The Rock That Crushes: Understanding Daniel 2

The Rock That Crushes: Understanding Daniel 2

Daniel’s visions are endlessly fascinating to Christians.[1] So are those from Ezekiel, Zechariah, and Revelation. They stick in your mind so vividly because they’re exciting, dramatic, bizarre, otherworldly, almost fantasy-like. This is a very particular style of writing God uses to communicate hope to desperate people.[2]

Daniel and many others are prisoners in Babylon. Their homes are destroyed, family members are dead, their nation is no more, and they’re far from home. They’re tired, lonely, anxious, scared, and perhaps doubting God’s promises. God wants to give hope to His people, and for that an essay won’t do. This is why bible books containing these fantastic visions always come during times of terrible persecution and despair. So, Daniel’s visions are not fodder for timeline speculation. They’re about hope for desperate prisoners.

In Daniel 2, God’s point is that one day His kingdom will smash everything bad, everything evil, everything unholy in this world to pieces—and then there will be peace on earth. These visions and the hope they bring aren’t just for the Jews in exile in Babylon. They’re also for believers in exile in this world today who are longing for a better country—a heavenly one (Heb 11:16).

Space does not permit a detailed run-up to the vision itself. Suffice it to say that King Nebuchadnezzar was lying in bed one night when his “mind turned to things to come, and the revealer of mysteries showed you what is going to happen,” (Dan 2:29). He was not a kind or good man. He was brutal and cruel—vowing to kill his magi and their families if they failed to accurately describe the dream and what it meant (Dan 2:4-12). Daniel and three friends are caught up in this death sentence, but God reveals the dream and its explanation to them during the night (Dan 2:14-19). The next morning, they’re rushed into the king’s presence, and we hear about the vision for the first time.

The Vision

Here it is:

31Your Majesty looked, and there before you stood a large statue—an enormous, dazzling statue, awesome in appearance. 32The head of the statue was made of pure gold, its chest and arms of silver, its belly and thighs of bronze, 33its legs of iron, its feet partly of iron and partly of baked clay. 34While you were watching, a rock was cut out, but not by human hands. It struck the statue on its feet of iron and clay and smashed them. 35Then the iron, the clay, the bronze, the silver and the gold were all broken to pieces and became like chaff on a threshing floor in the summer. The wind swept them away without leaving a trace. But the rock that struck the statue became a huge mountain and filled the whole earth (Daniel 2:31-35).

This is a composite statue. The startling bit is the sudden appearance of a rock not fashioned by human hands which pulverizes the figure and turns it to dust (Dan 2:34). The rock strikes its brittle legs, which are forged from a bizarre mixture of iron and clay. Clearly, a rock will crush clay! Because this is a fantastic otherworldly vision, we need not look for absurd literalism (e.g., how can a rock crush iron?). The point is that the rock strikes with such force that the whole thing comes tumbling down and turns to powder. This rock alone now holds the field, and it gradually grows to fill the whole earth.

What the Vision Means

Daniel explains that Nebuchadnezzar represents the head of gold (Dan 2:36-38). The king and his kingdom are synonymous—each represents the other. Daniel does not name any other king or kingdom in this vision. He accurately describes the power and majesty of the king’s reign: “the God of heaven has given you dominion and power and might and glory” (Dan 2:37; cp. Dan 4). Babylon is the preeminent power player in the Ancient Near East. Yet, God is above all. This vision presses that message home forcefully, as we’ll see.

Working on down the statue, Daniel hurriedly mentions two kingdoms which will arise after Babylon passes from the scene (Dan 2:39). The second, Daniel tells Nebuchadnezzar, is “inferior to yours” (Dan 2:39) and is presumably represented by the “chest and arms of silver” (Dan 2:32). The third is “of bronze” and “will rule over the whole earth” (Dan 2:39, cp. 2:32— “belly and thighs of bronze”).

Daniel is most interested in the fourth kingdom because it is the one the mysterious rock attacks (Dan 2:34). This kingdom is incredibly strong. The “iron” composition of its legs means it will smash and destroy “all the other” kingdoms which came before (Dan 2:40). Yet, because its feet is a mixture of iron and clay (Dan 2:33), it is curiously brittle. This frailty means “the people will be a mixture and will not remain united, any more than iron mixes with clay,” (Dan 2:43).[3] Most commentators and English bible translations understand this to mean intermarriage, but the larger point seems to be a kingdom without a shared national identity. Some writers suggest the progressive inferiority of metals represents a progressive inferiority of national unity and identity from Babylon on down the line.[4]

Daniel explains that “in the time of those kings, the God of heaven will set up a kingdom that will never be destroyed, nor will it be left to another people,” (Dan 2:44). This eternal divine kingdom “will crush all those kingdoms and bring them to an end, but it will itself endure forever,” (Dan 2:44). This is surely the rock which smashes the statue.

Because the kingdoms are successive (“after you” … “next” … “finally” (Dan 2:39-40)), and because the rock smashes only the fourth kingdom which has since destroyed “all the other kingdoms” (Dan 2:40), then God’s kingdom will not come until the time of the fourth kingdom. This suggests that when Daniel says, “in the time of those kings” (Dan 2:44), he refers to the fourth kingdom—a secular “kingdom” dynasty which the divine rock suddenly pulverizes.[5] It crushes “all those kingdoms” in that the fourth realm is built upon the ruins of the first three, and when it falls so too do the remnants of the others.[6]

But, in this vision Daniel is not interested in divine timetables or in naming the kingdoms. God’s point is simple—His kingdom will win. That’s it. That’s the point of the vision. “This is the meaning of the vision of the rock cut out of a mountain, but not by human hands—a rock that broke the iron, the bronze, the clay, the silver and the gold to pieces,” (Dan 2:45).

Nebuchadnezzar had been lying on his bed at night, wondering what the future held. Well, God says, this is the future—you lose. Everyone loses. I win. My kingdom wins.[7] I’ll smash everything unholy, dark, and wicked to pieces, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.

What the Vision Means Considering God’s Whole Story

Otherworldly visions like Daniel’s are hope for people who are suffering, tired, and doubtful. Every earthly kingdom is really Babylon under different cover—Revelation 17 and 18 show us the penultimate “city of darkness” falling after God’s avenging angels “pour out the seven bowls of God’s wrath on the earth,” (Rev 16:1). But, in the meantime, “Babylon” shape-shifts.

No matter which nation holds sway over the world, Daniel 2 assures us that God’s kingdom is coming, and it’ll smash everything else to pieces and fill the whole earth (Dan 2:35). All the great nations, the great empires, the great corporations in this world will become like chaff—only God’s work, God’s good news, and God’s values have eternal significance (cp. 1 Cor 3:11-15; Rev 18). Think of Rome, Spain, and Great Britain. Think of corporations like U.S. Steel, Sears, Kmart, or even Red Lobster! They all fade away, and a new kid enters the stage for its five minutes of fame.

What do you give yourself to? Is it worth your heart and soul? Is it of eternal significance? Do you give yourself to something that will be crushed one day?

God, through Daniel, says “Your King is coming!” Just as Nebuchadnezzar is the head of his mighty but temporary kingdom, so Jesus is the head of the eternal kingdom that’s now come—the one that’s smashing everything else to pieces even now as it expands throughout the world. Jesus said He was the stone which crushes His enemies (Lk 20:18), likely alluding to the divine rock from Daniel’s vision. Jesus said His miracles proved that “the kingdom of God has come upon you,” (Lk 11:20). He told the Pharisees that the kingdom of God was not an observable phenomenon, but instead “the kingdom of God is in your midst,” (Lk 17:21). One enters the kingdom of God by being born again of water and Spirit (Jn 3:3, 5).

