and sometimes even just when I'm doing chores around the house. In fact, I listen to podcasts so often that I felt like I need to give them up for Lent last year.

The problem is that means I sometimes go days without listening to any music. For me, that's a huge problem. So I'm committing to stopping at some point every day this year, plopping down in a chair with a pair of headphones, closing my eyes, and listening to at least three songs. It's not much, but it's something. My iTunes library of nearly 7000 songs deserves at least that much.

7. Get organized

Organization is something I want to be good at. I know it's important. But it's not something I'm naturally gifted at, as my wife/full-time, unpaid secretary can tell you.

So my goal in 2019 is to take some steps to improve in that department. Simple stuff. Buy a planner and then use it. Write down dates instead of assuming I'll remember them (I never do) or hoping Lindsey will (thankfully, she almost always does.) You know, the kind of stuff I should have nailed down at age 16 or so.

8. Be mindful of my screen time

I'll admit it: I'm as addicted to my smart phone as any millennial. It's the first thing I check in the morning and almost always the last thing I look at before bed.

So my admittedly ambiguous goal is to be more mindful of my screen time in 2019: to check Facebook and Twitter twice a day instead of every time there's a lull, to read a magazine or a book instead of scrolling through a news feed, to make room for silence and even boredom in a world that offers constant stimulation. No concrete plan of action yet on this one, but I'll let you know how it goes.

9. Watch all the Marvel Studios movies prior to seeing Avengers: Endgame

It's no surprise to anyone who knows me that I love the Marvel movies. However, to the dismay of my brother Nathan, I've only seen most of them once. So before Avengers: Endgame comes out at the end of April, Lindsey and I are committing to rewatch every Marvel Studios offering since 2008's Iron Man. I can't wait.

10. Watch 50 movies in 2019

I love movies, but it's pretty typical for me to make it through the year having seen less than 10. So by December 31, 2019 I want to have a list of 50 movies I watched over the course of the year, whether in the theater, on Blu-Ray, or on Netflix.

Resolution #9 will help considerably with this one, since I will have to watch 23 Marvel movies (counting the yet-to-be-released Captain Marvel, Avengers: Endgame, and Spider-Man: Far From Home) just to pull that resolution off.

11. Throw away fewer leftovers

The thing about growing up in a family of five is that there weren't a lot of leftovers. What we didn't eat at dinner was usually just enough for Dad to take to work for lunch the next day, and so we almost always got something fresh for dinner. So when Lindsey and I got married, she was frustrated to learn that my tolerance for eating leftovers was pretty low.

I've improved over the years in that respect, but there's room to grow. So in the name of 1) not wasting food 2) saving money and 3) being less spoiled, I'm committing in 2019 to eating whatever leftovers are in the fridge before making something new or defaulting to eating out.

12. Write a book

After making this one of my resolutions last year and failing to write a word, I'm re-upping on the goal this year. I've got a book idea and a rough outline, so don't count me out this time around!

13. Learn Spanish

The Duolingo app has been re-downloaded and a Spanish verb book has been purchased. I won't be fluent by the end of the year, but if I can make it to "passable in basic conversation," I'll be thrilled.