2020 New Year's Resolutions Scorecard

 

I'm a big New Year's resolutions guy. I like the challenge of self-improvement, I like the hopes for a better year, and I like lists. So since 2018, I've been publishing my resolutions on this blog and then checking in at the end of the year to see which goals I reached, which I abandoned, and which I just plain forgot.

If ever there was a year to throw January's resolutions out the window, it was 2020. But to my surprise and delight, I actually scored better this year than last year! So without further ado, here are my 2020 New Year's Resolutions and a report on how well my reality measured up to my goals:

1. Spend 30 minutes in prayer every morning

It took a while for me to figure out where to incorporate this into my daily routine. For a few months I would walk around the neighborhood early in the morning and pray then. After a while I gave that up and instead started taking a break in the middle of the day for this prayer time. These days I've taken to praying while on my morning run.

The routine has changed as the year has progressed, but the commitment to this resolution held steady. 1 for 1 so far!

Score: 1 out of 13

2. Spend 30 minutes reading the Greek New Testament every morning

One of these days I'm really going to need to make a concerted effort to bone up on my Greek and Hebrew, especially if I want to pursue a PhD. The goal had been to start working on that in 2020 by spending 30 minutes per day reading the Greek New Testament.

I did this for precisely zero days. Cool.

Score: 1 out of 13

3. Spend one hour writing every day

Dorothy Parker is purported to have said, "I hate writing; I love having written." That describes me to a T—I think I'm a pretty good writer, and I love the feeling of accomplishment from writing something, but the actual process is often torturous. My hope had been that, by spending an hour per day writing, I'd develop more of a rhythm.

Alas, lack of time + my natural inclination toward procrastination + my aforementioned dislike for the writing process = my bailing on this resolution by the middle of January. Maybe next year.

Score: 1 out of 13

4. Buy 5 books or fewer in 2020

A longtime goal of mine has been to read every book I own, a goal I take so seriously that I have a handwritten list of all my books and cross them off one by one when I finish them. So this particular resolution was designed to do two things: 1) get me closer to the goal of reading everything I own 2) save me some money over the course of 2020.

And I did it! From January 1-December 31 I bought exactly five books: Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad, Walden and Other Writings by Henry David Thoreau, At Canaan's Edge by Taylor Branch, The Rap Year Book by Shea Serrano, and A Promised Land by Barack Obama. (FWIW, I also read all of these in 2020, so my to-read list got shorter, not longer.)

Now I just have to resist the urge to spend all my Christmas money at Half Price Books on January 1. After a year of restraint, that may be easier said than done.

Score: 2 out of 13

5. Read at least one classic novel every month

Success! This idea stemmed from something many actors do when choosing what films to sign on to: "one for them [a mainstream film which pays the bills], one for me [an art film that pushes them creatively]." At the end of last year, I realized just how many classic novels I was never required to read in my educational career, and I decided to take it upon myself to remedy that one month at a time. While I won't be as strict in 2021 about reading one classic per month, I do intend to loosely stick to this policy. If you're curious, here are the classics I checked off the list in 2020:

January- The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner

February- The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain

March- The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

April- Rabbit, Run by John Updike

May- Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

June- Lord of the Flies by William Golding

July- The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene

August- The Stranger by Albert Camus

September- Walden and Other Writings by Henry David Thoreau

October- Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglas and Other Works

November- Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes

December- Tender Is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Score: 3 out of 13

6. Organize and decorate my office

When I started work at SGBC in June 2019, I changed almost nothing about the office which was now mine—I didn't put anything but my diplomas on the walls, I didn't move any furniture, and I didn't request any renovations or remodeling. Basically I put my books on the bookshelves and got to work. The result was that, one year into my pastorate, my office didn't feel like my office, but rather like a room I was borrowing from the former pastor. So I decided that in 2020 I would make the space my own.

Naturally, two months quarantining at home didn't exactly speed up that process. But a series of foundation repairs in the months that followed did, giving me the excuse to move some furniture around, have the walls repainted, and trade out the wood floors for carpet. I made one corner of the office a reading nook, complete with recliner and record player; another corner became an area just for kids; and the massive hutch that once sat behind my desk was relocated to another part of the building.

It took all year to complete this resolution, but I'm pretty pleased with the results. I wish I had just pictures from January so I could give you a good before-and-after contrast, but nonetheless, here's what the office looks like today:

Score: 4 out of 13

7. Reach out to at least 50 local ministers

Didn't get this one done, and I feel totally justified blaming the pandemic for that. I was taking this resolution very seriously going into the month of March and was on pace to accomplish this goal. Then, well, you know.

Could I have still pulled this off via e-mail, phone, and Zoom? I guess. Am I beating myself up for bailing on this one when the world fell apart? No.

Score: 4 out of 13

8. Write a note every day

Of all the goals I failed to hit, this is probably the one that haunts me the most, because this would have been a really good year to double down on this resolution. People needed some form of contact more than ever in 2020, and a note in the mail was one of the safest and most thoughtful ways to do so. It could have been a tremendous ministry to my congregation if I'd done this.

But this is a scorecard of what happened, not a woulda-coulda-shoulda list. So no points here, and look for this resolution to reappear on my 2021 list.

Score: 4 out of 13

9. Be intentional about social media

The goal here was to start being strategic about how I use social media, both in a professional and personal sense, instead of just posting randomly when I feel like it. Social media is often a sewer, and my hope was that I could use my social media accounts as a way to put out something positive in the world.

Professionally, I'm giving myself credit here. I added a church Instagram page which posts at least twice a week, switched from an invitation-only Facebook Group to the more professional and public option of a Facebook page, and that page has been absolutely crucial to the church's ministry in the pandemic.

Personally, I'm not really doing anything differently than I was this time last year. Lots of pictures and stories about the kids, a few random musings, and occasional thought-provoking articles that I share. Nothing bad, but nothing different from what I was doing before.

So I'll give myself half a point total on this one.

