September Reading Log

I obviously didn't read as much in September as my sabbatical-filled August, but I still got a few books in...and I liked almost everything I read this month! Take a look below.

 

THE RUTHLESS ELIMINATION OF HURRY by John Mark Comer
SABBATH MEDITATIONS by John Mark Comer

Coming out of my August sabbatical, I decided to stick with the theme from that month, this time with two recent books by pastor and author John Mark Comer. The first, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, is his bestselling take on the spiritual life. He spells out how our modern, frenetic, anxious lives stand in stark contrast to what Jesus promised for his followers: an easy yoke and a light burden. The key, in Comer's telling, is a willingness to be countercultural and reject some of the world's narratives: choose minimalism over consumption, Sabbath over hurry, solitude over stimulation, etc. By his own admission, Comer is not breaking new ground here, mostly just repackaging the works of his heroes like Dallas Willard and Richard Foster in a millenial patois. Nevertheless (or maybe for that reason) I found this book compelling and challenging, and I would recommend it to anyone who finds themselves often feeling stressed and hurried.

Sabbath Meditations is formatted like a devotional book, with readings from Scripture, quotes from spiritual fathers and mothers, etc. This is more of a compilation than an original work, but I may have actually enjoyed it more than The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry for its specific focus on the Sabbath day and insights into why and how to practice it well. Indeed, reading through this book inspired me to lead our family to practice Sabbath with far more intentionality than we ever had previously.

NIGHT SHIFT by Stephen King

Something I have learned over the last 20 years or so: I generally don't care for short stories. For me, one of the joys of reading is spending loads of time with familiar characters and watching their stories play out. Unfortunately, in a short story, the entire experience is akin to the first 20 pages of a book, where you don't have your bearings yet and you're still figuring out the characters and the plot. By the time you start getting attached, the story ends.

Nevertheless, Stephen King is one of my favorite authors, and he writes a lot of short stories. So in September, I tackled his first short story collection, which gathers tales he wrote for various genre magazines both before and after he hit it big with his debut novel, Carrie. It's almost exclusively horror stories, ranging from monsters in the cellar to more suspense-driven, naturalistic tales.

My aversion to the medium meant it took me far longer to read this brief (especially for the normally wordy King) collection; despite its meager 336 pages, I needed half the month to finish this. What's more, some of these stories, like the Bachman books, show us a King still figuring out his writing voice.

With that being said, there are some great stories here, from the Lovecraftian "Graveyard Shift" to the eerie "Quitters Inc." to the truly bizarre "Lawnmower Man." King's imagination for horror and suspense knows no bounds, and so collections like this one are a good way for him to get out ideas that aren't fully formed enough to warrant a full novel.

King completists and fans of short stories should enjoy this collection. It's not my favorite book he's ever written, but reading these 20 tales was still time well spent.

BRAVE NEW WORLD by Aldous Huxley

When people talk about dystopian classics, there are two names that have become part of our cultural vocabulary: George Orwell's 1984 and Aldous Huxley's Brave New World (come to think of it, The Hunger Games may have reached this point too, but let's give it 50 years and see if that lasts). 1984 is a fable about totalitarian governments, prophesying a surveillance state which crushes dissent. Brave New World imagines a less forceful form of government control, where citizens are desensitized, distracted, and entertained, having traded freedom for bliss. While 1984 was required reading in high school, this was my first time reading Brave New World.

In Huxley's telling, the world is ordered by eugenics, with a strict caste system based on your potential to serve the greater good. Citizens are kept sedated on soma, a marijuana-esque drug that keeps everyone mellow and disengaged. Finally, the world has become a place where basically all discomfort, starting with childbirth, has been overcome through technology—it is a world numbed by pleasure. Huxley's world-building is what people still remember today, and the world he imagined is what they often compare our own lives to in the digital age.

