January Reading Log

  

After a couple months when my morning reading routine kind of went to pot, I came in January ready to turn over a new leaf (or, rather, turn back to my old leaf) and get back to more regular reading. Here are the books my nose was buried in over the last month!

Reading Through the Fantastic Four- #60 (v. 3 numbering)—532 (vo.1 numbering)

My FF reading for January consisted almost exclusively of the Mark Waid-Mike Weiringo run, a period beloved by fans for its imagination, heart, and irreverence. In their hands, the book resembles a Saturday morning superhero cartoon in the all the right ways—there's action, there's comedy, there's drama, and you never forget that the point is to have fun.

In Waid's hands, the FF literally travel from heaven to hell. In one of his first arcs as the book's writer, Doctor Doom makes a deal with a demon lord to increase his powers as a sorcerer and manages to psychologically and physically torture Marvel's First Family before Reed Richards, his archnemesis, finally manages to topple Doom with the aid of Doctor Strange. In the wake of that arc, an angry, psychologically battered Reed takes the team to Latveria, where Doom had reigned as absolute monarch, and essentially takes over the country himself. It's a way-too-on-the-nose commentary on the Iraq War that ends in tragedy, with Ben Grimm, the Thing, perishing. So from there Reed devises a machine that winds up taking the FF to the literal gates of heaven, where God (drawn, in a stroke of genius, as FF co-creator Jack "the King" Kirby) serves a literal deus ex machina and resurrects Ben.

Weiringo is the perfect artist for Waid's stories, with a colorful, cartoony style that makes the comedy sing but still manages to work in the stories' darker moments. While hard to explain, his style is all heart, which is what this book is truly about in its best moments. He and Waid make the perfect team, arguably the best this book had seen since Lee and Kirby. After a long creative lull, this is the run that made the FF relevant again—can't recommend it highly enough.

HOW TO REVIVE EVANGELISM by Craig Springer

Evangelism is tricky business these days. Some view it unfavorably because of its historic ties to colonization in the 'glory days' of Christendom, when conversion often came about at the end of a spear. Others hear the word and think of street preachers and panhandlers holding carboard signs proclaiming the end is near. And still others simply view it as unethical—it's fine to believe what you want, but trying to persuade others to believe it too is pushy to the point of manipulative.

And yet for Christians, we can't get away from the Great Commission: Jesus told us to make disciples of all nations, he gave us a mission to proclaim his Good News to the world. So how do we do that in 2023?

In this slim volume, Craig Springer seeks to offer effective evangelism strategies for our day and time, ways of sharing Jesus that honor the honest concerns about evangelism without being ashamed of the mission. He advocates for a patient, sincere, community-oriented approach where you listen more than you talk and allow space for questions without condemnation. It's an approach that intuitively makes sense in a post-Christian society.

One thing readers will have to understand about such an approach (which I find persuasive) is that yields a lot more depth than width—you'll get a lot fewer converts this way than with the old days of Billy Graham crusades and tent revivals. But those who do come to faith are much more likely to stay, to be actual disciples instead of one-day converts who walked an aisle in a swell of emotion only to wake up with a spiritual hangover the next day.

Most of the information in this book was stuff I'd read elsewhere, but it was helpful to have it all laid out here so clearly and concisely. If some of these concepts are new to you, this is a good place to start.

MORNINGS ON HORSEBACK by David McCullough

What turned Theodore Roosevelt, an asthmatic patrician's son, into the Rough Rider who would change the American presidency forever? In Mornings on Horseback, David McCullough's award winning biography of Roosevelt, the answer comes less from Roosevelt's experiences or inner drive than from his family and friends, the people who inspired, taught, confounded, and drove him to greatness.

McCullough, it is clear, is not so interested in Roosevelt's accomplishments as his origin story—the book ends with his engagement to Edith Carrow, 15 years before he became president. As such, a tremendous amount of time is spent on the stories of people like Roosevelt's grandfather, Cornelius Van Schaack (C.V.S) Roosevelt; his father, Theodore Roosevelt, Sr.; his mother, Martha Stewart "Mittie" Bulloch; and his brother, Elliot Roosevelt. Indeed, at times T.R. seems like a side character in his own story. For those interested in family systems, it is fascinating to see how Theodore's upbringing shaped who he became—what he accepted from his upbringing and what he cast aside.

