War By Timetable by AJP Taylor

  Last year this month marked the one-hundredth anniversary of the conclusion of the First World War.  Taylor’s book describes the blunders which led to the beginning of terrible war.

            Taylor’s thesis runs as follows: after the assassination of Franz Joseph, Austria-Hungary had international justification to retaliate against Serbia in some way shape and form.  In typical fashion Austria-Hungary dawdled in doing so.  Her ally Germany had been encouraging Austria-Hungary to take a stronger stance among the nations and so Austria-Hungary felt compelled to keep inching towards war although they didn’t really want a general war and, ironically, Germany kept hinting that neither did they.  Austria-Hungary felt compelled by Germany to do what Germany did not want them to do.  Taylor does an excellent job laying out the timeline of confusion between these nations, although more footnotes – or any footnotes- would have been helpful (this may have been due to my reading this book on a Kindle).

            Taylor argues that Russia, France, and especially Great Britain moved towards war without ever actually expecting to have to fight.  Much of Taylor’s argument rests on the total mobilization that was made possible, and demanded, by railroads.  It was not possible to mobilize only part of one’s army and reserves; all must be mobilized simultaneously and so each nation could plausibly argue that they were about to be overrun by the enemy.  Once the process began, it was all but impossible to call off.

            Taylor argues that the balance of power that existed in Europe had deterred any great power from war but, in this instance, the balance of power failed.  He ends the book by saying that even if a deterrent to war is effective ninety-nine times out of one hundred, that one hundredth time is still disastrous.  He tells the reader that there is a moral here if one cares to see it; I can only imagine this was a reference to nuclear war.

            I have always enjoyed reading Taylor and this is my second or third time through this one.  He is a masterful storyteller who focuses on the psychology of history.  He paints the people of the past as flawed characters who do many tasks well and yet some quite poorly; both have their effect on the world stage.  He clearly enjoys turning popular theories on their head, such as arguing that the Kaiser was actually trying to avoid war rather than its main proponent.

            While reading, I couldn’t help but think how often in ministry, and in life, we bumble into disaster in a fashion similar to these nations.  We feel forced into action by plans we have made, just as the nations felt forced into war by their railroad time tables which dictated mobilization.  We feel compelled to act because we think others expect us to act when in reality these others want anything but our course of action.  We bumble into trouble that could have been otherwise.

            Taylor does an excellent job in all his writings of showing how the past appears quite murky while it is still the present.  Decisions that seem logical in retrospect were often quite illogical when they were made, and logic is only imposed upon them in retrospect.  This is all too often the way life, and leadership, work.  As life moves forward there are any number of options before you but due to pressures and limitations you only tend to see a few.  After the fact, you only tend to see two options – doing what you did or not doing what you did.  Taylor shows that there were, in retrospect, and are, in prospect, any number of decisions that could be made and could have been made.

            I find reading history to be soothing because there are important decisions to be made and I don’t need to be making them.  Rather than suffering from paralysis of analysis, I can simply watch a situation unfold without any need to get involved.  They say that we read history to avoid the mistakes of the past, but perhaps we read it because these particular mistakes weren’t ours to make and we make enough of our own so it is nice to read about how other well-intentioned people bumble into trouble.

Not Dead Yet by Phil Collins

Phil Collins’ music is a guilty pleasure. I could endure any sling or arrow thrown against it with nodding agreement and continue listening with joy. I first listened to Collins through his work with Genesis. I received their greatest hits as part of my first BMG order. Something about his continual introspection seems appropriate for my teenager years (and I would imagine all teenage years). Yet as I read this book it seems that, in some ways, Collins did not move past this developmental stage.

Most autobiographies are self-interested without becoming self-absorbed. Collins’ is not one. Its self-absorption arises from Collins’ apparent need to justify himself. The most egregious case is his attempt to justify his affair to his young daughter; however, the thread of self-justification runs through the entire work. One would think that shame or a virtuous editor would have prevented this outcome.

While reading, I found myself thinking how much happier Collins would be if he could forget about himself. I’m currently preaching through 1 Corinthians 13 and this week we have arrived at “love is not proud.” We are usually blind to our own self-inflation and I fear that is the case for Collins. He unwittingly reveals himself to be a prisoner of himself. For example, he was always too busy touring, promising his family that he would slow down, and then making excuses for not slowing down. What makes all of this fascinating and rather depressing is that he doesn’t seem to see through those excuses even now. He acts if there were nothing else he could do.

The book is laced with sadness. As I listened to the audio version of it (which Collins thankfully reads), I never had the sense that I would want to be this man. The same is true as I listen to his music. I enjoy listening to his music but I would never want to live any of it out. I find this dynamic to be one of the strangest parts of our celebrity culture. We idolize people who are in so many ways unenviable. Nevertheless, if you have two ears and a heart, you will enjoy Phil Collins’ music and you might enjoy his book.

Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry

Berry’s Port William books remind me of the best pastoral visits - meaning that people open up. Such visits are a chance to hear how the terrain of a person’s life has formed them and how they have formed it. Hannah Coulter was especially familiar to ministry in this regard because of the woman’s humility. You never get the sense that she considers her life in any way notable other than the fact that it is hers.

This book is written in the first person from the perspective an elderly woman named, not surprisingly, Hannah Coulter. I have just started reading ‘Nathan Coulter’ written from the perspective of Hannah’s second husband. I appreciate the fact that the voice of the Port William books are really quite similar and yet distinct. Each narrator is discernible as an individual person but there is an authenticity to the voice that is also distinctly Berry’s. He is a fine author.

The book explores a good many topics at a leisurely pace. Perhaps most notable in this series of books is the topic of “the membership” which can be described as the community which cares for its own. The membership is accepting of misfits and requires nothing of them other than their commitment to the membership; it is a bond of common grace and I use the term “common grace” intentionally because it is hard not to see the membership as a sort of religious-less church. The membership seems to be Berry all that appreciates about church while leaving out what he finds distasteful. The membership is a bond of common grace because, from what I have read, it seems to have no way of dealing with matters of sin. A community that cannot deal with sin is a fantasy. The church is far different. It can deal with sin; it, unlike Port William, is real and properly messy.

That aside, or perhaps in part because of what I have just written, I find these books psychologically soothing. They are like white noise for a mind which has some compulsion to continually process. If you find yourself always thinking, and not always in a good way, this might be a helpful series for you to read. They don’t require any judgment calls or application. They simply are; that is part of their beauty.

Holy Is the Day by Carolyn Weber

            I wanted to like this book.  I tried to like this book.  I was captivated by Surprised By Oxford, and I was prepared for her second book to be quite different.  I simply didn’t appreciate the differences.

            While Surprised By Oxford was filled with independent thought and phraseology, Holy Is The Day is a good deal more domesticated on both counts.  I don’t know what to make of that.  Weber certainly seems more settled within the faith and within herself in this book, which is a delight to see.  However, her thought seems to have conformed itself to the faith in such a way that the individuality which I found so attractive in the first book is absent from this work. I was hoping that as she matured in the faith, she would explain what is familiar to me in fresh ways.  Instead, in this book, at least, she explained what is familiar to me in quite familiar ways.

            I find this familiarity particularly frustrating because poor Weber had to give up so much in terms of career to write about Christianity. Given how much she had to give up to write about the faith, I was hoping for insights that weren’t so readily available. Since literature is intentionally a rather God-less discipline, Weber’s choice to write about her conversion seems to have closed many professional doors.  What makes this blacklisting even more frustrating is that Weber, in her rather Anglo-Catholic way, does not stress any divisive doctrines.  The poor woman has been blacklisted for writing about realities that appeal to most anyone; Weber’s writing does not deal with such matters as conviction of sin or the blood earnest call of the gospel; she writes about matters such as beauty and kind providences and it seems that even this is enough to raise red flags in academia.  Having been involved in literature, I’m not at all surprised. So much of the discipline seems aimed at finding novel interpretations that exalt the self and identity over all else and nothing could be more hostile to the faith than exalting the self and identity above all else.

             If you are interested in reading this book, read both the first and the second chapter. The first is by far the best and while quite different from Surprised By Oxford, I still found myself turning the pages quickly.  The second chapter was more typical of the book and will give you a better insight into whether you would gain from it.

Uncommon Decency by Richard Mouw

A sermon is, or rather should be, an argument. I think that the bloodless nature of much preaching stems from an unwillingness to argue. The man in the pulpit should make a case and he should make it assertively. That case, of course, should be the case the Biblical author was making. The preacher should make his case in a civil fashion. I include these words about preaching because I read this book to wrestle with the role of civility in preaching. While preaching wasn’t Mouw’s focus, his thoughts are certainly applicable.

The longer I have preached, the more attention I have found myself giving towards civility. As a result I have been able to cover less ground in any given sermon. Civility in a sermon takes time. It takes much more time to graciously describe something with which you disagree than it does to reject it out of hand. It takes more time to make nuanced statements than it does to make blanket statements. It takes more time to research and wordsmith a sermon that bears no false witness against others than it does to simply, ‘say what you think.’ I’m sure I still have much to learn in this area, but those are a few lessons I have learned thus far.

