PLAY ME (Friday Devotional)

 

According to the grace given to us, we have different gifts: If prophecy, use it according to the proportion of one’s faith; if service, use it in service; if teaching, in teaching; if exhorting, in exhortation; giving, with generosity; leading, with diligence; showing mercy, with cheerfulness.

- Romans 12:6-8

Every now and then, you’ll see a piano in a public place—a hotel lobby, a coffee shop, a department store, even outdoors in a town square—with a placard imploring passersby, “PLAY ME.” When that opportunity presents itself, something interesting happens: almost no one with an ounce of musical talent can resist sitting down and playing a few bars. Pianists who had come to that place for entirely different reasons suddenly stop what they’re doing and just play for a few minutes. After all, when the opportunity to use your gift presents itself, it seems a waste not to do so.

I wonder what it would be like if believers took that same approach when it comes to the spiritual gifts God graciously gives to us. The Bible teaches that all who receive the Holy Spirit are empowered by that same Spirit, given “varieties of gifts” (1 Corinthians 12:4) in order to help carry out God’s will on this earth. Blessedly, each of us are empowered differently—some are enabled to teach, others to serve, others to give, and so on—but all are empowered in some way. God does not leave any of his children empty-handed.

But too often, we make our way through life acting as though those gifts are incidental instead of fundamental, as though they have no place outside the church building. Given the chance to serve in the workplace, the servant instead goes about his business. Given the chance to give to someone in need, the giver instead clutches her purse more tightly. Like a pianist passing a public piano, we waste golden opportunities to put our gifts to use.

The truth is that God presents us with situations every day where we can be beacons for Christ, where we can use the gifts God has given us to share the gospel in word and deed. But that’s the thing—we have to use those gifts. Like a piano inviting you to “PLAY ME,” life is full of opportunities for you to do what God has empowered you to do. How will you respond when those opportunities come your way?

Making Things Better (Friday Devotional)

 

“In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.”

- Matthew 7:12

When I look out my office window, I can see the police setting up placards and orange barriers in the football stadium’s parking lot. Further down Centerville Road, an electronic sign advertises the reason: for the first time since summer 2020, the parking lot is being turned into a temporary COVID testing site. Here we go again.

More and more, the feeling of déjà vu is almost insurmountable. Grocery store shelves are empty. Friends are quarantining for the week after potential exposure. COVID is not only on the front page, but front of mind.

In so many ways, it feels like spring of 2020 all over again. After lockdown, after months of masking, after the hope of vaccination, here we are again, hunkering down and praying we don’t spike a fever. Here we are ordering at-home COVID tests online, moving meetings from in-person to Zoom, adjusting our expectations to meet the moment. It’s worth asking: when will things get better?

When asked from 30,000 feet, the only honest answer is “I don’t know.” This current omicron wave is expected to peak in a week or two, but from there we really have no idea whether there will be another variant and, if so, what it will look like. Economists can speculate, but no one can say with certainty whether prices will come back down or continue to rise. Businesses and schools and churches can try to read the tea leaves, but the reality is that their decisions will continue being made on a week-to-week basis. If you’re looking at life in a broad sense, there’s no telling when things will start to improve.

But that reality makes it all the more necessary for you to do your part, however big or small, to make things better. You can’t bring gas prices down, but you can give a 7-11 gift card to your neighbor down the street. You can’t keep the schools open, but you can encourage the teachers you know. You can’t make the pandemic go away, but every single day you can combat the despair it brings with gestures of hope.

In a world with so many systemic problems, it’s easy to get discouraged, to think there’s nothing you can do. But the same Golden Rule that you learned as a child, the same Golden Rule that the Law and the Prophets pointed to and that Jesus preached, is still relevant today. If you want the world to be better, if you want your life to be better, start by helping make somebody else’s day better. If enough of us did that, imagine how the world would change.

Learning New Stories (Friday Devotional)

Do nothing out of rivalry or conceit, but in humility consider others as more important than yourselves.

- Philippians 2:3

Every morning at roughly 7:15 am, I am confronted by my archnemesis. Our encounters last no longer than a few wordless seconds, but they leave me annoyed each time, thankful I won’t have to deal with this pest for another 24 hours. Who is this enemy of mine? A Golden Retriever.