It’s significant that the stone smashes the fourth and most fearsome kingdom, and then grows into a mountain over time (Dan 2:35).[8] Peter may have adapted this figure when he said each believer was a “living stone” and part of a spiritual house—a “rock” which was gradually growing to fill the whole earth (Acts 1:8) as Jesus people “make disciples of all nations” (Mt 28:19). One commentator explains: “The kingdom adds rock mass as God adds to it royal subjects.”[9] The kingdom is synonymous with Jesus.

Daniel 7 has more details for us about these four mysterious kingdoms, and their fate. But in our passage at Daniel 2, it’s enough to know that God promises hope if you’re suffering, if you’re tired, if you’re doubting God’s promises in the mess of everyday life. At Daniel’s place in God’s story, this vision assured God’s people: “The king will come one day!” Today, from the vantage point of the new and better covenant, Daniel’s vision tells us: “The king is already here—He said His kingdom is in our midst! And He’s coming back again soon!”

Here is a recent sermon I preached on this passage:


[1] Here are four helpful commentaries on Daniel which I recommend. First is Leon Wood, Daniel (Grand Rapids: Zondervan 1973). This is an excellent dispensational commentary—one of the best available. Second is a commentary by Lutheran scholar Andrew Steinmann, Daniel (St. Louis: Concordia, 2008). This is a wonderful commentary that will make you think outside the box. Third is the classic by Presbyterian scholar Edward J. Young, Daniel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1949). This is a formidable work that deserves to be consulted. Fourth is by 19th century, American Old Testament scholar Moses Stuart, Commentary on the Book of Daniel (Boston: Crocker & Brewster, 1850). Stuart’s work is conservative and almost unknown today. It’s available free online.

[2] See the wonderful discussion on apocalyptic literature in D. Brent Sandy and Martin G. Abegg, Jr., “Apocalyptic,” in Cracking Old Testament Codes: A Guide to Interpreting Literary Genres of the Old Testament, ed. D. Brent Sandy and Ronald L. Geise (Nashville: B&H, 1995), ch. 9.

[3] Leon Wood goes too far when he says: “Because the mixture of baked clay and iron is found only in the feet and toes, and not in the legs, it follows that this element of brittleness would be true of the Roman Empire only in its later period, rather than in its former,” (Daniel, 69). Wood is a dispensationalist and is setting the stage for a “revived Roman empire” in the latter days. This may or may not be correct, but it is not in the text of Daniel 2.

[4] Young, Daniel, 74, and C.F. Keil and Franz Delitzsch, Commentary on the Old Testament (reprint; Peabody: Hendriksen, 1996), 9:558.

[5] “Those kings must of course mean the kings that belong to the fourth dynasty, although they have not thus far been expressly named, but only by implication,” (Stuart, Daniel, 67).

Wood is correct that “the time of those kings” cannot refer to all four kingdoms (contra. Young, Daniel, 78, whose explanation seems desperate). However, he once again goes beyond the evidence when he claims “those kings” refers to the ten kings represented by the little horns of the evil fourth beast from Daniel. For support, he (like many dispensationalists) appeals to the ten toes of the image (Daniel, 71-2). However, Daniel himself does not find the toes significant.

It is a mistake to interpret apocalyptic visions by calling in bits of the image that the writer doesn’t highlight. One might as well appeal to the “two legs of iron” to support a fulfillment in the Eastern and Western Roman Empires, or the “10 fingers” on the silver hands to suggest a successor kingdom to Babylon with ten rulers. However, see Stuart’s able defense of the significance of the ten toes (Daniel, 65).

[6] Stuart, Daniel, 67.

[7] “Daniel apparently wanted the king to recognize through this the final supremacy of God and his program over mankind, and accordingly be brought to a place of humility before this mighty One who had so graciously revealed these things to him,” (Wood, Daniel, 74). See also Steinmann, Daniel, 138.

[8] Steinmann, Daniel, 136.

[9] Steinmann, Daniel, 138.

What I read in 2023

What I read in 2023

Well, I read 54 books this year. They tilt heavily towards biography and the doctrine of scripture. We shall see what 2024 brings. The books are listed in no particular order. Just because I read a book or have something nice to day about it does not mean I agree with everything in it!

1. The Twilight of the American Enlightenment by George Marsden (264 pp.; Basic, 2014).

This was a very good little book. It tells the story of how, at mid-century, the shared ethos of a generic, liberal Protestantism began to fail as an assumed ethos for ethics and public values. Marsden chronicles some efforts to grapple with the problem, and the reactions to these various solutions. In his final chapter, he advocates a “principled pluralism” largely following the outline of Abraham Kuyper’s “sphere sovereignty.” He calls for work to update Kuyper’s framework for the modern era.

2. With Malice Towards None: The Life of Abraham Lincoln by Stephen Oates (544 pp.; Harper, 2011 reprint).

This is the second time I’ve read this biography. It’s very good, long but not too long, and engaging. I highly recommend it. Oates’ volume was dogged with what appear to be baseless charges of plagiarism, which is unfortunate.

3. God, Revelation, and Authority (vol. 1) by Carl F. H. Henry (438 pp.; Crossway, 1999 reprint).

A classic. Henry has an interesting method for theology which relies heavily on logic and order. Even though he makes very good logical sense, his quest to make theology rationally credible does not do justice to the nature of biblical revelation. Bernard Ramm’s little trilogy (Special Revelation and the Word of God, The Witness of the Spirit, and The Pattern of Religious Authority) is a good antidote to Henry’s rationalism. See especially Gary Dorrien (The Remaking of Evangelical Theology) for an outsider’s assessment of Henry’s approach. I suspect that Henry’s God, Revelation, and Authority is more appreciated in a pro forma manner than actually read.

4. Rise of the Warrior Cop: The Militarization of America’s Police Forces by Radley Balko (528 pp.; PublicAffairs, 2021).

A very, very sobering book. Violent crime has in America has been halved since its apogee in 1991 to 1992. Yet, the public perception is that the streets are more dangerous than ever, that law enforcement is under siege. Officers ride around in dark vehicles with tinted windows. They dress like militarized infantry. Why? This book will provide some perspective.

Retrieved from the FBI Crime Data Explorer at http://tinyurl.com/et3b5m4k. Rate per 100,000 people, per year. Search parameters are for “all violent crimes” from 1985 to 2022.

5. The Riders Come Out at Night: Brutality, Corruption, and Cover-up in Oakland by Ali Winston and Darwin BondGraham (480 pp.; Atria, 2023).

In the same genre as Rise of the Warrior Cop, but focusing on police corruption in Oakland. Sobering and astonishing.

6. The Trump Tapes by Bob Woodward (11hrs 29 min; Simon & Schuster, 2022).

You won’t appreciate this unless you listen to the audiobook version, which is just recordings of Woodward’s 20 interviews with then-President Trump. This is perhaps the most damning series of interviews to which I’ve ever listened. From a strategic perspective, it seems the president made a mistake by giving Woodward such unfettered access. However, many of President Trump’s constituents likely do not read Woodward, so perhaps it wasn’t a mistake after all?

7. Peril by Bob Woodward and Robert Costa (512 pp.; Simon & Schuster, 2023).

The third book of Woodward’s Trump trilogy, chronicling the transition to the Biden administration with particular focus on the COVID-19 pandemic response. It’s as horrifying and important as the other two in the series.

8. Rage by Bob Woodward (580 pp.; Simon & Schuster, 2021).

The first of Woodward’s Trump trilogy. It details the Trump transition. It is frightening and paints the picture of Trump as monumentally unfit for any public office–let alone the White House.