This book surprised me a bit; I expected a standard biography and got something different. Nevertheless, McCullough's reputation as one of America's preeminent historians is based on books like this one. Well written and carefully researched, this book sets out to explain how Theodore Roosevelt's early years shaped him, and it does just that.

THE RIVER OF DOUBT by Candice Millard

There are times when history is so compelling it might as well be an action-adventure novel. Those times happened a lot where Theodore Roosevelt was concerned. Having read about his early years in Mornings on Horseback, I turned next to his life post-presidency, specifically to a journey he took following his unsuccessful "Bull Moose" third-party campaign for president. Accompanied by an experienced crew and his son Kermit, Roosevelt descended an unmapped portion of the Amazon River, a region so treacherous some believed it was impossible.

The trip almost killed Roosevelt; indeed, he contemplated suicide at one point. Everything from shipwreck to malaria to a murder within the crew threatened to make this journey one without a happy ending. But in Millard's telling, the trip instead became Roosevelt's final, most dangerous adventure.

Candace Millard presents the story with an eye for detail and an ear for storytelling that ensure it never presents as dry history. Instead, she tells the story so cinematically you can easily imagine seeing it on the big screen. For those wanting a survival story that just so happens to be about somebody on Mount Rushmore, this is a great beach read!

LETTER FROM BIRMINGHAM JAIL by Martin Luther King, Jr.

I make a point to read this American epistle every MLK Day, and this year was no exception. Addressed to a collection of white, moderate pastors who were concerned with Dr. King's protest-centered approach to social change, its central theme can be summarized by its most famous quote: "injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."

Drawing from Scripture, American history, and outright common sense, King systematically dismantles the concerns of his fellow pastors, showing how both his faith and his heritage demand that he remain outspoken on the subject of civil rights, and how the methodology of the movement is not only effective, but moral. Furthermore, King respectfully but forcefully decries the caution of his fellow pastors, convincingly arguing that there are times when God calls his children to boldness, not moderation.

For someone who proudly identifies as a moderate on social and political issues, Letter from Birmingham Jail challenges me on an annual basis. I consider it to be right up there with the Gettysburg Address among the greatest works of American political writing—if you've never taken the time to read it in its entirety, do it now.

THE FLAG, THE CROSS, AND THE STATION WAGON by Bill McKibben

Part memoir, part sociology text, part political manifesto, The Flag, the Cross, and the Station Wagon is environmentalist Bill McKibben's take on how the 1970s, the decade in which he grew up, represented the moment when America shifted from patriotic idealism to nationalistic nihilism. A Baby Boomer himself, McKibben is firmly of the opinion that Boomers abdicated their responsibility to leave the nation better than they found it, and this book is his attempt to diagnose the problems and advocate for solutions.

As the title suggests, McKibben frames our national decline around three things: the partisan sclerosis of our government, the gradual decline of faith (specifically, the mainline church), and the rise of the suburbs, which effectively reversed the tide of integration the Civil Rights Movement had begun. Mixing personal experience with historical fact with sociological analysis, McKibben makes an occasionally compelling, albeit predictable case that basically boils down to, "Liberal ideas good, conservative and moderate ideas bad."

This book was one I grabbed impulsively at the library one day; it's the sort of thing I typically read online or in magazines, not as a full book. I liked it fine, but can't say I learned much that I didn't already know. If you're politically plugged in, you've probably heard these arguments before, but if you're a more casual watcher of the news, this book makes some arguments worth considering.

From Ugliness to Artistry (Friday Devotional)

 

Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good.

- Titus 2:14

If you’ve ever walked through a rough neighborhood or driven past an abandoned railcar, you’ve seen it. Always colorful, often cryptic, and occasionally vulgar, graffiti has been a staple of the American cityscape since the 1970s. Sometimes sprayed on by bored teenagers, other times by gangs looking to mark their territory, graffiti has normally been seen as a telltale sign of urban blight, an ugly indicator of decline.

But something interesting has started happening over the last few years—what was once considered destruction of property is being newly recognized as art. Graffiti that city officials used to decry as vandalism is now beginning to be appreciated as creativity at work, artists looking for an outlet. Indeed, inspired by figures like the elusive Banksy, some major cities have even actually enlisted those they once would have arrested, commissioning street artists to spray paint graffiti-style murals. Rather than condemning graffiti, they’ve found a way to redeem it.

