A Pastor’s Reading List for 2019

Photo by Stanislav Kondratiev

By Joe LaGuardia

I have made it a habit, as other pastors have, of publishing an annual reading list. It is made up of books that we long to read, hope to read, want to read, need to read. I have fun reading the lists of others, and I hope that people have fun reading mine.  This year I want to do it differently. In years past, I viewed my list as a challenge–if it is listed, then I should read it. So, this year I am going to take the fun out of the list and only add books that I read.

1. God Underneath, by Edward Brock. I found this memoir by a Catholic priest in the shadowy (not seedy!) corner of my local used book store. When I visit the store, I don’t spend much time in the religion section; just enough to see what Bibles are in stock. This one particular day, a worker a who knows me and is in charge of the religion section told me that a large donation of Catholic books came in. Brock’s moving book, of his upbringing to his discernment in the priesthood and eventual ministry, was among them. His contention is that whatever comes our way, we can find God underneath it all if we only have the spiritual awareness to see the Spirit at work! As one who loves memoirs, I really enjoyed this book.

2. A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, by Eugene Peterson. This book by the famed (and now late) Message Bible translator is said to be a classic. I thought it was a memoir. It is a classic to many pastors, but it certainly isn’t a memoir. It is, instead, a book on the Psalms of Ascent. Peterson’s writing is concise and spiritually uplifting; his exegesis and care in interpreting the text more so, but I would not call it a classic. I have to admit, I ran out of gas before I finished the book. Its not that it isn’t good; its just not what I expected.

3. Philosophy of History, by William Dray. This was yet another find at the used book store. I have gotten into the habit of picking up quirky books that are easy or slim reads, and Dray’s concise introduction to the philosophy of history is no different. This subject is not a first for me; I took a philosophy of history course in college as part of my history major (I remember well: the great, late Dr. Hembree was an amazing teacher, gone to be with the Lord at too young an age). The book was wordy and not very well-written, but helped me remember some of those hold history philosophy debates we had back in the day.

One thing I did learn: Arnold Toynbee, who wrote a mutlivolume work called A Study of History, concluded perhaps naively, that the one unifying factor in the downfall of civilizations was the eventual decline of creativity and an entrepreneurial spirit–kind of like the first step towards an “idiocracy.” Toynbee is on to something. Might there be something for the church to learn–that once a church ceases to be creative, missional, and entrepreneurial, death is imminent?

4. A Preface to Scripture, by Solomon Freehof. Yet another used-book store find, but a treasure if there ever was one. This is among one of my favorites so far in the past year (I started this book last year and have been slowly, deliciously making my way through it). It is an introduction to the Old Testament written from a Jewish, rabbinic point of view (Freeman is a reputable Reformed rabbi of rabbis), written specifically for Christians.

His historical portraits and commentary on all the books of the First Testament are traditionally rabbinic, but provide fresh and creative readings along the way. I am learning (1) where some of our own (Christian) interpretations of scripture come from and their Jewish roots; and (2) how rabbis have read scripture–and can contribute to our reading of scripture–before we, as a religious tradition, were even using the word “scripture” to begin with. Every page is a learning experience–and I’m learning things new about the Bible along the way, not something that can be said often from a bookish nerd like me.

5. I will Lift up Mine Eyes, by Glenn Clark. Our church inherited a small theological library from one of our missions-minded powerhouses. The deceased, Ms. Ouida, was an amazing person–one time school principal and active in the church. Her passing has created a vacuum in our congregation, and particularly my life– every Sunday Ouida and I would greet parishioners to our worship service at the front door. Everyone who passed Ouida received a warm handshake and an “I’m glad you’re here this morning!”

Her library included several books by Glenn Clark, also a teacher, who turned writer of all things prayer and spirituality. His book, I Will Lift up Mine Eyes, came on the heels of his bestselling book A Man’s Reach. It is a moving devotional on prayer, although I believe it to be a forerunner to the Prosperity Gospel movement of recent decades. Nevertheless, it is one of the best books on prayer because of its specificity in instructing readers on prayer and also admonishing us to remember that, as a believer, we are Christ’s very own, God’s children–and that truth should shape our courage and conviction in our conversations with God.

Published in 1937, its language is beautifully written and anecdotes timeless. I really do enjoy reading these older books; there is something about their syntax and wealth of words that moves the spirit. A great read!

6. The Gentleman in the Parlor, by W. Somerset Maugham. I am half-way through this memoir of prolific author Maugham’s travels through Thailand and Burma. His story is not as detailed as most travel narratives, but rather embodies short collections of his experiences along the way. Nor is the writing born of research into local lore and history, but a tale told from the position of one who “sits idly” with time to let the mind wander.

I found this book in the classics section of our used book store. I don’t know what attracted me to it other than the back cover mentioned it was a travel memoir, and the picture on the front looked captivating. The year of publication was in that window I adore so much–around 1930–and the language was rich upon first glance.

