Getting back to my creative roots.

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My fifth-grade teacher once assigned us vocabulary words, which we were required to define and use properly in a sentence. I asked the teacher if I could use the words in the context of a short story, and she agreed. I began spinning a tale of intrigue and espionage, despite my extremely limited understand of such things as a ten-year-old. My teacher handed me back my first attempt with a note that she loved reading it and wanted to read more. (Bless her heart.)

Thus began my amateur career in serialized fiction. Each week, I’d take on the new slate of vocabulary words as a challenge and shoehorned them into my prose. The other middle-school English teachers were likewise encouraging, and I followed my initial “German spy” storyline with a Russian spy plot, and then (in a stunning genre-pivot) followed that with an adventure tale of treasure hunters unearthing mysteries in the sands of Egypt.

I have no doubt that my stories were garbage, but it didn’t matter. I was falling in love with creative writing.

In high school, I was enamored with weird tales and genre fiction. I devoured Ray Bradbury collections and binged episodes of The Twilight Zone. Frank Peretti’s novels inspired me to try to create fiction that was strange, scary, and still fully Christian. My short stories during this era were probably somehow worse than my middle-school serials. Just recounting some of the plots, I cringe slightly. They were preachy, they were obvious, they were very, well, immature. I remember showing one of my favorites to my dad and then being deeply disappointed by his unenthusiastic response. (As a father myself now, I can imagine the tightrope he had to walk.)

In college, my creative output was split between a reheated Christian allegory of the fantasy variety, more short stories, and a handful of theatrical scripts–most of which were put away when I entered the working world and turned my creative attention to blogging, continuing thus for the last couple of decades.

Why do I bring all this up? I’m feeling inspired to write short stories again. The love of the format was always there (remember my #52Stories series, you long-time readers?) and in recent weeks has been kicked back up, thanks in part to Silence and Starsong. The fact that there is a platform for Christian writers to create fiction that is based on what is good, true, and beautiful without resorting to didactic speeches and obvious tropes is exciting and inviting. I’ve read some of the stories they’ve published and was blown away by what I saw.

I want in. I want to write fiction again. I want to tell weird tales that prick at the heart and make the reader ponder something true well beyond the last word on the page.

So that’s where my brain is going these days. I’ll let you know what comes of it.

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[I’m currently kicking around a concept–not even a plot, but just a scenario, a notion–about space junk and international relations. I made that description sound intentionally boring because if I described it more accurately, it would bleed away some of the urgency to write the story.]

*tap, tap, tap*

Been a while. Hope you’re well.

Things are pretty good. Irons in the fire. Haven’t really been *making* anything for a bit. I was doing that podcast, and that was good, but I let some technical challenges be the reason (excuse) to pause production almost 3 months ago. I think I’m gonna pick that up again soon, and finish what I promised to finish.

I also want to start writing again. I miss it. It’s not even that I have anything burning to say; I just feel like I need a bit more creative outflow. I consume ideas–or at least, content. (Point of fact, I spend too much time watching Youtube reactors so I can enjoy a vicarious thrill as others discover and experience for the first time songs and movies that I love. And then, I hate just a little bit that I watch so much of that. It seems so…mentally sedentary.)

But I miss blogging. I miss sharing cool things with you, the mystery reader, the imaginary audience.

You’re probably all gone now, though. All the folks I knew from past eras of my life who had stuck around through the ups and downs. You’re good folks, and I hope you’re happy and having adventures.

Lots of memories over 20+ years of inconsistent blogging across all my pages.

This blog is a house full of shadows. Spiderwebs. Pirouetting dust particles and beams of light through cracks in the walls.

I suddenly have the feeling that I’ve written some version of this post about six times. Maybe that’s the lifecycle of a blog. First blush, early excitement, hitting the prime, getting too busy, feeling guilty, slowly slowly writing less until it’s a “sorry for the gap” post per every 3-4 posts of true content, then less, then nothing. Rinse and repeat.

This time, it’s been nine months of nothing. This blog has carried an anti-baby of silence since July.

Now I’m just talking rubbish. “Knocking off the rust,” as I’ve often said in posts like these.

Rust has been knocked. Post has been written. Publish the rubbish, and then come back and do it again, Dave.

What provoked all of this? A Youtube video. Naturally.

Reading With My Brothers.

Radio silence here on the blog lately, I know. I’ve been busy with necessaries. But I’ve also taken on a new project I wanted to tell you about.