Unfortunately, the book's plot doesn't match the setting in terms of intrigue. Essentially, the novel explores what happens when someone outside the norm (a "Savage") is introduced, someone who cares about literature and prefers pain with freedom to strictly enforced pleasure. But the characters are not especially memorable and the pacing is start-and-stop. Huxley's vision is to be admired, but his writing left me cold.

This is required reading for anyone looking to read important 20th century literature, and I'm not about to tell you otherwise. Particularly the first 50 pages, where Huxley lays out his dystopian world, is both educational and entertaining. But if you're only going read one dystopian novel, go with 1984.

THE SUMMER GAME by Roger Angell

For 50 years, the best baseball writer on the planet was the fiction editor for The New Yorker. Roger Angell was one of that magazine's most iconic voices, lending both his talent and his general joie de vivre across generations. But it was with his periodic baseball essays that he made a lasting legacy for himself, earning himself the nickname "The Poet Laureate of Baseball."

The Summer Game is the first collection of those essays, beginning with a 1962 trip to spring training and carrying on into the early 1970s. Angell sought to write from the fan's perspective, rarely venturing into the locker room and often not even into the press box. But it is his prose, somehow both elevated and accessible, that really captures the game's romance—Angell routinely manages to evoke the tradition, beauty, and sentimentality of the game without ever drifting into self-importance.

The essays herein often wind up being season recaps, usually following the World Series. As such, there are aspects that are a little dated, and when he gets into writing play-by-play of specific games, they can get a bit dry some 60 years after those games happened. But when he is profiling teams or speaking to the game's bigger picture, the writing soars and you're transported back in time.

All of Roger Angell's books are a must-read for baseball fans, and this first volume is often named as his best. In real time, the baseball season can let you down, as it did for this Rangers fan in 2026. But Roger Angell never disappoints.

 

ESSENTIAL AVENGERS VOL. 5-6 by Steve Engelhart, Roy Thomas, Rich Buckler, Sal Buscema, et al.

Following the epic Kree-Skrull War, there was a pretty steep dropoff in quality on The Avengers, with the book immediately descending into standard Bronze Age fare and the art going from peak Neal Adams to seemingly whichever artist was handy that day. Thankfully, it didn't take long before Roy Thomas, now swamped by editorial duties, turned the writing duties over to Steve Engelhart. In Engelhart's hands the book dares to go big, particularly with two stories.

The first, which I had previously read in 2017, was the Avengers-Defenders War, a summer crossover event in which Dormammu and Loki conspired to pit Earth's Mightiest Heroes against the ragtag team helmed by Doctor Strange, Hulk, and the Silver Surfer. It's a largely inconsequential story despite the scale, and mostly feels like a kid pitting his action figures against each other—Captain America vs. Namor! Thor vs. Doctor Strange! etc.

More ambitious is the Celestial Madonna Saga, which begins with the introduction of Mantis to the Avengers alongside the team's onetime foe, the Swordsman. In time it's revealed that Mantis' mysterious origin is more than it seems and that she may in fact be the Celestial Madonna, destined to give birth to a universal savior. The story, like many in Engelhart's run, pits Kang the Conqueror against the Avengers and expands upon Marvel's cosmic lore, both by providing the origin story of the Kree and Skrull races and by introducing the Cotati, a plant-like race. Best of all, it all ends with Mantis marrying a tree (ok, a Cotati. But come on, it's a tree.) The '70s were wild, man.

As Bronze Age comics go, Engelhart's run on The Avengers is pretty good—experimental enough to be interesting without going off the deep end (tree marriage notwithstanding), and with plots that are always propulsive. The art is second-tier in these two volumes, but it's serviceable. All in all, these are worthwhile reads for Avengers fans.

Imperfect Worship (Friday Devotional)

Then little children were being brought to him in order that he might lay his hands on them and pray. The disciples spoke sternly to those who brought them; but Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.”

