Easter – Surprised by Hope

I recently finished reading N.T. Wright’s book Surprised by Hope, and for my Easter reflection today, I would like to treat you to his summation of the message of Easter. We are called to a great hope indeed, so much more than an immaterial life after death, so much more than the shedding of earthly “toils and snares,” weariness, and tears. We are called to a bodily resurrection in the new heavens and new earth, the foretaste and inauguration of which came in the bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ. Christ is risen! The kingdom is here!

If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.

Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. On account of these the wrath of God is coming. In these you too once walked, when you were living in them. But now you must put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices 10 and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. 11 Here there is not Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free; but Christ is all, and in all.

~ Colossians 3:1-11 (ESV)

“[A]t the start of Colossians 3, [Paul] focuses on what it actually means to share, here and now, in the resurrection of the Messiah. Paul insists that if you are already raised with Christ–then you have a responsibility to share in the present risen life of Jesus…

Part of the central achievement of the incarnation, which is then celebrated in the resurrection and ascension, is that heaven and earth are now joined together with an unbreakable bond and that we too are by rights citizens of both together. We can, if we choose, screen out the heavenly dimension and live as flatlanders, materialists. If we do that, we will be buying in to a system that will go bad, and will wither and die, because earth gets its vital life from heaven.

But if we focus our attention on the heavenly dimension, all sorts of positive and practical results will follow…. In each case what [Paul’s] talking about is actual current physical reality, shot through now with the life of heaven…. Heaven and earth, I repeat, are made for each other, and at certain points they intersect and interlock. Jesus is the ultimate such point. Christians are meant to be such points, derived from him.

Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God….

11 Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. 12 For it is shameful even to speak of the things that they do in secret. 13 But when anything is exposed by the light, it becomes visible, 14 for anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says,

“Awake, O sleeper,
    and arise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.”

~ Ephesians 5:1-2, 11-14 (ESV)

“In other words, it’s time to wake up! Living at the level of the nonheavenly world around you is like being asleep; worse, it’s like that for which sleep is a metaphor–being dead…. Come alive to the real world, the world where Jesus is Lord, the world into which your baptism brings you, the world you claim to belong to when you say in the creed that Jesus is Lord and that God raised him from the dead.

The message of Easter, then, is neither that God once did a spectacular miracle but then decided not to do many others nor that there is a blissful life after death to look forward to. The message of Easter is that God’s new world has been unveiled in Jesus Christ and that you’re now invited to belong to it. And precisely because the resurrection was and is bodily, albeit with a transformed body, the power of Easter to transform and heal the present world must be put into effect both at the macro level , in applying the gospel to the major problems of the world…and to the intimate details of our daily lives. Christian holiness consists not of trying as hard as we can to be good but of learning to live in the new world created by Easter, the new world we publicly entered in our baptism…. Personal holiness and global holiness belong together. Those who wake up to one may well find themselves called to wake up to the other as well.”

~ Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church, N.T. Wright (pp. 250-253)

12 But if it is preached that Christ has been raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? 13 If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. 14 And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. 15 More than that, we are then found to be false witnesses about God, for we have testified about God that he raised Christ from the dead. But he did not raise him if in fact the dead are not raised. 16 For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either. 17 And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. 18 Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost. 19 If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.

20 But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.

~ 1 Corinthians 15:12-20

Advertisements

Lent IV: Judgment and Compassion

Not long ago, my pastor preached a sermon on the insidiousness of hypocritical judgment. This sermon was in the context of the theme “Every believer a minister,” and the goal was to motivate us to greater compassion for others. In my devotional reading earlier this week, I read the same passage that drove that sermon, along with some comments in my devotional book that compel me in a similar direction.

Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things. We know that the judgment of God rightly falls on those who practice such things. Do you suppose, O man—you who judge those who practice such things and yet do them yourself—that you will escape the judgment of God? Or do you presume on the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience, not knowing that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance? But because of your hard and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath when God’s righteous judgment will be revealed.

~ Romans 2:1-5

“…it is interesting to encounter Paul’s words, and have these thoughts, during Lent. For read in the season of Lent, my judgmental comments seem to be, among other things, one of those barriers between me and other people–and ultimately between me and true self-knowledge.

