I hate to do it, but I need to put Flotsam and Jetsam on hiatus for a while. I have a few other projects pressing, several of which you should be hearing about over the next few weeks. So I need to carve out a little extra space. I’ll still try to post interesting links and pictures on occasion, but F&J is going to hibernate at least until April.

Sorry for ruining your morning. Please don’t take your anger and frustration out on the people around you. They probably deserve it. But try not to do it anyway.

But I wonder if there’s another reason.

Most kids love fiction. Even the ones who don’t like reading still enjoy having a story read to them. They know how to lose themselves in the narrative and explore this new world the author has created. So it doesn’t seem like we need to learn how to enjoy a good story.

But maybe we can forget.

Alan Jacobs has an interesting section in his book The Pleasures of Reading in a Age of Distraction where he discusses this very thing. He argues that different kinds of writing require different kinds of reading. You don’t read a novel the same way you do a poem or a theology book. But, this means that reading fiction is a particular skill, distinct from those required for reading other genres. And most skills atrophy if not used regularly. You may not ever forget how to ride a bike entirely, but spend several years away from one, and I bet you won’t be as comfortable on a bike as when you were a kid. Maybe reading fiction is the same way.

If he’s right, focusing exclusively on non-fiction is like exercising regularly, but with only your right arm. The muscles on that arm grow large and sharply defined, making it useful for a whole range of activities. But the neglected left deteriorates into something good only for keeping your hand attached to the rest of your body.

This may be an apt description of many academics, people with finely tuned skills at reading non-fiction, but whose fiction skills have atrophied through neglect. And Jacobs uses Charles Darwin to illustrate this problem. Here is Darwin’s situation in Darwin’s own words:

My mind seems to have become a kind of machine for grinding general laws out of large collections of facts, but why this should have caused the atrophy of that part of the brain alone, on which the higher tastes depend, I cannot conceive. A man with a mind more highly organised or better constituted than mine, would not, I suppose, have thus suffered; and if I had to live my life again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week; for perhaps the parts of my brain now atrophied would thus have been kept active through use. The loss of these tastes is a loss of happiness, and may possibly be injurious to the intellect, and more probably to the moral character, by enfeebling the emotional part of our nature.

Darwin was a lopsided weightlifter. Are you?

So, according to Jacobs, it’s entirely possible that one of the reasons people don’t read fiction is because they’ve lost the ability enjoy doing so. It’s like trying to throw a ball with a hand atrophied from disuse: awkward, uncomfortable, and ultimately unsuccessful. Who would enjoy that?

But the only solution is to begin exercising that neglected left arm. I can’t promise you’ll enjoy it at first. It may feel more like getting back on your bike after many years: wobbly, uncertain, and somewhat painful. But give it time. I could be wrong, but I think the child who loved hearing stories is still there, waiting to meet new people and explore new worlds again.

[You might also be interested in 6 Reasons You Should "Waste" Your Time Reading Fiction.]

worst tip ever

Good Reads

• Always Mardi Gras and Never Easter: A cross-shaped Christianity might leave behind those seeking a civil religious cover for their wild Bacchus worship or their rigid Stoic legalism. But it might prompt a world gorged on riotous living to seek the more permanent things instead.

• Religion for Everyone: The decline of religion in the West has brought a decline in community spirit. Could the secular world draw useful lessons from religious life? Alain de Botton offers new ways to find shared meaning.

• Love Your (Theological) Enemies: I find it hard enough to love the people I agree with. So how can I love someone on the other side, especially when the things that divide us are theological principles that really matter?

• An Open Letter to Praise Bands: It seems to me that you are often simply co-opted into a practice without being encouraged to reflect on its rationale, its “reason why.” In other words, it seems to me that you are often recruited to “lead worship” without much opportunity to pause and reflect on the nature of “worship” and what it would mean to “lead.”

Other Info

• Lent FAQ: From Mardi Gras to Holy Week, everything you need to know about the season of Lent.

• How Much Would It Cost to Build the Death Star? I’m guessing, a lot.

 Just for Fun     

• And here’s a great way to make sure that your slinky gets enough exercise.

Lately I’ve been reflecting on whether the last two years of blogging have been worth it. And, although it’s taken a lot of time, I’m convinced that the answer is yes. I’ve already commented on how I think blogging has made me a better writer and a better teacher. Today I’d like to explain why I think that blogging has made me a better person.

1. Community

I’m a shameless introvert. You might not pick up on this if you saw me in a crowd since I inherited from my dad the ability to operate well in social settings, even as I eagerly anticipate a return to the warm embrace of my quiet office. It’s not that I don’t like people. I just like them better when they’re not around.

I really enjoy being alone.

Although I’ve come to see that it’s okay to be an introvert, I’m still aware that I need to be careful with this side of my personality. It would be easy for me to retreat within myself, allowing introversion to devolve into isolation.