- Matthew 19:13-14

This past Sunday, our children’s ministry held a “Welcome to Worship” weekend in which our church’s ministerial staff walked through what it means to worship and gave the kids some resources to help them stay engaged during the worship service (especially the sermon…the pastor can be kinda boring sometimes!) As the capper to the weekend, the children led the congregation in worship on Sunday morning, doing everything from reading Scripture to praying to singing in the choir and more.

Something I didn’t fully comprehend until it was happening was just how many moving parts there would be when you put children in charge of something that adults normally handle. And let’s face it, kids aren’t necessarily as predictable as adults, even when they’ve been trained how to do something.

As a result, the service wasn’t quite as tight as usual on Sunday. Transitions from one element of worship to the next were sometimes a bit halting. Passing the offering plate required some extra direction. And despite the best efforts of their parents, there was a bit more whispering and movement during the sermon than on a normal week.

If you were watching the service like a judge at the Olympics, there were some obvious imperfections. But none of them seemed to matter to anyone—not the kids, not the congregation, not me. And certainly not the Lord.

After all, Jesus is the one who told his disciples to let little children—messy, noisy, unpredictable children—come to him, because the kingdom of heaven belonged to them. In that moment and many others, Jesus seemed less worried about order than love.

There’s a lesson there for us grownups, who place a high value on procedure and decorum and optics. Jesus wants us to worship in spirit and in truth more than he wants us to hit our marks. He values our sincerity, not our performance. He cares more about the depth of our faith than about how it looks.

That children-led worship service was a lot like the kids who led it. It was a little noisy, because it was joyous. It wasn’t always smooth, because the kids are still learning. In a technical sense, it had its share of imperfections. But in the Lord’s eyes, I think it was just about perfect.

Grace Every Day (Friday Devotional)

Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if my brother or sister sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?”

Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.

- Matthew 18:21-22

It was a morning where my kids were definitely acting like siblings. Lots of bickering, lots of teasing, lots of yelling. I was counting down the minutes til we could get out the door to take the eldest two to school.

Then one little moment popped that I want to share with you. Isaac was wanting Katherine’s attention, and she was not in the mood to give it. In fact, she snapped at him to get out of her room. Butting in, I said, “Katherine, he just wants to play. You don’t have to do what he wants, but give him a little grace.”

Her response stuck with me: “I gave him grace yesterday! What, am I supposed to do it every day???”

The gospels tell us that Simon Peter once asked Jesus a question quite similar to Katherine’s: how many times is a believer expected to forgive someone? Peter thought he was going above and beyond by suggesting that seven might be the magic number, especially given that rabbinical teaching released you from that obligation after three forgiven offenses.

But Jesus’s conception of grace stretches far beyond the bounds of fairness or social acceptability. Some translations say that he told Peter to forgive seventy-seven times; others say seventy times seven. The point remains the same either way: there’s not a specific number. Rather, the life of a believer is to be one marked by grace, where instead of keeping track of the ways you’ve been wronged, you are always looking for opportunities to do right. You don’t forgive because you’re expected to do so, you forgive because you’ve been forgiven.

Grace every day—it’s a tough challenge to be sure, an impossible one without the Lord’s help. But for those sustained by his grace, the least we can do is extend it to others.

Never Forget (Friday Devotional)

I will call to mind the deeds of the Lord; I will remember your wonders of old. I will meditate on all your work and muse on your mighty deeds.

- Psalm 77:11-12

Never forget.

That phrase, almost immediately after the devastating terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, became the watchword of its remembrances. Where other national news stories, even tragedies, tend to fade in our collective memories, we were all sternly warned that such a thing ought never to happen with 9/11.

What there seems to be little agreement on, however, is what exactly “never forget” means.

For the grieving, especially the families of those who died in New York, Washington, D.C., and Shanksville, it is a call to remember the men and women who lost their lives on that day, to see them not as statistics but as individual people, each with a story worth sharing. For this reason, the names of those who died are often read one by one at memorial services every September 11.