Mouw’s book is a helpful look at the soft skills necessary for civility. That is by no means a disparagement, but rather a recognition that Mouw focuses mostly upon cultivating a particular posture of the heart rather than upon logical fallacies or the art of argumentation. I didn’t encounter anything groundbreaking in this book, but that in itself is instructive. Civility isn’t hard to understand; its difficulty lies in the execution.

Mouw’s groundwork for civility in the areas of religion, politics, and sex is a rather common sense approach. I appreciated the humility with which he worked his way through different areas of contention within our culture. That being said, I thought that his last two chapters didn’t fit in the flow of the book and seemed rather tacked on. My favorite chapter was Mouw's exploration of the relationship between hell and civility. He shrewdly points out how the doctrine of hell, when misapplied, can easily lead to arrogance and incivility while the doctrines of election and God’s sovereignty, when properly applied, lead to humility.

I read this book with an eye towards preaching in our age of outrage, but it also proved fruitful as I am currently taking part in our denomination’s annual Synod. Speaking humbly and with conviction is proper when preaching the word of God and when deliberating over church matters. Since being here I have been reminded afresh how easy it is to mischaracterize others and how common it is to be mischaracterized.

If you are looking for an easy read with short chapters on the topic of civility in our times, Mouw’s book might fit that bill for you. My guess, however, is that those who are eager to read a book like this don’t need it as much as those who have no desire to read such a book, but maybe there is an internet troll or flamer book club of which I am unaware.

The Pioneer Missionary to the New Hebrides by John Paton

This is a highly readable and remarkably exciting autobiography. Paton spends just the right amount of time recalling his youth and showing the foundations for his future work. His recollections on leaving home as his father walked with him weeping painted a memorable and compelling picture of what a Christian family can be.

The youthful Paton hoped to be used by Christ. This is refreshing in an age when it seems many believe they are doing the church, and Christ, a favor by deigning to answer the call. Paton’s preparation for ministry is a rather fascinating read and a helpful corrective to some of what seems lacking in some of our current preparation.

He, like many writers of this time period, somehow gives scant attention to himself even as he writes about his actions, reactions, and passions. There is a welcome humility to it all. He seems largely unselfconscious as he writes about himself. It would be interesting to dissect how much of this was the age in which he lived and how much was the virtues within the man. Either way, it would be interesting to read a scholar’s comparison of this autobiography and that of, say, Phil Collins, who wrote one of the most self-conscious books I have ever read; he also wrote Against All Odds though so it’s a mixed bag.

Perhaps the most lurid scene in the book was the death of his wife and child. The poor man remained on their graves lest the cannibals on the islands to whom he was ministering exhume their bodies to feast upon. What I found even more remarkable was the fact that Paton continued his ministry among them in love. Perhaps he had existential questions after the death of his loved ones in the line of his calling, but he never recorded them. Rather than returning home to lick his wounds, he continued the work aggressively while raising funds to keep future missionaries, including himself, well supplied and safe.

While reading these chapters, I found myself reflecting upon my own sense of call. Do I believe in what I am doing strongly enough to continue on aggressively in the face of such a tragedy? I certainly believe this work is of the Lord, but do I believe it is worth my life in the same way that Paton clearly did? I don’t think there is really any way to move towards a solid answer until one finds themselves in such a situation and then I don’t think there is one proper response. Rather the Lord gives the grace necessary in such moments and He gives it for His own purposes.

Ministry along the lines of the apostles will involve conflict at times and Paton’s story is full of it. One loses track of how many times the islanders attempt to kill him. If you find yourself battling the fear of man in ministry, this will book will prove properly bracing. Paton’s confidence in God in the face of literal mobs is emboldening.

The islands to which Paton went were then known as the New Hebrides and are now known as the nation of Vanuatu. The picture in the back of the title above gives you an idea of what Vanuatu looks like. I chose the picture because it has a church building on the left hand side and while Paton never mentioned the beauty of the place, he vividly detailed the beauty of the life of the church that came to exist. Today Christianity is the largest religion on the islands and one-third of the population is Presbyterian, which, I believe, can be traced primarily back to Paton. The work of his hands was certainly established.

This book is easy to read. Unlike some similar biographies it doesn’t grow repetitive with its accounts. I began reading missionary biographies in earnest years ago after recognizing the need for regular encouragement to persevere in ministry given the power of the world, flesh, and devil. I think anyone in any form of ministry is going to bump up against these powers in any number of ways and need encouragement to persevere. These sorts of books have helped me and I hope they might be for you as well.

Augustine on Prayer by Thomas Hand

Prayer is a relational act and any relational act is difficult to understand. What does it mean to say that you understand a first kiss? What does it mean to say that you understand a good night out with friends? These are relational acts and cannot be understood in the same way you understand mathematic equations. There is no formula for prayer that runs something like this: sufficient Biblical content * (sufficient adoration + sufficient thanksgiving) + sufficient passion + sufficient time in prayer - unconfessed sin - moments of distraction in prayer = likelihood of a desired outcome in prayer. Prayer cannot be understood, nor God manipulated, in that way.

