Ranking Every Ken Burns Film

In 2021, I watched all 31 documentaries directed by filmmaker and holder of America's worst haircut Ken Burns, hundreds of hours devoted to telling the American story. Here, from best to worst, is my ranking of those 31 films:

1. The Vietnam War

An absolute masterpiece from beginning to end. Featuring accounts from living veterans along with Burns’ traditional use of primary sources, this doc is as emotional as it is informative, and a must-watch for any student of American history. It’s no stretch to say this is Burns’ opus.

2. Baseball

The only surprise, I imagine, is that I didn’t rank this #1. It’s a loving tribute to America’s pastime, and if it’s overly sentimental in places, well, Brad Pitt said it best in Moneyball: “How can you not be romantic about baseball?” The addition of the “10^th Inning” episodes in 2010 was unnecessary but fine.

3. Country Music

A riveting series on a genre of music about which I’m shockingly ignorant. I loved this one so much that it inspired a New Year’s resolution to listen to more country music in 2022.

4. The Address

This one was a big departure from the Ken Burns formula, telling the story of a special needs school in New York in which students are challenged to learn the Gettysburg Address before graduation. Normally you go into a Ken Burns film knowing it may be a little dry; in this case, I was moved to tears.

5. The National Parks: America’s Best Idea

I have a soft spot for this one, which I’ve seen three times now. Objectively, this film’s probably too long and too loosely focused. But every time I hear that score, see those nature scenes, and hear actor Lee Stetson’s Scottish brogue as he recites John Muir quotes, I’m transported.

6. The Central Park Five

More aggressive in style and activist in tone than the typical Burns doc (this one was co-directed by Sarah Burns and David McMahon), it is also one of the most striking. Telling the story of the infamous  Central Park jogger rape and subsequent arrest, trial, and conviction of five teenagers of color, it ends with a mixture of tragedy and triumph as the convictions are vacated following a prison confession by the actual rapist. Consider this a companion piece to Ava DuVernay’s dramatic limited series When They See Us.

7. Unforgiveable Blackness: The Rise and Fall of Jack Johnson

Films like these are why I love Ken Burns docs: I went in knowing a little about Johnson, the first black heavyweight champion of the world, and left with more knowledge and a wider perspective on not only Johnson, but sports, race, and America’s relationship with the two. A truly excellent documentary from beginning to end.

8. Muhammad Ali

The most recent of his documentaries, this one did an excellent job balancing Ali’s boxing prowess with his social impact. Anybody interested in the Greatest—and who isn’t—will appreciate this one.

9. The Roosevelts

An examination of three American icons: Theodore, Franklin, and Eleanor Roosevelt. It does an admirable job balancing time between the three, though I would have loved more on Eleanor.

10. The Civil War

The 9-part classic that made Burns a household name, I have to regretfully say that this one hasn’t aged well—too much whataboutism and too little input from people of color give this film the unfortunate takeaway that the war was caused by a failure to compromise instead of, you know, slavery. Nevertheless, all the Ken Burns hallmarks that are now so familiar they are borderline caricature—narration through the reading of letters, slow panning over black and white photos, etc.—really get their start here, and if you watch the whole film you’ll learn a lot, not just about the war but about the nation.

11. The War

The film warns you up front that World War II is too sprawling a story to tell, so it does so through the lens of the war’s impact on five different American towns. It makes for an intentionally narrow but remarkably impactful way to chronicle the war. Parts of the war’s story get missed along the way, but it was a risk worth taking.

12. Jackie Robinson

While the section dealing with Robinson’s career is largely a retread of the sixth (and best) episode of Baseball, the part of this documentary dealing with Robinson’s life post-baseball is fascinating and largely untold.

13. Mark Twain

I was amazed by how much I enjoyed this one. I suppose it’s a testament to Twain’s enduring appeal that, more than 100 years after his death, Mark Twain can continue to entertain.

14. Prohibition

My biggest takeaway from this three-parter was that, while Prohibition is now rightfully seen as a terrible constitutional experiment, it was an understandable one. With surprising efficiency (Burns, much like Peter Jackson, is not known for his willingness to make cuts), Burns tells the story of alcohol become a scourge in American life, how activists managed to enact a constitutional amendment, and how within years it became a laughingstock. Worth a watch for anyone who, like me, didn’t know much about the subject matter going in.

15. Thomas Jefferson

One of Burns’ better biographical films, owing partly to the fascinating subject matter. This one is definitely a paint-by-numbers educational doc, but I didn’t mind so much thanks to all the interesting tidbits I picked up about this Founding Father. Bonus points to Burns for spending time talking about Jefferson’s relationship with Sally Hemmings, still a controversial topic in 1997.

16. Lewis & Clark: The Journey of the Corps of Discovery

I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this film, one of the ones I was least looking forward to when I began this project. Burns’ account of the Corps of Discovery’s quest to map out the uncharted land acquired in the Louisiana Purchase is revelatory and even thrilling at times.

17. Jazz

Look, I really wanted to like this. But jazz is one of those things that I admire more than I enjoy, and 19 hours is a lot of time to spend learning about something you don’t truly love. Also, this needed more talking heads…Wynton Marsalis was great, but the amount of screen time he was given made it seem like Burns just didn’t know that many jazz musicians.

18. Not for Ourselves Alone: The Story of Elizabeth Cady Stanton & Susan B. Anthony

Burns’ account of the women’s suffrage movement understandably focuses in on its two most famous leaders, but one can’t help but wonder what parts of the movement’s story were lost because of that decision. Nevertheless, is biography always more interesting than straight history, and I learned a lot about a subject we don’t discuss nearly enough.

19. Hemingway

A by-the-numbers biographical doc of arguably America’s most famous writer. I enjoyed it and learned a lot, but I can’t say Burns took any risks with this one.