I have come to enjoy Maugham’s writing, although it is a bit arrogant at times and wistful at others (I read somewhere along the way that he wasn’t the most pleasant man, quite infamous in fact– his self-identification of a “gentleman” not withstanding). But you can’t blame him–his parents passed when he was 10 years old and he had several rocky romances along the way. I discovered too that he wrote a memoir on his writing, A Writer’s Notebook, which I hope to purchase and read sometime over the summer.

7. The Prophets, by Abraham Heschel. I am on a roll this past season with the First (Old) Testament. I have published my own book of essays on it, and I have read two textbooks–one by James West and another by Solomon Freehof (see above). Now, not three months into the new year, I picked up a classic by Jewish mystic and scholar Abraham Heschel, The Prophets.

This would not have been my first choice as my first Heschel book, but I made a commitment to get whatever I find at the local used book store. The edition is a good one, from 1969, a revision about 7 years after its original publication date; but the writing and notes are remarkably timeless.

This is an introduction, however, so it is not as spiritually intuitive as I would have hoped; but it does not disappoint, for Heschel stands as a forefather to contemporary First Testament studies, not just for Jewish folks but for us Protestants too. Have doubts? Just ask Walter Brueggemann!

8. A Long Retreat: In Search of a Religious Life, by Andrew Krivak. I’m getting used to writing, “I found this treasure in our used bookstore,” so just assume that if there is a book on this list not published in the last year, it is from the used bookstore.  Recently, however, I discovered some gems in the Catholic section of the store, including this book signed by the author, Krivak’s memoir of his discernment process for entering the Society of Jesus (AKA the Jesuits).

The set of values for which Jesuits are known — poverty, chastity, and obedience — (and of Krivak’s spiritual wrestling match with each), plays an interesting subtext throughout the memoir.  It is not so much a spiritual memoir, therefore, as a secular memoir with sacred themes.

What is the difference?  A spiritual memoir, I would argue, is one in which the author searches for God and writes with the Holy Spirit in mind–a sort of extended prayer to which readers are privy.  This memoir, on the other hand, focuses on Krivak’s movement through his vocation and career not so much in search of God as it is a search for the true self — a self torn ultimately between the priesthood and the challenges of wanting a family.

Anyone with a family knows that poverty, chastity, and obedience shifts in these two poles — so this makes the drama of Krivak’s story, and the writing which is excellent, all the more…dramatic.  I am finding that I have to pray after reading so many pages because while these values confront Krivak, so too do they confront readers.  I am not called the priesthood, but how are poverty (the need of letting go of things that gets in God’s way), chastity (moral purity and single-minded devotion to Christ), and obedience (following Christ even when it costs something) playing out in my own life as a Christ-follower?  That’s the question to ponder in this fascinating read.

9. The Age of Reform, by Richard Hofstadter.  What I thought would be a comprehensive sweep of political and cultural history of the Progressive Era turned out to be a too-deep-in-the-weeds critique of the economic patterns associated with the Populist and Progressive movement roughly at the turn of the century.  Although the subtitle states that it is a history (and a Pulitzer prize winner at that!) from W. J. Bryan to F.D.R., only the last part of the last chapter covered the New Deal.

The most compelling part of this book was Hofstadter’s insistence on busting the myths surrounding the Progressive Era.  While we look at the Era ideally, (and have certainly inherited that high-minded view from our forebears because this book was published in 1955), Hofstadter proves that much of the politics of the time were merely pragmatic.  Even the New Deal was a “legislation of experimentation”, and much of the reforms that took place between 1890 and 1948 were the result of people trying to muddle through industrialism, conflicting theories of economics, and vastly shifting currency rates.  Sounds boring?  It was.

I am grateful, regardless of the content, of having a better view of Progressivism, my own particular heritage of choice.  I would have preferred more time on T. Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson, but–as mentioned–this was more economic portrait than political history.

10. St. Patrick: His Confessio and Other Writings.  For a guy who prides himself on knowing the saints, I sure fall short when it comes to having read primary sources of the saints.  I knew that St. Patrick had prayers out there–his shield prayer and several others–but I had no idea that he wrote of his history and theology in a confession.  Certainly, St. Patrick is not one of the more prolific of saints; in fact, at least one of his letters is questionable as to its source, but the language and theology are just as meaningful.

Perhaps the most significant aspect of St. Patrick’s writing was his heart for the lost “pagans” of Ireland.  Many of us Protestants think that Catholics do not emphasize evangelism.  Read St. Patrick, and you will be proven wrong!  He was concerned for souls as well as justice, as many of his writings advocated for those who were enslaved or exploited at the hands of growing Roman conquest in the British isles.

11. Trauma-Sensitive Theology, by Jennifer Baldwin. A recently published book by an old seminary colleague on the significance of trauma in the lives of Christians, churches, and community.  Although Baldwin’s prescription for trauma-sensitive theology is better suited for clinicians and pastoral counselors, her call to put it on the radar of every church is a breath of fresh air.

