The Lost Art of Blogging

 Eric posted his annual blog last week about the top 10 books he read in 2025.  Interestingly, that's really the only post he's made on our blog (annually) in over 5 years...well, maybe this isn't interesting to anyone, especially if you look at our blog sidebar and note that none of our friends have posted in at least eight years.  But for me, I can see that we used to post a lot, even several times per week when we were preparing to go and then deployed in Kenya.  It was sometimes tedious to think of things to write, but more typically, it was a fun chance to reflect on some events that had happened, synthesize some thoughts, and share them with the world. 

It seems like the blog is mostly a medium that has come and gone.  Social media seems to be the most popular mode of communication, or video logs on youtube and elsewhere.  But recently I was reflecting with Eric that I miss being able to share stories with people.  Facebook just seems like an endless string of political rants and advertisements.  Instagram is only photos (probably I can share stories there but as I feel my age, I will admit that the medium remains rather a mystery to me).  I don't like videoing myself, preferring to write instead of talk.  In some ways, blogging used to be like my journals, and I miss that.  How do I share my accomplishments of reading over 6000 pages of Brandon Sanderson in 2025?  Or making an awesome new noodle recipe?  Or getting close to throwing the Ring into Mount Doom (on my epic walking app)?  They are small and basically insignificant moments...except for me.  And perhaps it's arrogance to think to share them with people, but maybe this helps me feel connected.

So for 2026, I'm setting a goal of trying to blog several times per month.  Maybe no one will read them (certainly no one is checking our blog regularly after 5+ years of inactivity!).  But I'm trying this little experiment for me, because I think it will be good for me to write again.

Happy new year, all.

The Ten Best Books I Read in 2025

For the 7th year in a row, I'm posting the ten best books that I read in 2025. I'm posting them in the order that I read them, regardless of publication date or preference within the Top Ten. I've been thinking a lot this year about the virtues of re-reading books. As the years go by, it seems more likely that I will find enjoyment and wisdom in re-reading something that I've loved before, rather than another new read. This however, is a bit of a challenge in making a book list, since I could easily have a Top Ten that were books that everyone already knew were great. So, there is a bit of fudging on that front, but hopefully the list finds the median between true and interesting.

Declare by Tim Powers

This was a recommendation from Doug McKelvey that I actually finished just before January 2025, but I had already put out the 2024 list. It's an epic mid-20th century European espionage novel with an original twist. As I understand it, it is strict history (in so far as it's known for all people and events) overlaid with a battle of great spiritual forces filling in the gaps that are the key to understanding global events. It's the kind of story I hadn't ever really imagined, much less read.

The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt

Like many people, I read this and then found myself talking about it to everyone for the rest of the year. Surely I'm not done yet. Haidt does a great job talking about technology and social media and the mental illness epidemic. He's well-researched and practical. In addition to that, he opens the discussion on another aspect of current childhood life that few people are talking about, namely the lack of unsupervised free play and the way that creates anxiety by limiting opportunities for kids to learn how to navigate risk. I've learned a lot, and grown in my gratitude to get to raise my kids at Kibuye.

Surrender by Bono

I don't do a lot of audiobooks (not having a commute), but I slowly worked my way through this on occasional car trips to Bujumbura, and I'm so glad I chose the audiobook. Bono is (obviously) a fantastic reader, and there are song clips and various near-dramatizations throughout. Turns out he's as poetic a writer as he is lyricist. What can I say? He's a fascinating guy, and a deep dive into his life story is worth it on many levels.

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

I love the great Russian novels, and this is arguably the last giant I had never read. It was already on deck when my teammate Sam confided (independently from me) that he was wanting to read it, so the experience was richer for chances to get together and chat about it. It's famously epic, which means the deep character profiles, world events, and long story lines that Tolstoy does so well. It seems like the gift of Russian literature to the world is a full view of what it means to be human.

He [God] is not to be apprehended by reason, but by life.