20. Frank Lloyd Wright

Aided greatly by panning shot after panning shot of Wright’s most famous architectural feats, this is one of the docs from which I learned the most, owing both to my lack of knowledge going in and Burns’ storytelling. Definitely a film you need to watch, not just listen to while doing other things, it’s an interesting account of an interesting man.

21. The Shakers

Best known for their hand-crafted furniture, the Shakers get the Ken Burns treatment here in his second offering for PBS. Not the most compelling subject, and Burns’ style is still in its for-educational-purposes-only stage, but I enjoyed this one nevertheless.

22. Huey Long

A compelling if cursory account of an American political legend. The film’s highlight is definitely the filmed accounts of some veeeeery Cajun Louisianians telling about their encounters with Long.

23. The Congress

An ode to a broken branch of government, this documentary probably worked a lot better when it debuted in 1988 than it does today. Its focus on the history of Congress is good educational TV; its attempts to inspire fall on deaf ears in the 21^st century.

24. The Dust Bowl

The Dust Bowl is one of those national tragedies I’ve never been able to get interested in. This documentary, I’m sorry to say, did not change that. Someday a gifted storyteller will manage to rouse me with stories of poverty-stricken Okies…but Ken Burns, it turns out, was not that storyteller. Your move, John Steinbeck.

25. Thomas Hart Benton

I knew literally nothing about Benton, the iconoclastic painter of the American experience, before seeing this film. By the time it was over, I knew more but cared about the same amount. Not Burns’ most compelling work.

26. Horatio’s Drive: America’s First Road Trip

A departure from the normal Burns oeuvre of big subjects and historical personalities, this film tells the story of a cross-country automobile road trip, the first of its kind, undertaken in 1903. I wanted to like this more than I did, and I’m not sure there was ultimately enough “there” there to warrant a 2-hour documentary.

27. Defying the Nazis: The Sharps’ War

Burns’ answer to Schindler’s List, this tells the story of one couple’s efforts to help refugees escape Nazi-occupied Europe. Not really my cup of tea, it will likely have appeal to fans of the History Channel and its inexhaustible appetite for WWII material.

28. The Mayo Clinic: Faith, Hope, Science

A different format from the typical Burns doc, this feels more like a promotional movie than an educational or entertainment film. Nevertheless, it’s a professionally made, informative look at the history and impact of an American institution.

29. Empire of the Air: The Men Who Made Radio

Burns does some interesting things stylistically here—there are lots of times he’ll just play staticky radio with hardly any images—but at the end of the day, this 1992 offering feels like a relic of the pre-Internet days when radio was still a relevant force in American life.

30. The Statue of Liberty

Better than The Brooklyn Bridge by a hair, but suffers from the exact same issues. Treacly when it lingers on the symbolic nature of the statue and dull when it focuses on the history of its construction, this doc is a snoozer.

31. Brooklyn Bridge

His first documentary for PBS, and it shows. He’s still working out the kinks in his style, it’s very dated, and, well, it’s about a bridge. A bridge. If you’re an engineer, maybe you’d be into this. I very much was not.

2021 New Year's Resolutions Scorecard

Every year, I make a lengthy, lofty list of resolutions for the next 12 months: habits I want to form, skills I want to learn, media I want to consume, and goals I want to accomplish. And on December 31, I look back at what I promised myself I'd accomplish and see how close I came.

So without further ado, here's the scorecard for 2021's resolutions!

1. Watch the entire Ken Burns filmography ✔

Every time PBS airs a new Ken Burns doc, I eagerly set aside time to watch it, whether it clocks in at 2 hours or 20. So in 2021, with help from a PBS Documentaries subscription on Amazon Prime (a steal at $4 a month), I endeavored to watch every documentary Burns has ever directed, from 1981's The Brooklyn Bridge to September's Muhammad Ali.

The docs served as the soundtrack to my morning runs all year, and I finished up in mid-December. For those curious, here are my rankings of all 31 films from best to worst.

Score: 1 out of 9

2. Read all my unread books ✔

For nearly 10 years, I've kept a handwritten list of all the books I own.* For a few years now, I've been working my way through that list, trying to buy less than I read and slowly whittle the list down to nothing. In 2021, I strived to finish the job.

And I did it! According to Goodreads, I read 24 books from that list this year (which includes some I purchased during the year), and as of today, the list now has nothing on it that has not been crossed off.

Now, time to go buy more books.

*Disclaimer: I actually have 3 such lists. One is of all the "church books" (theology, church history, biblical commentaries, etc.), one is "comic books" (Essential Marvel volumes, graphic novels, etc.), and the other is everything else (novels, sports, history, biography, etc.) The list I'm referring to here is the "everything else" list.

Score: 2 out of 9

3. Reach out to 5 church members every day

This was a well-intentioned effort to make sure I stayed in contact with my parishioners outside of Sundays, but it didn't prove to be very practical...people get confused by phone calls with no purpose, and the amount of notes and texts I sent dwindled as the year went by.

The good news is that, in failing to meet this goal, I found better ways to accomplish the bigger point. Looking forward to implementing a few less rigid ways of staying in contact with my congregation in 2022.

Score: 2 out of 9

4. Read through the Bible with Lindsey ✔

Admittedly, the "with Lindsey" part faded as the year went on; we both read our passage every day, but our check-ins on what we'd read became less and less frequent, especially when one of us fell behind for a few days.

Nevertheless, we both read every verse of the Bible in 2021; this was my fourth read-through and her second. I have a different plan for my morning devotional time in 2022, check in tomorrow to see what's in store.

Score: 3 out of 9

5. Pay off our SUV ✔

Lindsey and I agreed at the end of 2020 to start attacking our car payment with the kind of fervor even Dave Ramsey would appreciate, applying every dollar of surplus we had each month to our car payment until it was gone.

And on July 2, we finished the job. Both cars (at least until mine gives up the ghost) are now fully paid off.