Blogging helps draw me out of my shell, bringing me back into contact with these strange creatures that we call humans, creatures made in the image of God. Through blogging, I’ve developed relationships and engaged in conversations that would never have been possible otherwise. It’s a weird kind of community–one that should never replace the fleshy, messy, and beautiful community that we must enter into with the people around us–but it’s still community in a very real sense. And, since God created us to live in community, I think blogging has, in a very real sense, helped me be the kind of person God wants me to be.

2. Charity

I realize that charity is a bad word today. Charity is something that you get when you can’t take care of yourself. Charity is what strong, capable people give to weak, dependent people. At its worst, charity dehumanizes by stripping away responsibility and stifling growth.

But charity also has a different and far richer meaning: a “benevolent goodwill toward or love of humanity.” Here there is no notion of stronger/weaker, independent/dependent, giver/receiver. There is only goodwill: a desire to see everyone thrive.

It’s in this sense that I think blogging has been good for me. It’s easy for academia to have a restricted focus, sharing its resources with the small number of students and fellow academics blessed with the opportunity to enter its cloistered halls. It doesn’t have to be that way, but it’s a constant temptation.

Blogging presses in precisely the opposite direction, scattering its resources to the wind, trusting that somewhere they will take root, be fruitful, and multiply, recognizing as well that we have at least as much to receive as we have to give in the exchange. I am not just a charitable giver, but a needy receiver as well.

At its best, blogging is a form of goodwill.

3. Humility

Anyone familiar with the blogosphere might think this one a little odd. How can blogging foster humility? Isn’t blogging necessarily about putting yourself and your ideas on display, promoting yourself as someone worth hearing? And doesn’t the blogosphere thrive on arrogance, argument, and antagonism? Isn’t blogging the antithesis of humility?

To be honest, I resonate with these questions and the concerns they raise. Like the force, blogging has a dark side.

But so does any form of human expression.

Teaching, painting, writing, drawing, preaching, blogging: these are all ways of communicating what you think, believe, and feel. And, like all human endeavors in a broken world, they are liable to corruption. They express pride, anger, and hatred just as easily as they do beauty, humility, love, and wisdom. But that doesn’t mean we should avoid them. Far from it! But we use them with eyes wide open, checking daily to see that we are using them appropriately.

Blogging has helped me develop greater humility because it’s made me more sensitive to the fact that every act of self-communication can become an opportunity for self-glorification.

4. Vision

I live in the Pacific Northwest region of the United States of America. Although I travel quite a bit, I still spend most of my time locked away in one small portion of a much larger world. That’s both energizing and limiting: energizing in that location provides the context within which community flourishes, limiting in that it necessarily restricts your vision of the world.

Done well, the internet can be a great place for increasing vision, giving you a deeper sense of what people are like in different places, stretching and shaping you by their unique understanding of the world and their place in it. Granted, the internet also fosters superficial generalizations that can flatten your view of the world and merely confirm what you already believed. But that’s not necessary.

Blogging has been a great way of increasing my vision. This is particularly true of my vision of the church. I spend most of my time within a particular segment of Protestant evangelicalism. And I don’t mind. That’s my church home, and I love it. But blogging has given me a way of hearing directly from other parts of God’s people. I hear from those traditions indirectly all the time in the books and articles that I read. But blogging offers a kind of immediacy and engagement that is lacking in many other media.

Blogging stretches your vision.

I’m sure that I could come up with more if I got creative. But you get the point. Someday I hope to be a “good” person. God tells me that he’s working on it and that he’ll finish up down the road. Until then, I’ll just keep working on “better.” And, for now, blogging helps. If that ever changes, it will be time to stop.

Good Reads

• The Forgotten Influence of Martin Luther: At the time of his death he left a world turned upside down. There were lifetimes of work left to be done, but Luther would have to leave it to be finished by those who would follow after him and carry on what he had started. Today, 466 years after that stroke, the voice of Luther still rings through the church.

• When Should a Leader Leave?: I would never pretend to know the will of God for leaders. Indeed I am reticent even to suggest these reasons lest someone grasp one or more and leave his or her position of leadership prematurely. Nevertheless I interviewed dozens of leaders I respect. One of the simple questions I asked them was: How did you know it was time to leave your previous position of leadership?

• Miracles in the Bible and Today: Most stunning to me on a personal level were sincere eyewitness claims from people that I or my wife have long known and trusted, including everything from cures of blindness to restoration from apparent death.

• The True Story of the First Crusade (NYT): That story, and the papal authority it underlined, shaped the next 500 years of European history. Even today, the idea at the center of the crusades, that religion has long been at the heart of the East-West divide, drives foreign policy from Washington to Islamabad. But the real story is much more complicated, and much more earthly, than most people recognize.

Other Info

• Does Wikipedia Have an Accuracy Problem? (The Atlantic): Yes, but only because history is in a constant state of revision.

• Nomophobia – fear of being without your phone – is on the rise (LA Times)

 Just for Fun     

• Travel the World with These 10 Time-Lapse Videos. Here’s the first.