9. Biblical Porn: Affect, Labor, and Pastor Mark Driscoll’s Evangelical Empire by Jessica Johnson.

This is a very curious book. It chronicles bits of the Mark Driscoll and Mars Hill Church saga with particular attention to the church’s propagation of a deviant strain of Christian sexuality (i.e. “biblical porn”); particularly how it leveraged its expectations in this area to produce volunteerism, commitment, and loyalty to its peculiar evangelical empire. The ground Johnson covers here overlaps in some areas with the ChristianityToday’s wildly popular “Rise and Fall of Mars Hill” podcast (Johnson published first!).

The peculiar aspect of this book is that it seems to see-saw between an engaging history and sudden esoteric discussions of sociological theory. It reads like two very different pieces melded somewhat awkwardly into one. The discussions of sociological affect seem pasted in with (in some instances) little to no transition. The jarring bit is that Johnson doesn’t really try to translate affect theory for non-specialists. Her academic peers in the same field surely appreciate her remarks along that line, but interested laypeople like me are a bit lost when she veers hard right into academic speak.

In summary, this is a very interesting and informative book that can’t decide whether it wants to be an academic treatise or a popular book for non-specialists. In contrast, it seems to me that Kristin Kobes DuMez faced a similar dilemma with Jesus and John Wayne and chose the popular route, and succeeded quite well. This doesn’t mean Johnson’s book is bad–far from it. I enjoyed it and was horrified at some of what I read. I just wish she’d had interested laypeople like me in mind when she wrote it.

10. A Religious History of the American People (2nd ed.) by Sydney Ahlstrom (1216 pp.; Yale, 2004).

I read about 20% of this book (pp. 385-510, 731-872) while conducting research for a book I wrote on inerrancy and the doctrine of scripture. It is amazing readable, moves fast, and is rightly a classic. I doubt anything like it will come along anytime soon. Mark Noll’s History of Christianity in the United States and Canada is a fraction of this length. Historian Thomas Kidd (Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary) has a book due out in the next year or so which covers some of the same ground, and I am looking forward to it.

11. In Discordance with the Scriptures: American Protestant Battles Over Translating the Bible by Peter Thuesen (256 pp.; Oxford, 2002).

A refreshing and very interesting book about bible translations in America, using the RSV translation’s public reception as a foil. It’s a bit out of date now, especially considering the TNIV gender-inclusive “controversy” from about 15 years ago, and the rise of the ESV.

12. Truth or Consequences: The Promise Perils of Postmodernism by Millard Erickson (335 pp.; IVP, 2001).

This book is what it sounds like–a primer on postmodernism with some of Erickson’s trademark irenic analysis. This is a very helpful book that was part of the “postmodernism is new and weird and we’ll explain it for you” wave of books that conservative Christians put out around the year 2000. Sometimes theologians try to speak outside their lane, and it shows (e.g. Wayne Grudem’s Politics According to the Bible). This doesn’t happen here. Erickson is well-credentialed to respond to postmodernism; he holds an MA in Philosophy from the University of Chicago.

13. America’s Book: The Rise and Decline of a Bible Civilization 1784-1911 by Mark Noll (864 pp.; Oxford, 2022).

This was another book of which I read a portion (pp. 309-582) for research. It’s a very interesting and informative book about just what its title suggests.

14. Religion in the Public Square: Sheen, King, Falwell by James M. Patterson (248 pp.; University of Pennsylvania, 2018).

This was a unique book, because it examined three different paradigms for understanding religion in the public square. Patterson did this by spotlighting three very different individuals; (a) the fiery Roman Catholic radio priest Fulton J. Sheen, (b) the black Baptist preacher Martin Luther King, Jr., and (c) that quintessential representative of white, Southern-style Baptist fundamentalism–Jerry Falwell, Sr.

15. Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America by Russell Moore (272 pp.; Penguin, 2023).

This is sort of a spiritual sequel to Moore’s 2015 volume Onward! He wrote this book in the aftermath of his resignation from the Southern Baptist Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission and transition to editor-in-chief of Christianity Today. You could say that Moore landed on his feet!

This book is a word of testimony—testimony of what one fellow wayfarer has learned about how to survive when the evangel and the evangelicalism seem to be saying two different things. That requires naming what we have lost—our credibility, our authority, our identity, our integrity, our stability, and, in many cases, our sanity. This book will consider all the ways evangelical America has sought these things in the wrong way—and suggests that perhaps it’s by losing our “life” that we will find it again.

Moore, Losing Our Religion, pp. 21-22

The volume reads a bit like a cathartic exercise from a good man who was deeply hurt by some very unpleasant people who are part of a very unpleasant machine.

I couldn’t help but wonder if the plot twist to the story of American conservative Christianity was that what we thought was the Shire was Mordor all along. I pretend that all of that is past me, but it lingers, in the ringing in my ears of the stress-induced tinnitus that persists to this day, and in the fact that I am still waiting for one sleep without nightmares about the Southern Baptist Convention. But here I am, an accidental exile but an evangelical after all.

Moore, Losing Our Religion, p. 9

This volume fits into a new (post-Trump + 2016) genre that I like to call “white evangelicism sucks and this is why.” It’s not that Moore’s book is bad. It’s not–it’s actually quite good. It’s just that so many people have written (and are still writing) the very same book. They say the same things, in the same way. Of course, perhaps they all say the same things because they all see the same problems. Yes, got it. Understood. I am glad Moore escaped from Southern Baptist public life and I hope he recovers in a spiritually wholesome environment. Still, I’m tired of this genre.

16. Grant by Ron Chernow (1104 pp.; Penguin, 2018).

It’s a biography. It’s very good. Chernow fairly addresses the persistent myth that Grant was a drunken fool. This is probably the best Grant biography in print.

17. Washington: A Life by Ron Chernow (928 pp.; Penguin, 2011).

An excellent biography.

18. Lincoln by David Herbert Donald (720 pp.; Simon & Schuster, 1996).

It’s good. I’m about Lincoln’d out. I’ve read Oates’ volume twice, and now this.

19. Timothy Keller: His Spiritual and Intellectual Formation by Collin Hansen (320 pp.; Zondervan, 2023).

This is an interesting little book. I’m not sure it’s worth the hype its received. That isn’t to say its bad. It’s an interesting sketch of the influences that made Tim Keller the unique and gifted man that he was.

20. The Pattern of Religious Authority by Bernard Ramm (117 pp.; Eerdmans, 1959).

The first volume in Ramm’s trilogy of authority in the Christian life. Ramm places great emphasis on the Spirit being the channel by which God speaks to His people. A very good and very helpful book.

21. The Witness of the Spirit by Bernard Ramm (142 pp.; Wipf and Stock, reprint, 1960).

The second volume in Ramm’s trilogy. He and Carl Henry have very different approaches. He eschews Henry’s cold rationalism and emphasizes the Spirit’s dynamic and dialogical role in the Christian life. Ramm was heavily influenced by Calvin’s own treatment on the Spirit, and it shows. I really appreciate Ramm. He is the kind of theologian I want to be when I grow up!

22. Special Revelation and the Word of God by Bernard Ramm (221 pp.; Eerdmans, 1961).

The final volume in Ramm’s trilogy. In an era before the Chicago Statement (1978) set the guardrails for the debate for a new generation, Ramm took a mediating position that was still in the conservative orbit. In the modern era, the Chicago Statement is a non-negotiable article of faith for conservative institutions and many churches. Ramm would not have fit easily into that mold.

23. The Scripture Principle by Clark Pinnock (284 pp.; Harper Collins, 1984).

Pinnock’s plea for a conservative alternative to the Chicago Statement. Well-reasoned and irenic, but firm. Modern evangelicals who assume “orthodoxy = the Chicago way or the highway” ought to read Pinnock. They might be pleasantly surprised. I cannot speak to the two revised editions of the book which Pinnock put out with a co-author. I recommend only the original, 1984 edition.