...the despairing vehemence with which people bewail disasters they feel they have themselves caused.

Not the Way It's Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin by Cornelius Plantinga

Ben Roose brought this to Kibuye, and I realized that I had read (and remembered) an essay by C. Plantinga on addiction and sin over twenty years ago, and still remembered it. "A book about sin" sounds boring, and it might be if it wasn't so well-written and so crazy insightful. I don't know what else to say. Just sample some quotes:

We ought to pay evildoers, including ourselves, the “intolerable compliment” of taking them seriously as moral agents, of holding them accountable for their wrongdoing.

[we live] in a culture that teaches him that we are our own creators. A person who has succumbed to an addiction thus imagines a derisive question coming at him from his culture: What kind of moron creates but cannot control himself?

Since faith fastens on God’s benevolence, it yields gratitude, which in turn sponsors risk taking in the service of others. Grateful people want to let themselves go; faithful people dare to do it. People tethered to God by faith can let themselves go because they know they will get themselves back.

Yumi and the Nightmare Painter by Brandon Sanderson

2025 was kind of the year of Brandon Sanderson in the McLaughlin house. I don't usually go in for the long epic fantasy (with the obvious exception of the next book in this list), but I read three stand-alone Sanderson novels this year, and they were all great. His imagination and world-building is just skillful and fun. His plot turns can be complicated, but he knows how much explanation the reader needs. "Yumi" is the story of two-worlds inexplicably linked, and it stays interesting until the end.

Return of the King by JRR Tolkien

I (re)read aloud all three Lord of the Rings books this year with Toby. I doubt anyone will read this and say "Never heard of that! Maybe I should check my local library." But I'd be lying if I didn't say this was one of the best I read this year. Interestingly, in Roald Dahl's Matilda, little precocious Matilda reads Tolkien and asks the librarian for "more like that". Matilda is disappointed with all the other fantasy books. Then the librarian gives her War and Peace, and Matilda exclaims that that's exactly what she was looking for. At the very least, Tolkien is still in a class of his own.

Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach… Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master’s ceased to trouble him.

Wonder makes the words of praise louder.

Candle Island by Lauren Wolk

Wolk's Beyond the Bright Sea made this list in 2021. Alyssa brought Candle Island  to Kibuye, and I loved it. The setting is an island community in Maine. The main character is reminiscent of Gary Schmidt's protagonists in terms of being way more mature than any twelve-year old I know, but somehow that doesn't bother me at all. The characters and the setting would have been enough, but it's got some great plot twists as well. It's enough to make me go and read anything else Wolk has written.

Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois

Years ago, in a webinar that hosted my friend Jeff Liou, there was a question to an expert panel about a good book to read to understand American race relations. Someone suggested The Souls of Black Folk, and I've been thinking about it since then. Published in 1903, I expected interesting history (the Civil War being still in relatively recent memory) and some enduring wisdom. I got that (including a new appreciation for my native Nashville's Fisk University), but what I didn't expect was a beautiful and poetic voice.

How curious a land is this, - how full of untold story, of tragedy and laughter, and the rich legacy of human life; shadowed with a tragic past, and big with future promise!

The human spirit in this new world has expressed itself in vigor and ingenuity rather than in beauty.

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

This debut novel was a re-read for me, and it's been a family favorite for several years. The story of two magicians' contest to train up the better protégé results in a truly unforgettable setting. Everything about La Cirque de Rêves makes you desperately want to go there. If Morgenstern never produces another masterpiece, she's at least go this one.