Score: 4.5 out of 13

10. Eat like an adult

Some day a doctor will tell me I have to lay off the fast food and snacks and start eating salads for lunch. Maybe me hearing it from a medical professional will be more effective than me making a New Year's resolution.

Score: 4.5 out of 13

11. Do something nice for Lindsey every day

Look, I could lie to you and say I did this. That would make me look good.

I could rationalize that, as a pretty nice husband, I surely did something nice for Lindsey every day, even if there was no plan to it.

But the goal was to do one intentional, thoughtful thing to make her smile every day. And if I'm being honest, I did not do this on a daily basis. Not thrilled with myself in that regard.

Score: 4.5 out of 13

12. Memorize 368 Bible verses/passages

If you follow me on Instagram, you may have been sick of seeing my daily Bible verse videos by March, much less December. But I needed some way to hold myself accountable to this resolution, and that was the tool I chose. So let Instagram be my proof: I successfully memorized 368 verses in 2020.

Could I recite all 368 without a single mistake right now? Probably not. But the point of the goal was to improve my Scripture memory, and in that respect this one was, overall, a huge success.

Score: 5.5 out of 13

13. Write a book

Sigh. Someday. Or so I keep telling myself.

Score: 5.5 out of 13

So there you have it, 5.5 out of 13, 42%. Given the craziness that was 2020, I feel pretty good about that (especially since last year I only got 23%!)

Tune in tomorrow to see what's on the docket for 2021!

December Reading Log

  

This crazy year is drawing to a close, and with it so is my year of reading. Here's the breakdown by genre of the 72 books I read in 2020:

• "Church books" (i.e. theology, biblical interpretation, church growth, etc.) - 16 books
• History - 5 books
• Novels - 12 books
• Graphic novels/comic book collections - 29 books
• Baseball - 5 books
• Miscellaneous - 5 books

So let's wrap the year up. Here's what I read in December:

3 Articles I Like This Month

"In This Advice, I Was Wrong" by Mark Wingfield, Baptist News Global. 4 minutes.

Midway through the month, there was a dust-up online over a The Wall Street Journal op-ed arguing that Dr. Jill Biden, upon becoming First Lady, should stop using her "Doctor" title because her doctorate is in education, not medicine. That piece was widely (and correctly) scorned as being sexist and condescending, and if you missed it, don't dignify it by looking for the link. However, this article is worth reading: a reflection on the value of such honorifics, specifically in church life, for women and minorities, and why white males such as myself should perhaps be slower to dismiss those titles in the name of informality. 

"The Most American Religion" by McKay Coppins, The Atlantic. 37 minutes.

A history and sociological study of Mormonism, and of the church's attempts from its inception to assimilate into a nation that has repeatedly rejected it.

"How Science Beat the Virus" by Ed Yong, The Atlantic. 26 minutes.

Less than a year after COVID-19 was declared an international pandemic, the scientific community has already invented a vaccine to stop the virus in its tracks. How did they pull it off? In this article, Ed Yong, far and away the best national reporter on the pandemic, details the herculean efforts of researchers and scientists to shift all focus to beating the pandemic. 

AUTOPSY OF A DECEASED CHURCH: 12 WAYS TO KEEP YOURS ALIVE by Thom Rainer

ANATOMY OF A REVIVED CHURCH: SEVEN FINDINGS OF HOW CONGREGATIONS AVOID DEATH by Thom Rainer

Church growth books, as a rule, are not a favorite genre of mine. I find them to generally be overly simplistic, spiritually reductive, numbers-driven, and trendy to a fault. Buuuut that doesn't mean that there's nothing I can learn from them, and part of my getting older (and hopefully more mature) is recognizing that I should never turn my nose up at someone who claims to have answers I'm looking for, at least not without hearing them out first. So this month I spent a week reading through church growth expert Thom Rainer's Autopsy of a Deceased Church and its prequel, Anatomy of a Revived Church, both of which look at the problems that declining churches typically face, diagnose the underlying causes, and offer prescriptions for revival.

The issues Rainer most commonly sees are 1) an inward focus instead of outward focus 2) an unwillingness to make necessary changes and 3) a refusal to face the reality of the situation. Established churches, he says, too often become religious country clubs devoted to keeping their members comfortable and loathe to do anything which might upset the status quo. The problems with that approach are that it walls the church off from its surrounding community and cripples the church's ability to carry out the Great Commission. A church that focuses on itself instead of its neighbors is a church marching towards its own death.

Rainer's solutions, then, are fairly obvious. A church must reorient its vision around service and evangelism to the community. A church must be willing to change the way it does things in the name of growth. And a church must remember—or in some cases, articulate for the first time—what it's all about, and point all its resources in that direction. Easier said than done, to be sure, but reviving something that is wilting is never easy.

Like all the other Rainer books I've read, these books were simple and breezy, easily read in one sitting if you so desired. But these packed more of a punch than some of his other works, and felt deeply applicable to my own situation (distressingly so, in certain instances.) I'm glad I read these, and hope I'll be able to effectively apply their lessons.

A PROMISED LAND by Barack Obama

When the release date of A Promised Land was announced, the first volume of Barack Obama's two presidential memoirs, was announced, I preordered it immediately; I've rarely been so excited for a book release. For one thing, presidential memoirs are a favorite genre of mine; I own and have read every one dating back to Lyndon B. Johnson. For another, Barack Obama is an unquestionably excellent writer, having written a bestselling memoir (Dreams from My Father) long before he became a national political figure. Finally, A Promised Land is the first memoir that feels less like history to me than current events—the 2008 election was the first I ever voted in. So, once I polished off the giant that was Don Quixote at the end of November, I was excited to dive into this book.

A Promised Land primarily covers the events of 2008-2011, following a quick autobiography of Obama's life up to that point (those events had already been covered in more detail in Obama's previous two books). So the book really kicks into high gear with Obama's decision to run for president in 2008 and the historic campaign that followed, one marked by the hope it engendered across the nation ("Yes We Can!"), the unexpected twists and turns (Sarah Palin, the financial crisis, etc.), and ultimately Obama and the Democratic Party's landslide victory.