That’s exactly what Jesus does for those who place their faith in him: he turns ugliness into artistry, sinners into saints. By the grace of God, his death on the cross has ensured that anyone can be cleansed of unrighteousness and given new life.

All of us are born into iniquity, sinners incapable of fellowship with God. But Jesus gave himself on the cross so that we could be more, so that we could know the kind of life God always intended for us. The blood of Jesus made it possible for us to be redeemed from vulgarity to beauty. In Christ, transformation is always possible.

The next time you see graffiti, you’re most likely to dismiss it as petty vandalism. But my encouragement to you is to take a closer look—at what’s on the wall and what’s in your heart. You never know what a good artist will do with some misplaced paint.

Always Ready (Friday Devotional)

But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.

- 1 Peter 3:15

In show business, most theaters are equipped with an area offstage known as the green room. For guest performers, this room is usually stocked with snacks, comfortable furniture, and a television to watch what’s happening onstage. It’s in the green room that performers—from late show guests to rock bands—have the time and the space to mentally prepare themselves before they walk out into the spotlight.

Life isn’t showbiz, but in this respect, you might wish the two had more in common. Wouldn’t it be nice if you could always have time in a green room before life’s biggest moments? What a luxury it would be to know exactly what was coming and have the space to prepare yourself for it!

Unfortunately, life’s biggest moments aren’t usually advertised on a marquee beforehand. You aren’t given a green room in which to get ready. Instead, readiness needs to be your automatic posture.

That’s what 1 Peter 3:15 is getting at when it calls believers to “be prepared to give an answer” on behalf of Christ. It’s not about apologetics, not about ‘defending the faith’ so much as understanding that your opportunities to share the gospel aren’t always—or even often—planned in advance. Your best occasions for witnessing don’t necessarily come at the end of a church service; more often they come in the flow of everyday life.

You might wish life and ministry came equipped with green rooms so you’d never be caught unawares. But until then, best to keep the command of Scripture in mind—know where your hope comes from, and always be ready to tell people about it.

The Light of the Son (Friday Devotional)

 

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.

- Philippians 4:12-13

In popular culture, Superman is synonymous with power. Blades cannot pierce his skin, neither heat nor cold have any effect on him, and he can break steel chains with minimum effort. His eyes can see through walls one minute and burn through them in another. He’s faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able to leap tall buildings with a single bound. There is seemingly nothing Superman can’t do.

And yet all these powers are premised on one thing: the yellow rays of Earth’s sun. Under the red sun of his home planet of Krypton, the so-called Superman is just Kal-El, an ordinary Joe like you or me. The Caped Crusader is an indestructible force for good—but only so long as he is empowered by the Sun.

In the Bible, we read about larger-than-life figures like Moses and David, Esther and Mary, Peter and Paul—individuals who rose above their meager circumstances to do great things for their people. When we read these characters’ stories, it can feel like they’re mythic figures with spiritual strength we can only dream of possessing. They seem like supermen who stand above us.

But if these heroes are supermen, it is only because of the power they were given. Moses was no deliverer until God called him in a burning bush. David was only a shepherd until the prophet of God anointed him. Mary was just a peasant girl until the Holy Spirit worked within her.

Paul, one of these larger-than-life figures himself, pointed out that his ministry had been far from easy—he’d been persecuted, he’d been hungry, and he’d been needy. Yet despite all he suffered, he was able to endure, not because of his own inner strength but because of the strength he was given.

You may feel like you’re nobody. You may believe you’re going nowhere fast. You may think you have nothing to offer the Lord God Almighty. But if so, remember this: God doesn’t create supermen—he gives ordinary people the power of the Son. And with that power, he works wonders.

The Best Resolution (Friday Devotional)

 

The aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith.

- 1 Timothy 1:5

How are your New Year’s resolutions going so far? Maybe after 5 days you’re on track for this to be the year that changes everything, the year you get organized, get in shape, and get that promotion you’ve been wanting. Then again, maybe by now you’ve already dismissed the dreams of New Year’s Day as flights of fancy; perhaps you’ve already resigned yourself to the same old, same old.

