Another guest post from a writer far more famous than I am. This one is by G.K. Chesterton, and it’s about one of my favorite subjects. It’s appropriately titled “Cheese.”
My forthcoming work in five volumes, `The Neglect of Cheese in European Literature,’ is a work of such unprecedented and laborious detail that it is doubtful whether I shall live to finish it. Some overflowings from such a fountain of information may therefore be permitted to springle these pages. I cannot yet wholly explain the neglect to which I refer. Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese. Virgil, if I remember right, refers to it several times, but with too much Roman restraint. He does not let himself go on cheese. The only other poet that I can think of just now who seems to have had some sensibility on the point was the nameless author of the nursery rhyme which says: `If all the trees were bread and cheese’–which is indeed a rich and gigantic vision of the higher gluttony. If all the trees were bread and cheese there would be considerable deforestation in any part of England where I was living. Wild and wide woodlands would reel and fade before me as rapidly as they ran after Orpheus. Except Virgil and this anonymous rhymer, I can recall no verse about cheese. Yet it has every quality which we require in an exalted poetry. It is a short, strong word; it rhymes to `breeze’ and `seas’ (an essential point); that it is emphatic in sound is admitted even by the civilization of the modern cities. For their citizens, with no apparent intention except emphasis, will often say `Cheese it!’ or even `Quite the cheese.’ The substance itself is imaginative. It is ancient–sometimes in the individual case, always in the type and custom. It is simple, being directly derived from milk, which is one of the ancestral drinks, not lightly to be corrupted with soda-water. You know, I hope (though I myself have only just thought of it), that the four rivers of Eden were milk, water, wine, and ale. Aerated waters only appeared after the Fall.
Continue reading “Chesterton on Cheese” →
Before I had even finished the foreword to Prepared by Grace, for Grace, I was afraid I had gotten in over my head. This book, promises Sinclair B. Furgeson of First Presbyterian Church in Columbia, S.C., “will be eagerly read by students of seventeenth-century theological literature, whether literary scholars, historian, or theologians.” Uh-oh. I’m no student of 17th-century theological literature—scholar, historian, theologian or otherwise.
It’s true: This book reads more like assigned reading from a seminary syllabus than it does like the latest paperback by Chan or Platt (introduction, no doubt, by whichever of the two didn’t write the rest). But—and this is key—do not let this dissuade you. It’s accessible, intelligent and rewarding.
Continue reading “Review and Recommendation: Prepared by Grace, for Grace” →
As a general rule, I get a little cynical about books that open with big promises. And Chris Brauns’ Bound Together: How We Are Tied to Others in Good and Bad Choices opens with a doozie: If I “carefully investigate the reality that we are deeply connected to one another,” he claims, I will “discover truth that is fundamental to all real joy.” And then he doubles down: “Indeed, without the truth that we are bound together there is no joy.”
Those are big promises, and right out of the gate. But before I tell you if he keeps his word—before I tell you whether I’ve discovered a truth that is fundamental to all real joy—I’ll walk through the basics of his book.
Continue reading “Review and Recommendation: Bound Together” →
At 30 years old, I’m on the leading edge of what has, for some time now, been called the most selfish generation in history. In a memorable article from The New York Times Magazine, Judith Warner wrote that our generation—born between 1982 and 2002—has been depicted “by employers, professors and earnestly concerned mental-health experts as entitled whiners who have been spoiled by parents who overstoked [our] self-esteem, teachers who granted undeserved A’s and sports coaches who bestowed trophies on any player who showed up.”
Ouch. That stings a little, but I don’t disagree with the general idea. I’m not convinced, however, that the problem can be explained by pandering parents, grade inflation or equal-outcome sports. It goes much deeper than that.
Continue reading “Deny Yourself” →
Rob Bell’s new book, What We Talk About When We Talk About God, is releasing this week. To mark the occasion, I’ve composed a clerihew about Rob. Yes, that’s right: a clerihew. I offer it here in celebration and anticipation of WWTAWWTAG:
wrote a book about hell.
His comparably notable feats include
surfing and eating Mexican food.
It’s a wonderful thing to be proud of my son. As a general rule, it doesn’t take a lot: cleaning his room without too much struggle, eating his veggies without the same, cracking his own eggs in the morning, coloring inside the lines, saying his own prayer at dinner. But new heights of pride were reached only a few days ago when, after watching the 1979 made-for-TV cartoon of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, he turned to me and said, “Dad, is there a book of this movie?”