The next section of the book deals heavily with how, beginning with the transition from the Bush administration to the Obama administration, the incoming president handled the financial crisis. Given that it's been nearly 20 years now and that I was a freshman in college at the time, I'd kind of forgotten just how precarious things felt at that time; Obama makes clear in the book that it was all-consuming for him and his administration. He does an excellent job writing in detail about the steps his administration took without getting too deep into the complexities of the international financial system, and I found this section very informative.

The next big section deals with the passing of the Affordable Care Act, a.k.a. Obamacare, the president's foremost domestic achievement. Reliving the political back-and-forth of that year-long fight was interesting, and it was clear from reading just how important the issue was to the president and how proud he remains of the law's passage.

One thing that surprised me was how much time Obama spent writing about foreign policy, particularly the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. When I think of the Obama presidency, I think first of domestic achievements, but as any student of history knows, presidents have more power when it comes to foreign policy, and their most important job is to be Commander-in-Chief. While Obama's headlines came primarily from his political battles, he makes clear in the book that much of his time was spent dealing with figuring out how to end the wars begun years earlier and how to effectively continue the War on Terror.

The most interesting aspects of the book were the personal touches, such as when Obama would write about Michelle and their girls or when he'd give some insights into what it was like living in the White House. These details kept the book grounded and personal and helped break up the wonkier sections of the book.

All in all, this memoir was everything I expected it to be, and a joy to read. Whether you are an Obama supporter or detractor, this is an important historical work, and one which effectively provides the president's perspective on his first term in office. Well written, well organized, and well argued, A Promised Land is (so far) my favorite presidential memoir, and I highly recommend it.

TENDER IS THE NIGHT by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Life's too short to waste hours reading books you don't like.  But I'd made a commitment to read a "classic" novel every month, and by December 26 (the day I contemplated giving up on this book) it was too late to start something new. So I plowed through to the end.

Tender Is the Night, the final novel F. Scott Fitzgerald completed before his death, was originally published in four parts in Scribner's Magazine, and that fragmentation shows when you read it. While no one can question Fitzgerald's gift with words, this book certainly makes me question his ability to tell a comprehensible story (something with which I never struggled when reading The Great Gatsby). Honestly, I had no idea what the plot was for most of the book.

....yeah, that's really all I have to say about this one. I started trying to lay out the plot for you, but I'm at a loss. I wanted to tell you something about the main characters (Rosemary, Dick Diver, and Nicole Diver), but they didn't make enough of an impression to make it worth the time. I thought maybe I could tell you what the overall point of the book is, but that would imply I know it.

F. Scott Fitzgerald considered this his greatest work, better than The Great Gatsby. His contemporary critics disagreed, and the book was received tepidly in its time. In the decades since, it has risen in stature and often makes "Best Of" lists of 20th century novels. Don't believe the retrospective hype. I finished this out of obligation. You don't have to.

WHERE DO YOU THINK WE ARE? by Shea Serrano

CONFERENCE ROOM, FIVE MINUTUES by Shea Serrano

Shea Serrano has become, in the last year, my favorite pop culture writer, and it's not even close. Basketball (and Other Things) is possibly my favorite book about basketball, The Rap Year Book is possibly my favorite music book, and Shea is possible my favorite person on Twitter. So when I learned that he'd written PDF collections of articles about two of my all-time favorite shows, Scrubs and The Office, I couldn't click "Purchase" fast enough.

The result is typical (and I mean that in a positive way) Shea: hilarious, tangent-filled, ultimately heartfelt reflections about two hilarious, tangent-filled, heartfelt TV shows. Both PDFs capture the essences of their subject matter perfectly, both treat the shows with reverence and love, and both will appeal to diehards and casual fans alike. Most importantly, these PDFs do what Shea has managed to do in all of his projects: make you feel less alone. I can think of few things so valuable in 2020.

ESSENTIAL DOCTOR STRANGE VOL. 4 by Roger Stern, Gene Colan, Marshall Rogers, et al.

Doctor Strange is a tough character to write. For one thing, he's never been given much personality—he's got an arrogant and stubborn streak, but beyond that there's not much there. For another, his supporting cast (primarily Clea, Wong, and the Ancient One) exist primarily to further his adventures, rather than as characters in their own right. But maybe most significantly, he's a sorcerer—and any fantasy author will tell you that magic is tough to write.

So over the decades, writers have taken a number of approaches to telling the adventures of the good doctor. The best among them have embraced the weirdness and psychedelic possibilities presented by the Sorcerer Supreme and made him more of an adventurer than a superhero, someone who's constantly running into new cosmic entities and strange new worlds and dimensions. Less imaginative writers have tried to make him a conventional superhero whose power happens to be magic and whose villains happen to share that power.

Unfortunately, Essential Doctor Strange Vol. 4, which chronicles Stephen Strange's adventures from the late 1970s, takes the latter approach, which results in stories that wind up being A) boring or B) confusing. Most issues end with Doctor Strange firing vague energy bolts out of his fingers at familiar enemies who are firing similarly vague energy bolts at him. It's pretty by-the-numbers superhero fare, but when your protagonist isn't blessed with a charismatic personality, it leaves you wanting something to pop off the page.

Roger Stern is a capable writer, one of the leading lights for Marvel in the 1970s and 1980s. And both Marshall Rogers and legend Gene Colan (who had a fantastic run on Doctor Strange in the late 1960s) are fine too. But by the end of the book I felt more strongly than ever that Doctor Strange is a character who works best as a guest star instead of as the protagonist. If you want some classic Doctor Strange stories, the first three volumes of this series are worth the read. You can skip volume 4.

SHOWCASE PRESENTS WORLD'S FINEST VOL. 1 by Curt Swan, Dick Sprang, Edmond Hamilton, Bill Finger, Jerry Coleman, et al.

Comic books aren't for children, not anymore. Comics today are written largely for the 40 to 50-year-olds who have been buying them since they were teenagers, along with anybody over the age of 13 who happens to get pulled into the genre. But all it will take is a few pages of a modern comic book for you to see that comics are no longer written for little kids.