Honorable Mentions

Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson

Remember Death by Matt McCullough

Sunrise on the Reaping by Suzanne Collins

The Mind of the Maker by Dorothy Sayers

The Monk of Mokha by Dave Eggers

Ghost, Patina, Sunny, Lu (series) by Jason Reynolds

Zero at the Bone by Christian Wiman

Orthodoxy by GK Chesterton (re-read)

Three Days in June by Anne Tyler

The Chosen by Chaim Potok (re-read)

Reading Genesis by Marilynne Robinson

The Miracles of Christ by David Redding

2025 Newbery Medal Winner: 

The First State of Being by Erin Entrada Kelly

Continuing Rachel and I's longstanding tradition of reading and ranking every Newbery Medal winner, this year's winner is Erin Entrada Kelly's second win, continuing to reinforce our belief that, if you win twice, one will be notably better than the other. This is the good one. Honestly, it could have been Top 10, but wanted to vary it up. The story is set on the even of Y2K (which is fun nostalgia for us), and then the characters get a visitor from the future. Super fun. I like to read the runners-up to see if I agree, and this year I also read Across So Many Seas, which was good, but I think the right choice was made.

The Ten Best Books I Read in 2024

For the sixth year running (see below for the past five years), I enjoyed reflecting on the best books I read in the past year, regardless of the year of their publication. 4 novels, 4 non-fiction books, a collection of poetry, and a graphic novel biography. That probably represents my reading fairly well. 

Per usual, the ten books will be followed by a list of honorable mentions and a comment on this year's Newbery Medal winner. Then I'm adding a category for "Best Re-Read", since I don't really know how to rank re-reads, since if it was good enough to read again, it's probably usually a top ten read.

Pay Attention, Carter Jones by Gary Schmidt

Gary Schmidt has appeared in these lists more than any other author, so I'll continue to bang my drum, arguing that he may be the best living author of young adult books. And my family generally agrees. I read three of his books this year, and this was my favorite. Per the normal, a bright young protagonist finds his way through family struggles via a wise mentor and some cultural artifact, in this case, the game of cricket and other Britishisms. It was the usual brilliant mix of sad, clever, hilarious and redemptive. And it made Toby and Ben and I want to go watch a cricket match last August in Bath with our friend Simon.

Lorna Donne by RD Blackmore

This is one of the great forgotten novels of the last few centuries, with most people thinking Lorna Doone is (only) a shortbread cookie. The story is a sprawling adventure romance in southwest England a few centuries ago when the land was threatened by bandits but upheld by deeply-rooted ordinary goodness and humility. In the end, like most novels of its era, it's mostly about its characters. This was the last book that my good friend James Paternoster recommended to me, and I'm thankful to have had the chance to discuss it with him before his passing. 

The Stranger: Meditations on the Christ by Ben Palpant

This collection of poems was left at Kibuye by Glory Guy, and it was only after I read it that I realized I knew the poet's mom, who used to live in Kenya. The poems are structured in groups following the life of Christ, even if you have to work at it sometimes to find the connection. It took me a while to get into the "rhythm" of his style, but once I did, I found myself often reading the poems to Rachel or the kids. Sometimes there was a particular reason for that, but sometimes you just want to share a good poem.

Moments like these

He rests his oars

And rides the rolling waves. 

The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer

This may be the book on this list that I keep coming back to the most in my thoughts. Comer is wise and he's very funny and easy to read. This particular read is extremely necessary for our world. A number of the points he makes were ones I had already given a lot of thought to, but he fleshes them out practically, and his focus on slowness was very welcome.

The End of the Christian Life by J. Todd Billings

I'm in the middle of reading my third book this year about death and the Christian life, and it has brought me strange comfort and focus. But that seems to be the message of all three of these books, that thinking well about death is key for thinking well about life. This was probably my favorite, recommended by Matthew Loftus for its tension of Death the enemy and Death the friend.

Lifting the Veil by Malcolm Guite

I've been enjoying Guite's poems for a few years now, but this is the first time I've read anything else of his. It's a short book, brought to my attention by fellow Serger Bob Phillips in the Netherlands. Guite's main point (in my opinion) is that imagination provides a way of knowing and understanding that is additive to reason and rationality, but that Christian faith has misunderstood and de-emphasized this role of imagination. Appropriate to his subject matter, Guite leans heavily on some beautiful artistic examples, and now I'm eager to go back to William Blake again.