You see, I pass this dog on my morning run every day. As I approach her backyard, she’s usually lying flat on the back porch. But when she sees me coming, she leaps to her feet and races to the fence, barking at the top of her lungs, baring her teeth, and doing everything in her power to get me past her yard. I’ve tried to stop and talk soothingly to her; I even once brought some food to toss over the fence to her—but no. Ours is apparently destined to be an adversarial relationship.

So when, over the Christmas holidays, I took a few weeks off from running, I can’t say I missed seeing her every day. It was something of a relief to go through the day without getting yelled at. But when I got back in the swing of things last week, I knew our familiar confrontations would resume. As I approached her yard, I braced myself for my daily berating.

But it didn’t come, and for a very good reason—instead of lying on the back porch by herself, she had four little Golden Retriever puppies snuggled up against her. Sometime over the break, my archenemy had apparently become a mother.

It’s amazing how quickly my judgment of that dog shifted in that moment. She suddenly went from being a one-dimensional nuisance, a side character in my story, to a more complex creature. With this one extra piece of information, I had to reckon with the fact that this Golden Retriever had a story of her own.

If this is true of a dog, it is surely far truer of people, the only creations made in God’s image and in his likeness. It’s tempting to fall into the same trap I did with that dog, regarding your coworkers and neighbors as bit players in a story where you are the protagonist. It’s easy to judge other people based entirely on how they affect you, to ignore and disregard whatever else they may be going through in the name of self-justification.

But God calls us to look at our fellow humans with a different perspective—not as nuisances, but as neighbors. The Lord calls us to consider the plight of others even when we derive no benefit from doing so, to pray for others even when we’d rather not, to love others as God has loved us.

Our world is a place where people are often dehumanized, reduced to less than they are. But the Lord calls his disciples to be countercultural in that regard, to look at each person as a beloved child of God, worthy of grace and love, and to act accordingly. The only person’s story you know from beginning to end is your own—so instead of giving that story your undivided attention, perhaps it’s time to start listening to someone else’s.

Where's My Healing?

 

The healing miracles of Jesus kind of feel like a tease lately.

You read in the Gospels how he opened the eyes of the blind, how he caused paralyzed people to walk again, how he cured people of issues ranging from leprosy to uncontrollable menstrual bleeding. You remember how he raised Lazarus from the dead, and Jairus’s daughter before that, how he conquered death once and for all on Easter Sunday. You see how his followers, at least for a time in the Book of Acts, were empowered to continue his healing ministry as they spread the gospel far and wide.

And yet…COVID. Here we are, almost 2 years into this pandemic, and not only is it still with us, but more people are infected than ever before. Vaccines and better treatments have lessened the virus’s severity, thank God, but certainly haven’t defeated it. What we could use is a good old-fashioned healing touch from Jesus.

But we’re still waiting. Still proclaiming faithfully that the Lord is a healer, even as ERs fill up. Still singing about hope and joy on Sunday, even as depression beckons on Monday. Still believing God is sovereign, even when the world seems utterly out of control.

The longer we persevere through this pandemic, the more those gospel healing stories start to feel ironic instead of encouraging. What’s the point of Jesus being a healer if he’s not going to heal? Why are those stories even there?

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Imagine for a moment you’re one of Jesus’s contemporaries, a poor Jew in the first century. You’ve heard since childhood about a better day that’s coming, a day when God is going to rescue his people. You’ve imagined what it would be like to have financial security instead of turning over half your money to oppressive tax collectors. You’ve imagined what it would be like to have rulers who look and sound like you, instead of having to bend the knee to pagan foreigners. You’ve imagined what it would be like to be free.

But day to day, life is a struggle. Hope is something you can ill afford on a daily basis—there’s too much to do, too much to think about, too much to fear. You have a family to support, and hope doesn’t pay the bills. Maybe Messiah will come, maybe not. You’ll believe it when you see it.

And then Jesus comes on the scene. He says the kingdom of God is close at hand, that God is about to set right the world’s wrongs and show his glory, and that sounds good to you. He describes what it’ll be like—how the poor in spirit and the mourners and the persecuted will all be called blessed, how the humble will be exalted and the exalted will be humbled, how the captives will be set free—and that all sounds good too. But maybe too good to be true?