If I criticize you, I don’t have to acknowledge the ways that we are the same, the ways I, too, have done foolish sinful things. I push away knowledge of my own flaws and failings by setting myself above you and your flaws and failings. Lent is an invitation to stop.”

~ Lauren Winner, “Second Wednesday of Lent,” God for Us: Rediscovering the Meaning of Lent and Easter

We have been attending our church for almost two years, and never before have I been as challenged in the matter of judging others as I have been here. This is not simply due to the preaching. It is in part due to the church’s efforts to be a multi-cultural church, crossing not only race lines but also socio-economic, educational/class, and political lines. As a result, there are many people in the church who are very different from me, and I have been surprised at my reactions to those differences, which I have needed to work through in order to learn to show love. It is also, I think, due to the crucible of parenthood, which has spanned about the same time frame and which brings me face to face with my own baseness. In any case, judgment is a favorite activity for most of us, whether we acknowledge it or not. Let us stop, and find ways of showing compassion, even as we bear witness to the truth.

Give the king your justice, O God,
    and your righteousness to the royal son!
May he judge your people with righteousness,
    and your poor with justice!
For he delivers the needy when he calls,
    the poor and him who has no helper.
He has pity on the weak and the needy,
    and saves the lives of the needy.
From oppression and violence he redeems their life,
    and precious is their blood in his sight.

~ Psalm 72: 1-2, 12-14

Saturn is Subordinate to Jupiter

Concerning Saturn as the presiding “donegality” of The Last Battle:

…we should note that Lewis thought that art ought to meet psychological needs. That, in his view, was one of its justifications. Art (good art) very properly served to awaken or maintain or strengthen those parts of the human constitution which needed such ancillary support. As we have seen, he considered his own contemporaries to be in particular need of the spiritual nourishment that could be derived from imaginatively inhabiting the sphere of Jove. Too easily, in his view, the writers of his generation assumed that brains splattered upon a wall represented what life was ‘really like’ and that the consolations of religion were ‘really’ only a trick of the nerves, never reflecting on their equivocal use of the word ‘really.’

Lewis wanted to know why the former ‘reality’ was privileged above the latter and concluded the Jovial perspective had been selectively aborted. Of all the terrible losses inflicted by the Saturnine Great War, perhaps the most terrible—-from the imaginative point of view—-was this loss of belief in the kingship of Jupiter and the usurpation of his throne by Saturn.

Saturn  (From a Medieval book of Hours)

Saturn
(From a Medieval book of Hours)

… In other words, he thought that asceticism needed to have an account of the light by which it sees the darkness under reproach. Failure to recognise the uncondemnable wisdom inherent in the act of condemnation is itself a condemnation of philosophies that are wholly nihilistic. Such failure constitutes what Lewis—as early as 1924—called ‘The Promethean Fallacy in Ethics,’ a fallacy he found in Thackeray, in Russell, and in every ‘good atheist.’ The criticism or defiance that such a person hurls at an apparently ruthless and idiotic cosmos ‘is really an unconscious homage to something in or behind that cosmos which he recognizes as infinitely valuable and authoritative…’

Lewis thought that the Book of Job showed the legitimacy of such complaint, and his own angry lament for his wife’s death, A Grief Observed, is an example of the same thing. He fully recognised the human need to shout and shake one’s fists at God: but, equally, he recognized that, once the breast-beating was over and the passion was spent, there was something else to say…

Thus Lewis’s model of the universe has standing room for bleakness, but no throne. In this respect, as in so many others, he differed from the modernist mainstream. As he looked about him, he pondered the causes of the twentieth century’s poetical taste for nihilism and angst, such as he found in Roy Fuller’s line, ‘Anyone happy in this age and place / Is daft or corrupt.’ He traced its origins not to the obvious source (the Great War), but much further back, suggesting that it had its beginning in Keats’s praise of ‘those to whom the miseries of the world / Are misery, and will not let them rest,’…. His own belief was that the world’s woes were chronic but not absolute, because the resurrection of Christ had relativised them. One must do all one can to alleviate such sufferings, but need not be overcome by their non-disappearance in this life: ‘one’s own cheerfulness, even gaiety, must be encouraged,’ as must ‘the importance of not being earnest.’