Our church’s men’s ministry has a monthly meet-up to discuss a book we’re reading together. Last month, we started reading The Godly Man’s Picture (Drawn with a Scripture Pencil) by Thomas Watson. The “Puritan Paperbacks” edition is published by Banner of Truth, but it’s in the public domain, so you can find a copy of it for free only (for example, at Monergism.com).

This Puritan classic can be a little challenging to read, so I wanted to help my brothers in the process. Knowing that some of them prefer audiobooks to written words, and seeing that there wasn’t a good audiobook version available, I decided to start a small podcast for the purposes of reading this book with my brothers. It’s rudimentary and made on the cheap (and sounds like it), but hopefully it does the job.

If you’re interested in listening along, you can find “Reading with my Brothers” on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and Castbox (so far), with perhaps more options available in the future if people want access on other platforms.

Once this book is done, my idea is to continue posting content on the podcast that is beneficial (for example, I wanted to share some sermon excerpts from Spurgeon and others).

I don’t know how much I’ll be writing on this site over the next few months. I have a couple of preaching opportunities coming up in August that will demand more of my time for preparation. I also have my usual Bible study teaching and other church responsibilities, on top of the usual work and family gig. And truth be told, I don’t have much to say that demands a long-form format.

If you’ve been curious: I’m doing okay. Busy, but trying to be faithful and consistent. Still learning to trust the Lord for provision and strength. Prayers are always welcome. If anything of note happens during the next month, I’ll pop in and let you know, but in the meantime, maybe just sign up via email (the form is in the sidebar) so you are notified when I post again. Thanks.

Asking for Bread but Expecting a Stone.

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My friend Collin encouraged me yesterday to read a specific sermon by Charles Spurgeon on prayer. As a fan of the Prince of Preachers, I’m always open to receiving such a recommendation, so I took some time last night to read Spurgeon’s sermon entitled, “True Prayer–True Power!” I heartily encourage you to read it yourself–if not now, then soon, for your own soul’s sake.

In this sermon, Spurgeon exhorts his hearers to pray in faith, believing that God sincerely loves His children, wants to give them good gifts, and will keep His promises to them. Spurgeon calls on believers to stop playing coy (with “mock modesty”) when it comes to taking their requests to God. Instead, we should be specific, confident, and patient, not fretting over our requests seeming minor or insignificant but trusting that God desires to hear us all the same.

I struggle with this. I struggle mightily with it.

I will admit my prayer life can often become anemic, as I allow the busyness of my schedule to crowd out time for prayer. I too often think, “I should pray more–I should devote myself to it,” but thoughts never turn to action. In the current season of my life, this has come into crystal-clear focus.

Paul writes in II Corinthians 1:9 that the deadly perils the missionaries faced were intended to “make [them] rely on God.” My own minor challenges are nothing compared to Paul’s trials, but the principle remains that my God, who brings about all things in my life for my good, uses trials and hardships to make me rely more on Him.

Self-Reliance and Side Hustles

My family is in a season where our bit of abundance and margin has dried up as our expenses have increased, and we are now pressed just enough that we are more aware of our need and our reliance upon God for provision. This is a good thing, but it’s also a hard thing. My pride drives me to try to seek out a solution on my own; if we need more income, I’ll just get another job. I’ll put in some side work and make it happen. I can do this. After all, haven’t we been hearing how desperate businesses are to hire more workers?

Perhaps those businesses are out there, but they don’t seem to exist around my particular neighborhood. Every single application I’ve sent out for part-time work in the last month has come back empty. Admittedly, my schedule of availability isn’t as wide as others’, due to the margin I have built in for church and other responsibilities. That said, it seemed strange that literally no one thinks I’m a good fit for even the most entry-level of entry-level jobs.

It occurred to me this week that I seem to be divinely-prevented from picking up these side gigs. As I meditated on this sermon and the accompanying text, it struck me how my approach has been all wrong. Rather than recognizing my need and looking to my Father, I have tried to make it work on my own. Like the stubborn prodigal, I’ve been looking to hire myself out to work for others before I think of calling home for help. O foolish man than I am!

Bread for the Asking

Part of my struggle has been (and continues to be) believing what Jesus has promised: if evil men such as I am still delight in giving good gifts to our children, how much more does the Father delight in giving good gifts to those who ask Him! Maybe deep down, I harbor some doubt that the Father truly delights in blessing me, or that I have any right to draw on His promised resources. It’s easy to pray for the provision of others, to pray even in faith, trusting in God’s generosity. But when I ask for my own sake, it comes with a catch in my throat, a downward casting glance, the burn of embarrassment. I act as though I’m ashamed to ask my Father for that which He knows already I lack. Perhaps I expect to be scolded for not taking better care of things on my own (as if any of this is done on my own!).