Score: 4 out of 9

6. Spend 5 hours per week writing (not for work)

One of these days (maybe even 2022!) I'm going to get disciplined about writing. I thought 2021 would be that year.

It was not. Truth be told, I think I'd given up on this by the third week of January. There's only so much time in the day, and I have yet to prioritize writing as part of mine. Disappointing.

Score: 4 out of 9

7. Do something nice for Lindsey every day

Second year in a row I've failed to live up to this one. Ugh.

Now, to clarify, does this mean there were days I was mean to her from 4:30 am to 10:30 pm? No (at least I hope not.) But the idea behind this resolution was to undertake one thoughtful, intentional act of kindness for Lindsey every single day. And with that as the standard, I can't say I was successful.

Score: 4 out of 9

8. Listen to 3 songs per day

Y'all, this one should have been a slam dunk. How hard can it be to find 15 minutes every day to close my eyes, put on headphones, do a few laps of the church, and listen to music?

Pretty hard, apparently. I found time for Ken Burns and podcasts; I didn't always find time for music. Booooo, self.

Score: 4 out of 9

9. Put my phone down

Like almost everyone, I spend too much time on my phone, including when my kids are around and would love my attention. So I resolved in 2021 to keep my phone in my pocket unless I actively needed it for something, to make use of it a choice instead of just a habit.

Did I do better than in 2020? I think so. But not better enough to say I succeeded here. Give me another year and another viewing of The Social Dilemma to see if I can break my bad millenial habit of reaching for my phone every time I'm bored for more than 5 seconds.

Score: 4 out of 9

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Final Score: 4 out of 9, or 44%. Let's see how that stacks up against previous years:

2018- 8.5 out of 13, or 65%.

2019- 3 out of 13, or 23%.

2020- 5.5 out of 13, or 42%.

So not my best year, but not my worst either. Check back in tomorrow to see what I'm shooting for in 2022!

The Year in Review (Friday Devotional)

 

I remember the days of old; I meditate on all Your works; I muse on the work of Your hands.

- Psalm 143:5

For various news outlets, entertainment media, websites, and more, today is the last chance for an annual tradition: “the year in review.” Writers hammer out a quick column summarizing what they learned over the year, editors compile lists of their most popular content; even your favorite apps get in the game, with Spotify telling you which songs you listened to the most and Facebook letting you know which of your posts garnered the most feedback. It’s a time for remembering those moments which shaped the year, a time to recall what felt so important then even if it feels like ancient history now.

We do this at a personal level too, whether by flipping through old photos, holding onto family heirlooms, or even just telling stories around the kitchen table. We intuitively understand that the past affects the present and the future, that what has gone by is far from irrelevant to what is and what will be. As William Faulkner famously wrote, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.”

So as you remember what you did in the last year, I encourage you to also think about what you saw God do. What prayers did you see answered in 2021? How did his Word encourage, convict, counsel, and shape you? How did his church minister to you in times of need?

The wonder of serving a living God is that the stories of his providence aren’t confined to the pages of Scripture—we see him at work in our daily lives. So as you review your year, don’t forget to reflect upon the Lord’s role in it. And by remembering what he has done, may you find your heart prepared for all he has yet to do.

It Was Not a Silent Night (Friday Devotional)

 

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

- John 1:14

Traditional depictions of the nativity are portraits of serenity—Mary and Joseph kneel stoically on either side of the manger, the animals gather ‘round in a semicircle, an angel hovers above the stable’s perfectly symmetrical roof, and in the middle of it all, the Christ child lays sleeping. All is calm, all is bright.

We do ourselves a disservice when we think of Christ’s birth in that picture-perfect manner. Because Jesus didn’t simply “come into” this world, he was born. In conditions fit only for animals, Mary’s water broke onto a dirt floor. She screamed and pushed, likely for hours, with little idea when relief would come. And when God’s Son entered this world, he emerged shrieking a newborn’s cry, with blood cloaking his skin and with an umbilical cord tying him to his mother until Joseph found a blade sharp enough to cut it.

Details like these, the messy particulars of birth, are as important a part of the story as the angels’ alleluias, because they remind us that the Word became flesh, that Jesus was as human as he was divine. They remind us that his humanity was not a disguise, but reality—he ate, drank, slept, and breathed, just like you and me. And when he ultimately went to the cross, the pain he suffered was real pain, the blood he shed was real blood, the death he died was a real death.

It can be tempting to elevate the stories of Jesus, from the manger to the empty tomb, to an entirely spiritual plain, to lose sight of the fact that these were historical events involving flesh-and-blood people. But to consign Jesus to stained glass, to wash the dirt and the blood from his story, is to ignore part of what makes his story such good news. In Christ, the Word became flesh and lived among us—and while he saw us in all our messiness and fragility, we saw his glory, full of grace and truth.

The Lord knew all the unpleasantness this world had to offer and came anyway, experiencing that unpleasantness firsthand from birth to death. And in resurrection, he gives us a chance for something better—not a silent night, but a joyous eternity.

The Advent of Christ

 "The Advent of Christ"

A world in darkness, cloaked in sin

A cry for justice: when God, when?

But now salvation can begin

The Lord is coming soon.

 

The day has come, God does not tarry

The angel Gabriel comes to Mary

The Son of God, this girl shall carry

The Lord is coming soon.

 

The news to Joseph is the same,

the child to come will bring no shame.

Immanuel will be his name

The Lord is coming soon.

 

To Bethlehem the couple goes

King David’s town, as Joseph knows

This is the place the Father chose

The Lord is coming soon.

 

When they arrive, there is no room

The relief of arrival gives way to gloom

But the child kicks in Mary’s womb

The Lord is coming soon.

 

They’re told a stable’s up ahead

A place where animals are fed

A manger will be the Christ’s first bed

The Lord is coming soon.

 

Clutching her belly, Mary cries out

With fear and joy, Joseph gives a shout

This is the moment it was all about

The Lord is coming soon.