… The truth of Joviality springs out of the chaotic remnants of Saturnised Narnia. It is at this point that we discover that Lewis’s fictional universe (like the one he believed himself to be living in) is not Saturnocentric, nor even interminably eucratic, but has a fifth act and a finale ‘in which the good characters ‘live happily ever after’ and the bad ones are cast out.’… At the end of the Narniad his aim is to make us ‘look along’ that spirit of open-heartedness as he orchestrates a grate cosmic eucatastrophe. Wave-like, Jove-like, it overwhelms those who keep the faith: for them, everything sad becomes untrue.

Quoted in Planet Narnia, by Dr. Michael Ward, pp. 210-212

Finale of the Last Battle

Finale of the Last Battle

In my mind, this chapter in Ward’s magnificent book presents one of the best (even if sidelong) treatments of the problems of sorrow, pain, and evil within the Christological view of the universe. When I read Lewis’s The Last Battle for the first time (which was recently, even though I had read the rest of the series multiple times over the years), I was taken aback by its tone and content. Yet through the lens of the medieval characterization of Saturn, the poiema and logos of this book come together in a profound expression and acknowledgement of the reality of the horrors and grief we encounter in life, which is nevertheless situated beneath the ruling sphere of Jupiter – the sphere of joy, courage, forgiveness, and active rest. We not only live in a universe like this, but also make our art in it. Accordingly art may (and should!) furnish us with support and encouragement by alluding to all of these things – not by negating the horrific and the sorrowful, but by situating them within the greater image of the Jovial universe. For “we are all between the paws of the true Aslan!”

Catching Mercury

Lewis, catching medieval Mercury in his butterfly-net and exhibiting his jizz to the over-solemn twentieth century, agreed [with Chesterton]: the medievals knew ‘better than some know now, that human life is not simple. They were able to think of two things at once.’…

The Marriage of Mercury & Philology  MS Canon. Misc. 110

The Marriage of Mercury & Philology
MS Canon. Misc. 110

…Lewis’s Christian God is multi-significant. In the incarnation Christ manifest σημεια (signs) which witness to his own person and was himself the χαρακτηρ (character or representation) of the Father; and in creation Christ’s making and sustaining Word issued in multiform, revelatory ways, including in the inspiration of scriptural authors so that their words acquired significance at many different levels, for example in the Psalms where ‘double or treble vision is part of the pleasure . . . part of the profit, too.’

Thus it could be said that God knows ‘plurisignation’ from within His own Triune, enfleshed, and creative nature; there is a divine mandate for double and treble vision in the three-fold nature of God, the two natures of Christ, and in the various significations of His creation itself. Monotheism, in Lewis’s view, must be construed carefully so as to preserve this understanding of complex divinity. The monotheism of Islam, for instance, falls short in this respect, he thought, because it so affirms ‘unity’ that ‘union is breached.’ Although Lewis considered it a matter for rejoicing that Islam had overcome the dualism of ancient Persia, he seems to have regarded the conquest as an overcorrection: the ‘living, paradoxical, vibrant, mysterious truths’ of Christianity are defeated by it. Christians who effectively practise mere ‘Jesus worship’ adopt a similarly simplistic and reductionist position.

Quote taken from Planet Narnia, by Dr. Michael Ward, p. 148.

Ward makes a convincing case that the medieval characterization of the planet Mercury provides the presiding atmosphere or donegality for The Horse and His Boy (Book 5 of The Chronicles of Narnia). The Mercury section of C.S. Lewis’s poem “The Planets” follows:

Next beyond her [Luna {the moon}]
MERCURY marches; –madcap rover,
Patron of pilf’rers. Pert quicksilver
His gaze begets, goblin mineral,
Merry multitude of meeting selves,
Same but sundered. From the soul’s darkness,
With wreathèd wand, words he marshals,
Guides and gathers them–gay bellwether
Of flocking fancies. His flint has struck
The spark of speech from spirit’s tinder,
Lord of language! He leads forever
The spangle and splendour, sport that mingles
Sound with senses, in subtle pattern,
Words in wedlock, and wedding also
Of thing with thought.