Matt Mikalatos is starting a new series on “translating” the gospels for people who have them so many times that they need some help hearing them again for the first time.

It looks like it will be a fabulous series. So follow along and offer your thoughts/comments. 

Here’s how he starts off the series.

I grew up in church, and frankly, I love it. I know that’s not cool right now, and I don’t care. Don’t worry, it will come back into style.

One side effect of growing up in Christian culture can be a certain contemptuous familiarity with the Bible. I remember impatiently tapping my feet when we trotted out the Christmas story, begging for it to end so we could tear into the presents. I remember playing “Bible Trivial Pursuit” in sixth grade and thinking to myself, “I know everything there is to know about the Bible, except how to pronounce some of the names.” I knew all the answers because they had been provided for me, like an answer key at the back of the book (or, more likely, in the margins and footnotes). There weren’t questions I needed to wrestle with or even consider.

Over time, the weight of all those flannelgraphs and picture Bibles and trivia games and cinematic portrayals and the occasional agenda-driven Bible study flattened Jesus out. It washed the color from the stories. Knowing all the answers made the Gospels little more than thinly disguised theological textbooks, where I knew what would happen next and why and what that meant. Two-dimensional characters packed the Bible so tightly that I couldn’t avoid them: the bumbling disciples, the evil Pharisees, the serene Christ.

Read the rest here.

In honor of the fact that yesterday marked the anniversary of Martin Luther’s death (February 18, 1546), today’s prayer comes from him.

Look, Lord, an empty vessel that needs to be filled. My Lord, fill it.

I am weak in the faith; strengthen me.

I am cold in love; warm me and make me fervent, that my love may go out to my neighbor.

I do not have a strong and firm faith. At times I doubt and am unable to trust You completely. O Lord, help me. Strengthen my faith and trust in You.

I have insured all my treasure in Your name.

I am poor; You are rich and You did come to be merciful to the poor.

I am a sinner; You are upright.

With me there is an abundance of sin; with You a fullness of righteousness.

Therefore I will remain with You, from whom I can receive but to whom I may not give. Amen.

Martin Luther, Luther’s Prayers, ed. Herbert Brokering (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1994), no. 91, 67-8.

Arriving in Eisleben, though still in ill heath, Luther preached four more sermons – his last.

Continuing a life-long tendency to downplay his own importance, two days before his death, Luther said,

If I make it home to Wittenberg, I will lay myself in my coffin to let maggots feast on the stout Doctor.

The words that are famously known as Luther’s last were probably penned on February 16. These would apparently be Luther’s last written statements.

Virgil’s shepherd poems cannot be understood, except by one who has been a shepherd for five years. Virgil’s poetry about agriculture cannot be understood, except by one who has been a farmhand for five years. Cicero’s letters cannot be understood, except by one who has participated and lived within a large community for 25 years. The Holy Scriptures do not have a satisfactory taste for me or anyone else, unless he has spent 100 years ruling a community as the prophets Elijah and Elisha, John the Baptist, Christ and the Apostles.

We are beggars. This is true.

On his final evening, Luther ate dinner with family and friends, spent time in prayer as usual, and went to bed. Waking up in pain shortly after midnight, Luther apparently recognized that the end was near. According to witnesses, he spent his last hour in pain but with friends and doctors nearby, praying and reciting scripture.

Just before his death, Michael Coelius asked him if he was dying in the name of Christ. And Luther answered with a simple, “Yes.”

Then, he died.

A complex and complicated man, Luther left an incredible legacy. And he died a faithful death.

Picky professor is picky.

Good Reads

• The Jeremy Lin Problem (NYT): We’ve become accustomed to the faith-driven athlete and coach, from Billy Sunday to Tim Tebow. But we shouldn’t forget how problematic this is. The moral ethos of sport is in tension with the moral ethos of faith, whether Jewish, Christian or Muslim.

• The Pastor as Counselor: During eras when church life has been vibrantly responsive to Scripture, pastorshave counseled well and wisely. They haveunderstood that their pastoral calling includesa significant ‘counseling’ component. The faithproclaimed and practiced in congregational lifealso finds a natural home in conversational life.Pastor, you are a counselor.

• The King Jesus Gospel: A Conversation with Scot McKnight: Why do you point to John Piper as one of the most poignant examples of a “soterian” in our day? Are you suggesting that John Piper doesn’t rightly define and present the gospel?

• 3 Ways Smart Leaders Prepare for the Unknown: If we could predict the twists and turns in life, we’d never be confronted with the unknown. But things like cancer, death, or a sudden job loss are often beyond our control—they thrust us into an unknown world with little or no warning.

Other Info

• Evangelical Churches Rise in France, Attracting Youth

• Lifeway Declines SBC Request to Bar NIV from stores

• What Publishers Can Learn from Airlines

 Just for Fun     

• Jonathan Robinson, a pastor a blogger in New Zealands, shares this great little video on his seminary experience.