The Book We Need This Year

When I was recently asked to do a six-minute radio interview on Francis Schaeffer’s classic The Mark of the Christian, I was reminded what a good book it would be to read this year. With all the political vitriol sure to be spouted incessantly, Christians will be challenged. Will we follow the world’s ways or follow Jesus’ command to his disciples to “love one another” (John 13:34)?

If we frequently listen to radio, TV, podcasts and even sermons that tell us that people who disagree with our political views are ignorant and unbiblical, if not downright in league with the devil, how can we help but think and feel the same?

Schaeffer makes two compelling points from John’s gospel in this book that can be read in just an hour. First, if we don’t show love toward other Christians, then non-Christians have the right to say we aren’t Christians at all. “By this,” Jesus says, “everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35).

And Jesus was right. That is exactly what happens when my neighbors see how much Christians show hatred toward others. “How can they call themselves Christian when they act so unlike Jesus?”

Schaeffer’s second point is perhaps even more dramatic. When Christians show loving harmony and grace toward each other, that is “the final apologetic.” It is proof that the gospel is true. When Christians are “brought to complete unity,” Jesus says, “then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me” (John 17:21). Schaeffer’s timeless book closes with some very practical counsel on how to do just this.

In 2024 reading The Mark of the Christian can set us on the right path. Who’s lead will we follow? The polarizing voices of our political persuasion? Or the voice of Jesus?

Keeping Our Hearts Warm

Our eyes are riveted to news updates about earthquakes, wars, and shootings, even though so much of it is depressing. But there can be other negative side effects.

Twenty-five years ago, Christine Pohl wrote, “News reports and documentaries broadcast the most terrible details of the lives of refugees or famine victims thousands of miles away, and regularly bring their faces and stories into the most intimate spaces of our homes.”

This, she says, can have two unintended but related effects. “A steady exposure to distant human need that is beyond our personal response can gradually inoculate us against particular action. It can also dilute us into thinking that by simply knowing about it we are somehow sharing in the suffering of others. Isolation from local need, and over exposure to overwhelming but distant need, make our responses to strangers uncertain and tentative at best.”*

What can we do to not become numb to those in need nearby or far away? One obvious option is to stop following the news, or at least to consume much less (for this and other reasons discussed here).

But then how would I know where to contribute when a crisis arises? Simply by giving to a relief organization you trust on a regular basis, regardless of whether or not there is a special need. Such crises, sadly, happen often. Send your gift to someone like the Red Cross, World Relief, Doctors Without Borders, or World Vision and designate it to “where needed most.”

Volunteering locally can also keep us from going numb. Tutoring, helping at a homeless shelter, and many other options are easy to find through your church, your library, or a quick web search. A neighbor recently joined me regularly at a food pantry, and she loves it.

Rather than constantly watching the news, these opportunities can put us in direct contact with people who need help and at the same time keep our hearts warm.

*Christine Pohl, Making Room (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1999), p. 91.

Photo credits: Andrew T. Le Peau

The Night We Needed Rescue

One winter day, almost four decades ago, our family was driving south on the plains of Illinois on our way to visit relatives. All too soon we experienced white-out conditions, and we ended up in a fifty-car pileup on Interstate 55.

With the blizzard still raging, our car was eventually able to limp to a nearby exit for a small town where Phyllis and I sheltered in a restaurant with our four young children, all of us dazed and uncertain what to do. As we were standing there among dozens of other stranded motorists, we heard rumors that the town was going to open up the local high school gym so people would have a place to stay that cold winter night.

A local family saw us and our four small children and said, “You’re not staying in the high school gym.”

“We’re not?” we responded somewhat confused.

“No,” they replied, “you’re staying with us tonight.”

That night, we were the strangers. We were in need of a warm place, warm food, and friendly faces. These people welcomed us into their home, fed us all we wanted, had us join in their family activities, and as we left the next morning, I was astonished to hear them say, “It has been wonderful to have you here. You blessed us. You’ve reminded us of what’s important in life, of how good God is.”

I could hardly believe it. We were the ones in need. We were the ones who had been helped, but somehow they were the ones who were blessed.

That night we were reminded vividly how God welcomes us into the hospitality of his love through the gift of his own Son sent to the people of earth. We were reminded that God calls us to find ways to follow his example by also reaching out to those in need, those who are weak or oppressed—just has he had done for us, entering this world as a baby who would give us the greatest welcome of all.

And this was especially vivid to us because that winter night in which the six of us were stranded and helpless, that night in which we needed rescue—that night was Christmas Eve.