But once upon a time they were. From the 1940s through at least the 1960s, comics were kid lit, the paper equivalent of Saturday morning cartoons. And especially at DC Comics, home of Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman, the campier and the more kid-friendly, the better.

Showcase Presents: World's Finest Vol. 1 is a collection of comics from that era, packed full of 12-page stories about Batman, Robin, and Superman teaming up for madcap adventures. Sometimes they take on a pair of foes (such as when Luthor and Joker combine forces), but far more often their adventures are akin to screwball comedies, with the heroes swapping identities for the day or trying to figure out why one has seemingly abandoned the partnership in favor of a new hero (who secretly turns out to be a robot!)

It's all silly, unmemorable fun, the kind of disposable entertainment for kids that comics once proudly embraced. For this adult reader, the issues were occasionally charming, occasionally tedious, but always something I'd be happy to hand my kids. Someday I hope Andrew and Katherine decide to give comics a try; if and when that day comes, this is probably where I'll suggest they start.

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THE FLASH: REBIRTH by Geoff Johns and Ethan Van Sciver

The introduction of Barry Allen, a.k.a. The Flash, in Showcase #4 marked the beginning of the Silver Age of Comics, a period which launched basically every notable DC character except Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman and every Marvel character except Captain America. As such, Barry Allen was always not just a hero but a symbol. Thus his death in 1987's Crisis on Infinite Earths carried with it some symbolic import; this was a statement by DC Comics that the company was embarking upon a new era.

In 2009, with DC eying a return to form after a few years spent in the creative wilderness, writer Geoff Johns was enlisted to do with Barry Allen what he'd previously done with Hal Jordan, a.k.a. Green Lantern: bring the character back from the dead and restore his stature in the DC Universe. The result is a story that is beloved by hardcore Flash fans, entertaining for casual fans, and likely incomprehensible for first-time readers. I count myself in the middle category.

Barry's return, having already been foreshadowed in the line-wide event Final Crisis, draws upon and redefines the concept of the Speed Force, the source of power for all the speedsters in the DC Universe. In the story, it is revealed that Barry doesn't just draw upon the Speed Force like his peers, but that he is actually the source of the Speed Force—in a meta sense, he is the Flash, all other speedsters depend upon him. 

The series also reintroduces and reimagines Eobard Thawne, the time-traveling Reverse-Flash, as Barry's archenemy, revealing that he is behind every tragedy in Barry's life. While it does make him a little deux ex machina-y, it also lends a new aura of menace to a character whose look and name are otherwise pretty silly.

In the end, the series reestablishes Barry as the Flash while still acknowledging and paying respects to the events which had happened since the character's death. It's a story that threatens to get lost in its characters' own mythology at times, but one I still managed to hang with and enjoy. Worth a read for DC fans.

Change of Plans (Friday Devotional)

 

For many, Christmas is a day which is carefully choreographed. You know exactly where you’ll be at all hours of the day, who you’ll spend the time with, and what you’ll be doing. The presents are arranged under the tree just so; the ornaments are picture perfect. The dinner menu is set in stone, and everyone knows what they’re responsible for bringing. Spontaneity has its time and place, but not on Christmas Day—on this day, everything needs to go according to plan.

Yet when you think about the first Christmas, it is a story full of changed plans. Joseph and Mary planned to get married and then have their children, but Gabriel’s announcement of the forthcoming virgin birth changed that plan. They planned for Jesus to be born in their home in Nazareth, but an imperial census changed that plan. They planned to find a comfortable room in Bethlehem, but a crowded city changed that plan. Even the shepherds watching their flock probably had a low-key plan for that first Christmas night, to eat a simple dinner by the fire and sleep beneath the stars. But when the glory of the Lord shone around them, their plans changed.

On this most prearranged of holidays, it’s worth remembering that Jesus represents a divine intrusion into our mundane lives. Since day one, the good news of Jesus Christ has been suddenly and unexpectedly providing new perspective on what’s important. When Jesus enters the picture, plans change.

In a year when so many of our prearrangements and traditions have been tossed aside by the pandemic, there is an understandable longing for stability, a desire for Christmas to be the way it’s always been. The last thing we want is another change of plans. But maybe this Christmas of upheaval can be a reminder that Jesus is not in the business of affirming your will, but of reconciling you to God’s. From birth Jesus has been changing people’s plans—for the better.

A Simple Christmas (Friday Devotional)

 

As we get closer and closer to Christmas Day, we are surrounded by familiar markers of the season. Twinkling lights line the rooftops and wreaths are hung on the doors. Our communal color palette has been reduced to red and green. Radio stations have abandoned their normal genres and bowed to the seasonal demands for Bing Crosby, Mariah Carey, and the Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

But while these symbols of the season remain, other traditions have fallen by the wayside in 2020. Christmas parties have been reconfigured beyond recognition, if not cancelled outright. Carolers have taken the year off—the once-heartwarming idea of unmasked strangers singing their way down the hallways of a nursing home would warrant a 911 call this December. Most significantly, many have made the difficult decision to stay home this year instead of spending the holiday with their families.

There’s no doubt, it’s a simpler Christmas this year, with fewer social engagements, fewer traditions to uphold, and fewer opportunities to come together. One could be forgiven for thinking there are few reasons to rejoice.

But for those disappointed by the pandemic’s toll on the holiday, the Bible offers us an important reminder that a simpler Christmas need not be a joyless affair. Bethlehem had no decorations to mark the occasion of Christ’s birth. Mary and Joseph had no family or friends with them to celebrate the day. Indeed, it took divine intervention—first a heavenly host’s announcement to a group of shepherds, and later a heaven-sent star followed by astrologers from the east—for anyone at all to commemorate the birth. But despite those absences, the first Christmas was a day of joy, not because of earthly extravagance, but thanks to the beautiful simplicity of a baby in a manger.

This will be a simpler Christmas than usual, no doubt about it. But if we keep our eyes—so easily distracted by lights and colors—on Bethlehem instead, it will remain a joyful one.