 

Gentle and lowly, the Savior comes.

Loudly and slowly, the Savior comes.

Glorious and holy, the Savior comes.

A cry—

God is with us now.

 

After the birth comes the baptism.

After the baptism comes the ministry.

After the ministry comes the betrayal.

After the betrayal comes the crucifixion.

After the crucifixion comes the resurrection.

After the resurrection comes the ascension.

After the ascension comes the church.

 

And now, we wait in the strange in-between space, this interim between Advents.

The kingdom has come, but by faith and not yet by sight.

Darkness is overcome, but not yet swallowed up.

Death is defeated, but is with us still.

 

But someday soon:

Someday soon Christ will descend

Someday soon our wounds he’ll mend

Someday soon our sorrows will end

And heaven will triumph over hell

A greater love no tongue can tell

And we will see Immanuel

And we will sing a new Noel

And praise the Lord, all will be well.

The Lord is coming soon.

Finding Joy (Friday Devotional)

 

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.

- Philippians 4:4

Over the course of his career, writer and professor Joseph Campbell gave the same advice to anyone who would listen, advice that became something of a New Age mantra: “follow your bliss.” What Campbell was urging people to do was consider what they were most passionate about, the things which brought them the most personal fulfillment and happiness, and then devote themselves to pursuing them. By seeking those things—whether fame or success, money or popularity—Campbell said that happiness would be found, not just in the achievement of those things, but in the effort to attain them.

Campbell’s advice has resonated with people for generations now, from college students to artists to CEOs. In our world, happiness—bliss—is something you chase after, something you work towards, something you earn. It is the reward for your efforts, the fruit of your labors.

But the truth is that, like all fruit, it goes bad after a while. The bliss you seek is fleeting. Happiness, as Mad Men’s Don Draper once said, is just a moment before you need more happiness.

While following your bliss can lead to temporary pleasure, eternal joy is not found in something you can earn, achieve, build, or buy. In fact, it’s not found in something at all. Because though happiness can be found in things, joy is found in the person of Jesus Christ.

It’s in Jesus that we are shown the glory of God, full of grace and truth. It’s by Jesus that we are led to the Father and given the gift of the Spirit. It’s through Jesus that we are forgiven, saved, redeemed, and restored. Jesus is the source of our hope, the key to our peace, and the reason for our joy.

When you search for joy in the things of this world, you may find fleeting pleasure, but you’ll miss out on something better. So don’t settle for following your bliss—follow your Lord instead, where joy is found.

Searching for Peace (Friday Devotional)

 

The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. 

- Isaiah 11:6

Peace—real, lasting shalom—is almost impossible to attain in our world. Maybe you can manage to stop fighting, but bad feelings will probably continue to linger. Maybe you can achieve a pause in your struggles, a break from the almost constant stream of difficulties, but eventually a new trial will rear its head. Maybe you’ll even reach a state of stillness and rest, a retreat from anxiety—but inevitably life will come crashing back in with its interruptions and stresses and busyness.

Peace is simply unnatural in our fallen world. Our systems aren’t set up to benefit everyone, just a select few, because that’s how we’ve designed them. Our relationships are too often marred by strife when a dose of humility would set things right. Given chance after chance to set pride aside in the name of cooperation, we choose selfishness and hostility.

But despite our inability to attain peace, despite our refusal to make the necessary efforts to achieve it, we still long for it. We want something better than endless conflict and struggle and stress. We want a life marked by grace instead of judgment, forgiveness instead of slander. We know there has to be a better way.

God began to show us that way when he sent the Kings of Kings to this world, not as a conquering warrior or a wealthy lord, but as a peasant girl’s baby, laid in a humble manger. God began to show us peace when that baby grew into a man who blessed the poor instead of subjugating them, who healed the sick instead of bullying them, who loved sinners instead of judging them. God showed us peace when that same Jesus chose crucifixion instead of combat, the cross instead of the sword, a sacrificial death instead of a bloody revolution.

Our world is not what it was meant to be. But in Christ, God has ushered in something better, a life that someday the whole world will see. That life is found in the Prince of Peace. O come, let us adore him.

November Reading Log

 

November was the month I'd been alternately looking forward to and dreading all year long, as South Garland Baptist Church simultaneously celebrated its 50th anniversary and brought its sanctuary renovation capital campaign to a conclusion. Needless to say, I was working a lot of hours in early November.

So, like October, I still got some reading in, but there were definitely days where reading for pleasure took a backseat. Here's what I did read:

2 Articles I Like This Month

"The 20 Essential Texas Rap Tracks" by Staff, Texas Monthly. 30 minutes.

While hip-hop is typically regarded as strictly an East Coast-West Coast enterprise, Texas (and especially Houston) has been a key contributor to the past and present of the genre. In this delightful set of essays, writers at Texas Monthly pick out the twenty tracks that trace how rap has evolved over the last 40 years in our state.

"Kevin Durant and (Possibly) the Greatest Basketball Team of All Time" by Sam Anderson, The New York Times Magazine. 39 minutes.

I came for the profile of the Brooklyn Nets, I stayed for the delightful writing of Sam Anderson. If you like good sportswriting, you're guaranteed to love this article.

Reading Through the Fantastic Four- #194-208, Annual #13

When I left off last month, the FF had just broken up, a split that would last a surprisingly long time by comic book standards, with the team finally reuniting just in time for the 200th issue. In the interim, writer Marv Wolfman gives readers a series of solo issues for the foursome's characters, which primarily serve (by intention) to frustrate readers at the team's demise and long for them to get back together.