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Credits: Blizzard photo: uknowgayle on Pixabay.
Nativity: mskathrynne on Pixabay.

The Environmental Crisis Is Over

A year ago today, the environmental and energy crises ended.

“What? Seriously? They ended? Did I miss something?”

Yes, you did. And so did almost everyone else.

We now have the solution to pollution from oil and coal-burning power plants along with a nearly endless supply of clean energy.

So what is this miracle technology? And why don’t we know about it? Both questions are incredibly important.

What Is the Technology?

The technology is fusion energy. On December 5, 2022, Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory in California demonstrated fusion ignition in the laboratory for the first time after six decades of research and effort by a dozen countries.

Instead of splitting the atom (the fission technology that makes nuclear bombs possible), “nuclear fusion is the process by which two light atomic nuclei combine to form a single heavier one while releasing massive amounts of energy.” Unlike today’s nuclear power plants, no radiation is created, and the technology cannot be made into a weapon—as evidenced by the fact that even during the whole Cold War, the United States and the Soviet Union cooperated on fusion research!

There are nearly fifty companies working now on implementing this technology. In ten years the first nuclear fusion power plant could be contributing to the grid. In twenty years a hundred plants could be online. And in forty years all coal- and oil-burning power plants could be decommissioned. Much remains to be done, but the solution is here.

Why Didn’t We Know About It?

How could we have missed something this monumental? That is an equally important question. This could be the most important news story of the century, and yet people don’t know it. Now that I’ve reminded you, you may vaguely recall hearing a report about this first successful fusion test. But you likely don’t remember much about its implications.

The reason few people are aware of it is that the news industry almost never reports what’s important. The sensational, the visually arresting, the emotionally compelling—these dominate our news. And these daily reports have almost no lasting significance to us personally or to our communities.

The news industries emphasize these ephemeral items because their purpose is not to inform but to make money. As I’ve written about before here and here and here, they focus on what will get them eyeballs and ratings.

What’s the solution? How can we be better informed if the news media (or worse, social media) is not the way to do it. This requires multifaceted, multilayered answers, but here is just one: Stop following the news and instead read books.

I have a much better understanding of what’s going on in the world by reading books like Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson, Factfulness by Hans Rosling, or Hillbilly Elegy by J. D. Vance. These consider important issues and trends from the last forty years which have much more explanatory power about our crazy world than anything you will ever hear on CNN, FOX, or MSNBC.

I also include long form journalism in this category—whether print or electronic. I learned about the massive implications of nuclear fusion by listening to one of the in-depth (usually three-hour!) interviews by Lex Fridman.*

When we stop following the news, we can be calmer, kinder, and better informed people.

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* Lex Fridman Podcast, “Dennis Whyte: Nuclear Fusion and the Future of Energy, “ January 21, 2023.

Image credit: Pixabay

A Book’s Not Worth Writing Unless. . .

Are there ideas in a book that the author didn’t intend?

I asked this in an earlier post regarding interpreting the biblical authors. It’s important for understanding the Bible or any piece of literature. C. S. Lewis once weighed in on this very question.

In 1944 Charles Brady wrote a review of Lewis’s output up to that point, including the first installment of Lewis’s Space Trilogy, Out of the Silent Planet. Brady commented on the scene when the main character, Elwin Ransom, first encounters a race of intelligent beings from Mars, the Hrossa. This, Brady thought, could “be interpreted . . . as an allegory of racial fear and repugnance.”

Lewis wrote to Brady a few months later, thanking him for the overall positive review, and in the process made this insightful response: “When you talk about meetings of human races in connexion [sic] with Ransom and the Hrossa you say something that was not in my mind at all. So much the better: a book’s not worth writing unless it suggests more than the author intended.”*

Even though Lewis didn’t mean to say something about racial encounters generally (something that still concerns us today), nonetheless, he was happy to acknowledge that sometimes books take on a life of their own. Lewis seems to imply that that is the whole point of writing a book—that it be subtle, complex, evocative, and carry more ideas than the author even consciously anticipated.

That is what makes for great writing. If all the meaning is on the surface, it won’t stand the test of time. But a book with layers and depth can become something worth pondering for generations.

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*These two quotes are from Mark Noll, C. S. Lewis in America (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2023), chapter one: Charles A. Brady, “C. S. Lewis: II,” America, June 10, 1944, 269; and C. S. Lewis to Charles A. Brady, October 29, 1944, in Books, Broadcasts, and the War, 1931–1949 , vol. 2 of The Collected Letters of C. S. Lewis, ed. Walter Hooper (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2004), 630.