New Year’s resolutions, whether you take them seriously or roll your eyes at the very concept, are charges you give yourself, commands to shape up. When you make a personal resolution, you are instructing yourself about what your priorities need to be and making a plan to see that those priorities are kept straight. Simply put, when you make a resolution, you are determining what is important to you.

In the introduction of Paul’s first letter to his disciple and “true child in the faith” Timothy, he establishes what this young’s Christian resolution ought to be: love. But lest that simple command be misunderstood or misinterpreted, Paul goes so far as to explain the root of that love: “a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith.” Paul wants to ensure that Timothy’s conduct as a Christian is worthy of the grace that saved him, that the love of God in Christ is exhibited in Timothy’s love for others. If you’re going to be a believer in Christ, Paul seems to be saying, then love must be important to you.

For you today, just as for Timothy in those days long ago, love stemming from a pure heart, a good conscience, and a sincere faith is a resolution worth making in this new year. The Lord calls his people not just to receive his love, but to share it with others, to be beacons of light in a world so darkened by the destruction and despair of sin. It may be the sixth day of 2023, but it’s not too late—this year, resolve to love with the love of the Lord.

December Reading Log

 

2022 is over and done, and so too is my reading for the year. I've got lots of unread books on my shelves to tackle in the new year, but first let's take a look at what I finished in December!

Reading Through the Fantastic Four- #41-59 (v. 3), Annual 2001

These twenty issues mark a period of transition for the FF, a stopgap between the Loeb-Pacheco issues and the forthcoming legendary run of Mark Waid and Mike Wieringo. With a series of one-shots, two-part stories, and other light fare, some sense of normalcy was returned to the book after the off-the-wall misfire of the Claremont years.

Two highlights to point out, however. The first and easily most significant is the birth of Valeria Richards. Claremont's run ended with his popular alternate universe creation, Valeria von Doom, being ushered offstage, but with Susan Richards suddenly pregnant again with the daughter she had once miscarried. In a strange twist of fate, that daughter comes to term and, due to complications, is delivered via a mixture of science and sorcery by none other than Doctor Doom himself. His price? He gets to name the child: Valeria.

The second highlight is the revelation in a one-shot issue that Ben Grimm, the Thing, is Jewish. While this was long-assumed by comics fans, given Ben's obvious similarities to his co-creator, artist Jack Kirby, it had never been stated outright. When Ben, desperate to save someone from his old neighborhood and with his famous strength useless, begins to recite the Shema Yisrael, the implicit becomes explicit.

Overall, these issues are far from essential reading, but they're fun enough, and they feel much more like a Fantastic Four comic than the book Claremont had written. But the best is yet to come: next month we start reading the Waid-Wieringo run, considered by many (including me) to be the third-best run the book has ever seen, following only Lee-Kirby and John Byrne. Excited to get started!

INSTITUTES OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION by John Calvin

Honestly, how do you write a review of this book? Institutes of the Christian Religion is inarguably one of the most influential Christian books of all time, the magnum opus of one of the church's greatest theologians, the crown jewel of an entire movement that bears its author's name. For those of a Reformed bent, Calvin's Institutes are second only to the Bible in their wisdom. As someone with both an appreciation for Reformed theology's zeal and a healthy skepticism of its excesses, I found Institutes to be a brilliant, surprisingly readable systematic theology which lays the foundation for what would come to be Reformed theology.

If I were to boil Calvin's theology down to one key tenet, it would be the sovereignty of God, and a close second would be the total depravity of man. God is holy and we are nothing apart from him, and there is zero gray area in either of those doctrines as far as Calvin is concerned. Our only hope of salvation is the grace of God, which ultimately is given through the atoning death of Christ on the cross.

You're probably nodding along so far. Nothing remotely controversial yet. Where many depart from Calvin is when he gets to the contention that salvation is predetermined by God for the 'elect'—that if you come to faith in Christ and are saved, this is not so much the result of your faith as of God predestining you to be saved before the foundations of the world. Leaning heavily on passages from Romans and Ephesians, as well as the theology of Augustine, Calvin makes the case for what today is known as double predestination: God already determined before the creation of the world who would be saved and who would be damned.

More controversy, albeit of a less cosmic bent, comes in the final of the four books into which this volume is divided. Here Calvin addresses many of the excesses of the Reformation-era Catholic Church, arguing from Scripture against things like apostolic succession, papal infallibility, transubstantiation, and other definitively Catholic doctrines. While I take little issue with where he lands on these doctrines (I am, after all, a Protestant), his polemical tone is tough to stomach at times, even if it still falls short of the bile Martin Luther directed the pope's way.