The Samurai by Shusaku Endo

Since reading Silence a few years ago, I've been eager to read more Endo, but interestingly, it seems nigh impossible to find ebooks of his works, and thus I've been limited in Burundi. However, this summer while in the UK, Bob Heppe had several of his novels, and I was glad to borrow what is often considered Endo's greatest masterpiece. Like Silence, The Samurai is set is set in the 17th century as Japan is clamping down on Christianity. The plot is thick and the characters are deep. The hope that is offered is beautifully subtle, which of course, can make you imagine that hope is just about anywhere.

The Faithful Spy by John Hendrix

Last year, I wrote about Hendrix as the cartoonist for The Holy Ghost. He has done a number of graphic novel biographies, and I also enjoyed his new one on Tolkien and Lewis this year. The Faithful Spy is about Dietrich Bonhoeffer, particularly about how this German pastor got caught up in a plot to assassinate Hitler. Fascinating, and both very well told and well drawn.

The Medieval Mind of CS Lewis by Jason Baxter

I've read several books about the disenchantment of the world, and they describe that part fairly well. But when they get to the re-enchantment part, they have seemed rather, well, disenchanting. How to re-enchant the modern world? Fiction is certainly an important piece of this, but this book provides a pretty great non-fiction piece, as Russell Moore suggested in his recommendation of Baxter's book. I've read a lot of Lewis this year, and this book is a great exploration of how Lewis was shaped by a medieval world view. But more generally, the book is quite good at describing how the medieval mind viewed an "enchanted" world, providing some great food for thought on a different way to see the world all around us. 

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

When we moved to Africa fifteen years ago as missionaries, this was a major cultural connection point for a lot of people. "Have you read the Poisonwood Bible?" Rachel had read it, but I never had. It's really a fantastic novel. Sweeping, complex story, and fantastic characters. It has its own take on Africa and US involvement in Congo, but it's not essentially anti-Christianity or even anti-missionary. Even though the story didn't feel much like our experiences of Africa, some of the superficial descriptions of Congo felt pretty similar to Burundi.

Honorable Mentions:

The Weight of Glory by CS Lewis (re-read)

Baking Cakes in Kigali by Gaile Parkin

How Far to the Promised Land? by Esau McCaulley

A Burning in My Bones by Winn Collier

Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie

The Lost Art of Dying by Lydia Dugdale

The Eyes and the Impossible by Dave Eggers

I Cheerfully Refuse by Leif Enger

Just Like That by Gary Schmidt

The Many Assassinations of Samir, Seller of Dreams by Daniel Nayeri

The Mythmakers by John Hendrix

2024 Newbery Medal Winner:

The Eyes and the Impossible by Dave Eggers

Having read and ranked all the Newbery Medal winners, Rachel and I make a point to read the new one every year. This year's book is a great story, and Dave Eggers is an amazing author. But it is a surprising choice, because it's really just kind of a nice story from the imaginative perspective of a dog. Hard to understand why this was selected above all others, but it is a good read.

Best Re-Read in 2024:

A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken

Rachel and I read this for the first time over fifteen years ago, and I've often wondered if I would still appreciate it now. After visiting Oxford this summer, it seemed like a good time to re-read it. Vanauken tells the story of his love for his wife, their adventures together, their unlikely conversion to Christianity while studying at Oxford, their friendship with CS Lewis, and the grief of losing his wife at a young age. It's still beautiful and wise. 

The Ten Best Books I Read in 2023

 This is now the fifth year that I have published this list of my Top Ten books from the past year. I have fun writing it, and I enjoy hearing from people who consider reading from it. I think one of my advantages to be that I don't just read stuff published this year, so often the list spans decades if not centuries. Scroll down for 2019-2022's lists. A list of honorable mentions is at the bottom. Here are the books in the order that I read them.