So when they join back up for issue #200, you're expecting a slam-bang extravaganza, and that's what you get, in one of the more epic confrontations the team's ever had with arch-nemesis Doctor Doom. This one sees the FF helping a group of Latverian revolutionaries overthrow Doom even as Doom is determined to destroy his hated foes. It all culminates in a one-on-one fight between Doom and Reed Richards in which Wolfman explicitly says what has long been hinted at: Doom's hatred for Reed stems from the stubborn refusal to acknowledge that Reed is his intellectual equal, if not his superior. The fight ends not with Reed physically overpowering Doom, but outwitting and psychologically breaking him.

That 200th issue is understandably the high point, with later Wolfman-penned stories failing to excite me too much, especially the trying-too-hard multi-issue story that sees the FF taking on the Skrulls, the Sphinx, and eventually Galactus in a messy would-be epic crossover with Nova (another Wolfman book). By issue #208, Wolfman's run is nearing its end, and it's for the best; the guy was running on creative fumes.

As for the art, Keith Pollard and Company provide standard Bronze Age fare, a house style that's easy to look at but rarely stunning. Think of it like baked chicken: it's fine. Not great, gets the job done. Fine. But next month we get the beginning of John Byrne's run on the FF. And then we'll get to see the sparks fly!

THE FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH OF DALLAS by Leon McBeth

In 1968, the centennial year for the First Baptist Church of Dallas, Texas Baptist historian Leon McBeth was enlisted to write a history of the church. Given that my own church had a big anniversary this month, it seemed a fortuitous time to read this book. And to my surprise, it was a pretty captivating read!

As the book's cover indicates, most of the book (and the church's history) is covered by the pastorates of two men, George W. Truett and W.A. Criswell, but the early pioneer days of the church, when 8 pastors served over a period of 29 years, are fascinating in their own right. Starting with only 11 members, FBC Dallas was a true frontier church in its early days, almost indistinguishable from the global prestige it would hold beginning under Truett.

The section on Truett's pastorate was my favorite (I'm biased, being a graduate of George W. Truett Theological Seminary.) With a powerful preaching ministry, a shepherd's heart, and a commitment to Scripture, the church grew by leaps and bounds both spiritually and numerically under his leadership, a period which lasted from 1897 until his death in 1944. I was particularly touched by the church's love for their pastor—when, slowed by his waning health, he submitted his resignation in 1944, the church voted to refuse it because they couldn't imagine having another pastor.

Criswell, Truett's immediate predecessor, was a more controversial leader but one under whom the church continued to grow in size and scope. Unfortunately, the section of the book covering his tenure is duller, likely because the key players were still alive at the time of the book's publication. While most of the book is filled with anecdotes and compelling narratives, the Criswell years fall into a repetitive cycle of 'This staff member was hired, then this building was built, then this ministry was started. Rinse, lather, repeat.'

To this day, FBC remains an institution in downtown Dallas. It's a much different church than it was in 1968, to say nothing of 1868. But for those who want to know about its first hundred years, who want to see what a successful Baptist church looked like in those days, this book is a fascinating time capsule.

THE YOSEMITE by John Muir

No one this side of Theodore Roosevelt ever did more to support America's National Parks system than author, naturalist, and scientist John Muir, a Scottish-American whose week exploring Yosemite National Park in his early adulthood inspired a lifelong love for the country's natural wonders. In The Yosemite, Muir provides what amounts to a tourist's guide to the park's most prominent flora and fauna.

I bought this book as a souvenir following my own trip to Yosemite, and I'm glad I did; it's tough to imagine deriving much enjoyment from the book without some point of personal reference. This is not to denigrate Muir's writing by any means—in fact, Muir is an excellent writer, providing vivid details and plenty of color. But at the end of the day, this is 262 pages describing mountains, glaciers, flowers, and trees...if you've never been there, it would be pretty dull.

It's in the final chapter that the book's true purpose comes to the forefront. At the end of his life, Muir fought bitterly against a legislative effort to dam the Hetch Hetchy valley, a natural wonder that neighbored Yosemite. Proponents of the dam argued it would bring cheap, fresh  water to San Francisco for generations to come. Muir and other environmentalists fired back that Hetch Hetchy's natural value far exceeded its investment opportunities. Muir ultimately lost that fight, though the battle has since become an Alamo-esque symbol in the environmental community.

The Yosemite gives you a glimpse at Muir's abiding love for Yosemite and a readable (if dated) guide to the park, but ultimately makes a better keepsake than a page-turner. For more Muir, check out his letters and essays.

A FAREWELL TO ARMS by Ernest Hemingway

Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms is considered by many critics to be the Great American Novel, a story balancing the perils of love and war which ushered in a new form of American writing. It is considered required reading for any lover of American literature, the sort of novel you must read to properly understand this country.

I thought it was...fine.

Look, I can understand the reasons it's important. In age when war was often glorified, Hemingway (who had served overseas himself) was one of the first to write about not just war's horrors, but its absurdities. Instead of portraying war as an epic struggle, he showed what life was like for ordinary soldiers, bringing a degree of realism that was rarely seen in those days.

As for the prose, while Hemingway was still developing the sparse, staccato voice that would be perfected by the time he won the Nobel Prize for 1952's The Old Man and the Sea, he does write some beautiful sentences. The writing is stylistic without being showy, getting across complicated themes and ideas without ever bordering on pretentiousness.

But something about it just didn't click with me. Maybe it was the story, which seems directionless at times (possibly intentionally, given the stalemate of a war Hemingway was describing.) Maybe it was his portrayal of love interest Catherine Barkley, which could best be explained as "misogynist describes the perfect woman." Maybe I'm just not a Hemingway guy, I don't know.

I'd be open to reading this again or discussing with any of you Hemingway lovers, but A Farewell to Arms just didn't do it for me. Anybody want to tell me what I missed?

ESSENTIAL GHOST RIDER VOL. 2 by Gerry Conway, Roger McKenzie, Michael Fleisher, Don Perlin, Gil Kane, et al.