But then you start hearing that there are actions to match the words. That even as Jesus is promising a better world to come, he is also making one now, person by person. He says that God’s kingdom will be a place for the downtrodden…and then he heals a leper. He says God’s kingdom will be a place of joy…and then he gives sight to a blind man. He says God’s kingdom will be greater than the powers of this world…and then he drives out demons. For every promise of a better day to come, there is a miracle to show what that better day looks like. For every word of hope, there is an action to match. You don’t just have to take what Jesus is saying on faith…you can see it with your own eyes.

But then, just when things are getting really exciting, it all comes crashing down. The religious leaders turn him in to the Romans, the Romans nail him to a cross, and the story comes to an end. Jesus goes the way every would-be messiah before him did. And you go back to the struggle of your daily life, with hope shoved back down where it won’t bother anyone.

But then word starts to spread that the cross isn’t the end of Jesus’ story. That, unlike any who came before him, he didn’t stay dead after the Romans put him down. That his cross wasn’t an instrument of execution after all, but of glorification. That by his death and—can it be true, resurrection?—Jesus has actually ushered in the very salvation he was preaching about, the very kingdom he was promising.

And you think about all those blind men who now see, all those paralytics walking around, all those sick people now living healthy lives. You think about what the prophets promised all those years ago, about a better day to come, about a world of beauty and peace and grace. And if the Jesus who helped them really is back, then maybe, just maybe, that world is coming after all. Maybe God is making all things new.

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Why did Jesus heal people? What are those miracles in the Bible for? What do they say to us today, in year 2 of the COVID-19 pandemic?

Do they guarantee that Jesus will heal your faithful grandmother who’s monitoring her oxygen levels? Sadly, no. Do they guarantee help for your friend who’s debating whether his COVID symptoms warrant a trip to the ER? Sadly, no. Do they guarantee that this pandemic will come to an end any time soon? Sadly, no.

But even as COVID proves day in and day out how broken our world is, those miracle stories remind us that a better world is coming. They remind us that our suffering, as devastating as it is, is momentary; the glory to come is eternal. They remind us that, despite our doubts and fears, God has NOT abandoned this fallen world.

Someday our tears will be wiped away. Someday pain will be a thing of the past. Someday death will be a distant memory. How do we know? Because Jesus didn’t just tell us, he showed us. Because in his hands, the kingdom of God was not just preached but embodied.

Miracles aren’t magic tricks for today, they’re promises for tomorrow. And in Jesus’s hands, they’re promises you can believe.

Room to Grow (Friday Devotional)

 

And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.

- Luke 2:52

When I was in kindergarten, I remember one special Arbor Day when students helped plant a new tree on the grounds of the school. Placing the acorns gently in the ground, we all worked to pack soil around it and christen it with its first watering. When the day came to an end, we were able to step back and proudly say, “We planted a tree.”

So you can imagine my dismay when my parents dropped me off at school the following Monday and the giant oak I expected to see was nowhere to be found. Indeed, all that was in the spot where we’d worked so hard was the same patch of soil we’d left there on Friday, like nothing had happened over the weekend. Disappointed and concerned, I asked my parents and my teacher where our tree was, and they had to laugh as they explained, “It’ll take a while before the tree gets big and tall. It needs some time to grow.”

What we understand about trees we are slower to acknowledge about people, it seems. Ours is a culture suspicious of people whose capabilities and beliefs are anything less than fully formed—to say, “I need to learn more about that,” is to be unprepared; to say “I’ve changed my mind because I learned some new things” is to be without conviction. In school, in business, and in daily conversations, you are expected to have it all figured out all the time. Even in the church, there is too often little tolerance for those with doubts and questions, much less faults and struggles.

So what a blessing it is on this day after Epiphany, having concluded the season spent celebrating Jesus’ birth, to remember that Jesus grew. When God sent his Son, things didn’t begin with Jesus’s baptism in the Jordan River at age 30—Jesus was born and then he had to grow “in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.” We know little about Jesus’s adolescence, but we do know he wasn’t delivering rough drafts of the Sermon on the Mount in the synagogue nursery. Like any human being, he first needed to learn and to mature into the divine calling laid out for him.

When the Bible talks about life in Christ, we ought to remember that it uses the language of being “born again”—and so, as with any birth, we need to allow for and expect steady growth rather than instant transformation. No one comes to faith as a fully formed disciple, and that shouldn’t be our expectation. Rather, we ought to extend grace to anyone—including ourselves—who is sincerely trying to learn and grow, even and especially when there are moments of stumbling along the way.