This week, as we celebrate Father’s Day, our brother Spurgeon has reminded me that I have a Father who loves me, who likes me, who is pleased to give me what I need so that I trust Him more and more. I don’t have to be afraid or embarrassed to bring my every little care to Him, because He really and truly cares for me.

Christian, He really and truly cares that way for you, too. Call upon Him. He will not chide or scold when you bring Him your specific daily needs. The God who feeds birds and beasts provides bread for His children, instead of stones.

“Can a chicken cry?”

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Last night, I watched Matt Walsh’s documentary “What is a Woman?” on Twitter (which you can still watch for free until 7:30pm EST today, if you haven’t seen it yet). It is a shocking, frustrating, somewhat depressing piece of filmmaking. But I was particularly struck by a couple of things as I watched it:

• The unspeakable depravity and wickedness of Alfred Kinsey and John Money. I had some idea, but I never really knew, you know?
• The incredible mental gymnastics required to deny the ontological reality and fixedness of biological sex.

The second point in particular was driven home by one particular conversation, where Walsh asked an academic if we can safely determine that a chicken that lays eggs is female. The professor’s response sounded like something out of Portlandia.

This happened repeatedly throughout the documentary, as Walsh would ask questions to try to point out the logical fallacies inherent in the interviewee’s statements. The person he’s speaking to would either stare blankly, make a circular argument, or become angry. (At one point, a university professor gets angry because he says that Walsh’s use of the phrase “getting to the truth” sounds deeply “-phobic.”)

A critic of Walsh and the documentary might claim that the piece is selectively edited, or that Walsh is guilty of “nut-picking” by featuring only the most embarrassing clips of those he featured. Perhaps. But I don’t think that diminishes the fact that a question like “What actually is a woman?” is so simple a child could answer it but seems to stump multiple-degreed, professional adults. Why? Perhaps because their entire worldview seems to hang on not being able to acknowledge the answer.

As the Apostle Paul writes, “they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened…”

As a Christian, it’s also important to remember that these kinds of documentaries and discussions/debates are helpful to an extent, but they’re not enough on their own. The ultimate hope for those who are lost in the endless maze of post-modern sexual confusion isn’t reason or Socratic debate–it’s the Light that pierces into the darkness, giving sight to the spiritually blind. Only the Gospel of Jesus Christ can turn a person’s upside-down worldview right-side up again.

Now, as for the question of whether chickens can cry? I’m afraid I have to remain firmly agnostic.

This Space for Rent. Sort of.

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I recognize it’s odd that the first post in weeks (and only the fourth post of calendar year 2023) is about blog advertisements.

You may notice there are now adverts on this blog. You may even find this off-putting. I understand that. But with your indulgence, I’ll explain:

A few years ago, I dreamed of becoming a full-time blogger/writer. I was getting a little bit of income from some posts promoting products that I actually used/liked, and I thought perhaps I could parlay my writing into something more financially stable.

The problem was, I didn’t put any effort behind those idle dreams. Eventually, the Monk Manual money dried up, and I wasn’t getting approval from other businesses I reached out to with an offer to promote their products, so I lost interest and shifted focus to other things.

Before last fall, my content production had been…let’s say sporadic at best. So I wrote a TON from September through (most of) December. Maybe that was helpful/encouraging to you, or maybe it was annoying. (He wrote another post about coffee? What a waste of time!)

So far, in 2023, I’ve produced extremely little in terms of writing, both on and off this platform. My off-work time is shrinking. I have a literal stack of books next to me that I’d love to take the time to write reviews/reflections on, and for some reason I’m just not doing it. Makes me question if I ever could have made it as a full-time writer.

Right. Advertisements. Sorry.

Our household, like countless others around the country, is feeling the pinch for the current super-great, never-stronger economy (thanks, current administration!). Niceties need to get cut, belts tightened. So the $100 pricetag on a mostly-ignored website platform is on the chopping block. As I started looking at downgrading, I noticed that one of the ignored special features I was paying for all this time was monetization through advertisements.

Well, okay, WordPress, I’ll bite.

For the next almost-two-months, I’m turning ads on, because I’m curious what might happen. Please note that I can’t select the companies or the ad contents, so if you see something offensive, let me know and I’ll try to deal with it. (Or just shut the whole thing down if I can’t.) If I can collect a few ducats from advertising, hey, cool.