Reading While Black by Esau McCaulley

I would put myself with many white Christian readers as having undervalued the unique contributions of authors of color in general, but particularly of the African American church and its rich legacy. Esau McCaulley is brilliant, and he is devoted to the Bible. The chance to look at biblical themes through his eyes as a representation of the eyes of the African American church community is a gift to all who want to understand the Bible better.

Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus by Nabeel Qureshi

The title and sub-title are pretty self-explanatory. This combination of autobiography and apologetic for Christianity is a good analysis, but I think its power is even more in the late Qureshi's love for his Middle Eastern, and even particularly Islamic, heritage. Thus it helped me understand some things about Christianity and Islam, but it also gives us a model for how to engage across differences with love.

The Common Rule by Justin Whitmel Earley

This is the kind of book that I might read, but would generally be very unlikely to put in a top ten list. Justin Whitmel Earley was a missionary and is now a lawyer who wrestles with anxiety. Implementing "habits of purpose" have been instrumental for his own spiritual and emotional health. The book is structured a bit like a corporate seminar (which is why I would usually be averse to its style), but his personal candor gives the book an organic feel. Each of the 8 habits are sound. "Scripture Before Phone" has been the most enduring for me.

"There is no love of neighbor without attention to neighbor."

The Last Mapmaker by Christina Soontornvat

This Newbery runner-up (see below for thoughts on the winner) is a Thai-inspired adventurous fantasy on the high seas off the edges of the known maps. To that end, it has a bit of a Dawn Treader feel. Less magical, but still a lot of fun.

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman

This one is more and more known, especially with the Tom Hanks Americanized film version. The novel is a brilliant and beautiful look into the life of an old curmudgeon. Everyone knows someone like that, and most everyone needs to understand them better, and this book is helpful to that end. After reading Beartown last year, I've decided that Backman has maybe the best masculine protagonists around. I say "masculine" instead of "male" because so many male literary protagonists are mirrors of the author: sensitive, well-read, maybe misunderstood by the masculine culture around them. Backman's men would probably never read a book much less write one, but he makes them come alive.

I didn't think I'd want to see the movie, but Rachel talked me into it. It's actually also great, but read the book first, because as my brother-in-law Brian says: "Books are better."

Looking for the Hidden Folk: How Iceland's Elves Can Save the Earth by Nancy Marie Brown

This one was compliments of a Russell Moore podcast, and I was intrigued because we were spending a few days in Iceland last summer. Apparently, the modern secular state of Iceland has a shocking number of people who sincerely believe in the reality of elves. Brown, instead of viewing this with disdain, stretching our thinking about how we understand what is real (including a great discussion about dark matter), and asks whether we need such stretching in order to live well. Brown seems to blame Christianity for science and how it sucks the wonder from the world, whereas others blame Christians for anti-scientific credulity. Regardless, I find myself bringing up thoughts from this book quite often.

The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury

I read this science-fiction classic because Maggie said it was great, and she was right. I hadn't read Bradbury since junior high, and never this one. It's a loose collection of stories, but each of them stands on both its meaning and on Bradbury's beautiful language. Just like I said last year for The Last Cuentista, Sci-fi shines when its strange stories help us better understand how to be human.

The Holy Ghost by John Hendrix

Thanks to James Paternoster for a book that I would never have imagine existed. John Hendrix is a PCA elder and a design professor. This panel-comic collection features an overly confident badger, an angry doubtful squirrel, and the Holy Ghost as...a blue ghost. It nails (and possibly exceeds, given its title character) the capacity shown in Calvin and Hobbes to be both funny and profound in a comic. You can't help but wonder if you're going to find sacrilege, but in the end you find orthodoxy.

All My Knotted-Up Life: A Memoir by Beth Moore

I've never read any of Moore's bible studies (because I'm a guy?), but hearing about her public life in the last few years has been as unavoidable as it has been difficult and admirable. So I was eager to hear her story. What I didn't anticipate is just how great a writer she is. Her writing craft is funny, insightful and gracious. Beth Moore is a valuable voice for these days of American Christianity and I'm so glad she told her story courageously and well.