Consider our current culture, which is often shaped by fear, agitation, and grief.  We fear losing our identity (political or otherwise); we fear of the other, and we grieve that things in our society will never be the same.  When we go to church, we expect a normalcy that reminds us of yesteryear; but, even in church, times are a’changin’.  New models of leadership, reduced budgets and attendance, and a shift in church ministry hasn’t helped in our current milieu.

Baldwin’s call to a new theological paradigm is a response to the trauma that these changes bring, and it would do well for clergy to pay attention to how trauma, including PTSD, shapes community and church.  We are called to recognize it, and also to bring about healing and reconciliation that embodies shalom (wholeness, holiness, and peace).  Her take on the work of ministry is clear:

The role of religious care…is not to adjudicate the ‘facts’ of trauma; it is to advocate for safety, to support and facilitate the repair of traumatic injury, and to promote recovery and resiliency” (p. 9).

Christ sits squarely in this realm of trauma and grief, a Risen Savior who knows the suffering of the cross, who confronts change in the future, and comes to his people not as a strong lion but as a “lamb as though slaughtered” (Rev. 5)–one who prizes empathy in a world in which empathy is becoming a limited resource.  Baldwin’s work on trauma is a wake-up call to churches in the throes of monumental change.

12.  The Nature and Mission of the Church, by Donald Miller. There is nothing better to read while you’re in bed with strep throat for a week than something simple, encouraging, and thoughtful.  Miller’s short treatise on the church, published in 1957, is just that.  It is a good reminder what the church is, as well as what the church is not.  The church, of course, can be a building or an institution.  But, ultimately, it is a people of God, commissioned by Christ, and empowered by the Spirit.

Each chapter moves to a different aspect of church, beginning with a theology of humanity in which Miller places people in direct relationship with God: We are created for fellowship, and God’s call to be a people is about fellowshipping with God and neighbor, of joining God at work in the world, and fulfilling the mission and ministry of the Body of Christ.

I particularly like how Miller examines the Bible’s emphasis on ministry in the Body–we have created a hierarchy with the pastor or priest on top; but in the New Testament, everyone is a part of the ministry, and not such hierarchy exists.  Rather,

The office of priesthood, therefore, is shared by all Christians.  Consequently, the official ministry of the church has no different status from that of the layman.  The difference is one of function only” (p. 89).

As we seek to do church, we need to remember that Christ is head and we are family.  There is no such thing as “just a layman” or “just a Christian,” according to Miller (p. 89).

13.  The Seven Storey Mountain, by Thomas Merton. It has been nearly a decade since I graduated with my doctorate in the field of spiritual formation, and I finally got around to reading Merton’s classic spiritual autobiography.  I believe that God dictates things according to his timing, so perhaps I wasn’t ready to read it before now–regretting not reading it sooner is futile and a waste of time: But, that said, it is one of the best spiritual autobiographies I have read.

Merton follows his journey of faith from childhood, which includes his travels across Europe with his artist father, to his career as perpetual student and English professor.  His writing provides a good snapshot of that kind of collegiate life in the 1930s, as well as a fresh, contemporary take on the Spirit’s leadership in drawing him to the monastic life.

Merton has been a mainstay in my ministry.  Minutes away from a Cistercian monastery in Conyers, I did much of my doctoral writing–and contemplating–at that monastery in my spare time when not working.  Merton popularized the idea of monasteries in general and the contemplative life in particular.  I stumbled upon Henri Nouwen first, however, and so much of my influence draws from him.  I have heard all about Merton through the years, however.

One of the biggest things that impressed me about Merton’s writing was his ability to weave prayer and gratitude in his memoir.  He mentions grace often, noting where God gifted him with direction, insight, and discernment.  His prayers that erupt every few chapters is a great wonderment to behold.  His writing is rich; his prayers divine.

14. “Essays on the American Revolution”, ed. by Stephen Kurtz and James Hutson.  I purchased this book at the used bookstore for one reason only: An essay in it entitled “Violence and the American Revolution,” by Richard Maxwell Brown, caught my attention, and for a dollar it was hard to let go.

Brown’s essay did not disappoint as it argued that the undercurrent of violence in the Revolution neither began during the revolution nor ceased after it.  In fact, violence was not merely a force for liberation, but a part of our national history that continues to haunt us:

American violence owes much to the dead weight of unsolved problems hanging over from the past.  The negative features of American history — abysmal relations between whites and people of other color and the brutal and brutalizing processes by which the frontier was extended and our economic industrialized — have long been known to us as violent chapters in the story of our development, but it has been difficult for us to accept that the most noble event in our history, the Revolution, was entwined with a civil violence that was often ignoble.”