24. The Authority and Interpretation of Scripture: An Historical Approach by Jack Rogers and Donald McKim (564 pp.; Wipf and Stock, 1999 reprint).

Whenever you mention this book to conservative theologians, they will likely respond within 10 seconds with “but, did you read Woodbridge’s reply?” That tells you that Rogers/McKim stuck a nerve. This is an extraordinary work that surveys the historical data about how Christians have understood the nature of scripture. The issue of Chicago-style inerrancy lurks in the background as Rogers/McKim’s rhetorical foe–they conclude that the Chicago Statement is not the historical position of the church. I cannot agree with everything in the book, and Woodbridge gleefully documented reams of purported errors–I leave the reader to evaluate whether his criticisms are valid. Still, a must-read.

25. Preaching: Communicating Faith in an Age of Skepticism by Timothy Keller (320 pp.; Penguin, 2016).

26. The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, Volume 5: Christian Doctrine and Modern Culture (since 1700) by Jaroslav Pelikan (414 pp.; University of Chicago, 1991).

A very good survey of Christian doctrine.

27. A History of Christian Thought Volume 3: From the Protestant Reformation to the 20th Century, revised ed. by Justo Gonzalez (498 pp.; Abingdom, 2009 reprint).

An excellent survey–I prefer it to Pelikan.

28. The Use of the Scriptures in Theology by William Newton Clarke (192 pp.; Charles Scribners, 1905).

Clarke is the poster-child for gentle, kind, 19th century Baptist liberalism. His doctrine of scripture disgraces God, but he is so kind and grandfatherly that you almost like the guy.

29. The Rise and Fall of Dispensationalism: How the Evangelical Battle over the End Times Shaped a Nation by Daniel Hummell (400 pp.; Eerdmans, 2023).

An important volume on an important topic. Dispensationalism has fallen on hard times. It has little to no scholarly influence, has no reliable academic press, has very few scholars publishing anything to advance the system, has produced precious few technical commentaries, and few substantive mid-level (e.g. NAC, Tyndale, or EBC level) commentaries. In that sense, it has indeed “fallen” from great heights. This book provides one explanation about why and how.

30. The Remaking of Evangelical Theology by Gary Dorrien (262 pp.; Westminster John Knox, 1998).

A tour-de-force survey of evangelical theology from a liberal outsider. This is one of the best books I read in 2023. His survey of theological perspectives is fair and irenic, and his footnotes will take you to valuable works from conservatives.

31. Scripture, Authority, and Interpretation by Dewey Beegle (332 pp.; Eerdmans, 1973).

Beegle’s book is another entry from the 1970s to 1980s genre which I’ll call “the Chicago Statement is wrong!” Some of his critiques of Chicago-style inerrancy are interesting, but on the whole Beegle goes off the reservation here. If you want a conservative alternative to the Chicago Statement, see Pinnock and not Beegle. F.F. Bruce wrote an endorsement!

32. The Princeton Theology 1812-1921: Scripture, Science, and Theological Method from Archibald Alexander to Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield edited by Mark Noll (344 pp.; Baker, 1983).

This is an edited volume containing lengthy excerpts from four “old Princeton” theologians on scripture, science, and theological method. Noll provides brief introductions but largely lets the authors speak for themselves. An invaluable book. Warfield and A.A. Hodge are excellent on scripture–much better than R.C. Sproul, who drafted the original 1978 Chicago Statement and somehow misunderstood the “original autograph” issue along the way–compare the Chicago Statement to Warfield’s “The Inerrancy of the Original Autographs” (1883) and you’ll see what I mean.

33. Between Faith and Criticism: Evangelicals, Scholarship, and the Bible in America (2nd ed.) by Mark Noll (284 pp.; Regent College, 2004).

This is mostly inside baseball stuff for academia, but it has some interesting insights. It explores how to reconcile faith and critical inquiry. It’s a logical sequel to the Princeton volume or Noll’s The Bible in America book.

34. The Fifth Risk by Michael Lewis (256 pp.; Norton, 2019).

A forgettable little book about how President Trump’s administration was allegedly so inept and how everything may crumble to bits at any moment. Not worth buying. Glad I checked it out from the library. It repeats the same theme in every chapter; (a) Lewis introduces the noble civil servant, then (b) in come the stupid Trump officials in 2017, then (c) the dumb Trumpian appointees threaten to ruin everything, then (d) Lewis lets the noble bureaucrat explain how dangerous the Trump appointees are, then (e) the next chapter repeats in a different government sector. Very tiresome and a bit condescending.

35. Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion by David Hume–ed. Richard Popkin, 2nd ed. (160 pp.; Hackett, 1998).

Hume annoys me.

36. “Essay VI—On Judgment,” in Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, by Thomas Reid, edited and abridged by A.D. Woozley (517 pp.; MacMillan, 1941).

Reid’s emphasis on common sense, on what every rational person can know by his innate faculties, is very good. Philosophers today seem to be scornful of commonsense realism, so this makes me wary. But, Reid just makes sense. I suppose one main hurdle is that Reid makes sense in a world in which one is willing to acknowledge that God has created us and given us logical faculties for reason. We don’t live in that world any longer, so I suspect that disconnect is driving some of the disagreement.

37. The Bible in America: Essays in Cultural History edited by Nathan O. Hatch and Mark A. Noll (192 pp.; Oxford, 1982).

An extraordinary series of essays from world-class historians. Not sure why it’s out of print!

38. Wilson by A. Scott Berg (880 pp.; Penguin, 2014).

A magisterial biography of a very interesting man. It made me very sad to read of Wilson’s incapacitation shortly after his second term began. I wonder what he could have accomplished if he’d retained his physical powers.

39. Hoover: An Extraordinary Life in Extraordinary Times by Kenneth Whyte (768 pp.; Knopf Doubleday, 2018).

The best book I read in 2023. Hoover was a true genius. His story is inspiring beyond words. He came from nothing, made a career as a brilliant mining engineer, then a financier of sorts in the mining world, then saved untold millions from starvation as head of a humanitarian agency (what would now be an NGO) during and after the first world war. Secretary of Commerce. Elected President. If there was any single individual in American history who could have been up to the task of combating the series of crises that we now refer to as the Great Depression, it would have been Hoover. And yet, he couldn’t get it done.

Whyte works hard to bring perspective to Hoover’s reactions to the financial crises. He argues that Hoover responded as well as could be expected, that Franklin Roosevelt cribbed several of his policies and ideas (even the infamous “nothing to fear but fear itself” line), and that the depression was on the road to recovery when Roosevelt assumed office–but that the latter refused to coordinate policy with Hoover and went his own way. Whyte notes that the depression continued until the second world war, that Roosevelt did not “solve” the depression, and that Hoover was understandably bitter about the treatment he received. Roosevelt was undeniably a superior politician, and Hoover was dealt a bad hand … not unlike Jimmy Carter nearly 50 years later.

I plan to read another Hoover biography in 2024. This man deserved better. He truly was an extraordinary man in extraordinary times.

40. Watergate: A New History by Garrett M. Graff (832 pp.; Simon & Schuster, 2023).

Anything you want to know about Watergate? You’ll find it here. This is the most up-to-date, exhaustive account of the scandal in print. An outstanding book.

41. The Struggle of Prayer by Donald Bloesch (196 pp.; Helmers & Howard, 1988).

Excellent little book.

42. Nixonland: The Rise of a President and the Fracturing of America by Rick Perlstein (896 pp.; Scribners, 2009).

Nobody would confuse Perlstein with an objective historian. This is an entertaining, exhaustively researched work of cultural history with a sarcastic tone. That isn’t to say it isn’t valuable. His quartet of books chronicling the rise of the political right from Goldwater to Reagan is essential reading, and extraordinarily entertaining.