Not a Silent Night (Friday Devotional)

“Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright.”

“O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by.”

“The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes. But little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes.”

When you imagine the night of Christ’s birth, sentiments like these have likely influenced what you see in your mind’s eye. In the public imagination, that holy night was one marked by stillness, by rest, and by calm. When we talk about the peace of Christmas, our carols point us to a silent night in Bethlehem.

Of course, any parent can tell you there is virtually no chance that this wistful fantasy matches the reality of history. For Joseph, that night was the culmination of hours of futility and helplessness, hours spent trying in vain to find a place for his wife to comfortably give birth. For Mary, it was a night of fear and pain, an amalgam of the normal concerns of childbirth and the unbelievable responsibility God had given her. And as for the Christ child—well, maybe he slept soundly that first night, who knows. But as a parent of two, let’s just say I have my doubts.

The more honest picture of that night doesn’t highlight Joseph’s stoic faithfulness, but his clammy hands and strained words of encouragement. It doesn’t silence Mary’s cries of pain or hide her blood on the ground. It allows for the possibility that not only stars, but also a baby’s relentless demands for milk, filled the Bethlehem sky that night.

If your conception of Christmas’s peace is shaped by the gauzy vision of a silent night in a little town, then these realities may seem a burden too heavy to bear. But in fact, perhaps this truer imagining of Christ’s birth points us to a truer understanding of the peace of God. For from manger to cross, Christ shows us that peace is not found in the absence of hardship, but in the beauty God brings out of it.

Life is rarely still or calm or orderly, and it probably wasn’t the night Jesus was born. But there is peace to be found in the story of that Bethlehem night, peace that can carry us through the end of this chaotic year: out of the most difficult moments, God brings forth life.

November Reading Log

 

It's my shortest-ever reading log this month thanks to a 900+ page giant, a 4-volume comic series, and, well, 2020. Take a look!

1 Article I Like This Month

"2020 Revealed Our True Character" by Joshua Whitfield, The Dallas Morning News. 4 minutes.

In this op-ed, priest Joshua Whitfield argues that the pandemic has unveiled who we really are: a nation of guilty hedonists, more concerned with our own pleasures than others' well-being. A sobering, convicting thought.

THE LAST WORD: BEYOND THE BIBLE WARS TO A NEW UNDERSTANDING OF THE AUTHORITY OF SCRIPTURE by N.T. Wright

One of the dog whistles of the last hundred years of church life and biblical scholarship has been "the authority of the Bible." For religious conservatives, the Bible's authority was unquestioned and unquestionable, even as they played their own hermeneutical games to ignore the parts of Scripture that didn't fit their worldview. Religious liberals, who looked at Scripture with a warier eye, committed the same hermeneutical malpractice, weaponizing the Bible even as they questioned its authenticity and effectiveness. With the so-called "Bible wars" now at ended (or least in a period of armistice), the question remains: what does "the authority of the Bible" really mean?

In The Last Word, N.T. Wright seeks to answer this question and to chart out a better model for biblical interpretation than the shallow options we have lived with for decades. He begins by defining the term, stating that when we say "the authority of Scripture" what we really mean is "the authority of God exercised through Scripture"—God, not the Bible, is the point; the Bible is the means through which God tells His story. For Wright, neither bibliolatry nor dismissing Scripture are options; the Bible must be treated seriously and regarded properly.

The trick part then is how to do that. Wright argues, drawing upon his work in The New Testament and the People of God, that the Bible (and human history) should be read like a five-act play: creation, fall, Israel, Jesus, and church. With this in mind, the reader should go to Scripture with the understanding that we are living in the fifth act—the stories of acts 1-4 are relevant and important, to be sure, but not everything we read there is normative for today. For example, just because Israel was called to build a temple doesn't mean we are too—that was something for act 3, but Scripture tells us that at the conclusion of our act (a new heaven and a new earth) there will be no temple, because God himself will be with us. Simply put, the Bible should be read with an understanding of when we are.

Furthermore, Wright calls for a reading of Scripture that respects scholarship, tradition, and reason, while never exalting them above the Bible itself. Unlike theological liberals, who too often see the Bible as something to work around; or anti-intellectual theological conservatives, Wright wants to see the church engage with biblical archaeological, and theological research as tools for better understanding the Bible. Outside knowledge is not something to be feared or exploited when reading Scripture, but used for understanding.

This was not my favorite Wright book, but it succinctly goes about its task in a way that engages the issue and leaves you with a few things to think about. A good read for those interested in the topic.

DON QUIXOTE by Miguel de Cervantes, translated by Edith Grossman

Classic works of literature intimidate me. Especially long ones, Especially translations. So checking out Don Quixote, all 942 pages of it, from the public library at the beginning of the month was a big step for me...and one I'm glad I took.

Don Quixote tells the story of a nobleman who reads so many tales of chivalry that he loses his mind and decides to become a knight himself, roaming the land in search of adventure and honor. Accompanied by a farmer he recruits to be his squire, the loyal Sancho Panza, he gets into a series of misadventures (such as the famous scene in which he tries to joust with windmills believing them to be giants) and is at turns humored and mocked by the outside world, who see his quest as old-fashioned and delusional.

There are several remarkable things about the novel. The first is how lovable Don Quixote is, to say nothing of Sancho Panza (who you could argue is the real protagonist of the book). Despite the alternate reality the "knight" has constructed for himself, you can't help but root for him—the nobility of his intentions manages to, at times, overshadow the reality of his situation. The second is how funny the book is. While I knew that the book was considered a comedic novel, I didn't necessarily expect humor from 1605 to translate to today as well as it did.

Credit for that goes in equal measure to Cervantes himself, the author of the novel, and the English translator, Edith Grossman. Grossman does a fantastic job maintaining the tone of the original novel while remaining faithful to the source, and a quick Google search tells me her translation is widely considered the best ever. All I know is that, while it took me the whole month to read, I never got bored. If you're looking for an accessible, fun, compelling classic, don't let the page length scare you away—start here.