The Revolution not only added to our national inheritance of violence, it “sanctified it”, giving rise to the self-righteous application of just war, vigilantism, and (at one point) the oppression of other people and nations (Jim Crow, and the like).  Throughout the history of the United States, violence is encapsulated in our literature and legislation, be it in the extreme defense of the Second Amendment to the massive spending in our Defense budget, and all this in the name of “freedom” or “liberty”.  Brown contends in the last quarter of the essay that,

Long after 1776 the symbols of the Revolution continued to be used with frequency and sincerity by violent movements  to enfold themselves in its sanctifying mantle” (emphasis mine).

Brown’s essay was worth the price of a dollar and, for me, framed a new look into the narrative of our national gun debate.  We need to divorce our Second Amendment rights and legislation away from the lofty ideals of “freedom” that costs us our national souls.  There is nothing sanctifying about making the amendment mean what it never intended to mean, and to protect the very weapons of mass destruction that it never intended to protect–all in the name of liberty at the cost of the lives of our school children.

I did go on to read another essay in this book entitled, “The Role of Religion in the Revolution,” by William McLoughlin.  It was nowhere near as well written as the essay on violence, but it was a good snapshot into the complexity of debates surrounding religious liberty in the formation of our country.  It was an interesting read, especially for this Baptist so concerned about the separation of church and state.

15.  Introducing the Bible, by William Barclay.  Barclay is a household name for most pastors.  His commentary on the New Testament is legend, and you can find them in most church basements.  They are informative and, actually, still very relevant.  I still use them because they are among the most practical commentaries and they are very well-written.  Barclay has something to teach every preacher about information and pithy writing.

I came across this book somewhere–perhaps inherited from one of our late senior saints who donated books before she passed.  Although it is an introduction, I figured Barclay’s writing will go quick and it will be interesting.  And it did, and it was!  The book is recommended for anyone who is interested in the Bible, from seasoned minister to lay reader.  His information on the formation of scripture is compelling, and some of his anecdotes are moving.  It is a fun read!

16. Cujo, by Stephen King.  A golden oldie by horror master Stephen King.  This, one of his earliest books, holds some family folklore for me.  I’ve never read the book before now (or seen the movie), but Cujo was a household name for us.  Everytime my father met a dog that came up to him–no matter the size–he would say, “Watch out!  Cujo!  Killer dog!”  I thought it was corny, and we would follow it up with a big eye-roll.  But the book was good.  Classic King.

17.  Leadership: A Very Short Introduction, by Keith Grint. This year, one of my staff objectives is to learn more about leadership.  I didn’t want any books about how to be a leader, however–enough with the “laws or leadership” or “virtues of leadership” or “habits of highly effective leaders.”  I wanted nuts and bolts.  A friend, who is getting a doctorate in public administration, offered me this book–and it hit the spot and helped me articulate questions that I didn’t know how to ask.

Not only does the book go through various models of leadership and leadership styles, it also emphasizes the importance of context (that place in which leaders either thrive or die) and of followers.  A short read, but worth the time!

18.  The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, by Washington Irving.  If you like to read spooky books around Halloween, this classic is a must.  The best part about it: No movies or adaptations I’ve seen comes close to the storytelling prowess and historical description of northern New York than the unabridged version of this early 18th-century short story.  It is descriptive, it is evocative, it is scary, and its funny.  Irving shows his hand as a brilliant writer of satire but also travel narrative.  It was really good!

Advertisements

The Pastor’s 2018 Reading List

By Joe LaGuardia

There seems to be something arrogant about entitling a blog “The Pastor’s Reading List.”  I don’t know if it sounds haughty or elitist or what, but something does not seem right.  Yet, in the spirit of years gone by, I feel compelled to publish my reading list for this upcoming year.

It is not that I think more highly of myself for reading; nor is it that I feel a need to publish the list.  Rather, the list is a result of what I like to read about others.  Like so many others who read “reading lists” around the New Year’s season, I love reading…reading lists…too.  Besides, instructors on writing tell us to write what we love, so here goes.

(This year, I will be placing checks and Xes on the books I either read or have abandoned–just for fun.)

1.  Revelations of Divine Love, by Julian of Norwich and translated by Fr. John-Julian, OJN.  As a spiritual formation doctoral student some years ago, I made it my life’s work to dabble in mystics and spiritual fathers and mothers of old.  But, as so many other doctoral candidates know, it is hard to read primary sources when so much tertiary research is needed to get through the slog of writing.

One such source lost to me included the writings of the fourteenth-century mystic, Julian of Norwich.  Julian’s Revelations (the first English book written by a woman) record her visions and experiences as she served God in her commune in Norwich, England.

More poetic than prose, this book requires a slow reading–more of a prayerful meandering through the mind and heart of one of the most beloved women in all church history.  I started reading this book when I purchased it on a recent trip to Georgia three weeks, and it is proving to be more devotional than anything else.  Nevertheless, the Abbess abides.