43. American Individualism by Herbert Hoover (91 pp.; Doubleday, 1922).

Hoover published this little book while he was Secretary of Commerce. He outlines what he sees as a peculiarly American kind of individualism–a characteristic which sets America apart:

Therefore, it is not the individualism of other countries for which I would speak, but the individualism of America. Our individualism differs from all others because it embraces these great ideals: that while we build our society upon the attainment of the individual, we shall safeguard to every individual an equality of opportunity to take that position in the community to which his intelligence, character, ability, and ambition entitle him; that we keep the social solution free from frozen strata of classes; that we shall stimulate effort of each individual to achievement; that through an enlarging sense of responsibility and understanding we shall assist him to this attainment; while he in turn must stand up to the emery wheel of competition.

Hoover, American Individualism, pp. 9-10. Emphasis added.

Hoover believed we must make our own way; that we must be guaranteed equality of opportunity but not equality of outcome. The grand object of government is to (a) foster equality of opportunity without (b) throttling individual initiative:

To curb the forces in business which would destroy equality of opportunity and yet to maintain the initiative and creative faculties of our people are the twin objects we must attain. To preserve the former we must regulate that type of activity that would dominate. To preserve the latter, the Government must keep out of production and distribution of commodities and services. This is the deadline between our system and socialism. Regulation to prevent domination and unfair practices, yet preserving rightful initiative, are in keeping with our social foundations. Nationalization of industry or business is their negation.

Hoover, American Individualism, pp. 54-55

One can see glimmerings of the modern GOP here. This is a very interesting book. Well worth reading and pondering. Needless to say, Hoover despised Roosevelt’s New Deal.

44. Eisenhower in War and Peace by Jean E. Smith (976 pp.; Random House, 2013).

A good biography. It seems to lose steam once it hits Eisenhower’s presidency. And, yes–Eisenhower surely had an affair with Kay Summersby. Smith suggests that Eisenhower planned to divorce Mamie and marry Kay, but his plan was thwarted. Like a good general facing hard realities, Eisenhower then sent Kay a “Dear John” letter that is astonishingly cruel and heartless. He cut her loose like a used Kleenex. Eisenhower comes across as an amazing politician and a great leader, but a poor general. That is fair, I believe.

45. Truman by David McCullough (1120 pp.; Simon & Schuster, 1992).

This book made me love Truman. It has earned its reputation. I even bought a “The Buck Stops Here!” desk sign replica from the National Archives. I will display it on my desk at work.

46. Reagan: An American Journey by Bob Spitz (880 pp.; Penguin, 2019).

A great biography of an interesting guy. Reagan was a good man, a kind man, a decent man. He also seemed to be shallow and a bit of an empty suit.

47. Our Faith by Emil Brunner, trans. John Rilling (153 pp.; Scribners n.d.).

I love these little “this is what the Christian faith is about” books that theologians sometimes write. This is a great book.

48. The Soul of Prayer by P.T. Forsyth (109 pp.; Regent College (reprint), 2002).

A classic on prayer. Probably the most quotable book I’ve ever read.

49. Faith and Justification by G.C. Berkouwer, trans. Lewis Smedes (201 pp.; Eerdmans, 1954).

A great book on justification. It’s refreshing to read something plain and scriptural on this essential topic from the era before the new perspective on Paul clouded everything.

50. His Very Best: Jimmy Carter–A Life by Jonathan Alter (800 pp.; Simon & Schuster, 2021).

I don’t believe the “great” Carter biography has yet been written. This book more describes than explains. I don’t know why Carter is such an inflexible moralist. I don’t know why he’s a theological liberal. I don’t know why he wanted to go into politics. I don’t know much about his relationship with his kids. I don’t know how this inflexible man managed to build a coterie of professionals around him who took him to the Georgia governor’s mansion and eventually to the Presidency. I don’t know why he was such a bad and seemingly clueless politician (he famously didn’t try to remain friends with the Democratic Party). I know all these things happened, but I don’t know why. Still, Alter’s biography is informative. It’s probably the best one available to date.

51. Atonement and the Death of Christ: An Exegetical, Historical, and Philosophical Exploration by William L. Craig (328 pp.; Baylor, 2020).

An outstanding book by a world-class philosopher and theologian.

52. Whither? A Theological Question for the Times by Charles A. Briggs (334 pp.; Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1889).

Briggs wrote this book in great frustration. He had been hounded for years by conservatives within his Presbyterian denomination over his doctrine of scripture and inerrancy. He believed the Princeton school was erecting bulwarks that were impossible to hold. He disagreed vehemently with that perspective’s reading of the historical record and believed inerrancy was a recent invention by pious men who were reacting against realities they did not want to acknowledge. It deserves to be read, regardless of whether one agrees with Briggs.

53. The Bible Doctrine of Inspiration: Explained and Vindicated by Basil Manly, Jr. (278 pp.; A.C. Armstrong and Son, 1878).

A sensible and wise volume on the doctrine of inspiration from a Southern Baptist theologian. Worth reading.

54. Revelation and Inspiration by James Orr (224 pp.; Duckworth & Co., 1910).

Another wise and sensible book on the doctrine of scripture from a Scottish evangelical. Conservatives who follow the Chicago-style of inerrancy generally do not like Orr’s volume. I think it has some very good material.

What I Read in 2021

What I Read in 2021

I read 68 non-fiction books in 2021. Most were social history and the rest were theology. This year was marked by (1) a broadening of my own horizons about the church’s mission and its responsibility to society, (2) a realization that the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood is not a trustworthy organization, (3) a deeper exploration of the more unpleasant side of American evangelicalism, and (4) a study of American social history and its nexus to American evangelicalism over the past 100 years.

My top six

I don’t chose these because they’re “the best.” I chose them because they influenced me the most, or made me think deeply. Too many people (pastors and theologians) only read the same people, saying the same things, in the same way. The conclusions are foregone. Why bother? Don’t read your 800th book on justification by faith written by a guy from the same Reformed sub-culture that produced the other 799 books you read. Break out of the bubble, man!

So, here are my top six for 2021:

One Nation Under God: How Corporate America Invented Christian America by Kevin Kruse. A very, very good book about the origins of the Religious Right. This was a watershed book for me. Perhaps the best book I read in 2021.

At heart this book seeks to challenge Americans’ assumptions about the basic relationship between religion and politics in their nation’s history. For decades now, liberals and conservatives have been locked in an intractable struggle over an ostensibly simple question: Is the United States a Christian nation? This debate, largely focused on endless parsing of the intent of the founding fathers, has ultimately generated more heat than light. Like most scholars, I believe the historical record is fairly clear about the founding generation’s preference for what Thomas Jefferson memorably described as a wall of separation between church and state, a belief the founders spelled out repeatedly in public statements and private correspondence.

This scholarly consensus, though, has done little to shift popular opinion. If anything, the country has more tightly embraced religion in the public sphere and in political culture in recent decades. And so this book begins with a different premise. It sets aside the question of whether the founders intended America to be a Christian nation and instead asks why so many contemporary Americans came to believe that this country has been and always should be a Christian nation.

One Nation Under God, KL 240

Before the Storm: Barry Goldwater and the Unmaking of the American Consensus by Rick Perlstein. This is a truly essential book. The preface and the first chapter will always stay with me. Here’s an excerpt:

It is hard, now, to grasp just how profoundly the tectonic plates of American politics have shifted between 1964 and today. Think of a senator winning the Democratic nomination in the year 2000 whose positions included halving the military budget, socializing the medical system, re-regulating the communications and electrical industries, establishing a guaranteed minimum income for all Americans, and equalizing funding for all schools regardless of property valuations—and who promised to fire Alan Greenspan, counseled withdrawal from the World Trade Organization, and, for good measure, spoke warmly of adolescent sexual experimentation. He would lose in a landslide. He would be relegated to the ash heap of history. But if the precedent of 1964 were repeated, two years later the country would begin electing dozens of men and women just like him. And not many decades later, Republicans would have to proclaim softer versions of these positions just to get taken seriously for their party’s nomination. The analogy wouldn’t be exaggerating what has happened since 1964 too much. It might even be underplaying it …

Before the Storm, KL 83.