Of course, no one visits a dead website, so as part of this experiment, I’m also going to start posting consistently again. Daily micro-posts? Maybe. Book reviews, pieces of Bible study writing, sermon manuscripts a few times a week? Sure thing.

Let’s see what June/July do in terms of this here website’s numbers. Maybe something crazy happens and I can actually keep the (premium hosting) lights on. Who knows.

See you tomorrow. (No, really, I probably will.)

Oh, also: EAT AT GENERIC DINER X. IT’S REALLY GOOD.

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Airing out the house.

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Hey friends.

I’ve been radio silent on here for a few months, other than a couple of quick posts. I doubt anyone’s still reading, but hopefully some of you are signed up for email notifications so that you’ll see this.

Bottom line up front: all told, I’m doing well, but want to be doing better. There’s nothing awful or tragic going on in my life–don’t worry about that. It’s just a long, grinding season where I’m really having to lean in on other areas to just try to keep up with my responsibilities, but I don’t feel like I’m doing any of it particularly well. There’s always a list of things I should be doing right now instead of what I’m actually doing, so I never feel right about sitting down to write a book review or a post about current events–as if I don’t really have the time or mental capacity to commit to it. Yet I’ll scroll Twitter or watch silly online videos for an hour. That’s part of the problem, too.

Nevertheless, I wanted to post SOMETHING just to get back into the swing. To open up the windows and blow the stink off, as my grandfather used to say. It’s too stuffy in here. I need to air out the house.

I won’t insult you with promises of future content. I have a few things I’d like to talk about, and some books to review, but these days, I don’t feel like my writing is worth much of anything, so I don’t want to inflict something lousy upon your feed or inbox. If I have something halfway decent to say, and I feel like I can say it well, I’ll send it over.

Consider this a “coming up for air,” a small flutter of activity in the old house, windows opening, floors being swept, rugs being shaken out. An act of faith that there may yet one day be more to come.

Goodnight, God bless, see ya later.

Toad and Frog Teach Dave a Lesson

Image from Days with Frog and Toad by Arnold Lobel – used without permission, arrrr!

My girls love stories at bedtime, so this week, I borrowed a digital collection of Frog and Toad stories from the library to read to them. One of these stories in particular felt personally applicable. I felt seen, as they say.

In a story called “Tomorrow,” Toad (shown in pajamas) has decided that today is going to be for Taking Life Easy, and all of his necessary tasks will be done Tomorrow. When his friend Frog asks about the dirty dishes, clothes on the floor, and general disarray of his house, Toad insists that it will all be done Tomorrow.

Suddenly, Toad is distressed (as pictured). Why? Because he’s worried, thinking about all his many tasks that await tomorrow. Frog replies that, yes, “tomorrow will be a very hard day for you.”

What if, Toad asks, I go ahead and wash my dishes now? And perhaps pick up my clothes? And so on, and so on, until all the tasks are done. Finally, he collapses back into bed, weary but now unworried, and decides that Tomorrow he will take life easy.

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For the record: I’m writing this post from a very messy home office, on the last day of a week of vacation spent at home doing many, MANY projects, with many still yet undone. But I do so while still at ease.

I have too often been Toad, wanting to take life easy, postponing necessary tasks to Tomorrow. My never-ending work queue or home project list has stood stacked against me for weeks on end, things being added as quickly as things are taken off, so that any break of longer than a day or two is tinged with low-grade worry about what is yet undone. This all rings very true. That picture of Toad above? That has too often been me (except I don’t have such snazzy jammies).

What’s important to realize is that during the course of this story, nothing materially changes. Whether it’s today or tomorrow, Toad completes his necessary tasks and he still gets time to rest. But there is one change that makes all the difference; leave it to a simple children’s story to hit you with such an obvious truth! The difference Toad experiences between the moment pictured above and the end of the story is now that his tasks are completed, his rest is untroubled by the worry of what’s undone.

Before taking this past week off of work, I spent a week or so working extra hours at night and on the weekends with one clear goal: empty the inboxes. If I could log off at the end of it all with all emails responded and all tasks moved out of my hands, I could shut down my computer and enjoy a week of not just no work, but no worry.

I gotta tell you, friends: it was worth it. No matter how many dozens of emails and tasks are waiting for me when I log on in about 17 hours, at this moment, I’m not anxious. I have barely thought about my emails for days. Feels good, bro.