2.  Living at the Crossroads: An Introduction to Christian Worldview, by Michael Goheen and Craig Bartholomew.  There are books I want to read and books I have to read.  This falls in the “have to” column, but for a great reason: My alma mater, Palm Beach Atlantic University, finally picked me up as an adjunct instructor for an abbreviated Spring season. My class is Christian Values and Biblical Faith, a required course for all graduating students.  This is our primary textbook.  It does not look so bad, and I look forward to gleaning new things about worldviews since the book I used for the class over 15 years ago (which I did not assign to my upcoming class!) was terrible.

3.  Dragon Teeth, by Michael Crighton. People familiar with my reading habits know that I always throw in what I call “junk novels”– those escapist books that get me out of the religion bubble, ranging from horror to science fiction.  Last year it was Ghost Story by Peter Straub. This year, it is Michael Crighton’s posthumous published book from the Jurassic Park universe.

The truth is that I cut my teeth (no pun intended) on Crighton’s books in high school.  I watched Jurassic Park on the big screen, read the novel, loved the novel, and then checked out every Crighton book available through my high school library.  I thoroughly enjoy his books (I re-read Jurassic Park two years ago, and Boy! was it good!), and I am glad for this gift from Crighton’s file cabinets and family estate from whence the manuscript came.

4.  Men at Work, by George Will.  Yes, the George Will–conservative columnist, economist, and hero for Republicans who can’t stand Trump–wrote one of the classic books on the history and business of baseball.  Many who read Will (myself included) know not only of his politics, but of his genius related to the sport that he and I love.

I am looking forward to joining him on this “behind the scenes” journey of America’s national pastime.  I also hope that it will prepare me for my family vacation (and first visit) to Cooperstown, New York, and the baseball hall of fame this summer.  (Last year, to get started, I read Jackie Robinson: A Spiritual Biography, which was pretty good too.)

5.  Incarnational Ministry: Being With the Church, by Samuel Wells.  I enjoy the writings of Samuel Wells as I am an avid reader of his columns published in The Christian Century.  This book, advertised in said magazine, caught my attention because I have been praying about some annual goals for my ministry at First Baptist Church.

One goal is to help the church be the church to others–in the neighborhood, in the community, across the globe.  Many in the congregation do not have to do anything differently, as if being busier will do the trick, and there is a culture of service and missions in the church already.  It is just that we need to help the congregation see their work and service as a particularly sacred vocation in which service is more than lending a helping hand, but being the very face and presence of Christ for those who need the marriage of love and justice in their midst: disciples tasked with making disciples.  I hope this book will provide the grammar and biblical infrastructure for this goal in my ministry.

6.  Farewell to Arms, by Ernest Hemingway.  Another junk novel that I hope will provide some light “summer” reading.  A novel set during the First World War by one of my favorite authors, I hope this novel will bring me to new destinations that provide a backdrop of one of my favorite historical eras in American history.  Also, it is helpful to freshen up on my Hemingway-esque prose, since I have sought so very hard to model my writing style after his own.  (It is near impossible, mind you, but I try.)

7.  Plain Speaking: An Oral Biography of Harry S. Truman, by Merle Miller.  My mother purchased this book for me at a yard sale some years back, and it has been sitting on the bottom of my “to read” pile for far too long.  Since I take on a lengthy history, often surrounding presidents, every year (last year it was Florida history with The Everglades by Marjorie Stoneman Douglas), I figured, “Hey, its 2018, why not?”  I figure that it will be good to get back to some good ole’ days when presidents presided and the nation worked a little more harmoniously than now anyway.

8.  Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography, by John Dominic Crossan.  I remember the first time I saw Dr. Crossan speak in person. I was with my beloved New Testament professor, the late Dr. Daniel Goodman, at a Society for Biblical Literature conference.  Dr. Crossan came out of some back room and walked towards the dais when Dr. Goodman, like a giddy child, slapped me on the shoulder, smiled that huge smile of his, and said, “Hot dog, LaGuardia!  Look at that! It’s John Dominic Crossan!” (And, yes, he did say, “Hot dog, LaGuardia!”)

Although I don’t agree with all of Crossan’s assessments on the historical Jesus, his writing and lectures have provided endless, fresh insights into the cultural world of Christ.  His acute attention to the literary aspects of Jesus’ ministry mirrors my own, and his knowledge of primitive sociology highlights context that other scholars fail to engage.

Jesus is actually a classic, published some years ago, but I never got around to reading it– I was too busy reading his In Parables over and over again.  But now I finally have the book in hand thanks to a local used book store and, I hope, the time.

9.  To Dance with the White Dog, by Terry Kay.  Terry Kay was an author that a parishioner from my last church recommended.  Kay, a local Georgia author, lectured throughout the state and was a common visitor to the writer’s guild thereabouts in east Atlanta.

My parishioner let me borrow one of his books, The Year the Lights Came On, and I was sold.  The book was amazing, and Kay’s whimsical writing and southern humor captivated my imagination and my heart.  To Dance with the White Dog is actually the book for which Kay is best known, and I look forward to reading it with delight and anticipation.