The Gospel in a Pluralist Society by Lesslie Newbigin

Newbigin is one of those giants of 20th century theology that I've heard quoted for years and never read. Thanks to Steve Telian for giving me this copy which finally pushed me to read him for myself. Newbigin criticizes the limits and inconsistency of pluralism as a guiding cultural philosophy and talks profoundly about how Christians should live within such a culture.

"It is often said that the Church ought to address itself to the real questions which people are asking. That is to misunderstand the mission of Jesus and the mission of the church. The world's questions are not the questions which lead to life. What really needs to be said is that where the Church is faithful to its Lord, there the powers of the kingdom are present and people begin to ask the question to which the gospel is the answer. And that, I suppose, is why the letters of St. Paul contain so many exhortations to faithfulness but no exhortations to be active in mission."

Honorable Mentions:

Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan

Freewater by Amina Luqman-Dawson

The Gospel Comes with a House Key by Rosaria Butterfield

Rembrandt is in the Wind by Russ Ramsey

The German Wife by Kelly Rimmer

The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

Uncommon Ground by Timothy Keller and John Inazu

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins

The Labors of Hercules Beal by Gary Schmidt

Confronting Christianity by Rebecca McLaughlin

Finally, since Rachel and I have read and ranked all the Newbery Medal winners ever, here are some thoughts on the 2023 winner:

Freewater by Amina Luqman-Dawson

This runaway slave story is uniquely subversive in that the slaves of the American South are running away, not to the North, but to an impenetrable swamp where they have constructed a secret culture of their own. It's a fascinating setting which has at least some historical roots (though how much is difficult to determine). The inevitable young protagonists of this Newbery would do better to listen more to their elders, but it really was a great read (see Honorable Mentions above).

The Ten Best Books I Read in 2022

For the fourth year in a row, I'm closing out the year by sharing the ten best books I read this year.  Scroll down to find the lists for 2021, 2020, and 2019.  I've enjoyed hearing from those of you who took this list to the bank.  Generally, I keep a chronological list of everything I read, adding a * to any book that I thought was just great, and it's usually about ten books each year.  This year, I either read a lot of great books or my * standard is slipping.  So I had to do some winnowing to get down to ten, but I've included the other * books at the end in an Honorable Mention category.  Here they are, in the order in which I read them.

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

Written in 2014, this novel follows the world through a novel flu epidemic that wipes out 99% of the population.  I got it a few years ago, but needless to say, didn't have the heart to read it during the peak of the Covid-19 pandemic.  With an amazingly written, interwoven plot, the primary thread follows a traveling Shakespeare troop that plods up and down the now-wilderness of the Lake Michigan shoreline.  One review said something about, as dystopia goes, this is the first novel that is more about living than surviving, and I would agree.

Everything Happens for a Reason (and Other Lies I've Loved) by Kate Bowler

Kate Bowler is a Duke Divinity faculty member whose research has centered on the prosperity gospel.  Then, at age 35 with a young son, she was diagnosed with stage IV cancer, and this book records her own struggles with living out incredible suffering.  She is insightful, incredibly nuanced, sassy, and sympathetic to a very large variety of people.  She is the kind of witness that you want to listen to and learn from.

It was the sin of arrogance, of becoming impervious to life itself.  I failed to love what was present and decided to love what was possible instead.

The Last Cuentista by Donna Barba Higuera

In the last four years of making this list, this is the first time that the Newbery Medal winner has earned a spot in the top ten.  It's probably the best Newbery since 2011's Moon Over Manifest.  It's an odd hybrid of Latin-x culture ("cuentista" being "storyteller" in Spanish) and Sci-Fi, as it follows a ship of people seeking a new world home after Earth is struck by a comet.  But it totally works.  I'm not a huge Sci-Fi fan generally, but this is the genre at its best, dealing with big life questions that pit our desire to be safe against our desire to be fully human.