Majestic oaks don’t spring up overnight; they have to grow from the humblest of beginnings—and the same is true of Jesus, a mighty Savior who started life as a baby in a manger. As his disciple, may you have the patience and the grace for a life of growth.

December Reading Log

 

In December I finished a task I'd been working on for years, completing the last books on my shelf I hadn't read. I also found time to catch up on some articles, read some comics, and review a book on pastoral theology for the Baptist Standard. Take a look!

4 Articles I Like This Month

"America Is Not Ready for the Next Crisis" by Lewis Brogdon, Christian Ethics Today. 10 minutes.

By any reasonable measurement, our nation's response to the pandemic has been an abysmal failure. It has divided us further instead of uniting us, exposed the dangers of extreme individualism, and illustrated governmental incompetence. And, as Lewis Brogdon eloquently and frighteningly shows in this article, the worst may be yet to come. If we cannot rediscover a notion of the common good, the next crisis will be even worse than this one.

"The 50 Best Texas BBQ Joints" by Staff, Texas Monthly. 48 minutes.

Texas Monthly's list of the state's best places for barbecue, released every 4 years, is a brisket lover's Bible. Print this list (or better yet, buy the magazine), and keep it as a reference as you travel our great state.

"The Gospel of Donald Trump, Jr." by Peter Wehner, The Atlantic. 3 minutes.

In an address to white evangelicals, Donald Trump, Jr. said the quiet part out loud, that Jesus's teachings (specifically regarding turning the other cheek) "have gotten us nothing." The sentiment betrays an insidious attitude I hear far too often in evangelicalism: power, not Jesus, is Lord for too many of the so-called faithful.

"Desmond Tutu Was Exactly the Radical Moderate the World Needed" by David Von Drehle, The Washington Post. 3 minutes.

In light of the death of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, writer David Von Drehle praises him for the Anglican moderation he showed in his approach to post-apartheid South Africa. In a world dominated by extremes, moderation can be both radical and convictional.

Reading Through the Fantastic Four- #209-231, Annual #14-15

My past month of FF reading saw the title moving from the loose wackiness of the Bronze Age to the professional, corporate attitude of Jim Shooter's 1980's Marvel. Here we see the FF reclaiming what was good about the Silver Age while casting aside the excesses of the 1970s. The result is 20+ issues that feel like a transition, but in an encouraging way.

The first highlight is John Byrne's initial run as artist, a precursor to when he would become both writer and artist from issues #232-293. Byrne, inked by FF legend Joe Sinnott, is reliably excellent in these issues, putting down the clean lines and retro attitude that would make him arguably the most beloved artist of the 1980s.

The second highlight is the partnership of writer Doug Moench and Bill Sienkiewicz, more famous for their work on Moon Knight. For about a year, they were the creative team on the FF, focusing on the little-explored nature of Franklin Richards' mutant powers and lending an air of dynamism to the team before Byrne's run began in #232. Sienkiewicz, now a legend, particularly draws Mister Fantastic in a way no one ever had before, borrowing from DC's depiction of Plastic Man to show all the possibilities of the hero's stretching powers.

While I'm excited to begin Byrne's run in January (it's my favorite run on the FF, and I own every issue), I wouldn't have minded more of the Moench-Sienkiewicz team...where were they in the doldrums of the mid-1970s?

PASTORAL THEOLOGY IN THE BAPTIST TRADITION by R. Robert Creech

*I wrote a brief review of this book for the Baptist Standard which will appear in January's print edition of Common Call magazine . So as to neither plagiarize nor repeat myself, I'll link to it when it appears online.*

THE POISONWOOD BIBLE by Barbara Kingsolver

There are certain books that it feels like everybody I went to seminary with recommends. Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. The Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard. And yes, The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. So this month I finally read and enjoyed Kingsolver's novel about a midcentury missionary family's life in Africa—and while I'm not sure it makes my "books every pastor MUST read" list, it's certainly an engaging story with an important message.

It tells the story of the Price family—a tyrannical, fundamentalist pastor; his strong but quiet wife; and their four daughters—and how together and separately they are affected when they move to a village in the Congo, ostensibly to share the gospel. What becomes clear early on is that Nathan Price is in way over his head and that his colonialist attitude toward missionary work is doing more harm than good for both his family and the village. The book's turning point comes when the family is met with a devastating tragedy, one which changes all of their lives forever.