If you recall last month's review of Essential Ghost Rider Vol. 1, I wasn't very high on this book after the first 25 issues. My overall take was that Ghost Rider was a cool design in search of a personality; that he was more an amalgam of trends than a fleshed out character; the kind of superhero that's fine on a team book or in a guest star role, but not one you give a solo title.

Good news: by the end of vol. 2, it's getting better!

The first smart move the writers make is ditching Johnny Blaze's supporting cast, none of whom were remotely compelling, and making him more of a wandering lone wolf. The second is establishing a vague Jekyll-Hyde relationship between Blaze and the demonic Ghost Rider, with the Spirit of Vengeance adopting different speech patterns than Blaze and acting out more violently—it's not quite Bruce Banner and the Hulk, but it works.

But probably the most important step the writers took was giving up on making Ghost Rider a traditional superhero and turning this into more of an adventure book than a "hero fights villain" book. While Ghost Rider surely does face off against evildoers, they are often not even superpowered, much less costumed. Instead, this is more about "what would happen in a biker got into a scrape but also had super powers"? And it's fun!

By the 50th issue, Ghost Rider is still far from a classic book, but it has a much clearer sense of what it is than was the case 25 issues in. It's Bronze Age fun, mixing 70s fads with comic book sensibilities. Not something I'm likely to revisit, but by the time it came to put this volume down and move on to volume 3, I was excited to do so. And that's a big improvement over last month!

Hope Has a Name (Friday Devotional)

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.

- Hebrews 10:23

Hope is an abstract thing—you can’t see it or touch it, can’t draw it on paper or find it on a map. Its intangible nature is perplexing and even frustrating sometimes. So as a result, we tend to personify hope—to place all our hopes in specific individuals.

You see this in sports on Draft Day. Long-suffering fans dream every year of the same things: a championship trophy, a parade through the city streets, and a banner hanging in the arena for generations to come. And on Draft Day, those hopes come to rest on the shoulders of whichever fresh-faced 20-something the front office decides to give a signing bonus. For years to come, that young man goes from being more than just an athlete—he is now the symbol of all the franchise hopes to be.

You see the same kind of thing when it comes to leadership, whether in business or politics. When the time comes for a change in leadership, all of the vague dreams people have for the future come to rest on the new boss. Whatever concrete plans he or she may have are often subsumed by the hopes of their followers, because ultimately the leader's task is not just to put plans in motion, but to be a lodestar for a bright future.

We need hope to keep going, we thrive on it, we search for it—but we don’t like for it to remain abstract. We want hope to have a name.

The Good News, the news that Gabriel brought to Mary so long ago and that was fulfilled 9 months later on a Bethlehem night, is that hope has come, and we know his name. For all who long to know that they are not alone in this world, that someone cares for them, hope has a name. For all who yearn for justice in a cold, cruel world, hope has a name. For all who wonder if redemption is even possible, hope has a name. For all who look to the heavens and cry out for mercy, hope has a name. For all who know the sting of grief and dare to dream that death is not the end, hope has a name.

His name is Immanuel, God with us. His name is Messiah, the anointed one. His name is Jesus. O come, let us adore him.

Better Together (Friday Devotional)

 

And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

Hebrews 10:24-25

We’ve been hearing it for years now: Black Friday’s just not the same as it used to be.

At its peak, the day after Thanksgiving was an occasion for crowds to line up in front of stores at 2:00 in the morning, camping out in tents while they waited. Whether in search of a big screen TV or the year’s hottest toy, shoppers would map out the store in advance like generals planning an invasion. And when the doors finally opened, the store would transform into a frenzy of activity, with people sprinting full speed through the aisles and sometimes even coming to blows with other customers. Black Friday was wild.

And now…well, now you leisurely pull out your laptop and place your order whenever it’s convenient. Despite their best initial efforts to incentivize in-person shopping, most of the stores have resigned themselves to the reality that people would rather shop from the comfort of the couch than wake up at an ungodly hour, drive across town, brave the elements, and risk life and limb for the sake of a bargain. There are still Black Friday deals to be had, but now they can be had from home.

For most of us (myself included), this is a welcome change. But for the Black Friday die-hards, the ones who made bargain hunting an annual tradition with friends and family, there is a sense of loss that comes with this shift. Shopping online is easier, no doubt, but it’s also solitary. Instead of spending hours in line with other people sharing a common experience, you’re simply taking care of a task by yourself. Community is traded for convenience.

There are some things that just aren’t the same when done alone as when done together—and, as we all learned last year, one of those things is church. Watching a worship service online from your living room is certainly better than no participation at all, but it’s simply not the same as the fellowship you experience when you gather with other believers. Serving alone is worthwhile, but not as enjoyable as doing so with your brothers and sisters in Christ. Private devotion is meaningful and important, but it’s not a replacement for corporate discipleship.

What the Lord wanted us to know when he established the church was that we are better together than apart, that everything from worship to service to discipleship is something we are called to do in community rather than as solo operators. While faith is personal, it is not private; the gospel is something we learn, share, and live out as a family of faith.

So when it seems easier to go it alone, to adopt an individualistic mode of Christianity where the church is optional, remember why Jesus gave it to us in the first place: some things just aren’t the same when done alone. We’re better together.

Daddy's Arms (Friday Devotional)

 

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

- Psalm 46:1

Last night we were eating dinner at a nearby restaurant, with Lindsey and Andrew sitting on one side of the booth and me and Katherine on the other side. Suddenly and without warning, Katherine, who’d been sitting on her knees, slipped under the table and came crashing down to the floor. She immediately started crying, so I scooped her up and held her in my arms until she calmed down.

After a few minutes, I set her back down to eat. She had a couple of fries, but then whimpered again and scooted closer to me. “Daddy’s arms!” she pleaded. I put her in my lap, held her close for a couple minutes, then set her back down. But two more times we went through the same cycle—with her scare still fresh, the only place she wanted to be was in Daddy’s arms.