Dragons in the Bible

Dragons in the Bible? I can think of that red dragon in Revelation 12. But are there others?

In the outstanding Bible Project podcast series Chaos Dragons, Tim Mackie and Jon Collins explore the theme of monsters that surprisingly permeates the Bible from the first book to the last.

Chaos dragons are a common image in ancient near eastern literature, and the Bible writers take this and give it several twists for their own purposes. Such dragons often threaten humanity and the whole order God has created. They are associated with the disorder of the sea especially (see my blog here on that) but also of the wilderness. The Hebrew Bible uses a collection of related words (nahash, tanin, leviathan) to express this idea.

We remember leviathan from the book of Job which is in the sea (Job 41:1-4). Rahab is another such creature (Job 26:12; Is 27:1; 51:9). But we even find a reference on day five of creation—the “great sea creatures” (NIV, NASB) or “giant sea monsters” (CEV, NRSV) which translate tanin. Psalms 104 and 148 also use this word.

A connected image is the serpent itself from Genesis 3, seeking to undo the good order that God has created by deceiving the man and the woman. People can even take on dragonlike qualities. Pharoah is portrayed with these sorts of images in Ezekiel 29:3-4 (“great monster,” tanin). Even the scaly armor of Goliath (1 Sam 17:5) evokes this picture. Nebuchadnezzar is also described as a serpent or monster that swallows Israel (Jer 51:34). As the podcast series progresses, we hear the warning that if we are not careful, any of us can take on the role of a chaos creature.

As Mackie and Collins discuss in their friendly style, these symbols represent a constellation of ideas which consider how dark forces of chaos are not the rival of God but the rival of God’s creation. Episode 1 gives an overview of the theme throughout the Bible (as does their brief video). The other episodes go into more detail about these various instances and many others.

As we move into the New Testament, the theme of crushing the snake underfoot first found in the Garden of Eden (Gen 3:15) is tied more explicitly to dark spiritual forces. In Luke 10:17-19 Jesus associates the disciples’ power over demons with the authority he has given them to tread on snakes.  Likewise in Romans 16:20 Paul tells his readers that he looks forward to when God will “crush Satan under your feet.”

This worthwhile podcast series will add a valuable layer of depth and appreciation for an important theme that ties the story of the Bible together.

Avoiding Biblical Missteps

Interpreting the Old Testament can be a tricky business. What do we do with all those laws in Leviticus? Do the promises to Israel apply to us or the church, or neither? And those prophecies in Daniel—they are pretty weird. The author of Ecclesiastes also seems kind of depressed. Does he need cheering up?

In Wisdom for Faithful Reading, John Walton (author of the stellar volume The Lost World of Genesis One) offers much helpful advice on how to keep going off the rails into fanciful interpretations of prophecy and unwarranted applications of narratives. His valuable principles include:

♦ Stay close to the biblical author’s intentions and purposes
♦ Consider closely the linguistic, literary, cultural, and theological context of each passage
♦ Don’t impose our modern ideas, context, or worldview on a text
♦ Remember that genre (whether poetry, prophecy, genealogies, narrative, wisdom literature) is key to understanding
♦ Avoid reading the Bible as a how-to book or an instruction manual
♦ Keep asking this main question about each passage: “What can we learn about God, his plans, and his purposes?”

At each point, Walton offers many concrete examples from all over the Old Testament that illustrate and illuminate each point.

His examples of correct interpretation, however, may reveal a problem for many readers. While his analysis in each sample text is insightful and helpful, he gives the impression that if you don’t know Greek and Hebrew as well as he does, and if you aren’t thoroughly trained in ancient Middle Eastern culture and customs as he is, you can’t possibly understand the Bible. Though he tries to address that, overall it can be discouraging for ordinary readers.

Sometimes he also seems to strip the Bible of its authority rather than highlight it. For example, according to Walton, anything that is common knowledge in the ancient world (like it is bad to steal or murder) would not count as revelation. Only why the author included the Ten Commandments is revelation (pp. 40-47 and 115-16).

I also have questions about the primary mantra he keeps repeating throughout the book: “Only the author’s intentions carry authority.” That is, if the original biblical author never consciously intended a certain meaning, then that cannot possibly be normative for us today. I see at least three problems.