I am fascinated with the multiple potentiality of meaning (or allusiveness) to be found in both language and in music, and the idea of God as multi-significant, the God of plurisignation, of “punning” and double entendre… this idea lends so much credence to the multi-dimensional layering of our experience of life and understanding of meaning.

The Goodness of Time

If in Christ ‘all things’ have found their fulfillment, then, presumably, the same is to be said of time as an integral dimension of the created order. (Theology, Music and Time, p. 71)

Jeremy Begbie’s book Theology, Music and Time (which I have briefly mentioned here) explores the connections between the interactions of music and time and a proper theological understanding of time. In Chapter 3, “In God’s Good Time,” Begbie sets out to use properties of music to suggest that time is intrinsic to creation and that time is essentially a positive part of God’s “good ordering” of the world (p. 71).

Photo credit: art knowledge news

To support the first assertion, namely that time is intrinsic to creation, Begbie draws on earlier arguments in the book, suggesting that music is necessarily made up of time in the very way it operates – that in music, time is seen not as a container, backround, or mental construct but as absolutely inherent to the “interrelationship between the physical entities involved in the production and reception of sound” (p. 80).

To support the second assertion, that time is good, Begbie presents four ways in which music demonstrates that a “link between time and fallenness” is not necessary:

  1. In music, change and order are seen to coexist; “change need not imply chaos” (p. 85). Tonal music (at least) is by nature subject to persistent change and yet embodies dynamic order.
  2. Music takes time not only to be created but to be. The implication is that the created world takes time to be, and that in music we can see that the fact that creation can only reach its fulfillment through time is not necessarily a negative, fallen characteristic of creation. Thus patience and waiting become potentially positive and enriching rather than empty. Music demands patience and waiting, the trust that there is something worth waiting for, and the realization that the “something” is not detachable from the music. (pp. 86-87)
  3. Different entities have different “time-structures,” different rates of coming into being, reaching a peak, returning to non-being. In musical works, multiple different temporal operations occur concurrently, often with irregularities (for those in the music world, an example is multiple layers of hypermeter, in which irregular hyper measures might occur), and these fluctuating and simultaneous layers of temporal action are crucial to the integrity of the piece. These differences and varieties should be seen not as signs of corruption but as signs of the diversity God has given his creation for good (pp.89-91).
  4. Finally, music challenges the assumption that finitude – boundaries and temporal limits – is by nature a fallen characteristic (p.91). As a result, Begbie suggests (with Barth) that limited duration in human life is “fundamentally beneficial and advantageous” (p. 94). A quote seems clearest here:

Music depends heavily for its meaning on finitude at every level… Musical continuity emerges from transience, from the coming into being and dying of tones, for in this way and only in this way can their dynamic qualities be sensed. The fact that music never solidifies or coagulates to form a thing or substance is critical to its intelligibility…(p.92)

Implicit in our finitude is an invitation and direction to through ourselves upon the divine graciousness…creation praises God in its very finitude and thus shows what authentic praise is…[T]he universe is suspended between nothingness and the infinity of God – music can exemplify and embody just this suspension. (pp.95-97)

As Begbie suggests, these characteristics of music in conjunction with the doctrine of Incarnation (Christ’s entering into the created order as God and man) should waken in us the conviction that temporality is an intrinsic dimension of God’s creation and that our interaction with it should recognize it as a gift, as an opportunity to recognize not only our limitations but also the divine goodness of our creator, as something with which we can work and live peacably, working in “the stream of God’s wisdom” (Rowan Williams, qtd. on p. 97).