For the angry and the combative and, in some cases, the prejudiced, “never forget” is a call to arms, a demand that our enemies pay the price for the evil they perpetrated. While the identity of those enemies has tended to shift with the political winds—from Al Qaeda to the Taliban to ISIS and beyond—there have always been some who, as they beat the drums of war, did so with the clarion call, “never forget.”

For those disturbed by today’s political polarization, “never forget” is about the national unity we experienced that September, a time when being a Republican or Democrat mattered less than being an American. Though that solidarity was brought about by tragedy, “never forget” is said with the hope that we might recapture it somehow.

On this 25th anniversary of 9/11, I’ll add one more thing worth remembering. The days following the attacks were filled with fear and anger, there’s no doubt. But from neighbor to neighbor, they were also days marked by compassion and grace. Conflicts that once felt important now seemed insignificant. People looked for ways to be generous, whether by mowing their neighbor’s lawn or by sending money across the country. Prayers came quickly and naturally to people.

That’s because in the wake of a horrific tragedy, God did what he does best: slowly and beautifully, he turned death into new life. Through countless acts of courage and compassion, light began to shine through the darkness and the Lord did redemptive work. Sermons and speeches proclaimed the gospel, but it was the witness of the Christlike who truly brought good news to the brokenhearted.

In the face of unimaginable loss, there were some who dared to love like Jesus. May we never forget what that was like 25 years ago—and may we always remember to do it again today.

The Best Laid Plans (Friday Devotional)

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”

- Jeremiah 29:11-13

A few weeks ago, as my monthlong sabbatical began drawing to a close, I embarked upon something I’d been looking forward to for weeks: a 5-day retreat to practice solitude, enjoy some reading, and work on a few writing projects. My plan was to criss-cross the state, exploring the open road and hitting a new town each day. As for lodging, I had waited too long making my plans to budget properly, so I decided I’d camp in state parks.

Monday evening, after a lovely afternoon in Tyler’s public library and a great coffee shop downtown, I pulled into my campsite at Tyler State Park, pitched my tent, and once the sun went down, I crawled in and zipped the door shut. It was time for a good night’s sleep.

Roughly 1.7 seconds later, I was coated in sweat. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s been hot the last few weeks. Burn your hand on the car door hot. 24-hour heat advisory hot. 90 degrees in the middle of the night hot. As I’d been warned beforehand by my wife and some wary friends, my plan for the week had run into the reality of a Texas summer.

That was one of the worst night’s “sleep” I’ve ever experienced (and the company of the world’s most aggressive raccoon digging around my campsite didn’t help matters). So the next morning, I drove to Waco, paid for 3 nights at the cheapest motel I could find, and bailed on the original plan. My retreat wound up being less scenic than I’d intended, but a lot more air-conditioned.

As the poet Robert Burns famously told us, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. You can think you know what your day, your year, even your life are going to look like, only to have your preconceptions shattered in an instant. Whether because your plans are at fault or because life simply throws you a curveball, sometimes you find yourself completely at a loss, having to feel around in the dark for a new way forward.

In such times, it’s helpful to remember the promise God made to his people in the days of Jeremiah. They found themselves facing an imminent exile into a foreign country, the most humiliating and faith-shaking future imaginable for a nation whose identity was so tied to the Promised Land their God had given them. Needless to say, exile was not their plan.

But even as God warned them of what was to come, the broader perspective he offered was encouraging—that ultimately, his plans for them were for good, not harm. The road ahead was not going to be smooth, and it certainly wasn’t going to be what they would have chosen for themselves. But even as God punished them with exile for their idolatry and faithlessness, he was still going to keep his covenant by preserving them in the midst of their trial. Life was going to look different moving forward, but God had not abandoned them.

For you today, there’s no telling what the future holds. Your big plans for tomorrow may play out exactly as you’ve drawn them up. Then again, they may be ripped to shreds by things far beyond your control, leaving you grasping for new options.

Whatever the case, know that when you cry out to your Father in heaven, he hears you. He has not left you alone in your struggle; he has not abandoned his child. The future may be uncertain, but his love remains steadfast. Your plans may fail you, but your God never will.