Augustine on Prayer treats both God and the self as much more than objects to be manipulated. This book treats us both as subjects and it treats prayer as part of our relationship. Its working definition is that prayer is the heart’s affectionate reaching towards God. This definition shows Augustine’s understanding of what it means to pray continually.

Augustine never produced a systematic study on prayer. Thomas Hand has compiled a wide range of Augustine’s teachings into this volume with such skill that it is hard to know where Augustine ends and Hand begins.

Augustine’s thoughts on prayer tended towards the truth that prayer changes the petitioner. This is especially pronounced in the section on the Lord’s Prayer. If there is a continuum with “prayer changes me” on one end and “prayer changes things” on the other end, Augustine would lean very strongly in the “prayer changes me” direction. In fact, there is almost nothing about prayer and any desired outcomes other than possessing God Himself. This absence does give the book a rather incomplete sense about it.

That being said, this book is certainly worth the read, but only if you are conversant with abstract language. Augustine’s turns of logic and of phrase can be delightful but also disorienting. The book is highly quotable and I have more highlights per page than any other book that I’ve read over the past couple years. Here is just a smattering that might give you a sense of whether or not this book will profit you:

“He who is unwilling to share [goodness] cannot have it.”

“Nothing that God can promise is of any worth apart from God Himself.'“

“[God’s way of drawing us to Himself is gentle; it is sweet; it is the very sweetness of it that draws you.”

“Your prayer is a conversation with God. When you read [Scripture], God speaks to you; when you pray, you speak to God.”

“He is truly happy, not if he has what he loves, but if he loves what he ought to love. Many are more miserable in having what they love than in wanting it.”

‘Do we say to you: “love nothing?” God forbid! Dull, dead, hateful, miserable shall you be if you loving nothing. Love, but take care what you love.’

“Let us live well; and that we may live well let us invoke the aid of Him who has commanded us to live well.”

“Give me what You command and command what You will.”

“The more we love God, the more we love ourselves.”

There is a good deal to unpack in those quotes and a good deal that one must unpack to understand them rightly.

While reading this book, I was struck by the constancy of human nature. Augustine wrote about man’s internal workings hundreds of years ago in a very different culture on a different continent and yet everything he writes is quite relatable. That is, to my mind, a confirmation that there is such a thing as human nature.

There are a few points in this book with which I disagreed, especially the discussion on praying for the dead. I found that discussion interesting but not convincing. That being said, it was good to spend some time in another tradition, especially after spending so much time studying and explaining my own.

Will you find this book helpful? That depends on what you want out of it. If you are looking for a practical book on prayer, this is not it. This is one. If you are looking for a study of the prayers in Scripture, this is not your book. This is one. If you are a pastor looking for a grist for the mill of your congregational prayers, this book won't prove immediately helpful. This will. If you are looking for an exploration of what it means to be a self connecting with God through prayer, this is the book you are looking for.

George Whitefield (volume 1) by Arnold Dallimore

By the end of these roughly 600 pages, Whitefield is only 26 years old. If anyone wrote a biography of my first 26 years, it would be brief and filled with victories more inflated than actual. By contrast, Whitefield’s is the sort of life which Paul was talking about when he urged Timothy, “Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.”

This book is infectious with the proper excitement of ministry. It is not about what George Whitefield could make happen. It is about only what God could make happen. This first volume focuses on the revivals inside and outside the church of England in Great Britain as well as the American colonies. While reading, I found myself recognizing anew that there is no reason such revival could not occur today. So many churches are in the deep sleep Whitefield wrote about when he said, “I love those that thunder out the Word. The Christian world is in a deep sleep! Nothing but a loud voice can awaken them out of it.”

Whitefield’s piety was one of the chief reasons he thundered out the word. His practices while in “the holy club” at Oxford were remarkable. His continued dependance upon God for power was appropriate and used by God to bear much fruit. Whitefield’s life demonstrated John 15:5, “I am the vine; you are the branches; if you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit.”

This book will properly light a fire under the feet of any attentive Christian reader. Whitefield’s innovation, alongside a few others, in the practice of field preaching shows his proper eagerness to preach as a means of grace to sinners like himself. What is attractive about his field preaching is that it was an act of exposure to the world. He was literally meeting people where they were at rather than simply wishing they might come to the church in which he was preaching the gospel. It seems to me that this exposure in some form will always be part of revival.

