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I have just started reading Andy Crouch’s new book Culture Making, and, for some unknown reason, I decided to start at the back, in the acknowledgments. Among the people thanked:

Keith Blount, an unapologetic English atheist, [who] created the marvelous cultural artifact call Scrivener, a program which justifies the existence of the Macintosh computer all by itself and which made completing this project an unexpected joy.

Amen, brother. Amen.

In addition to Jayber Crow, our Faculty Ministry Leadership Team is also reading Under the Unpredictable Plant by Eugene Peterson. I’m pretty excited about both this book, which uses the story of Jonah as a framework and its central idea of vocational holiness. If I had space and time, I would quote the entire introduction. Instead, here’s just a snippet.

Peterson begins by describing a crisis he faced when he was 30 years old (a symbolic age, by the way - it was the age when Hebrew priests traditionally began their service, and the age when Ezekiel and Jesus began their public ministries) and just a young pastor. He felt a chasm open between his life as a Christian and his life as a pastor, and Peterson, after a page or two, concludes that this chasm was not unique to him. One reason is the uncapitalized vocations of the pastorate.

Spiritual leadership vocations [pastors, missionaries, teachers, deacons, etc.] in America are badly undercapitalized. Far more activity is generated by them than there are resources to support them. The volume of business in religion far outruns the spiritual capital of its leaders. The initial consequence is that leaders substitute image for substance, satisfying the customer temporarily but only temporarily, on good days denying that there is any problem (easy to do, since business is so very good), on bad days hoping that someone will show up with an infusion of capital. No one is going to show up. The final consequence is bankruptcy. The bankruptcies are dismayingly frequent.

This summer, the Faculty Ministry Leadership Team (of which I’m a part) is reading two books: Under the Unpredictable Plant: An Exploration in Vocational Holiness by Eugene Peterson, and Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry.  Yesterday, I sat for a few minutes in awe of this passage from Jayber Crow, in which Jayber, the barber of a fictional Kentucky town, Port William, explain the origin of his name:

If you have lived in Port William a little more than two years, you are still, by Port William standards, a stranger, liable to to have your name mispronounced.  Crow was not a familiar name in this part of the country, and so for a long time a lot of people here called me Cray, a name that was familiar.  And though I was only twenty-two when I came to the town, many of the same ones would call me “Mr. Cray” to acknowledge that they did not know me well.  My rightful first name in Jonah, but I had not gone by that name since I was ten years old.  I had been called simply J., and that was the way I signed myself.  Once my customers took me to themselves, they called me Jaybird, and then Jayber.  Thus I became, and have remained, a possession of Port William.

I have experienced firsthand the confusion of names in small town Kentucky.  In Benton, where I grew up, “Hickerson” was not known, but “Henderson,” “Henson,” “Dickerson,” and “Nickerson” were, so I spent a fairly significant part of my childhood correcting my name on official forms of various sorts.

But notice what Berry pulls off here, with a quick series of bird images. “Crow,” of course, begins the passage.  “Jonah,” however, means “dove” in Hebrew, and “Jayber” is a derivation of “Jaybird.”  In case that was not enough, we learn on the next page that Jayber’s mother was Iona Quail.  After reading this, I sat for several minutes, letting the images come to me and imagining what they might portend for this book.

There is a nice article today on the InterVarsity website about InterVarsity’s commitment to discipleship of the mind and the importance of reading to both mental and spiritual development: Leaders Who Are Readers.  It discusses a little bit of InterVarsity’s history with books and reading, including the formation of InterVarsity Press, our ministry’s publishing arm.

Here is an example from the article showing reading in action within campus ministry:

“To encourage reading in the InterVarsity chapter on campus, I have required reading that all student leaders must complete in discipleship each semester and over the summer. The Leadership Team is reading A Long Obedience in the Same Direction: Discipleship in an Instant Society by Eugene Peterson, (InterVarsity Press),” said Tim Borgstrom, campus staff member at the University of Wisconsin—Madison.

I am encouraged by hearing this.  Peterson was a strong influence in my early Christian formation, and, along with J. I. Packer, was one of two authors that led me to consider Regent College for graduate school.