Okay for Now by Gary Schmidt

I had previously read Schmidt's Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy and The Wednesday Wars (top ten 2020 list), but Okay for Now cemented my opinion that Gary Schmidt is simply one of America's best young adult novelists.  I'll read anything he writes (and I read two more of his novels this year to make good on that).  How can a book about an adolescent boy be so sad and funny and happy and heartbreaking all at the same time?  (My only suggestion is that the publisher take a different approach to his cover art, which makes his books look fluffy.)

Hind's Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard

I read this book back in college and loved the simple way in which in made me reimagine my life as a journey.  Its literary style is in no way impressive, but while visiting the Pyrenees this summer, I was reminded of it, and decided to read it together with Maggie.  The allegory still holds up well, and the depiction of the Christ-figure Shepherd is really joyful.

Beartown by Fredrik Backman

This was recommended by our teammate Glory.  It's the story of a rural Swedish hockey town whose hockey hopes (or obsession) are pitted against an act of great violence in their community.  I have never had a book on this top ten list that I almost stopped reading halfway through.  It was difficult to understand just why this book was so hard to read at certain points, but I think it's fundamentally because Backman's characters are so nuanced that they feel so real.

Under the Unpredictable Plant by Eugene Peterson

As predicted, Eugene Peterson made the list for the third year in a row.  Scott Myhre recommended this one, and it is a great exploration of Jonah, but more than that, a thorough look at pursuing holiness in vocational ministry (for him as a pastor, but for me as a missionary, and many others, I'm sure).

What I love is the creativity.  And what I know is that I can never be involved in creativity except by entering the mess.

Becoming Friends of Time: Disability, Timefullness and Gentle Discipleship by John Swinton

I would have never found this book if not for James Paternoster giving it to me, and I'm so glad he did.  John Swinton is a theologian at Aberdeen Divinity School, but he is also a mental health nurse.  This book is somewhat academic, and thus not for everyone, but I just loved it.  Swinton describes how modern Western notions of Time are not necessarily biblical, and how such notions marginalize those with profound disabilities.  He then explores how being with people with disabilities can help us all learn more about Biblical timefullness.

As an aspect of God's love, the purpose of time is to facilitate and sustain love.

The reality is that, when time is love, speed equals less of it.

Everything Sad is Untrue by Daniel Nayeri

Daniel Nayeri tells the basically autobiographical story of growing up in Iran, and his mom converting to Christianity, which led to her (along with him and his sister) fleeing the country, landing finally in the USA.  It's hilarious and bizarre and endearing and creative.  It's a fantastic American immigration story with all the tension of America being great and also not great (and not home).  Nayeri's description of his complicated relationship with his dad is depicted just as sorrowful and unique as I imagine it is.  Thanks to Clayton for recommending it.  Maggie also loved it.

Jack by Marilynne Robinson

I have read and loved Gilead, Lila, and Home by Robinson, all following the same main characters.  I was excited to read another, this time following the prodigal white preacher's son Jack in the part of the saga where he falls in love with the winsome black preacher's daughter Della in an era of St. Louis history where such a relationship was illegal.  When I was about 50 pages into the book, I was admiring (again) Robinson's craft, but feeling the weight of her long conversations and complicated characters.  But, by the end, it was simply another home run.  Marilynne Robinson is incredible.

Truth versus poetry was really no contest.

Della said, "It will be alright." And then she said, "If it isn't, what will it matter?"  True enough.

Honorable Mentions:

Nevermoor by Jessica Townsend

Educated by Tara Westover

Bullies and Saints by John Dickson

The Gift of Disillusionment by Peter Greer and Chris Horst

Papa

Seven days ago, my grandpa, Eugene Frank Blanski, the namesake for my own middle name, passed away at the age of 90 after 4 years of being a widower, and only 10 days of a battle with cancer.  Today, I am in a hotel in Bujumbura, ready to board three flights to get me back the Minnesota to be with my family during his funeral.  I am so thankful that I got to spend 40 years with him, and that all three of my children knew and loved him.