I can't say I agreed with everything Calvin put forward in his Institutes—his arguments for double predestination failed to persuade me yet again, his case for infant baptism is so weak I wonder if even he believed it, and he so elevated the Bible that he neglected the Holy Spirit. Nevertheless, I was awed by his intellect and faithfulness. It may have taken me all year, but I'm glad I worked through Calvin's Institutes, and am grateful for what I learned along the way.

EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON (AND OTHER LIES I'VE LOVED) by Kate Bowler

We human beings are really bad at grief. Something within us seems to reject the very concept of suffering, and certainly its intrusion into our lives. When we encounter someone who is suffering, we hunt for platitudes or distractions or anything we can find to change the subject from their obvious pain. Oftentimes, it is not until we ourselves are faced with suffering that we learn how to handle it.

In 2015, author and academic Kate Bowler was diagnosed with Stage IV cancer, essentially a death sentence. Having spent her career to that point researching the phenomenon of the prosperity gospel, she suddenly saw her work and her life lining up, as Christian after Christian sought to explain or wish away her pain even as she was having to face it head on. Everything Happens for a Reason (and Other Lies I've Loved) is a memoir of her experience the first year after her diagnosis and how her faith and the faithful both helped her and hurt her as she suffered all the physical, emotional, and spiritual pain her cancer brought with it.

Bowler offers deep lived experience, academic training, and a way with words that makes this book a deep yet easy read. Hers is the voice of that wise friend you love to hang out with and always seem to learn something from. The book offers no easy answers, just questions, but that's kind of the point.

Bowler also hosts a podcast by the same name as her book, where she interviews people about their own dark times, and I highly recommend both the podcast and this book. Grief is something that affects us all sooner or later—better that we begin to wrestle with it before it falls in our lap.

ESSENTIAL PUNISHER VOL. 4 by Mike Baron, Bill Reinhold, Mark Texeira, Neil Hansen, Todd Smith, et al.

After four long months of mostly daily reading, my punishment has finally come to a merciful end.

I've been pretty clear since I first began reading the Punisher's earliest adventures that he's not my cup of tea. Viewed generously, he's Batman without the no-killing rule; viewed harshly, he's a straight-up serial killer whose victims just happen to be criminals. I favor the latter interpretation, so spending my mornings reading about his adventures was never something I looked forward to.

Nevertheless, I can admit that it's possible to tell a good story with a morally repugnant protagonist. Breaking Bad did it. The Sopranos did it. Heck, in the hands of writer Garth Ennis and artist Frank Dillon in the early 2000s, The Punisher did it! But writer Mike Baron, for all his knowledge of weaponry and his clear admiration for action movies of the time, was just not the guy to make Frank Castle compelling in Essential Punisher Vol. 4.

In this volume, which spans comics from 1989-1991, Baron yields to the worst impulses of an already mediocre era, glorifying in sensational violence, gender stereotypes, and action movie tropes. In his hands, Punisher is less a well-rounded character than a Rambo knockoff, devoid of a sense of humor or clear motivation. Microchip, the only consistent supporting character in the series, is a "guy in the chair" cardboard cutout, inserted for convenience and occasional humor. And the villains, with the exception of Kingpin (notably not a Punisher creation) are forgettable and rarely reused.

As for the art, it's of its time, reliant on sketchy lines, exaggerated dimensions, and a general "x-treme" ethos. No single artist sticks around for long, showing how unseriously Marvel was taking this book at the time. The cover image on this Essential is a good representation of what's within—if that appeals to you, great, but it certainly doesn't do anything for me.

Goodbye to the Punisher, and good riddance. Looking forward to spending more time now with comics—and characters—I actually enjoy.

My Resolutions for 2023

 

In her 33rd year of life, Amelia Earhart became the first woman to fly across the Atlantic solo. John Knowles wrote "A Separate Peace." Alexander the Great put the finishing touches on his conquest of the known world. Oh, and a young man from Nazareth ushered in the kingdom of God through his salvific death on the cross and victorious resurrection from the grave.