…the purpose of music…

…the purpose of _De Musica_ is to bring the soul to a recognition of its fallen state and promote its return to God, to move from the world of sense to the world of intelligibility. The soul is fallen from the restful contemplation of eternal truth, into the busy-ness of temporal activity. Because of the fall, we are ordered by the tapestry of time, ‘sewn into’ the order of spatio-temporality. We have become so many individual ‘words’, each forming part of the poem of the temporal whole but unable to perceive the harmony and beauty of the connected work. By immersion in temporal sequence, we have lost the purview of the whole temporal series we possessed prior to the fall.

al_assumpta_est.jpg

…by the time we reach the _Confessions_ a more positive attitude to the created order, materiality and temporality is evident… The recitation of a psalm, though so obviously in time and subject to the distractions of the temporal order, is … used to illustrate the way in which the mind’s descent into diversity has not entirely effaced its ability to grasp that Unity from which all things proceed. Insofar as the mind achieves some ordering power over time, it approximates, albeit very weakly, to the perspective and character of eternity.

…For all the qualifications we have noted, it is hard to ignore the signs of the ancient tendency to run together temporality and fallenness, and especially significant for us is the way in which music is discovered and known insofar as we abstract from the temporal relations of physical realities patterns which reflect in some measure the order of eternity. Despite its considerable subtlety and fascination, for this vision to be advanced as offering a way forward for the theological deployment of music today would be, I suggest, dubious.

[Because] [t]onal music exhibits not the temporality of a single straight line but that of a multi-levelled matrix of waves of tension and resolution, in which the temporal modes interweave within an overall directionality[,]… it would seem that music is capable of demonstrating that such a strong link between time and fallenness need not be assumed, and that there is no necessity to distance ourselves from the mutable multiplicity of the temporal world in order to experience beneficial and enriching order.

Jeremy Begbie on St. Augustine’s remarks on theological engagement with time and music (some of which are quite beautiful); also questioning the assumption that temporality and fallenness go together, that materiality is only of value in its signification of that which is eternal. ~ Theology, Music and Time, 82-84, 68, 85

Selections from my bookshelf

(re-)Read in 2012

  • Photo credit: SPCK Publishing

    be not afraid (Samuel Wells) – A slim but encouraging volume on the nature of fear, whether it is all bad, what kinds of things we are afraid of, and why and how our hope in Christ should influence the way we handle fear. I found this volume particularly helpful in my own struggles with anxiety this past year.

  • The Chronicles of Narnia (C.S. Lewis) – A re-read item, but I don’t actually remember the exact time I last read these lovely books. As an adult, I found returning to these fanciful stories with a greater understanding of Scripture, literature, and the other writings of C.S. Lewis to be both delightful and stimulating. The Last Battle is especially puzzling yet illuminates some of the glorious ideas Lewis had about eschatology and the community of believers.
  • Cranford (Elizabeth Gaskell) – I am a long time fan of 19th and early 20th century British literature, especially of novels written by female authors (e.g. Jane Austen; Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Bronte). Elizabeth Gaskell is a relatively recent discovery of mine through her books (and their recent film adaptations) Wives and Daughters and North and South. Cranford is less a single narrative than a collection of intertwining stories of the residents of the sleepy town of Cranford. The narrator – Mary Smith – records events with a partial eye, but her participation in the story is the window into the light and yet serious matters of the unimportant characters in the story.
  • An Acceptable Time (Madeleine L’Engle) – The finale to the Time series engages in questions about the nature of time, how we interact with past and present and future, how God’s presence might have been known (if at all) among those who had no opportunity to hear of him. If you’ve never read the children’s series (A Wrinkle in Time, A Wind in the Door, A Swiftly Tilting Planet, Many Waters, An Acceptable Time), I’d highly recommend it to any adult reader. Some of L’Engle’s ideas about time and the universe are fanciful, but her imagination brings a breadth and depth to our engagement with things we don’t understand about the cosmos. Perhaps creation is singing, and has been sung into existence, and we just can’t hear it unless we listen.
  • A Series of Unfortunate Events (David Handler, a.k.a. Lemony Snicket, narrator) – Another
    Photo credit: Goodreads.com

    Photo credit: Goodreads.com

    children’s series… I read many “easy” books this year due to my need for rest from my studies, but this series, along with The Chronicles of Narnia and An Acceptable Time, is very interesting to read as an adult. Based on the premise that the three Baudelaire siblings face many unfortunate events, most of which are perpetuated by the villain, Count Olaf, the series follows the siblings as they face questions about the nature of good and evil, the difficulty of making a decision when all the options are poor, and the potentially deceptive nature of language. The tone is actually comedic – somewhat darkly so – but the undercurrent of hope in familial bonds, trust in each other, and forgiveness draws these books together in an unexpectedly redemptive narrative.