10.  Forebearance: A Theological Ethic for a Disagreeable Church, by James Calvin Davis.  To be honest, I am not quite sure what this book is about other than what the title and the summary on the back says.  Davis argues that his contribution is a “theological ethic” whereby churches and Christians from various backgrounds are called to “bear with each other” as a way to build community.  It is an “antidote to the pervasive divisiveness present in contemporary culture.”  That’s a high and lofty calling; we will see if Davis can match those expectations.

11.  Holy Envy, by Barbara Brown Taylor.  I learned of this forthcoming book only this evening when I stumbled upon a colleague’s 2018 reading list.  I am usually up on all and anything that Brown writes, as she is my favorite author. Of. All. Time.  So when I learned of this book hitting bookshelves in August of 2018, I knew that I have to get it.

I can’t wait, but perhaps the book’s release date is divine timing: God knows that if it were to be published now, I would neglect my preparation for that adjunct class at PBAU.  God knows how to handle these things in God’s time, so I plan to keep my entire month of August free from all reading commitments until I obtain and read through Brown’s next treasure.

12. and 13.  Rounding out my list are two memoirs that I picked up along the way, one old and one new.  The first is Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now, by Maya Angelou and the second is Still Christian: Following Jesus out of American Evangelicalism, by David Gushee.  Maya Angelou is among my favorite authors, and her words–very much like Barbara Brown Taylor’s– drips with intimacy and elegance.  This memoir is a collection of wisdom that she passes down to readers, complete with her unique whit and ability to weave words into deep wells of insight.

Still Christian is a memoir not for the faint of heart.  This book, which recalls Gushee’s long journey from Southern Baptist pastor to marginalized ethicist, rings true for far too many of us who are in the throes of ministry and Baptist life.  Reading his early conversion experience and call to ministry (I’m up to page 26 already) is like reading my own, and I feel that Gushee is writing for many of us who fear losing our voice in a fractured, partisan society.

Yet, there is a relationship here.  I had David Gushee for several doctoral classes, and I have come to admire and respect him as author, ethicist, and deeply committed Christian father and husband.  His book on marriage helped me save my own, and his humble and penetrating openness to the Spirit of God has inspired so many students and ministers who work in the public square.  I feel as if reading this book is not so much reading a book as it is reading a personal letter from a friend.  Along with Angelou’s writing, its good stuff, ya’ll.

There you have it: the lucky thirteen books I hope to tackle this year. Based on my efforts in the last two years, however, I will probably get through seven or eight before I buy and read a dozen more.  Then there are the books–as yet unknown–that will be assigned to me by my Baptist peer learning group each month.  But that’s how these things work. There is the hope; then there is the reality.

Nevertheless, what do you hope to read this year?  And what “reading list” catches your attention?

Other Books I hope to read or have Managed to Read this Year: (Just doing this for my own amusement and record-keeping.)