Ultimately, The Poisonwood Bible's message couldn't be clearer: colonialism is bad. I have zero issue with that message, but did find the novel a bit preachy in the way it was conveyed. What was more interesting were the characters themselves, each of whom responds to the demands and consequences of their missionary journey differently. While the characters could easily have become mere ciphers in service to the greater message, Kingsolver's wise decision to narrate chapters from their individual points of view makes them feel like real people instead.

For those whose view of missionary work is two-dimensional, this novel is an eye-opening look at how sharing the gospel and sharing Western values have been so easily intertwined over the centuries, and the importance of detangling the two. But more importantly, for those wanting a good character-driven story, you'll find one here. The message is good, just not unfamiliar. The story is both original and interesting.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL by Charles Dickens

Some books are so familiar you can almost recite them from memory, yet so beloved you take the time to reread them anyway. A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens' much-adapted tale of how four ghostly apparitions managed to change the heart of one bitter old miser, is just such a story, one worthy revisiting every Christmas.

I'm sure I don't need to recap the story for you, since everyone from Bill Murray to the Muppets to my 4th grade class has told it in some form or another. What did surprise me in rereading the book was how faithfully many adaptations wind up being, not just to the plot but the dialogue as well. More than just the catchphrases ("Bah! Humbug!", "God bless us, everyone," etc.), there were almost zero lines of dialogue I didn't recognize, which I credit more to their repetition on stage and film than to my memory of prior readings of the book. The reason for this is simple: Dickens is—hot take—a delight to read, and his Victorian cadence is quite pleasant to the ear.

This book is a quick read; you can finish it in 2 hours easily (something that certainly can't be said of most of Dickens' novels.) If it's not already a part of your annual holiday traditions, I encourage you to remedy that in 2022.

ESSENTIAL GHOST RIDER VOL. 3 by Michael Fleisher, Don Perlin, Mike Esposito, Herb Trimpe, et al.

The embodiment of the 1970s continued his adventures into the early 1980s, as chronicled in this 3rd Essential volume of 4 (look for me to take a break in January and finish up in February). With writer Michael Fleisher at the helm for every issue in this volume, the stories get more consistent and more fun, albeit never really reaching the heights of any of Ghost Rider's Silver Age predecessors.

Full of mostly self-contained issues, Essential Ghost Rider Vol. 3 sees Johnny Blaze, stunt biker extraordinaire and part-time demon on wheels, shifting from a typical superhero-secret identity mold to more of a Jekyll-Hyde dynamic, something Fleisher was starting to foreshadow at the end of volume 2. Indeed, by the end of this volume, Ghost Rider is no longer a hero in any sense, more of an agent of chaos who Blaze reluctantly lets loose when confronted with situations in which he feels the demon's power could do some good. As a result, many of the issues in this volume aren't so much about Ghost Rider taking on villains as they are about Johnny Blaze getting into scrapes only for Ghost Rider to be unleashed in the last 5 pages.

The art in this volume is a collection of B-level Bronze Agers, nothing to write home about. The stories, similarly, are fun but quickly forgotten. What stands out most about these issues of Ghost Rider is their deviation from the superhero formula, Fleisher's willingness to make Ghost Rider more of an adventure-meets-horror title rather than a good-guy-fights-bad-guy comic.

For those who made it through the character's early growing pains, Essential Ghost Rider Vol. 3 sees the title finally settling into a groove. I don't know that I'd call it "essential" Marvel reading, but for those who like the Nic Cage movies and want to know what the character's about, these issues are worth breezing through.

THE OTHER HISTORY OF THE DC UNIVERSE by John Ridley and Giuseppe Camuncoli

When you look at the biggest heroes in the DC Universe, characters created primarily in the 1940s-1960s, it's a pretty homogenous group: white, straight, and moderate in temperament. They may fight for truth, justice, and the American way...but whose America?

In The Other History of the DC Universe, a 5-issue limited series from DC's "Black Label" line of alternative, adult comics, writer John Ridley of Twelve Years a Slave fame looks to tell the story of DC through the eyes of characters who don't fit the mold. You might consider this the Woke History of the DC Universe.