I read this book while the United Methodist Church was debating the merits of homosexuality as a normative Christian lifestyle. I don’t know the specifics of UMC doctrine - where it follows the Wesleys or Whitefield - but it was fascinating to read about the roots of these congregations in light of the now current debates. To show my ignorance, I had no idea that there was a Calvinist strand of Methodism until reading about Martyn Lloyd Jones.

This book was a helpful bit of church history in that it displayed the recurrent contrast between evangelicalism at its best (the necessity of the new birth) and formalism. So many of the churches of Whitefield’s day had become filled with the formalism some call traditionalism - the dead faith of the living. The opposition of these churches to Whitefield’s insistence on the new birth in line with John 3 shows that the ministries of these churches no longer necessitated the Holy Spirit. That is a word for our day whatever your church’s worship style might be. Formalism is not about generational preferences in worship. It is about the absence of regeneration.

I found myself reflecting on my own friendships while reading this book. While the impending split between Whitefield and the Wesley brothers looms large, this book clearly shows the impact of friends in the ministry. These friends wanted to do something for Christ’s kingdom when they were young and they died still wanting to do something for his glory. That is enviable.

Before reading this book, I knew little about Whitefield (whom I have called ‘Gorgeous George Whitefield’ to my wife because it sounds like the name of a flashy boxer. She has endured this patiently and hopefully will do so as I begin volume 2). If you are a Christian, and especially, if you are a preacher, I hope you find this book exhilarating and encouraging in your labors. I also hope it encourages you and I to be as faithful in our doctrine and as innovative in our practice as Whitefield.

D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones: 1899-1939 by Iain Murray

            I’ve read a number of good books over the past year, but this one has been, without a doubt, the most significant.  I began reading this biography almost a year ago, finished it a few months later; it has continued to do its work.

            You cannot read this book without appreciating Lloyd-Jones’ certainty.  The man believed the gospel to an infectious degree, and that was certainly part of his effectiveness in the pulpit and in conversation.  He was certain about doctrine.  His beliefs weren’t fuzzy; they were clear; they had edges.  No one could listen to Lloyd-Jones and walk away saying that doctrine doesn’t matter.  You see his certainty in his decisions.  When he walked away from medicine to pursue pulpit ministry, he did so because he was certain it was the call of God.  He seemed as certain of his call as Moses or Paul and he was no more boastful of his calling as they were of theirs; he was certain but humble.  That too was part of his effectiveness.

            You cannot read this book without recognizing the primacy of preaching in the ministry of the church.  Every age denigrates preaching in its own way and ours is no different.  Why does today’s church think the preacher has the right to preach? Is it because he is willing to speak in public?  Is it because he has read more books on religion than most of his listeners? Such confusion about the role of preaching might be one of the reasons we have and expect so little unction from our pulpits. If you are a preacher, read this book. It will remind you that preaching matters more than any of us think.

            You cannot read this book without a sense that the church matters.  We must remember that it matters because if a critical mass of a church is apathetic about God’s word and their role in their local church, that apathy will infect its pulpit. The good news is that if a critical mass of members take their role in the church and practical obedience to the word of God seriously, that will energize the pulpit.  If a church hungers to hear from God and to obey what they hear, they will receive. “Whoever has will be given more, and they will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them,” Matthew 13:12.

This biography will hopefully remind men who have answered the call to ministry why they answered the call. It will remind them of what God can do through preaching. It will remind them of Christ’s great love for the church and the seriousness and joy with which this calling should be taken up. The history recounted in this book should drive all of us, preachers and congregations alike, to our knees in prayer for renewed zeal and for the work of the Spirit.

The Word of God and the Word of Man by Karl Barth

I find reviewing Karl Barth to be similar to attempting to recount a vivid dream. What I experienced was thought provoking but now has become blurry and my attempts to recount it make it blurrier still. Barth’s writing is less aimed at clarity than at provoking thought. It’s as if he wants to be hard to pin down. I wish I would have read this book with a notebook at my side and writen what was provoked within me as I read.

There is no doubt that Barth is a genius. I also have no doubt that Barth wrote and spoke in riddles and, if asked, would only provide more of the same. His neo-orthodoxy, while a helpful corrective to the liberalism of his day, carries its own troubles masked by it dialectics. The edition which I bought contains a number of typos including “Cod” for “God” on one page. Barth is such an impenetrable author that upon reading that I wondered, “what is he doing now?'“ before recognizing the typographical error.