And one more:

Scratch a conservative today—a think-tank bookworm at Washington’s Heritage Foundation or Milwaukee’s Bradley Foundation (the people whose studies and position papers blazed the trails for ending welfare as we know it, for the school voucher movement, for the discussion over privatizing Social Security) ; a door-knocking church lady pressing pamphlets into her neighbors’ palms about partial-birth abortion; the owner of a small or large business sitting across the table from a lobbyist plotting strategy on how to decimate corporate tax rates; an organizer of a training center for aspiring conservative activists or journalists; Republican precinct workers, fund-raisers, county chairs, state chairs, presidential candidates, congressmen, senators, even a Supreme Court justice—and the story comes out. How it all began for them: in the Goldwater campaign.

It was something more than just finding ideological soul mates. It was learning how to act: how letters got written, how doors got knocked on, how co-workers could be won over on the coffee break, how to print a bumper sticker and how to pry one off with a razor blade; how to put together a network whose force exceeded the sum of its parts by orders of magnitude; how to talk to a reporter, how to picket, and how, if need be, to infiltrate—how to make the anger boiling inside you ennobling, productive, powerful, instead of embittering. How to feel bigger than yourself. It was something beyond the week, the year, the campaign, even the decade; it was a cause. You lost in 1964. But something remained after 1964: a movement. An army. An army that could lose a battle, suck it up, regroup, then live to fight a thousand battles more. Did You Ever See a Dream Walking?—that was how William F. Buckley entitled an anthology of conservative writings in 1970. Later that year, his brother won a Senate seat from New York with the backing of the state’s Conservative Party. The dream was walking. Maybe it wasn’t even just an army. Maybe it was a moral majority.

Before the Storm, KL 127-136. Emphases added.

The Making of Biblical Womanhood: How the Subjugation of Women Became Gospel Truth by Beth Allison Barr. See my review. See also my article critiquing the often vicious pushback she and Kristen Du Mez continue to receive from white, male theologians associated with the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood.

For me, Barr’s book is more than the sum of its parts. I believe her attempts to tie the inerrancy movement to “patriarchy,” and her failure to define “patriarchy” anywhere in the book were mistakes. Yet, it’s value to me is that it was an introduction to critiques of complementarianism. For that, I’ll always be grateful.

For all my adult life, I had served in ministry with my husband, remaining in complementarian churches even as I grew more and more skeptical that “biblical womanhood” as we had been taught matched what the Bible taught. I kept telling myself that maybe things would change—that I, as a woman who taught and had a career, was setting a positive example. I kept telling myself that complementarianism (the theological view that women are divinely created as helpers and men are divinely created as leaders) wasn’t at its root misogynistic. I kept telling myself that no church was perfect and that the best way to change a system was by working from within it. So I stayed in the system, and I stayed silent.

I stayed silent when a woman who worked at a Southern Baptist church and attended seminary alongside my husband was paid less by that church because she wasn’t ordained. Ironically, the reason she wasn’t ordained was because the church was Southern Baptist.

I stayed silent when a newly married woman whose job carried the family insurance quit that job after attending a retreat with women from our church—a retreat that featured a hardline complementarian speaker who convinced this woman that her proper place was in the home. Her decision, from what I heard, caused tension within the family, including financial. She stopped coming to church. I have no idea what happened to her.

I stayed silent when, after our pastor preached a sermon on gender roles, a married couple gave their testimony. The wife encouraged women to verbally agree to what their husbands suggested, even if they really disagreed. God would honor their submission.

I stayed silent when I wasn’t allowed to teach youth Sunday school because the class included teenage boys. I led discussions with special permission when no one else was available.

I stayed silent.

It wasn’t until that Sunday, three months after the worst had happened, that I realized the hard truth. By staying silent, I had become part of the problem. Instead of making a difference, I had become complicit in a system that used the name of Jesus to oppress and harm women.

And the hardest truth of all was that I bore greater responsibility than most in our church because I had known that complementarian theology was wrong.

Making of Biblical Womanhood, pp. 3-5

A Manual for Preaching by Abraham Kuruvilla. He is the best preaching teacher working in the United States, today. You need his books.

Christianity and the Social Crisis Walter by Walter Rauschenbusch. This might be one of the most paradigm-shifting books I’ve ever read. Very convicting and very good criticism of the “just preach the Gospel” flavor of Christianity. There are clear affinities here with the liberation theologies from Latin American that came to the fore about 50 years later. Though Rauschenbusch is hetero-orthodox in some places, he is a must-read. Your teachers and theological gate-keepers may tell you to stay away from him and his “social gospel.” Ignore that advice. Chew the meat and spit out the bones. There are some big bones, here. But, there’s also a lot of meat. Read it.

As long as a man sees in our present society only a few inevitable abuses and recognizes no sin and evil deep-seated in the very constitution of the present order, he is still in a state of moral blindness and without conviction of sin. Those who believe in a better social order are often told that they do not know the sinfulness of the human heart. They could justly retort the charge on the men of the evangelical school. When the latter deal with public wrongs, they often exhibit a curious unfamiliarity with the forms which sin assumes there, and sometimes reverently bow before one of the devil’s spider-webs, praising it as one of the mighty works of God.

Regeneration includes that a man must pass under the domination of the spirit of Christ, so that he will judge of life as Christ would judge of it. That means a revaluation of social values. Things that are now “exalted among men” must become “an abomination” to him because they are built on wrong and misery. Unless a man finds his judgment at least on some fundamental questions in opposition to the current ideas of the age, he is still a child of this world and has not “tasted the powers of the coming age.” He will have to repent and believe if he wants to be a Christian in the full sense of the world.

Christianity and the Social Crisis, p. 88

The Hospital: Life, Death, and Dollars in a Small American Town by Brian Alexander. One of the best books I read in 2021. Sobering. Eye-opening. Engaging. It provides a snapshot of America’s “health care system” through the prism of a small, private, rural hospital in Bryan, Ohio.

A lot had changed in Bryan, though you couldn’t tell at first glance. From his office high up on the hospital’s fourth floor, Ennen could see across High Street to the white water tower with the big blue BRYAN on it, the letters leaning forward as if to announce that the “Fountain City” had momentum. He could see the Spangler Candy Company plant—the Dum Dums lollipop people—sprawled below the water tower. The company had been there for over a hundred years. He could see the railroad tracks beyond and the freight cars headed east and west, day and night, and the trees in their winter nakedness and the flat farm fields to the north, raked by the wind that never seemed to stop. If, as a boy, he had walked up to the top of the county courthouse and looked out of the tower, the picture would have been the same.

Bryan didn’t look different, but it was. Up High Street toward Main, and on the other side of Main, there was the trouble. There were about 36,800 preternaturally homogenous people spread over Williams County’s 421 square miles of tiny villages, fields, and lakes, but there could be as much as eight years’ difference in average life expectancy from one part of the county to the next, and even from one part of tiny Bryan to the next.

Such disparities played out in Ennen’s hospital every day. It was playing out three floors below him right then. He’d attended Bryan High with Marc Tingle. Their paths were already diverging as teenagers, and would diverge even more over the coming decades, until the village contractor with the dentures and the bad heart found himself dying in the CEO’s hospital.