In 2012, my family came to stay with he and my grandma at their apartment in Minneapolis.  He was about 80 years old at the time, years after a big heart bypass and knee arthroplasties, but he laid down on the carpet, wrestling and tickling little Maggie and Ben, and I'm not sure which of the three of them had the best time.

When they were done, I watched him quietly crawl backwards into the adjoining sitting room.  I peered around the corner to see him bracing himself against a bookcase to get himself back up into an upright position.  It wasn't easy and he almost slipped at one point, hitting his forearm again the shelf.  Seeing that he was again standing, I went back and sat down in the living room.  In a couple minutes, he reappeared and called me into the other room.

He wanted me to look at his arm.  Between his paper-thin skin and his blood thinners, there was a nasty gash, but I thought it would heal without stitches, which is what he wanted to know.  "It's the dardnest thing.  I don't know how that happened," he said.  

Of course, I knew.  And I think we both knew that telling anyone would risk others telling him that he should act his age and not try to wrestle with toddlers on the ground.  He had no regrets and no interest in getting that kind of feedback, so he stayed quiet.

Later I would read Atul Gawande's Being Mortal where he states that with advancing age, we want autonomy for ourselves, but safety for those we love.  I thought back to Papa on the carpet, Papa struggling to right himself, Papa running silly risks for the sake of being silly with my kids.  I decided then that I would keep this story for myself, and only share it after he died.

In 2018, my family had a reunion at some cabins at one of the TVA lakes that are scattered around Tennessee, invariably hilly in order to have dammed the river and made the lake in the first place.  My parents had bought a golf cart to take my grandparents around.

While putting my shoes on in our cabin, I heard my mom shriek, and I ran outside to see something I had never seen or thought I would see: My grandpa at 87 sprinting full tilt down the steep forested slope between our cabin and the next.  He had decided to forgo the golf cart and just take the hill slowly.  But then he found he was unable to stop the acceleration.  As I ran after him, I pictured him slamming into a tree and (again, the blood thinners) that would be the end.  Instead he felt on his side, dodging the forest, and landed on his back in a soft bed of leaf litter just as I careened up next to him.

After seeing that he was alright, and clearing him for cervical spine fractures, we slowly got up.  Amazingly, he got away with that stunt with only the few cuts and bruises that are in the photo above, and he was out roasting marshmallows with my niece Sierra the next night.

All that to say, I still admire his choices even if they were sometimes wrong.

Papa and I were so different.  A successful CPA who helped build his own firm, he wanted me to learn sound principals of financial management.  When I was in college, he arranged for his financial advisor (who was actually named Poindexter, a coincidence that I still find humorous) to call me in my college dorm just to ask if I had any questions about mutual funds and investment.  Neither of us really wanted to have that call, I think, but we did for Papa's sake.  Not only could I have cared less, but at that point in my life, may even have had some kind of vague moral opposition to learning financial management.

We never lived in the same state, though he and Grammy would visit often.  So why did I feel so close to this man, who was so different and often far away?  Because he loved me, and I absolutely knew it.  More than that, he approved of me, and I knew that, too.

The day after hearing about Papa's passing, I went out, as I always do a couple days a week to meet my friend Lijalem, an Ethiopian surgeon working at Kibuye, for a few minutes before heading to the hospital.  We sit on the porch of the kids' school and pray for the day of work that is before us.

He had heard that my grandpa had passed, and as he approached me, he put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a hug.  He sat down across from me, and with sorrow in his own eyes, he said, "Eric, I'm so sorry to hear about your grandpa.  Did you love him very much?"

It has been an amazing thing to be surrounded by African friends in a time of grieving.

Yes, I did love him very much.