First, for centuries the primary (not the only) way in which the early church fathers interpreted the Old Testament, was to see Christ in every page. And if Jesus is the same as the God of the Old Testament, then there is merit in that approach. Walton would seem to dismiss this out of hand because the ancient writers couldn’t possibly know anything about Jesus, and so he couldn’t be part of their literary intent. Though it is true we must also view the Old Testament on its own terms, I think we dare not shed the perspective of our early Christian heritage lightly.

Second, all authors (biblical or not) communicate things that were not part of their original, conscious message. Yet these are every bit as much a part of the actual communication as that which was consciously intended. The Old Testament authors were thoroughly immersed in the ancient writings that had come before them. The prophets and psalmists knew the Torah deeply. Were they always conscious of when and how it was influencing them? No, but it did. Likewise, are we conscious how assumptions about democracy, individual freedom, capitalism, and (even) Shakespeare are influencing us when we write? No. But these are deep and real influences that emerge in our writing all the time, even when we do not consciously intend them to come out.

Third, I wonder if Walton’s laser-like focus on author intent doesn’t contradict one of his own principles—don’t impose “a foreign perspective on the text.” Isn’t the principle of author intent a modern construct which might get in the way of our encounter with Scripture? Until the last century or so, has anyone in the history of interpretation had such a single-minded obsession with this principle? Doesn’t it largely come out of modern literary theory rather than from the world of the Bible itself?

In this book Walton is legitimately reacting to the many abuses of interpretation that have sadly wracked the church, especially in modern times. The guards he offers to protect against these missteps have much to commend them. But I fear that instead of just reacting to these problems, that he is overreacting.

Having said that, his very last chapter, “Living Life in Light of Scripture,” is a wonderful, clear-headed, positive statement of what we should be looking for from God and his Word. We would all do well to follow Walton’s encouragement to focus on the message of the Bible to trust God, love God, and love others regardless of what life may bring.

What My Wife Taught Me About Life

Last month, just about a year after my wife Phyllis died, I reread her book Handbook for Caring People, now out of print. I once again saw how this book reflected her own life of being deeply attuned to the needs of people—emotionally, physically, spiritually. I wasn’t the only one who thought she was perhaps the most caring person they’d ever known. So did dozens and hundreds of others.

Phyllis didn’t show her concern only when people were overtly hurting. She took delight in getting to know everyone she encountered—on a bus, standing in line, sitting in a park. Because of her genuine interest and ready laugh, they were quite willing to engage her in conversation. People just felt better about life and themselves after being with Phyllis.

Professionally, as a nurse she had hands-on experience dealing with the physical concerns of patients. But she cared about the whole person, and if patients gave evidence of emotional or spiritual needs, she was there for them.

When a man said he was afraid he wouldn’t make it through surgery, she didn’t ignore it or brush it off. She took time, asked questions and listened deeply. When she had found another patient sitting on the side of her bed crying, and a chair that had been thrown against a wall lying sideways on the floor, she took time to stop and gently ask, “What happened?”

Over the years that she worked with a Christian university ministry, students received the same care and attention—about academic stresses, problems at home, relationship issues, questions about God.

When Phyllis retired, she wondered what she would do next. After taking several months to see what her new rhythms of life might be, she eventually felt guided to obey Jesus in three particular ways—to feed the hungry, care for widows, and visit those in prison. And she did. She began volunteering once or twice a week at the food pantry our church operates, which helps feed hundreds of people every month.

In addition, she began giving more focused attention to an elderly widow who lived on our block. She played board games with her and brought over meals once a week or more.

Finally, she volunteered with JUST, an organization that works within the DuPage County Correctional Facility. They offered dozens of different classes a week on spiritual enrichment, addiction recovery, education, vocational and life skills. Every Friday morning, as she went to lead a Bible study for women inmates, she would tell me with a grin, “I’m going to jail now!”

She especially loved meeting with these women who were awaiting trial. These were people without pretense who knew they were broken. She told remarkable stories of those at the extremities of life. One said she thought jail saved her life. Otherwise she would be out on the street, and likely not survive that. Another put her faith in Christ, and Phyllis saw a striking transformation in the next weeks.

Over the almost fifty years I knew her, Phyllis had a massive impact on me. She shaped a nerd who was always in his head into someone who gained a habit for hospitality and for creating welcoming spaces for people. We constantly had people staying in our home for a night, a week, even months at a time.

Phyllis was always ready with an offer of a bed and a meal and friendship and laughter. Whenever a need arose, Phyllis would ask me about it. I’d roll my eyes (sometimes inwardly, often outwardly) wondering if I always had to stretch like this to include others into our household. But we did, and I was better for it.