As it happened, what was true in Williams County was true all over America, including places with huge healthcare systems and giant universities with medical schools. America had spent a century arguing about medical care but had not settled a thing. After all that time, all that arguing, and all that money, America was sick, and getting sicker and dying earlier with every passing year. Ennen and his shop were supposed to do something about that, but what—especially when the hospital was struggling to stay afloat? And what had created those differences in the first place? Could a hospital, even a financially secure one, intervene in any meaningful way? In many cases, CHWC was a Band-Aid station, though not the kind its local detractors implied. It was a battlefield clinic in an amorphous and mutating social and economic war that was killing people.

The weapons used against the people CHWC cared for were as deadly as any disease: Both the Ohio and the federal minimum wages were less than they were forty years before, after adjusting for inflation. Pensions had disappeared. Unions had been driven out of workplaces. As they were, wages fell and more of the nation’s wealth flowed to its richest people. Consolidated industries and financial engineers ruled the lives of employees. And as inequality spiked, health insurance evolved into an unaffordable, often useless racket. The hospital took in the casualties, patched them up, and released them back into what had become a one-sided conflict.

The Hospital, pp. 8-10

The rest of ’em

This doesn’t mean these books aren’t good. I enjoyed most of them, liked many, and loved some. Here they are:

Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation by Kristin Du Mez. A giant sledgehammer to the knees of the conservative evangelical sub-culture. A great book. Don’t listen to the gatekeepers who tell you it’s dangerous or wrong, or who say “yeah, but …” There are not “buts.” Buy it. Read it. Don’t be like these Christians.

The Civil War as a Theological Crisis by Mark Noll. An informative monograph on the interpretive morass that resulted when competing cultural narratives used the scriptures to justify their positions. I need to read it again.

The Art of Preaching Old Testament Narrative by Steve Mathewson. See my review. I didn’t like this book.

The Christian and Social Responsibility by Charles Ryrie. I remember think this book was interesting, but I remember next to nothing about it. Make of that what you will! Ryrie advocates that the church eschew social issues and focus on the Gospel. It’s short. If you come from a white, conservative evangelical background, Ryrie is likely where you’re coming from.

Empire: The Rise and Demise of the British World Order and the Lessons for Global Power by Niall Ferguson. Entertaining. It was cotton-candy history. Light survey on key themes with “lessons” for today. Nothing deep. Just enough to make you feel a little morally superior for having read it!

The History of Christianity: Beginnings to 1500 by Kenneth Latourette. Masterful. Fascinating. A real tour de force, if you’re into history. Latourette was a true Renaissance man in the Christian history field. I read this book slowly, in the evenings, over perhaps four months. It gave me great appreciation for Christian traditions not my own, and broadened my horizons along that line in many intangible ways.

A fundamentalist I am familiar with dismissed Latourette as “a liberal,” which means Latourette wasn’t precisely the same flavor of Christian as he. Well, I say that’s a good thing! Latourette’s text used to be the standard Christian history survey at many seminaries, but has largely been displaced by Justo Gonzalez (and others). Well worth reading.

Christus Victor: An Historical Study of the Three Main Types of the Idea of Atonement by Gustaf Aulen. Ground breaking. Paradigm shattering. I had never seriously considered the Christus Victor theory of atonement before, though I believed it. I think it complements penal, substitutionary atonement quite well. I preached the 2021 Easter sermon on Christus Victor.

A Holy Baptism of Fire and Blood: The Bible & the American Civil War by James P. Byrd. An eye-opening study of the ways both sides used (and twisted) Scripture to make it say what suited their purposes, during the Civil War. This is a grave cautionary tale for leaders today who wish to use God’s word to magically justify their own position, seemingly oblivious to the need for any introspection. Wayne Grudem’s Politics According to the Bible is a case in point.

Divorce and Remarriage in the Church by David Instone-Brewer. Very helpful study that conludes Christians may indeed divorce, under certain circumstances. I used it extensively when I wrote my long position statement on Christian divorce, earlier this year.

Believe Me: The Evangelical Road to Donald Trump by John Fea. Indispensible. Evangelicals must read this book. They’ll recognize a lot.

The Minister as Diagnostician by Paul Pruyser. An interesting little book. I purchased it to give me some insight for counseling. I thought it was helpful.

On Liberty by John Stuart Mills. Very, very interesting. Mills essentially says everyone ought to be allowed to do anything he wishes, unless it infringes on someone else’s liberty. An enlightening discussion on political theory … and a cautionary tale about how folks consider morality and the public square without a revelation from God.

As One Without Authority by Fred Craddock. A good book on preaching.

Solving Marriage Problems by Jay Adams. Helpful. Adams is always to the point and full of good counseling advice for pastors.

What Happens When We Worship by Jonathan Cruse. An unhelpful book by a neo-Puritan. It drips with venom, contempt, and scorn for anyone who isn’t like him. Read my review.

Recalling the Hope of Glory: Biblical Worship from the Garden to the New Creation by Allan Ross. A good overview of worship throughout the Scriptures.

Protestant Biblical Interpretation (3rd) by Bernard Ramm. Very good discussion on hermeneutics.

The Problem of the Old Testament by Duane Garrett. An outstanding book. Garrett’s discussion of a via media between covenant theology and dispensationalism as regards the relationship of Israel and the Church was groundbreaking, for me.

Natural Law: A Brief Introduction and Defense by David Hanies and Andrew Fulford. It is what it says. I wrote an article after reading this little book.

Without Precedent by Joel Paul. A biography of John Marshall.

Stalin: Breaker of Nations by Robert Conquest. A great biography of a truly evil man.

The Invisible Bridge: The Fall of Nixon and the Rise of Reagan by Ron Perlstein. Perhaps the most stunning work of history I’ve ever read. This was my entree to Perlstein’s quartet history of the modern conservative movement.

Reaganland: America’s Right Turn 1976 – 1980 by Rick Perlstein. The same.

With Reverence and Awe by D.G. Hart and John Meuther. A truly awful book written by neo-Puritan, worship fundamentalists who disdain anyone who isn’t like them. The most wretched book on worship I’ve ever read. I considered burning it after reading, because I got the impression the authors would gladly do the same to me. I wrote an article on a related topic.

Worship in Song by Scott Aniol. A helpful perspective on worship.

The Conservative Church by David DeBruyn. Meh.

Anatomy of Hymnody by Austin Lovelace. I understood nothing the author said. Literally nothing.

With God on Our Side: The Rise of the Religious Right in America by William Martin. A great history of the Religious Right. Outstanding work.

The Gospel-Driven Church by Jared Wilson. A good book. Wilson’s target appears to be younger pastors who are disillusioned with the shallow, hipster version of attractional Christianity. That isn’t me, but I still appreciated his book.

Christ-Centered Worship by Bryan Chapell. Probably the most helpful book on worship a pastor can own.

Empire of Liberty: A History of the Early Republic (1789 – 1815) by Gordon Wood. Part of the Oxford History of the United States series. A good book.

Engaging with God by David Peterson. A very, very good book on worship that goes beyond arguments about the regulative or normative principles.

Your God is Too Small by J.B. Phillips. Very powerful little book.

From Every People and Nation: A Biblical Theology of Race by J. Daniel Hays. An eye-opening and revolutionary look at what the bible says about race. Moses’ second wife was black!

The Blue Parakeet: Rethinking How You Read the Bible by Scot McKnight. This is a very provocative little book that will challenge any Christian. McKnight’s burden is to make us realize that we all read the Scriptures through our own interpretive lenses, and we ought to know that, admit it, and account for it so we can read the Bible the right way. He has a long discussion on women in ministry, as an example of how we often do this. McKnight is an egalitarian, and that may offend some readers.