August Book Log

Buckle up; this is almost certainly the most books I've read in a month since I started writing these logs in December 2016. A 34-day sabbatical will do that, especially when 5 of those days are intentionally spent in solitude, doing virtually nothing but reading and writing.

So below are a bunch of books about rest, pastoring, and the dual themes of time management and work-life balance. Oh, and then a couple of books just for fun :)

THE SABBATH by Abraham Joshua Heschel

This has been on my to-read list for a long time, and my sabbatical seemed a perfect time to dive in. At barely 100 pages, you'd think it's the kind of book I'd breeze through in a couple days. But in truth, it was one I consumed with small sips throughout my sabbatical rather than a few big gulps. I'm convinced that's the right way, given both the subject matter and the writing's depth.

The Sabbath is not a Christian work, but a Jewish one, though the broad strokes can certainly carry over between faiths. Abraham Heschel was a rabbi, professor, and mystic in the Orthodox tradition, and one of the world's most prominent Jewish theologians post-Holocaust. In The Sabbath, he seeks to look at the fourth commandment from all angles, and makes a compelling argument that it is partly through Sabbath keeping that a believer in God sets themselves apart as holy—because while the world is grasping after space, God is sanctifying time.

It's a heady work, and relies more on philosophy, parable, and mysticism than Scripture, so my fellow evangelicals may find it wanting on that score. And indeed, there are elements I'd certainly take with a grain of salt. But the concept of sanctifying time through regular Sabbath was a fascinating one for me, and I appreciated Heschel's thoughts. If, like me, you don't think Christians take the Sabbath seriously enough (if they think about it at all), this is worth a read.

 
 

FIVE SMOOTH STONES FOR PASTORAL WORK by Eugene Peterson
WORKING THE ANGLES by Eugene Peterson
UNDER THE UNPREDICTABLE PLANT by Eugene Peterson
THE CONTEMPLATIVE PASTOR by Eugene Peterson

One of the most persistent themes of Eugene Peterson's writings is that the American church doesn't understand what a pastor is supposed to be doing—including, sometimes, the pastors themselves. Instead of regarding pastors as spiritual guides, believers seek to make them religious professionals, nonprofit CEOs, motivational speakers, and the like. So in these four books (the first three are an intentional trilogy; the fourth is a sort of capstone), Peterson turns to Scripture for a better understanding of how the pastor can navigate a culture that does not understand or appreciate his God-given calling.

In Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work, Peterson looks to the Old Testament's Megilloth—the five scrolls of Song of Songs, Ruth, Lamentations, Ecclesiastes, and Esther—for wisdom in the pastoral roles of prayer directing, story making, pain sharing, naysaying, and community building. Readers wanting basic, a+b=c biblical exposition may be frustrated by Peterson's more freewheeling approach to the text, but will have a hard time arguing he doesn't understand it. With this books as a guide, Peterson ably explains some key pastoral functions, none of which match the business world's understanding of how a pastor should be spending his or her time, but all of which lead people to God.

Working the Angles keys in on the three pastoral acts that, according to Peterson, are so basic that they affect everything else the pastor might do: prayer, reading Scripture, and giving spiritual direction. He accurately points out that these are, on the one hand, understood to be the pastor's primary responsibilities but, on the other hand, are rarely as valued in the moment as more managerial tasks. In other words, if you miss a finance meeting because you got caught up in prayer, you will be reprimanded, not encouraged. Of the three books in the official trilogy, this was the one I'd have marked up the most had I had a highlighter handy. Written before The Contemplative Pastor, this volume feels like its unintended prequel.

Under the Unpredictable Plant, which I first read for a class in seminary, uses the book of Jonah as a guide through the topic of vocational holiness. This book is somewhat more personal that its predecessors, as Peterson talks about his own experience realizeing that his personal piety was not measuring up to his role as a pastor. As in the previous books, this one is a call to pastors to avoid the siren song of "ministerial professionalism," where the pastor becomes a glorified small businessperson, and to embrace a role in which character and closeness to God are valued more highly than ROI.