There’s something about that kind of experience that we never fully outgrow—when we feel unsafe or hurt, we want to be held close. The insistence we have on being independent and proud fades away; our stubborn refusal to accept help is a thing of the past. When you’ve been knocked down, you want someone to pick you up.

Scripture promises that our heavenly Father is there for us when we stumble as well as when we are upright, that He loves us when we think we are self-sufficient and when we recognize that we aren’t. While the world can be a threatening, frightening place, God is sovereign over it all, and in Him there is rest. So whether you have fallen and are hurting or you think you have it all together, know that there is a place where safety and love can be found: in the arms of the Father.

A Legacy of Faith (Friday Devotional)

 

One generation shall commend your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts.

- Psalm 145:4

There are certain things which may matter to you, but that no one else cares to hear about. The status of your fantasy football team, for example, may be of intense interest to you, but will make any listener’s eyes glaze over with boredom. Similarly, a story about office drama may make for good gossip within the confines of your workplace, but it’s likely of little interest to those outside it. Updates on what you had for lunch, who you saw at your high school reunion, the deal you got on a used car last month—all of these things may fascinate you, but they don’t necessarily captivate other people.

What does hold people’s attention are stories that really matter. Talk to someone about a life-and-death struggle and they’ll sit with rapt attention. Rope them in with universal themes of struggle, loss, redemption, and overcoming steep odds, and they’ll listen to you all day. Tell them about something transformative and they’ll stick around.

When we talk about a legacy of faith—whether the legacy of an individual or of a church—we can tend to get bogged down in the things that matter to us, but are perhaps of less interest to others. We refer to statistics and accomplishments, things we can point to as quantitative evidence of our faithfulness. We rely on visible, tangible prosperity for evidence that God is with us.

But if we want to tell a story that people want to hear, we’re better off talking less about what we’ve done and more about what the Lord has done; we do well to tell the story of salvation instead of merely listing our own accomplishments. Where our power is limited and fleeting, God is almighty; where our intentions are mixed, God’s are pure.

If your story of faith is built on the foundation of your actions, it may be personal without being powerful. Better then to tell a story the whole world needs to hear, a story that generations can commend to one another: the story of the wonderful works of God.

Sharing Something Beautiful (Friday Devotional)

 

And what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.

- 2 Timothy 2:2

In his lifetime, writer Franz Kafka published only a few short stories and articles. While known in literary circles in his native Prague, he was nowhere close to a household name, and in fact made his living as an insurance officer, writing only in his spare time.

So when he contracted tuberculosis in his 30s and made out his will, it was with a spirit of discouragement that he instructed his friend and executor, Max Brod, to burn all of his unpublished works—from unfinished novels to letters to diaries. But upon Kafka’s death, Brod ignored the instructions to burn without reading, and what he found amazed him. He was convinced that Kafka’s wishes could not be fulfilled, that to do so would starve the world of something beautiful. Kafka today is acknowledged as one of the greatest writers to ever live—but only because Brod shared what he’d read.

The gospel is like that too—for it to make a difference in our world, it needs to be shared. God has given us the good news of salvation through His Son, but not as a secret to be kept or a treasure to be hoarded. The task of God’s people is to tell others about Jesus, to use both our words and deeds to bear witness to the grace of God in Christ.

When the gospel is shared far and wide, the world is changed for the better—but first it must be shared. How will you share the good news today?

October Reading Log

3 books this month, which made for plenty of reading but not a very long reading log. Nevertheless, there was plenty to think about and write about. Take a look!

4 Articles I Like This Month

"Integrity and the Future of the Church" by Russell Moore, Plough. 17 minutes.

A sobering, insightful look at what is driving so-called "ex-vangelicals" to leave the church...it's not them, it's us.

"The Passion of Questlove" by Jazmine Hughes, The New York Times Magazine. 24 minutes.

A profile of the always fascinating D.J., audiophile, and frontman for the Roots.

"I Had a Chance to Travel Anywhere. Why Did I Pick Spokane?" by Jon Mooallem, The New York Times Magazine. 22 minutes.

The author, prepared to enter post-pandemic life, attended a minor league baseball game. What did her learn from the experience about America?

"The Afterlife of Rachel Held Evans" by Eliza Griswold, The New Yorker. 17 minutes.

A profile of one of my favorite Christian writers, the late Rachel Held Evans, in preparation of the release of her posthumous memoir.

Reading Through the Fantastic Four- #175-193, Annual #12

JESUS AND JOHN WAYNE: HOW WHITE EVANGELICALS CORRUPTED A FAITH AND FRACTURED A NATION by Kristin Kobes du Mez

Many have remarked in the last 5 years that American evangelicalism seems to be more of a sociopolitical movement than a religious one, more grounded in subculture than theology. Articles, blog posts, speeches, and endless pontificating by pundits have decried how different the American evangelical church looks from the one Jesus established in the first century. But few have told the story of how this came to be. Jesus and John Wayne, a seminal work by history professor Kristen Kobes du Mez, tells that story persuasively and powerfully.

According to du Mez, American evangelism emerged as a mixture of biblical theology, Christian nationalism, southern heritage, and masculine militancy, and can trace its birth to the early days of the Cold War. It was in that time, with the looming threat of Communism top of mind, that American Christians, insecure in the face of a changing world, began looking for security in the kind of men exemplified by the characters played by John Wayne: rugged defenders of law and order. None of that is particularly novel—people have always turned to strongmen in times of fear. What was new was the way the church began to gradually baptize this archetype.

Moving chronologically from Billy Graham to Jerry Falwell to Oliver North to the cast of Duck Dynasty to, finally, Donald Trump, du Mez convincingly shows how key figures came to exemplify (some intentionally, some unwittingly) this movement and how, by 2016, being an "evangelical" had come to mean something much different from "Bible believing Christian" even as most evangelicals maintained they were synonyms.