In the wrong hands, this could be a preachy, self-righteous disaster. But Ridley is an excellent storyteller, and with him at the helm, what is presented instead is a personal, powerful, character-driven new perspective on the DC Universe. With each issue telling the story of a different POC superhero, Ridley is able to tell a broader story about representation, power dynamics, and race. And the art, by Italian penciller Giuseppe Camuncoli, is a perfect accompaniment to Ridley's vision.

Admittedly this is a series intended to be provocative; it's not going to be for everyone. If "SJW" is a phrase you like throwing around, you'll probably want to steer clear. But for those willing to listen, there's not only a good story within, but a good message.

My Resolutions for 2022

It's that time of year again...the beginning, day 1 of 365! A time to do some self-evaluation, to dream big, to cast aside bad habits and form new ones. A time to resolve to do better in 2022 than you did in 2021, whatever that means for you.

Every year I make 10ish resolutions, some which I take quite seriously and some which I abandon before the Rose Bowl is over. So here's this year's list!

1. Translate one Old Testament verse and one Greek verse every day

For years I've been flirting with the idea of pursuing a PhD in Preaching from my beloved George W. Truett Theological Seminary. There have been several obstacles standing in my way of making the leap, but the most intimidating has been the language requirement: all prospective students must be proficient in biblical Greek, biblical Hebrew, and 2 research languages (typically Latin and German).

As this particular PhD program has evolved over the last few years, there's been more and more grace extended regarding the research languages, so I'm less concerned about those than I used to be. But as for the biblical languages, I really think I need to be more comfortable with them than I am now before I can even apply for a PhD. Plus, you know, it's just best practices for a pastor-scholar to be able to work with those languages proficiently.

So to help me brush up, I'm resolving to, as part of my daily devotional and study time, translate one verse from the Hebrew Bible and one from the Greek New Testament. My hope is that making this a daily exercise, but not an especially daunting one, will have me more familiar and comfortable with the languages as the year progresses. 2 verses a day isn't going to make me fluent, by any means, but every little bit helps!

2. Read one systematic theology

Systematic theologies, which can best be described as "a theologian tries to explain God, the universe, and everything," are the kinds of tomes that have shaped pastors and theologians for centuries. And thanks to some killer sales from ChristianBook.com, I've accumulated a pretty decent collection from a number of theological perspectives (namely Baptist, Methodist, general evangelical, Reformed, Roman Catholic.)

But the time has come to stop just admiring them on the shelf and actually pick them up and read. And given how long and how dense the average systematic theology is, reading just one in 2022 seems like a perfectly reasonable expectation.

So don't expect to see any of these in my monthly book log until the fall, or even until December. My plan is to just read 5-10 pages a day, starting with the most influential systematic theology of all, which I'm embarrassed to confess I've never read: John Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion.

3. Spend 30 minutes writing each day

This one should familiar to those of you who have been reading these posts for a few years now. If I'm ever going to write something besides a weekly devotional and sermon, I'm going to have to set aside some time in the day.

So this year the game plan is to spend 30 minutes per day writing. The point here is not to complete a project (which is why this resolution is not titled "Write a book"), but simply to get me reps in on a daily basis. I don't always enjoy writing, but I do know that the more I do it, the better I get at it. So here's to lots of practice in 2022.

4. Read or listen to 5 sermons per week

The problem with pastoring is that I don't hear a sermon when I go to church on Sunday morning, I preach one. So if I'm going to be formed by the proclamation of the gospel, I have to pursue it outside the confines of my congregation.

So my plan is to listen to 5 sermons per week, one for each "work day" (Sunday-Wednesday and Friday). My hope is that I'll experience some spiritual formation, that I'll be exposed to different styles of preaching, and that my own preaching will improve as a result.

I don't want to just listen to the same 5 preachers every month, so if you have recommendations, shoot me an email. I've already got about 20 preachers in mind, but I'm happy to add to the list.

5. Educate myself about hip hop and country music

When I was in high school, I purchased and listened to music constantly. But I turned my nose up at two genres: hip hop and country. Neither held any appeal for me, and I was convinced there was nothing redeeming about either genre.