What I learned was an uncomfortable but incredibly intriguing truth: Every one of us adopts the Bible and (at the same time) adapts the Bible to our culture. In less appreciated terms, I’ll put it this way: Everyone picks and chooses. I know this sounds out of the box and off the wall for many, but no matter how hard we try to convince ourselves otherwise, it’s true. We pick and choose. (It’s easier for us to hear “we adopt and adapt,” but the two expressions amount to the same thing.) I believe many of us want to know why we pick and choose. Even more importantly, many of us want to know how to do this in a way that honors God and embraces the Bible as God’s Word for all times.

The Blue Parakeet, p. 13

A Vision for Preaching by Abraham Kuruvilla. Buy it. Read it. Do it.

“Theology of the Pentateuch” by Eugene Merrill, in Biblical Theology of the Old Testament, edited by Roy Zuck. An extremely good, insightful discussion.

Introducing Liberation Theology by Leonardo Boff and Clodovis Boff. Short, accessible, thought-provoking introduction to a very important topic. There is much to learn, here.

How to Preach the Psalms by Kenneth Langley. A good little book.

The Impending Crisis: America Before the Civil War 1848-1861 by David M. Potter. If you want to know the context that lead to the Civil War, then you need this book.

Nixonland: The Rise of a President and the Fracturing of a Nation by Rick Perlstein. Slower moving than Perlstein’s other books in the quartet. He paints a very dark, very bleak picture of America in the early 1970s.

White Flight: Atlanta and the Making of Modern Conservatism by Kevin Kruse. A horrifying, eye-opening look at a very evil issue. One of the best books I read in 2021. Christians should be shocked.

The Second Founding: How Civil War and Reconstruction Remade the Constitution by Eric Foner. To paraphrase Gandalf the Grey, “I have no memory of this book.” I remember nothing about it, but I do know I read it.

The Ordeal of Thomas Hutchinson by Bernard Bailyn. I’ve felt sorry for poor Hutchinson ever since I tread about how a mob destroyed his home, way back in my community college days. This is a good biography of a staid, intelligent civil servant who found himself outdone by events he couldn’t understand.

Second Treatise on Civil Government by John Locke. Very interesting reading.

Christian Democracy: Principles and Policy-making. A position paper on the Christian Democrat philosophy, from Germany. This is the brand of political philosophy I most align with. The American version of this perspective is the American Solidarity Party.

Last Best Hope: America in Crisis and Renewal by George Packer. A thoughtful book. It’s four-fold taxonomy of the spectrum of “different America’s” is very good. I will use it as a framework for some time to come. If you want to read a short book about “how we got to where we are” in America, you can’t do better than this. This is not a partisan screed.

10 Questions to Diagnose Your Spiritual Health by Donald Whitney. It’s a classic for a reason. I will use it for a book study at church, in 2022.

The Meaning of Marriage by Tim and Kathy Keller. The most helpful, balanced boo on marriage I’ve seen. I use this for marriage studies in a variety of contexts.

Leadership in Christian Ministry by James Means. A good, older book on pastoral leadership. Good reminders, in here.

Lovin’ on Jesus: A Concise History of Contemporary Worship by Swee Hong Lim & Lester Ruth. A great, short history of a topic that’s controversial in some circles.

Jerry Falwell and the Rise of the Religious Right: A Brief History with Documents by Matthew A. Sutton. It’s what it sounds like. A good, short overview of the Religious Right by Sutton, followed by well-chosen and enlightening primary source documents on various aspects of the movement. A great resource.

The Making of a Battle Royal: The Rise of Liberalism in Northern Baptist Life 1870-1920 by Jeffrey P. Straub. If you want a good primer on the context for the fundamentalist-modernist controversies, this book will do it. A good book.

O Come, Let Us Worship: Corporate Worship in the Evangelical Church by Robert G. Rayburn. A wonderful book; right up there with Bryan Chapell’s book.

Thoughtful Christianity: Alvah Hovey and the Problem of Authority within the Context of Nineteenth-Century Northern Baptists by Matthew C. Shrader. A thoughtful and engaging history of a towering, very influential but rarely studied Baptist leader in the mid-to-late 19th century.

Interpreting the Psalms: An Exegetical Handbook by Mark Futato. Read this today, for an upcoming DMin class. Very basic. Read something very similar at seminary, years ago. Probably why I found it so unhelpful. Not bad, just really “ho, hum.” Like a flat, warm Diet Coke. Not author’s fault. It’s just basic.

Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement by Kathryn Joyce. A sobering look at the hard-core edge of the American complementarian spectrum. I believe the CMBW-flavor of compartmentarianism is hetero-orthodox at points, and that Christian patriarchy is even more troubling.

Glass House: The 1% Economy and the Shattering of an All-American Town by Brian Alexander. If you want to understand the hopelessness that pervades too many small towns in America, this is the book to read. The description:

In 1947, Forbes magazine declared Lancaster, Ohio the epitome of the all-American town. Today it is damaged, discouraged, and fighting for its future. In Glass House, journalist Brian Alexander uses the story of one town to show how seeds sown 35 years ago have sprouted to give us Trumpism, inequality, and an eroding national cohesion.

The Anchor Hocking Glass Company, once the world’s largest maker of glass tableware, was the base on which Lancaster’s society was built. As Glass House unfolds, bankruptcy looms. With access to the company and its leaders, and Lancaster’s citizens, Alexander shows how financial engineering took hold in the 1980s, accelerated in the 21st Century, and wrecked the company. We follow CEO Sam Solomon, an African-American leading the nearly all-white town’s biggest private employer, as he tries to rescue the company from the New York private equity firm that hired him. Meanwhile, Alexander goes behind the scenes, entwined with the lives of residents as they wrestle with heroin, politics, high-interest lenders, low wage jobs, technology, and the new demands of American life: people like Brian Gossett, the fourth generation to work at Anchor Hocking; Joe Piccolo, first-time director of the annual music festival who discovers the town relies on him, and it, for salvation; Jason Roach, who police believed may have been Lancaster’s biggest drug dealer; and Eric Brown, a local football hero-turned-cop who comes to realize that he can never arrest Lancaster’s real problems.

Preaching with Variety by Jeffrey Arthurs. It was ok.

Interpreting the Parables (2nd ed.) by Craig Blomberg. Outstanding guide. I am persuaded the parables are allegory.

The Wisdom of Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes by Derek Kidner. Disappointing.

The Parables of Jesus by Dwight Pentecost. If you’re a dispensationalist who wants eisigetical comfort food, this book is for you.

Stories With Intent: A Comprehensive Guide to the Parables of Jesus by Klyne Snodgrass. An exhaustive, dictionary-like resource on the parables.

Privilege the Text! A Theological Hermeneutic for Preaching by Abraham Kuruvilla. Buy it. Read it. Do it.

The Necessity of Theology

It is all too common for preachers, especially some of my brethren in fundamental Baptist circles, to ridicule learning and diligent study of theology. The concept of Seminary is sneered at by some of these men. “You don’t need all that higher learning,” they scoff. “You just need the word of God!”

Charles Spurgeon had a few words for those who, in his day, echoed similar sentiments:

Be well instructed in theology, and do not regard the sneers of those who rail at it because they are ignorant of it. Many preachers are not theologians, and hence the mistakes which they make. It cannot do any hurt to the most lively evangelist to be also a sound theologian, and it may often be the means of saving him from gross blunders. Nowadays, we hear men tear a single sentence of Scripture from its connection, and cry “Eureka! Eureka!” as if they had found a new truth; and yet they have not discovered a diamond, but a piece of broken glass.… Let us be thoroughly well acquainted with the great doctrines of the Word of God.

Charles Haddon Spurgeon, Lectures to My Students (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1945), 196.