THE WICKED + THE DIVINE: DELUXE EDITION VOL. 1-4 by Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie

If you're familiar with classic mythology, you know that the gods are far from perfect. While their power is far beyond that of mortals, their temptations, arrogance, and hubris are all too human. They are better than us, but somehow no different than us.

In The Wicked + The Divine, writer Kieron Gillen and artist Jamie McKelvie build on this premise with a story in which the gods have manifested as celebrity pop stars. The pantheon has two years to enjoy the fame and adulation of an adoring public, as well as supernatural powers, but at the end of the two years they will die, only for the cycle to begin again in 90 years.

The series follows the pantheon's adventures through the eyes of Laura, a fangirl-turned-goddess (Persephone) whose initial outsider status makes her the perfect foil for her counterparts. After a series of misadventures and uncovered conspiracies, Laura is able to see beyond the cycle and, ultimately, to show the pantheon how to escape the trap of godhood.

I enjoyed this series, but it was a frustrating read at times, a complex story in which you were learning as you went. There were definitely times I only understood 60% of what I was reading. But Gillen's weaknesses as a storyteller are balanced by his skill for dialogue, and McKelvie's art was consistently beautiful, so I was happy to stay on the ride to the bitter end. This series isn't for everyone (it would be a hard R, maybe even NC-17 if it were ever made into a movie), but I was glad to spend the month in this strange world.

Your Nativity Scene (Friday Devotional)

 

What does your nativity scene look like? Is it life-sized and wooden, something you can put out on your front lawn all month? It is made of fragile porcelain and perched on your mantel? Or is it something plastic you can put on the coffee table without worrying about your pets breaking it?

Furthermore, what do you picture when you imagine the original nativity scene? What are the different individuals wearing? Which animals are present? And is the baby Jesus truly giving his weary parents a silent night or is he waking up half of Bethlehem with his cries?

One of the interesting things about our renditions of the nativity is how different they are from the original scene. For thousands of years, European and North American artists have depicted the holy family—Middle Eastern Jews—with white skin and blue eyes. The animals we imagine in the stable that night—unmentioned in Scripture—are often native to Texas but foreign to Bethlehem.

While these little errors and imaginative leaps make our nativity scenes less historically accurate, they speak to a desire to contextualize that glorious night, to bring it close to home and make it easier to grasp. Our modern renditions of that scene speak to a need to not only understand the story, but become a part of it ourselves.

What if we took it one step further this Christmas? What if instead of merely imagining the shepherds, you pursued Christ with their understanding that just a glimpse of his glory would be the greatest blessing? What if you took a page out of Joseph’s book and sought to care even for those who were not your own? What if you not only admired Mary, but followed her example of dutiful love and obedience to God’s calling?

There are hundreds of ways to imagine, to describe, and to contextualize the nativity scene. In this Advent season, may you seek also to live out its lessons.

Starts and Stops (Friday Devotional)

 

O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever.

- Psalm 107:1

When my family drove to Memphis a few weeks ago, one of the things we found there was an unexpected treat: fall weather. The mornings and evenings were brisk but pleasant, not yet accompanied by the bite of a winter chill. The afternoons were positively Californian—highs in the mid-70s and sunny, neither too hot nor too cold. And most impressive of all, everywhere we looked the leaves were a canvas of colors, falling to the ground in shades of orange and red and yellow.

In Texas, we famously don’t see much of a fall (or a spring). Summer weather stretches into October—it’s not unusual to see someone sipping on Starbucks’ famed pumpkin spice latte while sweating through a 90 degree day—and then, seemingly without warning, one morning it’s 40 degrees and we collectively realize that winter is upon us. Similarly, the beautiful spring which other states enjoy often eludes us—we move from cold and rainy February to warm and humid March to dry, hot April. For Texans, our seasons don’t change through periods of steady transition, but in starts and stops.

This year of COVID-19 has been like Texas weather in that respect. In March, one day we were dining in restaurants and going to basketball games, and the next we were leaving home only to brave the toilet paper hoarders at the grocery store. A few months later, the pandemic seemed to be taking a back seat to other concerns, only for a fresh surge in cases to send us back inside. And now we find ourselves in the middle of yet another devastating wave of cases, one that has people cancelling holiday plans and wondering how much more we can endure. Just when we think we have a handle on things, a new crisis emerges; trouble doesn’t come steadily but in starts and stops.

In these jarring times, we can be thankful that heaven’s business remains unchanged. Even as governmental policies and mandates change based on circumstances, God’s Word stands the test of time. Even when the headlines announce yesterday’s tragedies and hope for tomorrow’s triumphs, the gospel remains Good News every day. Even when we, in our weakness, bounce between caring for our neighbors one moment and ignoring them the next, God’s steadfast love endures forever.

Seasons come and go, whether in orderly transition or in starts and stops. This pandemic, even as it continues to rage today, will also someday come to an end—and may that day come quickly, Lord Jesus! But through all the starts and stops, the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob is also the God of 2020. So in a year in which consistency has been hard to come by, may we give thanks to the one who has been with us through it all.

Move the Sun (Friday Devotional)

 

As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.

- Colossians 3:12-13

On Monday, Lindsey and the kids spent all morning going to a pair of doctor appointments. Both kids did well, but by the end they were tired and getting cranky. So when they were driving home and the sun shone through the window into Andrew’s eyes, his reaction was to yell out, “Mommy! I need you to move the sun!”

Lindsey chuckled and replied, “Buddy, that’s not something Mommy can do.”

But Andrew was unmoved. “You can!” he insisted. “I know you can!”

In this pandemic season of renewed fears, fresh anxieties, and continued fatigue, a lot of us feel just like Andrew. We’re tired. We’re frustrated. We want things to be different.

And so, just like him, our expectations of each other start to become unreasonable. We need more than ever, so we demand more than ever. We feel blinded, and so we want our friends, our families, and our leaders to move the sun.

Difficult times are nothing new for disciples of Jesus Christ, and so Scripture offers us a reminder for how gospel-minded people navigate these times: with patience, forgiveness, and grace. The apostle Paul urges the church to “clothes yourselves” with the same kind of compassionate love that Christ shows, to put on a mindset of mercy even when your flesh pushes you toward contempt.