One final note about InterVarsity and reading: the first time I ever considered joining InterVarsity staff was when I discovered that staff received a discount on IVP books.  InterVarsity has an “auto-ship” program by which staff can elect to have every book published by IVP sent directly to them (you can also choose to receive a “best of” selection or only academic and reference books).  I was at our staff David McNeill’s house, and he opened up a box simply stuffed with brand-new books - I think Philip Johnson’s Defeating Darwinism by Opening Minds was included.  Soon, however, I came to see that a desire to get a great discount on books was not a good reason to enter campus ministry.

When I was a child, I visited my town library quite a bit - at least once a week, sometimes more.  I have always been a book lover, and discovering new books was one of the joys of my childhood.

Libraries back then used cards to record who had checked out the book.  When I found a new book, I could see who had read it before me, or if I had already read it and had just forgotten.  Because it was a small town, the same names kept popping up, people who shared my same interests.  Seeing their names created a virtual community.  At first, it was only other students a few years older than me; I remember when I started seeing the names of some people a couple of grades behind me.  It was both nice to see others with my interests, but also annoying to see that “some kid” had beaten me to the book.

I like used books for the same reason, especially used books in which previous owners have written their names.  While at a training event for InterVarsity last month, at our National Service Center in Madison, WI, I had the opportunity to pick up some used books that people the NSC no longer wanted.  Two of them, I found, had belonged to Pete Hammond, a gentleman I had the good fortune to have lunch with shortly before he retired.  I feel privileged to carry on the community of these books.

In a related note, Slate.com recently published a story about original editions of Shakespeare’s First Folio, which have been catalogued and tracked for hundreds of years.  Samuel Johnson apparently dribbled food on his copy.

I was never much into traditional young adult books when I was a young adult.  Instead, I spent a lot of time reading fantasy and sci-fi paperbacks cast off by my dad after he finished them, and also way too many UFO and Greek/Roman/Norse mythology books from the library (everything about my personality is now explained).  So, five or six years ago, I started reading more “young adult” books, including some classics, like Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island.

Last week, it was RLS’ Kidnapped. Originally published as a serial (which means lots of cliffhangers), it tells the story of 16-year-old David Balflour, a Scottish orphan who begins the novel seeking his wealthy uncle, whom he has never met.  Well, as you might guess from the title, not all goes well for young David.  His uncle, who turns out to be a miserly recluse, sells David to a ship bound for North America, where he is to be sold into slavery.  (The novel is set in 1752, pre-Revolution, but was written in 1886, so even then it had an air of historical fiction.)  But before they even leave the coast of Scotland, the ship is wrecked, and David finds himself thrown in with Alan “Breck” Stewart, based on an authentic historical figure, a Highland Jacobite rebel.  Balfour himself is a Lowland Whig, which means they are on opposite sides of both cultural and political fences.

If you don’t really know what a “Highland Jacobite” or “Lowland Whig” is, don’t worry: neither did I when I started the book.  But the edition I was reading included excellent historical notes, and part of RLS’ genius is his ability to flesh out political and cultural concepts in interesting characters, situations, and plot turns.  I enjoy both reading good stories and learning new things, and Kidnapped gave me both.  I gained an appreciation for Scotland as its own country, and for the cultural, religious, and political divisions in 18th-century Scotland.  If that sounds abstract, believe me, it was not: many in Kentucky are of Scots-Irish descent, and I belong to a church tradition founded by a Scots-Irish minister, so I gained a greater appreciation for the cultural roots that gave birth to both Kentucky’s culture and the Christian Church.

My wife and I recently welcomed our first son into the world, and I look forwad to sharing with him the joys of Robert Louis Stevenson’s adventure novels.

There is a new essay called The Disadvantages of an Elite Education by William Deresiewicz in The American Scholar that is making the rounds in higher education discussions.  I think the subtitle of the article sums up its thesis well:

Our best universities have forgotten that the reason they exist is to make minds, not careers

He is writing primarily about elite universities, the same ones that ESN is trying to transform.  Deresiewicz was on the faculty at Yale for 10 years, so he has some background in this.

His argument has several points, but here’s one that stuck out at me.