There is still much to learn from Barth. This book has to do with the reality of God, the world of the Bible, and with how the power of those realities should overpower each of us. It has to do with the God who is at work in the church, our inability to manipulate Him, and our utter need for Him to reveal Himself.. Perhaps this following quotation on Reformed theology will illustrate, “It was just this submitting of doctrine not to the authority of logic but to the authority of God that was the secret of the fathers, of their Reformation, and of the churches they founded. The essential characteristic of their genius was not any special insight or type of godliness but their clear understanding of the basis of things: they know that that basis was God and God alone. In other words, they had the courage to allow so accidental, contingent, and human a thing as the Bible to become a serious witness of the revelation of God…”

One can tell that these works were effected by Barth’s time in the parish. He has a handle on the mysteries, majesty, and hiddenness of pastoral labors. This is especially evident in “The Word of God and the Task of the Ministry.” This chapter has some interesting parallels with the intentions of John Piper’s Brothers, We Are Not Professionals. Pastors are commanded by God to do what we cannot do without God’s help and for which there is no “market demand.” We are susceptible to bowing to what the marketplace wants us to be and do and so we must continually remind ourselves of our call from God.

If I planned to read more Barth, I would be sure to pick up a Barth Reader to help explain the ins and outs of the man’s times and intentions. He has much to say that’s worth hearing. Knowing what to heed and what to avoid is the trick.

Surprised by Oxford - Carolyn Weber

Years ago the movie Avatar was released. Director James Cameron produced a reality so inviting that movie goers found themselves depressed that they couldn’t live in it. Reading Surprised by Oxford had a similar effect on me only rather finding myself depressed that I couldn’t live in it, it found myself profoundly glad that I, in fact, did live in it. Like CS Lewis, GK Chesterton, and Marilynne Robinson, Weber reminded me of the surprising joy of the Christian life.

To be fair, I was primed to enjoy this book. My undergraduate studies focused on literature. I wanted to be an English professor until God used the insanity of the job market to draw me towards ministry. I enjoy reading about the intersection of literature and faith. If any of this describes you, please pick up this book.

Weber is very articulate in describing her journey from skepticism to faith. This book has helped me as a pastor. We pastors are constantly bouncing between the universal truths revealed in God’s word and the particularities of how this truth works out in individual lives. Weber skillfully weaved these two together. There were, at times, some theological question marks in my mind. The theology seems Anglican and perhaps Anglo-Catholic at times.

This book reminded me of the importance of conversations. Having been out of school for years now, I had forgotten about the unparalleled time students have for meaningful conversations. Such conversations are still some of my greatest joys in ministry.

Each conversation recorded in this book is insightful, witty, and eloquent. It seemed that articulate apologists for the faith were all over the place in Weber’s life. Reading this book would make you seem as if creation itself were conspiring on Christ’s behalf. I found myself wondering, at times, whether her poet’s eye saw more than was present or whether I too often see less than is present.

This book stressed the importance of place. Oxford is properly in the title. This would have been a much different book if it took place in UCLA. Oxford was a character in this book and it was decidedly an Inklings-friendly view of Oxford.

It was impossible to walk away from this book without recognizing the beauty of humanity. It is the very best sort of humanism. “What a piece of work is man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, In apprehension how like a god,” as Shakespeare put it. The trick is holding this very real beauty in tension with our very real depravity. Different Christians tend to fall on different sides of that tension. I know I tend to think far more about our depravity than about our created glory.

This book is highly readable. Some readers may find themselves annoyed by some of Weber’s turns of phrase and poetic fancy, but that is undeniably Weber and this book is undeniably hers and it is that particularity that makes it so rewarding.

The Pastor by Eugene Peterson

I began reading this book shortly before Eugene Peterson entered into hospice care. I finished it shortly after he passed away. Not surprisingly, a number of the anecdotes from this memoir found their way into eulogies for Peterson and his good work.

I picked this book up because it was next in line on my list of books on being a pastor. I find that unless I am consistently reading reflections about pastoral ministry, I succumb to thoughtless expectations for it, a few spoken but almost entirely of my own imagination.

If you look hard enough, you can find learned ministers reflecting on pastoral ministry in every era of church history. It is good that we have such an accumulation because many, if not most, of the books on the subject of ministry today will be rightfully ignored in twenty years, if not two years. Perhaps it has always been that way and the proliferation of publication just makes it more obvious. Peterson’s is a voice that will endure both for pastors seeking to be faithful to the shape of pastoral ministry and for scholars seeking to understand the culture of much of the American church today where pragmatism and managerial skill can so easily replace prayer and the word.

Reading Peterson keeps me agile because while I agree with him on many matters about what it means to be a human, a minister, and the church, I am also wary of much of his theology, including on what it means to be a human, a minister, and the church. Sometimes I wonder if we use the same words differently as Machen described in his Christianity and Liberalism.