Now more than ever, showing kindness instead of contempt is a countercultural witness to the love of Jesus Christ. When you practice forgiveness in the face of frustration, you are living out the gospel. So when you want to demand that somebody else move the sun, may you instead move toward the Son.

Beyond the Legend (Friday Devotional)

 

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell

- Colossians 1:15-19

The hardest throwing pitcher in the history of Major League Baseball isn’t in the Hall of Fame. His jersey number isn’t retired by any of the teams he played for. In fact, chances are you’ve never even heard of him. But those who saw him throw insist that no one—not Bob Feller, not Sandy Koufax, not Nolan Ryan—could match Steve Dalkowski’s fastball.

Dalkowski signed with the Baltimore Orioles out of high school in 1957, and it quickly became apparent that he could blow by hitters any time he wanted—if he could get the ball over the plate. Unfortunately, he was up front about the fact that he rarely knew where the ball was going when he released it, and he often walked more batters than he struck out. Eventually, after nine seasons spent entirely in the minor leagues, Dalkowski hung up his spikes for good, never able to find the necessary control to pair with his power. But that power was more enough to make his mark.

In the days since, the legend of Steve Dalkowski has only grown. Interviews have been conducted with his former coaches and teammates, countless anecdotes have been shared, and researchers have pored over the inconclusive results of a test he participated in to determine how fast he was throwing. But remarkably, no video footage exists of him pitching—not even a few seconds of grainy black-and-white tape. People continue to speculate to this day about how fast he threw—100 mph? 105 mph? 110 mph? For all the stories, we’ll probably never know.

Many people think of God in similar terms, as a sort of mythic figure who is great but unknowable. They don’t necessarily dispute his existence, but wonder if the stories are overblown. They just wish we had some footage of God at work.

In Christ, God gave us just that—Jesus is the Word made flesh, the image of the invisible God. Through Christ we learn the character and priorities and power of God; by knowing Jesus we know God. For those who want to know what God is like, they need only look to Jesus.

There is much about God that is beyond our understanding, but the Lord is not so distant as we have been led to believe. We don’t have to settle for stories and rumors—He gave us His Son.

When the Answer Is "I Don't Know" (Friday Devotional)

 

For I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth.

- Job 19:25

As predicted by journalists and political analysts, we all woke up Wednesday morning uncertain who won the presidential election. After months of campaigning, gallons of ink spilled by prognosticators and pundits, and weeks of voting, the only honest answer to the question, “Who will be the president on January 20?” was, “I don’t know.”

At the same time, we remain in the middle of a pandemic which is once again surging throughout the nation. We all long for normalcy, we all wish we could go out in public without a face mask, we are all eagerly awaiting the announcement of a vaccine that will usher this virus out of the present and into the past. When will that day come? I don’t know.

More questions abound. How will these events affect the economy? What is all this unrest doing to our children? What is the path forward? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

The only certainty, it seems, is uncertainty. Just as that feels true today, so it must have for Job, that famous biblical character who saw his wealth, health, and family taken away from him without warning. Having been prosperous, he was suddenly destitute; having been blessed, he was suddenly cursed. Everything he thought he could count on was here one minute and gone the next.

But when Job’s world was turned upside down and everything seemed uncertain, he turned to what he knew to be true: “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth.” Even as his friends sought explanations for his turmoil and theorized solutions for his problems, Job looked with faith to the God who holds tomorrow. While Job’s future was uncertain, he knew God’s was not.

It’s a frustrating thing not to know the answers, to be unable to forecast or plan for the future. But in uncertain times God draws us away from earthly sureties and into eternal truths. So may today’s uncertainties not stir up your anxieties, but renew your faith.

October Reading Log

It was a light reading month for me...between a busy month at church and a general feeling of fatigue, I didn't seem to have it in me to do much extra reading this go-around. Nevertheless, there was time to reread some familiar favorites and tackle a couple of new books when I felt up to it. Take a look!

4 Articles I Like This Month

"He Thought We'd Be 'Better Off'" by Jennifer Calder, Medium. 18 minutes.

The harrowing account of writer Jennifer Calder's discovery that her husband had committed suicide, leaving her without her husband and her three boys fatherless. Heartbreaking, honest, and powerful.

"Will Christianity Have Another Reformation?" by Benjamin J. Dueholm, The Dallas Morning News. 3 minutes.

In this op-ed, the author, a Lutheran pastor, explores the reasons the American church needs a new Reformation—and why we're unlikely to see one.

"A Grief Unobserved: Why Aren't We Talking About This at Church?" by Tamice Namae Spencer, Baptist News Global. 8 minutes.

A stirring, convicting piece about the evangelical church's seeming refusal to talk about our nation's epidemic of police violence against African-Americans. Even if you don't care for the writer's politics, don't lose sight of her overall point.

"My Mustache, My Self" by Rembert Browne, The New York Times. 25 minutes.

On black power, respectability, and...mustaches? Trust me.

THE PASTOR by Eugene Peterson

In 21st America, pastors wear a number of hats: CEO, fundraiser, writer, PR specialist, and public speaker, just to name a few. On some days, it can be enough to make a pastor wonder when he's supposed to find time to pray and read the Bible.

So Eugene Peterson's memoir The Pastor, which I reread this month, came as a breath of fresh air. With a calm, spiritual voice, he confronts the corporate idea of what a pastor should be by telling about his life as a different kind of pastor, one who sought to know and disciple his congregation rather than "fix them" or "grow the church." Peterson's memoir is an effective advocate for a pastoral life marked not by busyness, but intentionality.

Peterson traces his life from his upbringing in Montana through his education in university and seminary, explores his calling to pastoral ministry, and concludes with his writing of The Message, the project for which he is best known. What is remarkable in reading his life story is that, while he does not portray life as a pastor with rose-colored glasses, his account is devoid of bitterness. Peterson writes as a man who loved his work, loved his congregation, and loves his Lord.