Phyllis showed me how to love others with the love of Jesus in a way that they loved too.

Certainly we had an influence on one another. But while I may have widened her world, she widened my soul.

What’s Left When Persuasion Dies

Our world is complex and difficult to understand. With billions of people, millions of ideas, thousands of corporations, and hundreds of countries—each with different (sometimes conflicting) histories and motives—no wonder we are confused.

No wonder we are anxious and yearn for simple explanations. No wonder we want someone to tell us conclusively what is going on in the world—and who is to blame!

Because easy answers to complex questions are very appealing, we are sometimes willing to believe people who are very confident and who play on our fears—even if reason and facts don’t support them.

Diane Benscoter found herself in just this situation. In chapter six of The Persuaders (which I reviewed here), Anand Giridharadas tells how she became a true believer in the Moonie cult back in the 1970s. After she got out, she reflected long and hard on how she was sucked in and was so thoroughly indoctrinated.

What didn’t help Diane leave was people trying to replace bad information with good. What did work was someone planting a seed of doubt about the bad information.

People showed Diane how brainwashing looks in general (not about the Moonies in particular), and then let her draw her own conclusions. What she began to see is that the manipulative techniques of both revolutionary Chinese Communists and of the Moonies had a lot in common. And the trickle of doubt became a torrent.

While there can be many dimensions to brainwashing, two of the most common techniques are isolation and indoctrination. You remove people from a wider range of contacts (family, friends, etc.) and only let them connect with those who are like-minded.

That can sound eerily like many people today who only associate with those who share their political viewpoints and who only consume “news” from outlets (right or left) that they agree with. They may be unwittingly cooperating with their own mental and emotional exploitation. Diane is now on a mission to inoculate people against being manipulated.

In chapter seven Giridharadas then contrasts that manipulative model of persuasion with an approach called deep canvassing. Usually canvassing means knocking on doors and asking for someone to sign a petition or vote for a candidate (all in less than five minutes). Deep canvassing asks people for fifteen to thirty minutes of their time.

The approach might be called deep listening because canvassers ask lots of questions and accept every answer without judgment. After building trust in this way, eventually canvassers ask, “Do you know anyone affected by this issue?” At that point they are legitimately beginning to touch the whole person, and potentially get beyond the surface opposition a person might have.

As I’ve said in Write Better, reviving honest persuasion is important to me because without it all we have left is manipulation or coercion. In these two chapters Giridharadas emphasizes just this point.

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image: Peggy Marco on Pixabay

A Lost Art

Persuasion is a lost art. Persuasion means we respect the dignity and value of people we disagree with. Persuasion, if it is honest, means we ourselves are open to new ideas, new information, and are willing to adjust our previous conclusions. Persuasion is a win-win for us and society. And, sadly, we see too little of it in a world that favors screaming at and insulting opponents.

For that reason, I was looking forward to Anand Giridharadas’s The Persuaders. And I got a little of that, but not as much as I hoped. If you are looking for a balanced book that considers what we could learn positively from both right and left—you won’t find it here.

Instead The Persuaders reports on some of the different approaches left-leaning strategists, activists, and legislators have been using recently to shift the thinking of voters. Each chapter focuses on one or two key people, such as Bernie Sanders, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, and others. And we find some interesting approaches described which depart from less than successful practices of the past.

The book is strong on reporting but is weak on analysis. As a journalist, Giridharadas largely chronicles the work, words, and methods of public figures he admires. He doesn’t offer much insight. I appreciate books that tell stories to illustrate their content. Narratives help drive home in concrete ways what can be abstract principles. But this book does the reverse—it illustrates stories with a smattering of principles. And that is usually much less effective because the point can get lost in the midst of a long tale.

Often I am annoyed by reviews that say, I don’t like this book because the author didn’t write it the way I would have. And there may be some of that in my critique. But the book could have been so much better (more persuasive?) if the author had taken longer to write it, thought more deeply about the nature of persuasion, and guided us more concretely on how the character of our national discussions needs to change to preserve and enhance civility and democracy.

I am sympathetic to many of the viewpoints he highlights. I know the author wants us to be better, wants the American dream to be accessible to more and more Americans rather than fewer and fewer. But he might have included more thoughtful synthesis and a wider range of voices who all want us all to move forward together.

Having said all that, two chapters are particularly worthwhile, and I’ll talk about those more in my next Andy Unedited.