  • Gleams of Glory, by Gwynn McLendon Day- a peach of a book published in 1964 by a school teacher.  The book was gifted to me by the widow of the man who was chair of the search committee at First Baptist Church (he passed away before my coming on board as pastor).  The book is amazing–every sentence a jewel.  That it once belonged to a man I met briefly but admired greatly is even more significant.
  • Church in Ordinary Time: A Wisdom Ecclesiology, by Amy Plantinga Pauw.  This book looks really interesting, and Ordinary Time has always fascinated me as a season.  I’ll hopefully get to this during the summer!
  • The Pilgrimage Way of the Cross, by Edward Hays.  This is the book that I was assigned by a retreat leader with whom I will be doing a Lenten journey.  We are a part of a group that is to do a 30 minute self-directed retreat during Lent, and this book is filled with devotions and prayers for each day of the season.
  • Gift of a Letter, by Alexandra Stoddard. Another book on letters because I enjoyed The Art of Thank You so much.  This one I read a little at a time, but enjoy its aged and nuanced take on the significance of writing in general and of writing letters specifically.
  • Letters and Papers from Prison, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. An eerie look inside of the mind of a genius theologian who does not know that his days are numbered.  As I read this book now, I am mindful that he died at age 39.  I just turned 40, so Bonhoeffer’s writing hits close to home.
  • Struggling with Scripture, by W. Brueggemann, W. Placher, and Brian Blount.  Picked this up at the used book store primarily because of its authors: Progressive Presbyterians take a closer look at the Bible, what it means to them personally, and how they negotiate Bible interpretation as ministers and scholars.  William Sloane Coffin provides a whimsical introduction.
  • Now and Then, by Frederick Buechner. Memoirist and pastor who speaks of his early time in seminary.  A book about the celebration and mystery of faith as well as the affirmation of Christian calling.
  • Be Known for Something, by Mark MacDonald. A book for a pastor’s peer learning group on the importance of congregational identity and leadership.  The author contends that church’s thrive when they are known for something unique in their local communities.  Although I agree with this book because I’ve been preaching this church ethic for my entire ministry, I would not recommend the book.  It is boring–and the concepts could cover a brochure, not a book.
  • For We Have This Treasure, by Paul Sherer. The Yale Lectures on Preaching from 1943 from Union Theological Seminary homiletics professor and Lutheran Pastor, Sherer, who taught at a time in which spiritual giants ruled Union (the Neihbur brothers, etc.).  The book is just as relevant today for clergy as it was back then, as it is a powerful testimony of the methodology and biblical foundations of progressive preaching for which northern pastors were know.  It is one of those books where I read a few sentences before having to stop and reflect–the Holy Spirit grabs a hold of my heart and prayer ensues!  The writing is thick, the conviction it evokes overwhelming, and the Spirit captivating in its every word.  A powerful book!
  • An American Childhood, by Annie Dillard.  In recent years, Dillard has proven to be one of my favorite authors.  She moves from personal memoir of growing up in Pittsburgh to providing historical and naturalist background of her hometown with spiritual and poetic insight.  Of her greatest contributions is her acute exploration of a child’s coming-of-age as that of awakening as “if brought back to life from cardiac arrest or drowning.”
  • Gilead, by Marilyn Robinson.  I once owned this prize-winning novel and got rid of it.  I’m not sure why, but perhaps I was not ready for it yet.  This novel that reads like a letter from a retired pastor to his son is captivating and honest, a reflection for those of us in ministry and parents.  So far so good.
  • An Introduction to the Old Testament, by James King West.  A more historical-critical take on the Old Testament published in the 1970s and revised in 1980 takes a broad view of the First Testament.  West’s ability to marry historical and anthropological insight with a close reading of scripture has been both entertaining and informative.  Its take on the politics of the Davidic and Solomonic monarchies have been exceptional.
  • Upstream, by Mary Oliver.  A collection of essays by author, poet, and naturalist Mary Oliver.  The book looks good, and its been a while since I’ve delved into some hearty naturalist writing, so I’m looking forward to this read once I finish Gilead.
  • Love, Then Listen, by Daphne Reiley.  The long awaited memoir of a good friend (and co-author of my book on caregiving, A Tapestry of Love) who walks with her son’s gender transition.  The book recalls the roller-coaster ride of emotions that echo the journey of so many families who wrestle with transgenderism, suicide, depression, and–with God’s grace and a supportive network of friends and colleagues–eventual liberation and joy.  I give it a more thorough review on Amazon here.
  • Speaking of Sin, by Barbara Brown Taylor.  A short book based on Taylor’s lectures at the Preaching College in Washington, DC.  It is an examination of our language surrounding sin and our redemption from sin, with an emphasis on a “third way” that moves past conservative “full-fault” theology and liberal “no-fault” theology.  For me, the greatest insight was her insistence is that we sin not only by the things we do, but by what we do not do.  We sin when we under-estimate our salvation in Christ and fail to take our place as a redeemed–and redeeming–people.  In that, we are saved, yes, but–as Jewish theology encourages us–we must participate in the ongoing repair of the world.

One Pastor’s Reading List for 2017

books_journalBy Joe LaGuardia

It is the “in” thing these days for pastors to publish their reading list for the New Year.  Since I am an avid reader, I can’t help myself.

The notion is that clerics were once the storehouses of knowledge, when churches were at the center of town and of political and cultural life for any given county.  Also, there is the thought that parishioners might be interested in what their pastor is reading.  That may or may not be true.

What is true, at least for me, is that my spiritual mentors instilled in me the abiding ethic that pastors should be continually growing in their field, in learning about what stands on the horizon of cultural movements, and how God is at work in our world today.

It was Karl Barth (or was it Deitrich Bonhoeffer?) who said that a pastor must go about his or her vocation with a Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other.

Additionally, I consider myself a writer, and what writer do you know doesn’t boast of a formidable home library or reading list?  So there you go.

Here are a few books I am looking forward to reading as the new year is upon us.

1-  Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, by Annie Dillard.  I fell in love with Dillard’s writing a little over a year ago.  I started with The Writing Life, read Holy the Firm, and moved on to a book of her essays in Teaching a Stone to Talk. I read The Writing Life for a second time when I moved to Vero Beach–all my other books were packed away in storage!

When I learned of her classic, Pilgrim, which won a Pulitzer, I set out to buy a copy at our local Vero Beach bookstore.   It is, in classic Dillard style, a meandering reflection of life at Tinker Creek in the Appalachian mountains.   Part memoir, part spiritual narrative, her writing moves between poetic reflection and naturalist exploration.

Dillard once stated that her goal was to write the “impossible page.”  In Pilgrim she does not disappoint (I started reading it before Christmas).  Her writing is heavy, rich like a meaty stew in which every bite contains enough nourishment and protein to fill you for the rest of the day.