Finally comes The Contemplative Pastor, one of Peterson's most cited books. This one, in many ways, is summarizing and synthesizing the prior trilogy, offering Peterson's vision for what a pastor ought to be like: unbusy, subversive, and apocalpytic (meaning revelatory). One last time, Peterson rages against the pastor as middle manager, responsible for keeping paying customers happy and growing the business. With wit and winsomeness, he calls pastors to slow, thoughtful, prayerful, and loving care for their churches in the Lord's name. It's hard, countercultural work, to be sure. But he's convinced me it's worth aiming for.

 

MEDITATIONS FOR MORTALS by Oliver Burkeman
FOUR THOUSAND WEEKS by Oliver Burkeman

Oliver Burkeman, who first made his name with a cheekily named weekly column in The Guardian entitled "This Column Will Change Your Life," got famous on these two books, both of which seek to help people become more productive by discarding modern preconceptions about how to do that. Both books are more philosophical than practical, more about principles than plans, but I found both useful in their own way.

Though it was the second to be published, I read Meditations for Mortals first (no reason, I just picked it up first.) In this book, Burkeman introduces and explains his notion of "imperfectionism," which essentially boils down to this word of advice for high achievers trying to do everything at once: take a chill pill. Rather than trying to squeeze 40 hours' worth of personal development into every day, Burkeman advocates for focusing on what matters most to you and then living your life as it is, rather than as you think it should be. Laid out in 28 chapters meant to be read daily over a month gives it the format of a secular devotional book, and while I didn't read it that way, I imagine doing so would be helpful. For those prone to anxiety that they're not doing enough, there's a great deal of wisdom to be found here.

Four Thousand Weeks, similarly, seeks to reframe the productivity conversation by arguing that trying to find meaning (or productivity) in every minute of the day leaves you more exhausted than fulfilled. The average person, Burkeman says, is given four thousand weeks in their life, and the key is understanding that some of those weeks will be better than others. Rather than beating yourself up over a "wasted" week, Burkeman urges readers to look at the bigger picture. While bordering on fatalistic at times, this book is a cold splash of water for those too enmeshed in hustle culture.

In retrospect, you probably don't need to read both of these books—the overall message is essentially the same—but I found them to be helpful bookends for my sabbatical. Their reminder about the nature of time was a useful one for me, and Burkeman's criticisms of hustle culture are valid. There's more to life than 'getting things done,' and these books encourage you to make the main thing the main thing.

 

DEEP WORK by Cal Newport
SLOW PRODUCTIVITY by Cal Newport

Cal Newport has become something of a guru for those who think hustle culture is inherently flawed, offering insights through articles and books about how it is actually more productive long-term to work fewer and more foused hours than to burn out with a frenetic and fractured lifestyle where you try to be available at all times to all people for all reasons. So during my sabbatical, I read his best known book, Deep Work, and then reread the follow-up, Slow Productivity, which I had previously read last year. 

The two books essentially chart the same course (indeed, this time I wound up skimming Slow Productivity more than reading it closely): find small blocks of time when you can concentrate intensely, eliminate common distractions like social media from your life, allow yourself true down time, and be where your feet are (i.e. working during work and resting during rest). The key to productivity, according to Newport, is not how much you are working, but how focused you are. 3 hours of "deep work" is better than 8 hours of unfocused multitasking.

For someone reading these books on sabbatical, the concept of deep work was obviously appealing, and I can see how those with a lot of freedom in how they set their time would find it appealing. However, just as was the case when I first read Slow Productivity, I remain skeptical that there are a lot of people who can get away with applying Newport's principles without losing clients/customers or getting in trouble with your supervisor. Rightly or wrongly, our society values hustle culture and hasn't bought into deep work, so it feels like applying the lessons of this book wholesale would lead to some unintended consequences before it makes you a better worker.