So I should probably make sure I do better in my 33rd year than only accomplishing 10% of my New Year's resolutions. With every intention of accomplishing every goal on this list, here are my resolutions for 2023!

1. Pray for and contact every resident member of my church every month.

I have a confession to make: pastoral visitation doesn't come naturally to me. Unlike preaching, which I've always had a knack for and enjoy practicing, it's much more outside my comfort zone to call up a church member whom I haven't seen in a while or pop by the nursing home for a quick visit. Whether it's because of my introverted nature, my overly polite fear of interrupting people, or just plain laziness, the point is that I have to make a concerted effort to do sufficient pastoral visitation outside of emergencies.

So this year I'm resolving to systematize those contacts. Every month I plan to make at least one intentional contact with every resident member of the church. That can be a phone call, a text message, an email, a note in the mail, a lunch, or a personal visit. It cannot be small talk before and after services or seeing them at a meeting. The idea is to pastorally check in on everybody every month so nobody falls through the cracks. In a congregation the size of SGBC's, it's the least I can do.

2. Listen to 350 albums.

I own so much music. So. Much. Music. And yet, partly because of my schedule, partly because of my lack of a commute (I live walking distance from the church), and partly because of the steady diet of podcasts I've been consuming since college, I rarely listen to music.

It's a shame. It's a waste. And it's time to do better.

Originally my plan was to listen to every song I own over the course of the year. Unfortunately (or is it fortunately?) I have 9,524 songs and counting in my iTunes library, meaning I'd need to listen to an average of 26 songs per day to meet that goal. Hardly a realistic goal. So instead, I'm shooting for an album a day, with 15 days of grace.

Since I'll be using my iTunes library instead of Spotify, I won't have a nifty automated listening history to show off at the end of the year. But I'm sure I'll keep track manually, and I'll plan to share it in a blog post come December!

3. Exercise 6 days per week.

In the days before kids, I ran at least 5 days per week, at least 3 miles per day. Even after Andrew was born, I stuck to that pretty religiously for the first few years. When Katherine was born, I became less disciplined, but was still managing to run 3-5 times per week.

Then Andrew started school, and it all came crashing down. I was definitely not prepared for how much my morning routine would be upended by the daily need to get one kid across town by 8:00 AM, Monday-Friday. The result: I haven't run 3 miles in a day since....August? July?

So before I get any more sedentary than I am now, it's time to get back on the horse. My game plan: run every other day and go to the city's local recreation center (an absolute steal at $40 per year) and do weight training the other days. Sunday will be my off day.

It took me nearly 25 years to get in the habit of exercising regularly. It ought to take a lot less time to get back in the habit.

4. Carry a journal everywhere. And use it.

I have a truly terrible memory, especially for names and dates. I'm a daydreamer, prone to coming up with new ideas in slow moments instead of during designated planning or brainstorming times. And as a pastor, I'm constantly juggling about 20 balls in the air, between sermon thoughts, administrative tasks, pastoral care, and a little thing called my home life.

Put all those things together and I really ought to be writing more stuff down instead of keeping things in my head and hoping for the best. So in 2023 I'm resolving to make sure I have a journal and pen on me at all times so that any stray thought can be captured before it flits away. Sometimes that'll be a book-sized journal, sometimes that'll be a Field Notes memo book in my back pocket.

My hope is that this will help compensate for my lousy memory and take a little pressure off Lindsey to remember all the things for me, as well as help me in planning and brainstorming moving forward.

5. Cut my iPhone screen time to 2 hours per day.

Every year I've made it a resolution to put my phone down—to be more present with my family, more open to boredom, and generally more willing to let a minute pass without being stimulated by media. And every year I've given up almost immediately, falling prey to the siren songs of social media and push notifications.

This year, in an effort to make the resolution for measurable, I'm looking to cut my average amount of screen time down from the 4 hours I average to half that. That may mean taking a bathroom break without pulling my phone out of my pocket <gasp> . It may mean eating lunch in silence instead of while watching YouTube videos. It will certainly mean giving Lindsey and the kids my undivided attention instead of checking my Facebook notifications.

Seems like a resolution worth making.

6. Learn how to use Photoshop.

There are certain computer skills I've picked up along the way simply by being a Millennial. I'm Internet-savvy, I'm fluent in social media, and I can troubleshoot most simple computer problems. I can't code or do anything fancy on Excel, but I'm certainly not a novice at general computer stuff.