In pastoral life, it is easy to adapt to the culture around you and try to professionalize your work, to become a part of the rat race. Reading The Pastor is an effective, powerful way to remind you of what matters most in your work: not the organizational and administrative duties, but your relationships with God and people.

NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLAS AND OTHER WORKS by Frederick Douglas

Over the past few months, I've done a lot of thinking about how I was taught American history in my Texas public schools, especially as it relates to race. I've thought about how much slavery, our nation's original sin, was downplayed when we learned about everything from the drafting of the Constitution to the Civil War. I've thought about how few non-white historical figures every occupied the center stage in what we were learning (basically, Martin Luther King, Jr. then... <crickets>.) And I've thought about who I wished I'd heard more about in those years.

So when my dad gave me this collection of Frederick Douglas's most notable works for my birthday, it's seemed a propitious time to dive right in and read what this abolitionist and former slave had to say. And after reading it, all I could do was shake my head that this had not been required reading in my high school history classes.

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglas, a slim volume and Douglas's most famous book, is exactly what the title indicates, a brief autobiography of the man, beginning with his birth into slavery and concluding with the story of how he found freedom. Primarily, it serves as a description of what American slavery was like above the Mason-Dixon line, and in doing so, rebuts the understandable but mistaken belief that slavery was a solely Southern evil. With an eye for detail and a mastery for prose, Douglas reflects upon his own story and offers interesting asides, such as how religious slaveowners were almost always harsher to their slaves than were atheistic ones. Given what it teaches about our nation's original sin, this book, less than 100 pages long in my copy, should be required reading for every American citizen.

My Bondage and My Freedom, the second account in this collection, serves as essentially an amplified version of Narrative, and thus made for a somewhat tedious read immediately following the preceding book. Nevertheless, it offers more detail and goes later into Douglas's life post-slavery. The collection concludes with a series of important speeches and letters by Douglas, such as his famous "What to the Slave Is the Fourth of July?" These brief essays give readers an idea of what Douglas was such a successful public intellectual in his day, and effectively summarize and synthesize the abolitionist point of view.

I couldn't be gladder that I finally read Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglas and these other works, and I learned a great deal. I just wish somewhere in my 12 years of public education I'd been asked to read them sooner.

MY LIFE WITH BOB: FLAWED HEROINE KEEPS BOOK OF BOOKS, PLOT ENSUES by Pamela Paul

I keep a handwritten list of every book I own—every time I buy a new book I dutifully add it to the list, and every time I finish one I neatly cross it off in pencil. Every now and then, I’ll flip through the list and remember where and when I read some of those crossed-off books—I read David McCullough’s Truman almost exclusively on the balcony of our 2-bedroom Waco apartment while Andrew napped during my 2-year stint as a stay-at-home dad; I read Robert Caro’s Working from beginning to end on planes and trains during a family vacation to Europe. So when I learned that Pamela Paul, editor of the New York Times Book Review, keeps a similar “Book of Books,” or Bob for short, and that she’d written a memoir about it, I knew I needed to check it out.

 My Life with Bob ends up being an amalgam of traditional memoir and reading list, as Paul narrates the story of her life through the lens of which books she was reading at the time. The result is sort of a love letter to reading, something for which I’m always on board. Artfully connecting her life with the lives of her books’ protagonists, she shows how books have guided her through life’s peaks and valleys, and how her Book of Books has been as autobiographical as an diary.

 Paul is a good memoirist, reflective without navel gazing, and she does a good job dividing her time between her life’s events and what books have taught her. This was an easy, enjoyable read that made me want to dive into my next book. Any reader will enjoy My Life with Bob.

MISTER MIRACLE by Tom King and Mitch Gerards

This was my third time reading this story, and it won't be my last. I'm now comfortable saying this is my all-time favorite limited series; every time I read it, it hits me on multiple levels. Here's my review from last March if you want to hear what I said then.

ESSENTIAL TALES OF THE ZOMBIE by Steve Gerber, Doug Moench, Pablo Marcos, Tony Isabella, et al.

If you've been reading these logs for the last few years, then you know I've been slowly but surely working my way through the canon of 1970s Marvel horror comics, with decidedly mixed results. While Tomb of Dracula was an absolute joy, Werewolf By Night was boring; where Monster of Frankenstein offered some thrills, Son of Satan and Brother Voodoo didn't do much for me. So it was with trepidation that I opened up Essential Tales of the Zombie, the last Essential volume in this genre. Would this be a dud or a delight?

The answer, it turns out, was a microcosm of the entire line of Marvel horror comics: a mixed bag. Tales of the Zombie was a black-and-white magazine for "mature readers", different from the four-color mainstream Spider-Man issues you'd find on the newsstand. Within each issue you'd find at least one full-length story about Simon Garth, the titular zombie, at least one prose essay about zombies and voodoo (often drawing on their history in film), and a couple of short stories. This Essential, unlike others that drew from such black-and-white magazines, doesn't pick and choose which content to reprint; it gives you everything but the ads. 

As a result, it became pretty easy to tell what was going to be great and what was not as I made my way through the book. The stories about Simon Garth, a former coffee baron who is killed by his disgruntled gardener only to be revived as a mostly mindless zombie by his secretary, a voodoo priestess (because comics!), are excellent. Steve Gerber is an excellent storyteller within the genre, and Pablo Marcos is a revelation on art, illustrating with fine lines and shadow in a way that suits the material exquisitely. Given that the main character never speaks and is essentially without a personality, it's remarkable how compelling these stories prove to be over the course of the book.

The short stories are hit and miss, sometimes reprinting 1950s horror stories (including one by Stan Lee), but more often drawing on reliable writers around the Marvel bullpen to throw something together. And the essays, quite frankly, are tedious; I wish I had just skipped them. All in all, these extra features come across as filler designed to make what could have been a good comic book into a mediocre (but higher priced) magazine.

But thanks to the Simon Garth stories, I'm glad I took the time to finish off my journey through 1970s Marvel horror with this volume. Now back to the superheroes!