  • Orthodoxy (G.K. Chesterton) – Another re-read item, this book is one of the most charming, well written, and compelling defenses of faith I have ever read. I would highly recommend it to anyone interested in how one might find belief in Christ and God a foundation and a rock in the swirling turbulence of ideologies and uncertainty in our day. Another great book in a similar vein is C.S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity.

Current/To-read queue

  • Theology, Music, and Time (Jeremy Begbie) – I’ve tried to read this book a few times, but in the middle of the dense readings of my degree program, I had not found the energy or concentration I needed to delve into the meaty prose of this work. Now that I have the opportunity, I’m intrigued by the coincidence between many of the issues Begbie deals with and the broader issues I encountered in Contemporary Aesthetics (Spring 2012). Begbie critiques and expands on Zuckerkandl in an effort to explore the dimensions of time in music and how these might affect our understanding and experience of time through a theological lens.
  • Northanger Abbey (Jane Austen) – The Jane Austen novels are dear friends; I return to them on a regular basis, especially to Pride and Prejudice, which I read every year. Northanger Abbey is the closest in tone to Austen’s juvenilia, even though it was published posthumously. I re-read it less often than most of the other novels, so I found returning to it this time to be a very fresh take on the story. Austen’s satire and wit is closer to the surface in this novel, which makes it both a pleasant read and a window into the ideas that informed her writing style in her later novels.
  • Wisdom and Wonder: Common Grace in Science and Art (Abraham Kuyper) – I’ve heard so much about Kuyper in my readings and discussions about the way our theology should impact our engagement with culture. This translation of a partial volume of Kuyper’s is exciting and approachable – I’m looking forward to exploring it further.
  • Every Good Endeavor: Connecting Your Work to God’s Plan for the World (Timothy Keller) – One of my favorite reviewers says this about Every Good Endeavor:

it … remind[s] us that we join our work to God’s work because of God’s gracious overtures and the gospel’s effective power in our lives… From the good plan of God to the hard news of sin to the exciting news of a Kingdom approach, these three units offer a great structure for a great book, and Keller plumbs this well.  It isn’t a cheap structure or a casual one, it is profound. His astute teaching about all this helps us see that.  Like other things in life — from sex to art, science to politics — we can see what is good and wondrous, what is sinful and broken, and what is being redeemed by gospel transformation, and how to take up our vocations into the world in wise and proper ways.  This is the story of the God’s redemptive work in the world and is how we take up the calling, as in his subtitle, to relate our daily work to God’s work. ~ Byron Borger, Hearts and Minds Books

  • Photo credit: Tyndale

    The Just Church: Becoming a risk-taking, justice-seeking, disciple-making congregation (Jim Martin) – If I’m honest with myself, I’ve let much of the conversation on social justice in the church pass by me. This book just came out last year and appears to be grounded in the gospel and practical. Again, I quote Byron Borger: “this incredibly useful book does just what its subtitle promises — it helps integrate justice advocacy into ordinary discipleship, and helps ordinary churches realize they must be proactive in building wholistic disciples.  Dare our churches not take risks for the cause of justice, dare we sit on the sidelines of the great historical battle for justice and liberation, dare we continue with church-life as usual?” 

  • Uncommon Decency: Christian Civility in an Uncivil World (Richard Mouw) – I’ve been wanting to read this book ever since it came out, and I just haven’t gotten a hold of it yet. One of my biggest frustrations with public conversation (and private conversation sometimes) is the tone – we are so quick to condemn others, to be angry, to insist that we are right – we are so often uncivil and unwilling to hear others. This book calls us Christians to a totally different mindset.

Alongside this last book, I’ll just mention that this weekend is the Institute for Biblical Studies in Ithaca, NY, and Richard Mouw is the speaker this year. If you are nearby, I’d encourage you to attend.

For other book ideas this year, see my friend Bethany’s recent post: The year in books: 2012