As I read Peterson, I find myself think agreeing, disagreeing, and often doing both at the same time. I find this far more energizing than reading someone of my own tribe. I also find Peterson’s vision for ministry more organic and true to experience than many of the voices in my own tribe, a few of whom seem to have all the answers to the seemingly unanswerable questions of life and ministry. I’ve wanted to be one those people with all the answers, but life is messy and mysterious. Peterson gets that, but we differ on where the lines of mess and mystery are.

This book is well worth reading. Pastors will see much of themselves in it and some of what they hope to be in it. Other believers will see the questions, concerns, and visions (in the best sense of that word) which their pastors carry with them.

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If you don’t read the book, the following paragraph won’t be of much value. If you do read it, I hope that it helps frame a particular tendency of Peterson’s for you:

As I read I found myself chafing at the way Peterson recognizes the sacred in almost everything. It seems every road trip is a pilgrimage and every meal is eucharistic. This is doubtlessly part of his appeal to a culture as drained of the sacred as ours. As I read, I found myself wondering whether Peterson thinks it is the realization of such sacredness that makes the moment or event sacred or if it is sacred even if no one, other than God, realizes it. If I eat mindlessly, is the meal still sacred? If I drive with nothing in sight but my destination, is the drive still a pilgrimage? More importantly, could a road trip become a pilgrimage to a secularist if he viewed it with Peterson’s poetic imagination? To get to the nub of the matter, do you need to have an encounter with God for something to be sacred? I found myself both attracted and wary of Peterson’s vision of life until a friend reminded me that Reformed theology offers a more substantial, and safe, way to think about this same reality — common grace.

The Person of Christ by Donald MacLeod

If you want a full-throated defense of Chalcedon Christology - perhaps for Christmas preaching or reading - this is your book. My guess is that many Christians are looking for such a defense and might not even know it. I found MacLeod answering questions that I didn’t even know I had. During the first few chapters of this book, he seemed to defend articles of faith that I hadn’t even thought to doubt - such as aspects of the virgin birth and the pre-existence of Christ. As I continued to read, I recognized that his rigorous defense of these articles of faith revealed how very consistent these doctrines were and how very inconsistent the skepticism around them has been. I felt more and more certain of the wisdom of orthodoxy and increased certainty always gives fire and backbone to preaching and teaching.

MacLeod is an even-handed interpreter of other’s positions. His assessment of the Christology of liberation theology is particularly impartial. The man disagrees agreeably. Even if you have no interest in the doctrine of Christ (and if not, why not?), it is worth reading this book to civil disagreement. It is like apples of gold in a setting of a setting of whatever corroded metal best describes our current incivility.

I first read this book during a seminary class on systematic theology. As I reread it this past month, I was struck by how much my thinking has matured (that might be charitable… let’s just say changed… mutated?… hopefully matured). Questions that then seemed pressing enough to write in the margins of the book now seem irrelevant or well answered by the author. It makes me wonder which of the questions I have written in the margins on this reading will seem irrelevant in another ten years. It makes me shudder to think what I will think of this post in ten years, if the internet is still around that is). Thinking about writing in the margins of books - I don’t know if you write in your books, but, for me, it has made reading seem more like a conversation and less like a monologue and that has added to the joy of reading.

Orthodoxy is sometimes dismissed as shallow and dull while divergent views are celebrated as deep and vigorous. This book is a helpful reminder of the power of orthodoxy

Things As They Are by Amy Carmichael

Carmichael writes about missions work in India at the turn of the 20th century with conviction and uncomfortable honesty. She strips the veneer of vainglory from missions and shows, as the title says, things as they are. Paul did the same when he wrote, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.”

We can be too quick to look at the second half of each of Paul’s couplets. Carmichael forces us to see the first. We see the agony in the form of of a daughter who dies because her mother will not send her to a doctor from a lower caste. We see the machinations of evil in keeping souls from seeing the glory of Jesus. We see the daily sorrows of offering light in the darkness.

As I read this book I found myself wondering when missionaries fell from their positions as heroes of the church. It seems to me that interest in missions declines as hell seems less real to Christians, as conversions seem less miraculous, and as human life seem less precious. Reading this book proved a helpful corrective for me and I imagine many others as well.

The Soul of Shame by Curt Thompson

In this superb book, Thompson examines shame using three lenses: theology, neurobiology, and psychology. Each stands intelligibly on their own. Each harmonizes well with the others. This is quite a feat. Interdisciplinary books too often show real wisdom in one area of study while displaying little beyond awareness in others. Thompson clearly has studied deeply and reflected often in each of these areas. The result is a trustworthy book that offers comprehensive and actionable wisdom.