That being said, one extremely useful computer skill I've never had an occasion to pick up is the use of Photoshop. When designing pamphlets and flyers, operating the church's Facebook page, and designing our website, to this point I've been able to rely on our stock image subscription, Canva, and some Google-able programs to get the job done. But going into 2023, I'd really like to at least learn the basics of a program so powerful it's become synonymous with image enhancement.

The church already has the subscription, so all I need to do is check out Photoshop for Dummies from the library and devote the time and energy to learning. I think I (and the church) will be better for it.

7. No buying lunch for just me.

When it comes to food preparation, I am fundamentally lazy. Not only do I hate cooking, I don't even like spending the time necessary to make a sandwich or a salad. Given the choice between spending 5 minutes to pack a lunch beforehand or skipping it entirely, you'd be appalled at how often I choose the latter. And to top it all off, I'm not a big leftovers guy.

What that means is that, far too often, my default choice at lunch is to go grab fast food. It's convenient, it's relatively cheap, and it keeps me from having to make something for myself. Unfortunately, when I say relatively cheap, that's in comparison to a sit-down restaurant—it's obviously still more expensive than bringing something from home. Oh, and it's terrible health-wise.

So I'm making a new rule for 2023: no buying lunch for just me. If I want to go out—whether that's at a sit-down restaurant or for a Big Mac—it needs to be with a friend or family member. This has the added benefit of helping with my previously referenced desire to make contact with every member of my church every month...if I want to go out to eat, I'll just have to find somebody willing to go with me!

My expectation is that this will help my wallet, my stomach, and my pastoral habits. But I won't lie...of all the resolutions on this list, this is the one that will require the most discipline!

8. Floss.

This is embarrassing to admit, but I have never been a flosser. Every dentist appointment, I give the same answer when the dentist asks if I floss regularly: "Ehhh, not as consistently as I should." When I say that, I'm lying by omission: I don't floss at all.

But I have a Waterpik, it's a new year, and I really want to stop lying to my dentist. So here goes nothing.

9. Apply for Truett Seminary's PhD of Preaching.

For years, I've been telling people—especially my family members—that I plan to eventually go out for a PhD in Preaching at my beloved George W. Truett Theological Seminary. The academic rigor it requires, the focus on preaching, and the opportunities it could afford me down the road to do some adjunct teaching all make it something that interests me in a way that a Doctor of Ministry never really has. I even went so far as to have lunches with Dean Todd Still and Dr. Scott Gibson to learn more about the program years before it ever officially launched.

What I haven't done is apply. Some of that is because of the strenuous entrance requirements (particularly with regards to biblical and research languages), some of it because of life events (moving to Garland, Katherine's birth, etc.), and some of it, admittedly, is just plain inertia. As Dr. Still wisely put it when we talked last month, "The start is what stops most people."

So this year I'm resolving to make the necessary preparations and apply by the end of the year. That means taking the GRE, that means boning up on my biblical languages, that means crafting a statement of purpose, and at some point, that will mean grabbing lunch with Dr. Still again for wisdom and encouragement.

If I apply and am accepted next year, I should have the PhD by age 40. I won't lie, I'm a little terrified...but excited too!

10. Lead my church to grow.

In the 3 years I've been pastor of South Garland Baptist Church, the church has gotten smaller. The reasons are up for debate—the pandemic, a national decline in religious identity, a sometimes overwhelming number of deaths in the last few years—but the fact is not. In my tenure, the church has shrunk, not grown.

I'm blessed that my church remains supportive of my ministry and receptive to my leadership, but I confess that moving into 2023 there is a certain feeling of having my back against the wall. The budget was slashed—wisely—in light of declining offerings, staffing has been tumultuous, and we have been having more funerals than baptisms lately. If you go looking for logical reasons to hope for better days ahead, you might come up empty.

And yet, despite all this, I'm probably more excited this year than any January before. Diminished resources give me leeway to get back to basics and force us all to be more creative. Fewer and aging members force longtime volunteers to lean on younger members, abandon ineffective programs, or both. And the impression that we're in a corner, which might lead some to despair, has aroused (at least in me) a reflex to fight.

So I'm calling it now, in fearless faith: in 2023, the church is going to grow spiritually and numerically. And I can't wait to do what I can to help make it happen.