I'm older and wiser now, and have become fascinated with both hip hop and country music over the last couple years. So in 2022 I'm resolving to learn more about these genres that I snobbishly and stupidly avoided for so long. With the help of books, podcasts, and documentaries, I'm looking forward to learning what I've been missing, and then to filling the massive holes in my music collection (because I'm a luddite who insists on buying music instead of just streaming it).

So the next time you're in my car, you may hear Hank Williams or Jay-Z, Dolly Parton or N.W.A.

6. Become a coffee snob

My coffee evolution has been gradual. I didn't drink it at all until a few months into my marriage, when I decided that if I was going to make Lindsey's coffee for her every morning I might as well try it myself. I went from drinking flavored coffee with milk to drinking that same flavored coffee black to, finally, grinding fresh, unflavored beans from the local coffee shop and drinking 2 cups per morning that way. That's where I've been now for years.

But I've always been mildly curious about the next level of coffee snobbery, the land of French presses and pour-overs. So in 2022, I'm resolving to learn what a "good cup of coffee" entails according to the standards of a barista (or at least a picky millenial.) I want to know where good beans come from and why, how to operate a French press, how to make a pour-over, etc.

Let me be clear on two things: 1) I do NOT want to become insufferable about this. If you catch me turning down a cup of Folgers offered hospitably by a friend because "I only drink _____ coffee," you have my permission to slap me upside the head. The goal here is education, not condescension. 2) I don't want my daily coffee to take 30 minutes to make. This resolution is something I'm setting aside for lazy Saturdays, times when we have company over, etc. On a daily basis, I'm just fine with our grind-and-brew machine cranking out my 2 cups of liquid caffeine at the press of a button.

7. Plan and reflect upon each day

I want to take 15 minutes every morning to plot out what I need and want to get accomplished that day, and I want that to happen before I walk into the office at 9:00 am. Too often in 2021 I found myself drifting through the day instead of moving through it with purpose.

And at the end of each day, I want to give journaling a try. One, I think it will help me reflect upon the day and prepare for the next. Two, I imagine that if I can be disciplined and detailed about this, my journal will be a helpful reference when I need to recall dates, events, and ideas.

8. Put my phone down

Re-upping on this resolution from 2021. Over the last 2 months I've been looking for ways to reduce my phone usage (wearing a watch so I don't need my phone to tell time, turning off email notifications, etc.) so that using my phone is something I do intentionally instead of habitually.

So in 2022 I want to finish the job and make my phone a tool I use instead of a drug that I go to for a high. I don't want my kids to be glued to their phones when they're teenagers, so I need to start modeling the right relationship with phones now.

9. Do one nice thing for Lindsey every day

Third time's the charm. I've resolved to do this the last 2 years and failed both times. If at first you don't succeed...

Here's the thing, and I'm going to be pretty transparent here: 2021 was not the best year of our marriage. I'm not saying you need to worry, I'm just saying that we've been married for 10 years and we're still learning how to submit to one another in love. Marriage is both a gift and a responsibility, something you enjoy and something you have to work at.

So in 2021, I'm doing the thing. One purposeful, intentional nice thing every day, whether it's a post-it on her bedside, an unexpected Starbucks drink, me coming home early from work and picking up the kids, or whatever. 

10. Say what I mean and mean what I say

I'm a people pleaser by nature. I want people to respect me, to rely on me, and above all, to like me. I'm resistant to conflict, eager to make peace, and extremely cautious about saying anything that might make waves.

Those are very common traits for pastors. But they can also be handicaps to leadership, and even to healthy relationships. There's a difference between being polite and being afraid, between filtering out what doesn't need to be said and self-censoring out of cowardice.

2021 was a year when, by my estimation, I veered a little too hard into keeping people happy for the sake of keeping myself comfortable, when I sacrificed saying or doing what I thought was right because I didn't want anybody (especially myself) to feel too tense. That was bad pastoral leadership, and I want to do better in 2022.

I'm still going to be polite, still going to be diplomatic, still going to be pastoral...it's who I am. But I really want to be more thoughtful about when I'm filtering myself. I don't want to bail on a forceful line in my sermon for the sake of avoiding an email Monday morning. I don't want to pretend I don't have convictions just because someone will disagree with me. I don't want to hide my light under a bushel.

So in 2022, I'm resolving to say what I mean and mean what I say. I think I owe that to people, not to mention to God. Jesus had friends and opponents...it's probably time I followed his lead in that respect.