An elite education gives you the chance to be rich—which is, after all, what we’re talking about—but it takes away the chance not to be. Yet the opportunity not to be rich is one of the greatest opportunities with which young Americans have been blessed. We live in a society that is itself so wealthy that it can afford to provide a decent living to whole classes of people who in other countries exist (or in earlier times existed) on the brink of poverty or, at least, of indignity. You can live comfortably in the United States as a schoolteacher, or a community organizer, or a civil rights lawyer, or an artist—that is, by any reasonable definition of comfort.  [snip]

Yet it is precisely that opportunity that an elite education takes away. How can I be a schoolteacher—wouldn’t that be a waste of my expensive education? Wouldn’t I be squandering the opportunities my parents worked so hard to provide? What will my friends think? How will I face my classmates at our 20th reunion, when they’re all rich lawyers or important people in New York? And the question that lies behind all these: Isn’t it beneath me? So a whole universe of possibility closes, and you miss your true calling.

I think Deresiewicz glosses over another reason why elite universities rob you of the opportunite “not to be rich”: student loans. I was accepted to Yale when I was a senior in high school, but even with financial aid, I would have need to take out something like $20,000 per year in student loans to make it work.  The University of Louisville offered me a full ride; between UofL and my master’s degree at Regent (where I also received a scholarship, and where my parents graciously paid for my thesis), I was able to complete my entire education to date with less than $10,000 total in student loans.  My senior year in high school, for some unknown reason, I was convinced that I wanted to be a high school principal (I still don’t know why), and the prospect of starting a career as a teacher with over $100,000 in student loan debt did not appeal to me.

Over at Slate.com, Meghan O’Rourke has a nice tribute to Anne of Green Gables, which has been published in a new Modern Library edition.  O’Rourke does a good job, but she starts her article playing devil’s advocate: why should Anne of Green Gables, of all things, receive this kind of treatment?

To some, this canonical promotion of a writer who would probably now be classified as a Y.A. (young adult) author might seem preposterous. To certain left-leaning cultural theorists who won’t embrace a heroine with a less-than-revolutionary CV—Anne, once the Island’s best young scholar, chooses to become a devoted wife and mother of six—the Modern Library’s decision may appear to be a reactionary cave-in to nostalgic sentimentality.

Compare this to Deresiewicz’s point about elite education: using a bright mind, or an elite education, to become something as pedestrian as a mother is, well, “wasteful,” when you could be doing the “real work” of becoming rich or “successful.”  There’s nothing wrong with being a banker, hedge fund manager, or what have you, but let’s be very careful here.  The Victorians elevated motherhood to an idol; we have lowered to a calling of last resort.  I had a feminist professor in college who liked to read aloud articles that described how much a mother would be paid if all of her jobs were added up (e.g. chaffeur, personal shopper, maid, etc.).  I think she thought she was being flattering to mothers by noting their worth.  And she was, but she was also buying into our society’s preoccupation with salary as a measure of importance.

“Favorite books” is a stand-by question for personal information, and I see “The Bible” listed on many of these.  Recently, I was reading a profile of a professional basketball player in ESPN the Magazine.  When they asked for his favorite book, he said something like, “The Bible. But I don’t really read much of anything.  Oops…I’d better not say that, I’m working with Read to Achieve [the NBA's literacy charity].” 

When people say that their favorite book is the Bible, do they mean that the Bible is a book they read regularly, that has lots of underlined passages, that they treasure in their personal library? Or is it a code for “I’m a Christian,” even if they haven’t opened their Bible in years? 

One of the books on my shelf to read is How the University Works: Higher Education at the Low-Wage Nation by Marc Bousquet, a professor of English at Santa Clara who blogs at howtheuniversityworks.com and the Chronicle of Higher Education’s Brainstorm blog. I’m looking forward to reading the book, which examines systemic problems in higher education.  Here’s a brief blurb from the back:

Burdened by debt, millions of undergraduates work multiple part-time jobs - but quit before they earn a degree.  Meanwhile college presidents, basketball coaches, and corporate interests rake in millions, even at schools where fewer than half of students earn a degree in six years. Read the rest of this entry »

Sphere: Related Content

Why Church Matters: Worship, Ministry, and Mission in Practice by Jonathan R. Wilson bridges the gap between theologians of the church and practitioners of the church.  Though the book is short (158 pp.), Wilson’s ambition is large:

In this book I intend to give a relatively comprehensive account of the practices of the church: the role of the pastor, the proclamation of the gospel, the celebration of the sacraments, worship, evangelism, discipline, and many more activities are developed as practices.

“Practice” is an important word to Wilson.  By “practice,” he means regularly developed, intentional acts that create and shape a culture or community.  He includes worship, communion, baptism, discipleship, preaching, and other acts of the church. Read the rest of this entry »