I'm on board with Newport in theory, and there's certainly something to be said for valuing quality over quantity when it comes to knowledge work. But these were the kinds of self-help/leadership books where I found myself initially nodding while reading, only to put the books down and immediately think, "Wait, but what about..."



AT YOUR BEST by Carey Nieuwhof

After really enjoying my first Carey Nieuwhof book last month, I had high hopes for this one, my final piece of self-assigned sabbatical reading. If Didn't See It Coming was the wakeup call regarding burnout, my hope was that At Your Best would be the prescription, offering practical tips on how to use limited time well and stave off overworking, undue stress, and burnout. Unfortunately, this book fell into the classic self-help/leadership category: this should have been a 2,000 word blog post, not a 200+ page book.

Nieuwhof begins with the insightful point, borrowed from Cal Newport, that human beings aren't meant for 8-10 hours of deep work each day; most of us are good for about 3. Furthermore, he says that most of us know when we're at our best, whether that's first thing in the morning, right after lunch, or at 10:00 PM. Equally, we know when we're close to useless in terms of productivity. The key then is to do your deep work when you know you will be in the so-called Green Zone, the hours you work best, to save low-effort and automatic tasks for the Red Zone, when you're at your worst, and do everything else in the in-between Yellow Zone.

And...that's it. That's pretty much the whole book in a paragraph. It's not a bad argument, but there's not much meat on those bones.

Nieuwhof, a former pastor, writes with an easy-to-read, persuasive voice, and I never felt like I was wasting my time while reading At Your Best, but by the end it just felt like I had devoted hours to something I should have spent 10 minutes on. And given the subject matter, wasting time reading this book is a little too ironic to stomach. There are good thoughts in here, but you'll get most of what you need from the dust jacket.

THE ILIAD by Homer, translated by Robert Fagles

Like a lot of people, I walked out of Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey ready to dive into a Greek epic. But since I'd already read The Odyssey last year, I decided now was as good a time as any to read Homer's other famous work, The Iliad. As with The Odyssey, I opted for the Robert Fagles translation, which until Edith Wilson came along was the most modern version, putting Homer's words into a free verse that often reads like prose.

I won't lie, folks. This was a slog.

First of all, I must confess my ignorance. I thought The Iliad was the story of the Trojan War, from beginning to end. Nope. In fact, the whole epic poem, told over 24 books, takes place over the final weeks of that war, with much of the action happening in about four days. Also, the Trojan horse is nowhere to be found, to my surprise and disappointment (you want Virgil's Aenid for that tale).

What The Iliad is actually about is, as the introduction to Fagles' translation states, "the rage of Achilles," how the mighty warrior feuds with the warlord Agammemnon and then sits out a series of crucial battles before swooping in at the end, after the death of a dear friend, to lay waste to his enemies. It is a story that simultaneously glorifies war and showcases its costs, which (along with Homer's poetry) is probably why it has endured for so long.

That weighty theme doesn't make it any more fun to read, though. While not a difficult read in the vein of Ulysses or Gravity's Rainbow—line by line, Fagles' translation is as accessible as advertised—I found it to be repetitive and dull, filled with battle after battle that never seemed to go anywhere and a catalog of Greek names that would make a phone book blush. Switching to audiobook midway through helped my reading, but didn't make me enjoy it any more.

Overall, if you want to try Homer, definitely start with The Odyssey, which I liked a lot more and has a tighter focus and fewer characters. I'm glad to be able to say I've read this, but I didn't enjoy the process.

ESSENTIAL AVENGERS VOL. 4 by Roy Thomas, John Buscema, Sal Buscema, Neal Adams, et al.

The fun of Essential Avengers Vol. 3 continues as the team exits the Silver Age and makes their way into the Bronze. Generally that's bad news for Marvel books, but this volume has the benefit of ending with one of that era's most beloved arcs.