2- Just Mercy, by Bryan Stevenson.  In a recent issues of The Christian Century, pastors submitted short paragraphs about the best book they’ve read recently.  A majority cited Just Mercy.  I better get on the bandwagon.

As director of the Equal Justice Initiative in Alabama, Stevenson mixes anecdotes and research to shed light on the underside of criminal (in)justice with the aim of bringing about real conversations on the need for criminal justice reform.

3-  The Everglades: River of Grass, by Marjorie Stoneman Douglas.  I heard about Douglas and her memoir of conservation when I went to high school at none other than Marjorie Stoneman Douglas High School in Coral Springs, Florida.

There was a joke about the school: What better way to honor her than by building a school right in the middle of the environment she longed to save?  (The ghost of Douglas struck, however–when I graduated, there was an urban legend that the school was sinking in the swamp at nearly a foot every ten years.)

This is not the only Florida-specific book on this list.  Over the years, I have come to love reading local authors about local places.  I’ve read scores of Georgia authors; now its time to read classics every Florida resident hopes to read.

4-  The Yearling, by Marjorie Rawlings.  Another Florida classic, a coming of age novel in the heart of the Florida wilderness.  I am not all that sure what this book is about, specifically, but it was recommended by a fellow Florida naturalist, so I figured I better read it.

5-  Communication in the Church, by Thomas Kirkpatrick.  One of the things I need to shore up in my first year at First Baptist is communication.  So many have cited communication as an issue for the church, partly because there was no figurehead–senior pastor–to really head that up.

This book came across my desk in an advertisement from the book’s publisher, Romman and Littlefield, and it caught my eye.  When I received it in the mail, I was delighted to find that it appeared to be both easy to read and practical.

When I spotted a chapter on how to lead a committee meeting, for instance, I knew I had made the right decision (not that I don’t know how to lead a committee meeting, but there is always room for improvement!).

6-  The Emotional Intelligence of Jesus, by Roy Oswald.  In my previous church, we had an emotional intelligence guru in our associate pastor, the Reverend Karen Woods.  I was enthralled with the things she taught the staff and our church on this growing field in ministry, and I am still convinced its one of the most important things every church leader needs to understand.

I asked Pastor Karen what book would be best–give us the good stuff for people who want to read about EQ, but don’t have time to read every book on it.  She recommended Oswald’s book, and we purchased a half-dozen copies for staff and lay leaders.

I was grateful for her lessons, especially, since part of the interview process at First Baptist Church was to take an EQ test!

I began to read this book last month, and it is indeed still some of the most important material I’ve read of late.  What pastor does not want to learn more about empathy, self-awareness, and stress management.  Well, I am sure there are many–and this is the book to purchase for your stressed-out pastor!

7- The Hidden Life of Trees, by Peter Wohlleben.  I read about this book somewhere along the way, maybe in an editorial or column in The Christian Century, and I was enthralled with the premise: A German forest ranger, Wohlleben, explores the science and theory behind the social life of trees.

I’m not sure what I will get out of this book, maybe that if trees are social, we humans can be too?  And, since moving to Florida, my family and I have made it a habit to hug a palm tree every now and then.  (We named the one palm tree on our property “Fred.”  We love Fred, but he gets grouchy sometimes if you get too close to him.)  This brings joy.  Maybe this book will explain why. Who knows?

8-  The Givenness of Things, by Marilynne Robinson.  A book of essays by the author of Pulitzer Prize-winner Gilead (one of President Barak Obama’s favorite books, by the way).  Robinson is known for her conversational tone and religious sensitivity.

Since I am a sucker for essays, hoping to publish two new books of essays in the next two years, I figure I better read Robinson’s.

9-  Women Deacons and Deaconesses: 400 Years of Baptist Service, by Charles Deweese.  My personal history with this book is an interesting one.  Soon after I purchase it, about seven years ago, I lent it to my father-in-law, who was interested in how in the world Trinity Baptist made women deacons.

For some reason, he misplaced the book and it had been lost since then.  He and my mother-in-law just sold their house and moved here to Vero Beach.  In the packing and unpacking, the book turned up.  I hope to get a chance to read it, finally!

10-  Moby Dick, by Herman Mellville.  At the beginning of last year, friends and I joined an informal movement called “Sixteen books in 2016.”  We even devoted a Facebook group page to it.

This book was on my list, and, with the move to Vero and all, I never got around to it.  Maybe this year I will.  Until then, poor Ahab will continue his fateful search for the great White Whale.  I don’t want to leave the guy hanging, so I’ll try to make it my summer beach reading fare.  Beach + whale.  Sounds like a winning combination.

11-  Something about Henry Flagler.  I went to a college on Flagler Drive, which was across the bridge from the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach.  Kristina and I went to St. Augustine for our honeymoon, and have visited many times since, including touring Flagler College.   What does all of this have in common?  Henry Flagler, the industrialist tycoon who founded Standard Oil and connected Florida by rail.  I’m sure there is a biography on him that I’ll pick up along the way.