Ultimately, du Mez postulates, what today drives American evangelicalism as we know it is fear—fear of change, fear of being reduced or replaced, fear of an unknown future. What's left to the next generation, if we are to turn the ship around, is to remind people that perfect love casts out fear. As du Mez puts it in the book's final sentences, "Appreciating how this ideology developed over time is also essential for those who wish to dismantle it. What was once done might also be undone."

MIDDLESEX by Jeffrey Eugenides

Hooooo boy. Going to have to be careful how I write this review.

That's because Middlesex, the winner of the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, is a coming-of-age novel about a hermaphrodite, a.k.a. an intersex individual, someone who is born with both characteristics of both sexes and cannot be classified in a binary sense. Dealing with issues of sex and gender, the book is ahead of its time in many ways (though, for those deeply enmeshed in the LGBTQ+ community, I suspect it is considered retrograde in other senses). And for those almost totally unfamiliar with these topics <raises hand timidly> it is an education and, like all great novels, an exercise in empathy.

But, as you might guess about an award-winning novel, it is not confined to one topic. In fact, the book is equal parts family saga, immigrant novel, and coming-of-age story, while also having a good deal to say about America (specifically Detroit) in the 1950s through 1970s. To be more specific, it tells the story of Cal (initially Calliope) Stephanides and her struggle growing up with the secret, suspected but not entirely understood, that she is intersex. As Cal tells his story, he takes it all the way back to the scandalous marriage of his grandparents in Greece and their immigration to America, as well as the meeting and marriage of his parents and ultimately Cal's own birth.

Throughout the book, several themes dominate: shame, acceptance, and ultimately, redemption. By telling his family's story, Cal comes to terms with his own; by grounding his identity in his family story, he is able to make sense out of the confusion he was born into.

Jeffrey Eugenides is a masterful writer (this was my second of his novels, and far superior to the other, The Marriage Plot), and manages to pull off the literary feat of telling a complex, thematic story without ever seeming pretentious or overly intellectual. While the plot of this book is worlds away from what I'd normally read, his engaging prose and relatable characters hooked me early. For those willing to listen and learn, to put yourself in the shoes of someone whose experience you know nothing about, I recommend Middlesex. It'll stretch you, to be sure. But sometimes we need that.

ESSENTIAL GHOST RIDER VOL. 1 by Various

My impression going into this Essential volume, the first of four on this character, was that Ghost Rider is a fantastic design in search of a character. After reading his first 20+ issues, I stand by that assessment.

There is no doubt, Ghost Rider looks cool. I mean, look at that image above. A leather-bedecked motorcycle rider with a flaming skull for a head?  That's just awesome, especially when his cycle has flaming wheels (not pictured above, but quickly made a feature of the character.) It's for good reason that Ghost Rider's design has barely changed at all in the 40+ years since his introduction.

But as for the character and his stories, this volume shows that Marvel knew they had visual gold long before they had any narrative to match. While the origin would later be retconned more than once, Ghost Rider's basic origin comes down to a deal with the devil, a deal struck by stunt rider Johnny Blaze (yep, that's his real name) in order to save his mentor and the father of his girlfriend. In exchange for the sparing of that life, Blaze becomes an agent of darkness, transformed every night (and then in a later retcon, whenever danger lurks) into a hellfire-wielding demon.

It's actually not the worst premise, just one that never really goes anywhere, at least not in this volume. As depicted by a rotating cast of Marvel's Bronze Age writers, Ghost Rider is little more than an Evil Kinevil ripoff, an undisguised attempt by Marvel to cash in on that 1970s craze. The character doesn't acquire any memorable villains in his first few years, his support cast is so boring that he ends up stealing someone from Daredevil's (Karen Page briefly joins Blaze's stunt crew), and the character as a whole feels utterly directionless. For a character who looks so dynamic, it's amazing how boring his book really is.

Ghost Rider's early stories betray the danger of when comics rush something out. With a design like Ghost Rider's on the cover, comic readers were always going to give this book a shot. But if I'd been there in the 1970s, it wouldn't have taken me long to give up on the book. Great visuals will get you started in comics, but they can't be the only thing you have going for you.

Learning the Notes (Friday Devotional)

 

Therefore let us move beyond the elementary teachings about Christ and be taken forward to maturity, not laying again the foundation of repentance from acts that lead to death, and of faith in God.

- Hebrews 6:1

In high school, after working my way through the catalogues of musicians like B.B. King, Bob Dylan, and Bruce Springsteen, I made a snap decision: I was going to learn to play the harmonica. I loved its bluesie sound, its humble roots, and, not incidentally, how much cheaper it was than an electric guitar. And, maybe because of its size, I had a sneaking suspicion it was an easier instrument to learn than those my friends lugged around for marching band. With a few minutes of practice per day, I was convinced I’d be joining a blues group in no time.

So with a cheap harmonica in hand, I headed out to our garage, where the sounds of my practicing wouldn’t disturb anyone, put my lips to the metal, and blew. I went at it for somewhere between 5 and 10 minutes, trying to get a feel for the instrument, before finally scowling and returning to my bedroom, the harmonica abandoned on top of the garage fridge. It turns out, the harmonica was just like any other instrument—learning it was going to take time, effort, and patience.

Life in Christ, it turns out, is a lot like learning the harmonica. The mistaken impression many have upon believing Jesus is Lord is that you’ve got it all figured out, that all that remains to be done is to apply what you know and tell others about it. The gospel, after all, is simple enough, right?

But the truth is that, while the gospel is easy to understand, accept, and explain, life is not—and so life in Christ winds up being more a journey of sanctification than just a moment of salvation. For all the joys of those early days of faith, there are even greater joys to be found in maturity, when you’ve better learned to connect the timeless truths of doctrine with the varying situations of experience.

Walking with Christ is a lifetime commitment, one that requires not only the passion and excitement of conversion, but also the patience and wisdom of sanctification. It takes time to learn the notes—but practice makes perfect.