With every issue in this volume written by Roy Thomas, the vibe of the book is pretty similar to what you'll find in the previous 20+ issues, as is the flexible roster: in any given story, you get some mixture of Vision, Goliath (née Hawkeye), Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Black Panther, Iron Man, Thor, and Captain America. Many of the stories are self-contained (a short-lived early 1970s experiment at Marvel, based on the notion that they might be losing readers confused by serial storytelling), which means a lot of issues feel a little rushed. The art, by John and then Sal Buscema, isn't as impressive as John's work a few years earlier, but is nothing to sneeze at. It's all fine, perfectly fine.

Then, starting in issue #89, Thomas begins a story that would come to be known as "The Kree-Skrull War." It sees the longtime rival alien races erupt into full-blown war across the galaxy, with Earth serving as a beachhead for their conflict. By the time it reaches a crisis point, everyone from Captain Mar-Vell to the Inhumans has been brought into the mix, Ant Man has had to take a "Journey to the Center of the Android" (shrinking down and navigating Vision's internal organs), and onetime sidekick Rick Jones is mentally summoning Golden Age superheroes to serve as the cavalry.

Most importantly, the key issues (except, unfortunately, the finale) are drawn by Neal Adams, whose cinematic realism is a sharp departure from the Buscemas' house style, but serves as a breath of fresh air. The aforementioned "Journey to the Center of the Android," in particular, is a tour de force, a double-sized issue that you linger over just to drool at the pretty pictures. Adams is best known for his work at DC Comics, but his contribution to the Kree-Skrull War is arguably some of his most important.

Much of what's found in this volume is forgettable Bronze Age material, but the Kree-Skrull War elevates it to a must-read for any Marvel fan. For a fan of comics history, that's one story you can't miss.

Can't Beat the Heat (Friday Devotional)

Note: This will be the last weekly devotional I write until September, owing to a 5-week sabbatical my church has granted me from July 27 through August 29. I will endeavor to use that time for rest, reflection, and development, including some travel and a couple of special projects.

If memory serves, this will be only the third break I’ve taken from writing these weekly devotionals since I began in 2012, the first due to a trip overseas and the second when my family moved from Waco to Garland. I hope that I’ll come back refreshed and that you’ll continue reading these once they resume on September 4.



The heavens are telling the glory of God, and the firmament proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night declares knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words; their voice is not heard; yet their voice goes out through all the earth and their words to the end of the world.

- Psalm 19:1-4

It’s been hot this week. Like, really hot. Really, really hot.

I should explain why this is so front of mind for me. Starting Wednesday, 5 kids and 4 adults from my church, including myself, have been at Mt. Lebanon Baptist Encampment in Cedar Hill for preteen camp. There has been worship, Bible study, and plenty of recreation as we’ve all sought to draw near to the Lord and grow together. The nature of such a camp is that much of what we do happens outdoors, which is certainly a blessing…most of the time. Unfortunately, the two days we’ve been at camp so far have been the two hottest days of the summer, with temperatures hitting triple digits and the humidity doing its part to make things even worse.

That kind of heat takes your breath away. It’s the kind of heat where the only running you want to do is towards an air-conditioned building. It’s the kind of heat where you feel like you need a shower roughly 2.5 seconds after stepping outside. It’s the kind of heat where…well, you get the picture. It’s hot.

Natural extremes—whether severe heat or cold, natural disasters like tornadoes and hurricanes, and awe-inspiring landmarks like the Grand Canyon—have a way of revealing how fragile human beings really are, and how great God is. We like to think we’ve conquered the elements, but all it takes is a change in the weather to reveal the reality.

The psalmist knew that God’s majesty is on display every time we step outside—even if sometimes we don’t notice until things get extreme. The earth and the sky, the plants and the animals, all of creation reveal the glory of God and our dependence on his mercy.

Tonight I’ll join in with hundreds of children and adults in praising God, all from the relative comfort of an air-conditioned worship center, and then we’ll exit into the muggy, mosquito-filled air of a Texas evening. The good news is that God is at work in both places. All we have to do is pay attention.