While reading this book I found myself reflecting upon the doctrine of the sufficiency of Scripture. This doctrine does not mean that the Bible tells us everything there is to know on the matters it discusses. The Bible regularly explores matters of shame but that doesn’t mean that it tells us everything there is to know about shame. Thompson shows us how neurobiological and psychological wisdom can help us better understand what the Bible does say about shame. We need to be careful to avoid standing on the authority of Scripture in such a way that we discount the wisdom outside of it.

Given the ubiquity of shame, this is a profitable book for the church. I have found myself leaning on its wisdom while preaching on deliverance from the temptations of the flesh, the world, and the devil. I hope I lean on it wisely when dealing with myself.

Zeal without Burnout by Christopher Ash

Zeal without Burnout is a simple, short, and practical book.  It helpfully lays out what burnout in ministry is and is not.  The markers included are helpful because we who serve in ministry are so very prone to deceive ourselves in this area.

No one at the beginning of ministry sees let alone counts the cost of burnout. Its danger only becomes apparent as you approach it. The book wisely takes a humane approach to both ministry and burn-out.

As I read this book, I thought about the unique nature of ministry. It is hard to explain the peculiar pressures of vocational ministry without inviting misunderstanding. If I weren’t a pastor, I would have a hard time explaining what a pastor does. Even as a pastor, I find it a challenge to do what a pastor is called to do because spoken and unspoken expectations so easily attach themselves to the role. This book is helpful because the author understands the call and the burdens and the joys.

It seems to me that a book like this is most helpful as a reminder.  If you are involved in vocational ministry, the wisdom within will sound familiar but you, like I, need the reminder to apply it. If you are not involved in vocational ministry, this book can certainly help you understand pitfalls in your own service in the church.

Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry

This is a beautifully written book.  Beginning with the preparatory notice outlawing any attempt to understand the book, we are invited to suspend judgment and simply watch the charmingly meandering story of Jayber Crow's life.

The book begins with Jayber's birth and ends with the death of his beloved Mattie Chatham.  Jayber was born Jonah Crow, an appropriate name for a reluctant prophet.  He was named J. when he entered the orphanage and was finally named Jayber when he was accepted into the life of Port William where he worked and lived as a barber.  Jayber comes to love a married woman, Maggie Chatham with a love so secret not even she knows about it.  Unlike her husband Troy, he forsakes all others for her.

This is a book about the importance of people and the importance of place.  We are invited to spend all our time with one man and most of it in one place.  This is a powerful contrast to Jayber's criticism of the short-term pastorates of the Port Williams's young preachers.  "The preachers were always young students from the seminary who wore, you might say, the mantle of power but not the mantle of knowledge.  They wouldn’t stay long enough to know where they were, for one thing."  

We are invited to stay long enough to know something.  We are invited to know Port William and Jayber Crow.  We are discouraged from assessing Port William.  We are invited into its life to merely witness.  We are discouraged from assessing Jayber Crow.  We are invited into his life to merely witness.

This suspension of judgment is the chief charm of the book for me and, I imagine, the reason that it is so hallowed at seminaries wisely encouraging their students to know their churches.  Much of ministry consists of witnessing lives over a long haul and doing so often involves suspending judgment.   Jayber zooms in on each individual, on Port William, and on human nature until he finds what is lovely.  There is much to commend this.  We see the attraction in his words about Port William, "It was a community always disappointed in itself, disappointing its members, always trying to contain its divisions and gentle its meanness, always failing and yet always preserving a sort of will toward goodwill.  And yet I saw them all as somehow perfected, beyond time, by one another’s love, compassion, and forgiveness, as it is said we may be perfected by grace."

These words also show Jayber zooming in so far that he misses what is graceless.  The above quotation, like parts of mainline theology, zoom in so closely upon the common grace within us that it misses what is untouched by grace.

We see this blindspot in Jayber's understanding of himself, which, of course, is Wendell Berry's presentation of Jayber Crow.  Berry focuses so exclusively on Jayber's apparent virtue in secretly committing himself to Mattie Chatham that he obscures the fact that Jayber has moved well beyond coveting Troy Chatham's wife.  Berry obscures the fact that Jayber visits another man's wife on her deathbed and takes this opportunity to profess his love to her.  We are pressed to feel Jayber's thrill in this final moment of the book, "she held out her hand to me.  She gave me the smile that I had never seen and will not see again in this world, and it covered me all over with light."

Here we see the danger in the virtue of this book.  This book wisely urges us to spend enough time with one man to know him.  This virtue runs wild when it presses us to approve of sin because we are so busy witnessing the man.  In a way, however, this virtue run wild is compelling because that's how life so often goes - we find it hard to see sin for what it is when it resides in ourselves because we are so biased towards ourselves.

This beautifully written book has the feel of life about it.  I found it compelling enough to read in three or four sittings and I think it will entice anyone with an introspective bent.  It is certainly worth any pastor's time.