Hopefully this feeling persists for the rest of the day. And hopefully, as I jump back onto the task-list treadmill in the morning, I will work harder and smarter to stay on top of things, so that my tomorrow’s don’t worry me quite as much.

“I just blogged to say I love you…”

“…I just blogged to say how much I care.”

Hi friends.

Just stepping in to say hello. Things are busy at the moment, but I am doing okay. Keeping my head above water, with the occasional salty slosh and gasping breath. Not the best state of affairs, but not the worst.

My hope for this year was to cross-post my Sunday School notes on Mondays, but I think I’ll hold off on that. They need some refinement and I just don’t have time to do that. Someday, sure. Maybe I’ll write them, revise them, and post them next year as a weekly feature to support folks who may be doing a chronological Bible reading plan.

In the meantime, there’s just too much on my plate for me to produce any other good writing lately. (At this very moment, I have two toddlers jabbering at me, and my wife is calling me to come out for dinner.)

But I wanted to stop in and say hi. Hope your January is going well. I hope to come back in a week or so with something worth reading.

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In case you don’t get the musical reference in the title:

My 2022 Reading List

It’s sad, gang. (Funny, I basically began with the same comment last year, but it’s even more true this year.)

Every year, I post an end-of-year list of the books I’ve completed reading over the previous 12 months. Most of them are books I started reading in the same time frame, though occasionally there are volumes I’ll pick back up after a hiatus.

This year’s list is positively anemic–the lowest yearly total I’ve posted since I started counting maybe 15 or 20 years ago. You could point to various reasons why, but really it just comes down to the fact that my free time is getting shorter and my priorities are shifting. As such, my leisure reading has been fragmented and infrequent. There are over a dozen books I’ve begun this year but never finished because I ran out of time, got bored, or just moved on. However, those don’t count at year’s end, so here’s the actual finish list. Commentary to follow:

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January

>>Klara and the Sun – Kazuo Ishiguro

February

>>Invincible Vol.4, 5, 6, 7, 8 – Robert Kirkman

>>The Gospel  – Ray Ortlund

>>The Murder of Roger Ackroyd – Agatha Christie

March

>>Invincible Vol. 9, 10, 11, 12 – Robert Kirkman

>>Death on the Nile – Agatha Christie

May

>>Strange New World – Carl Trueman

June

>>Sermons of the Great Ejection – Various

August

>>The Mysterious Affair at Styles – Agatha Christie

September

>>The Midnight Library – Matt Haig

>>The Daring Mission of William Tyndale – Steve Lawson

November

>>Preaching and Preachers – Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones

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Like I told you: sad.

The Invincible books are a series of graphic novels (about 175 pages each) about superheroes that just got a bit too graphic for me to enjoy them in good conscience. I probably should have stopped much sooner, but I was intrigued by the storyline (a father and son superhero team is broken up when the father, who is essentially Superman, turns evil). No excuses, and I wouldn’t recommend it in good conscience to anyone. But there it is.

Not counting the comic books, I completed a grand total of 10 books this year: 4 books about theology/ministry, 1 book about sociology/worldview, and 5 novels. This year’s list marks the biggest swing toward fiction in my reading in easily a decade. Clearly, I was looking for escapism.

Typically, I’d give you a top-five recommendations from my list, but in a field so small, that seems almost self-indulgent. So I’ll just recommend two books, one fiction and one non-fiction, that I’m glad I finished this year:

• On the fiction side, I’m going to say Death on the Nile by Agatha Christie. I decided to seek out more Hercule Poirot stories after enjoying Murder on the Orient Express last year, and this one is the best so far. I almost said Roger Ackroyd but I was a bit frustrated by the reveal at the end; it was cheeky and innovative but annoying as well. I think I’ll try to seek out more Poirot this year, as palate cleansers from some of my heavier reads on the horizon.
• On the non-fiction side, I have to say that Preaching and Preachers by Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones has made and will continue to make the most impact on me, both in the practical nature of pastoral ministry as well as my perspective on the act and art of preaching. I had read portions of it in the past, but I was finally able to read it from cover to cover, and it’s worth the time for anyone who has the privilege and responsibility of preaching and teaching in a local congregation. It’s a book I’ll return to often, I think.

Next year’s reading list is obviously overly-ambitious given how I’ve been doing lately, but if I can’t shoot for the moon with my reading goals, what is even the point, right?

Anyway, there you go. The4thDave’s reading-year 2022 is in the books and best forgotten. Onward and upward!

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Your turn: What’s your favorite read of 2022? What are you looking forward to reading next year? Let me know in the comments.