Why, yes. Yes there is. I took my old paperback off the shelf to show him. “Here it is, buddy. But it’s for older kids, see?” I flipped through the pages so he could see the astonishing number of words and relative lack of pictures. “I’ll read it to you when you get older.”
“Can you read it to me now?”
Continue reading “Storytime pt. Five, or Narnia’s Deep Magic” →
Some time ago, I wrote that stories “peel back the world and show us what lies beneath,” that they teach us about good and evil. I also promised to write about the qualities of a Good Story. So here goes:
If stories teach us about the nature of good and evil, then the best stories are those that do so truthfully.
Which is why I don’t like Twilight. Full disclosure: I’ve neither read the books nor seen the movies. And I don’t intend to. I dislike them on principle because I don’t think they peel back the world and tell us the truth about what lies beneath.
Some of you, I’m sure, think Twilight doesn’t peel back the world at all, that it doesn’t make any claims about truth or good and evil, that it doesn’t propose a worldview. But every story makes these claims. When it comes to worldview, there are no neutral stories; every story either reinforces the truth or denies it. The question, then, isn’t whether a story makes a claim about the world, but whether the claim made by a story (any story, every story) is more true than not. A story is good when it is true.
Continue reading “Storytime pt. Four, or Why I Don’t Like Twilight” →
There are some people—and I am one of them—who think that the most practical and important thing about a man is still his view of the universe. We think that for a landlady considering a lodger, it is important to know his income, but still more important to know his philosophy. We think that for a general about to fight an enemy, it is important to know the enemy’s numbers, but still more important to know the enemy’s philosophy. We think the question is not whether the theory of the cosmos affects matters, but whether in the long run anything else affects them.
These past few weeks have seen several conversations about (and clashes between) worldviews — those metanarratives that form a framework for understanding our cultures and places, and which direct so many of the opinions we form and choices we make every day.
I won’t be going into specifics about these conversations, or laying out a defense of my own worldview (which can be too often interpreted as forcing it down one’s throat), but I am interested in discussing the importance of having a stable worldview. And (despite a handful or recent accusations about my own close-mindedness) to lay out the reasons I believe it’s important to engage with people who disagree.
Continue reading “Close your mind on this” →
“My Little Warrior” is a guest post by my wife, Becca, who blogs at www.beccasbalancingact.com, where this post first appeared. She is a phenomenal writer — a better writer than I am — and when I read this post I felt a twinge of jealousy before realizing how well it fits into my series on Story. I wish I had written it; it’s that good. But The Rib has done it already, and with more eloquence than I ever could. Not only is Becca a phenomenal writer, but she’s also an incredible woman, wife and (as you’ll see below) mother.
Tucking Jackson into bed tonight was especially precious. Not only because we continue to work on the art of snuggling, but because he asked me, “Mom, can you tell me a story?” and I replied, “Yes. I want to tell you a story about God.” I began the creation story describing something I can’t comprehend myself: nothingness. I tried to describe the emptiness that existed before God made the world. And if Jack was a little bit older, I would have parked there for a while because not only was I trying to imagine the unimaginable, I was trying to do so through the lens of a child. It was overpowering. Jack currently has no concept of outer space other than knowing, “Hey! There’s the moon!” And my understanding isn’t much greater than his. So even though the depth of my own fascination was swelling as I spoke to him, I summed it up quite simply: “God decided to make the world because it was a very good place, including oceans, mountains, animals, and even people.”
Continue reading “Storytime pt. Three, or My Little Warrior” →
First of all, a disclaimer: I am not a linguist. I’m not qualified to discuss why we choose the words we use, or the history of language development, or the differences between regional or national dialects. I am, however, interested in digging deeper into a conversation we had with our Cable group last night. (For those not in the know, a Cable group is what our church calls a small group.)
Here’s the short of it: A few days ago, Gary and Kacie were having a friendly marital debate about what a burglar has done in the past. Kacie said that the burglar burgled while Gary insisted that the burglar burglarized. So they called another Cable couple: Chris is an English teacher, and he put the question to his wife, Cara, and a carful of people. He came back with a unanimous burglarized. Sorry, Kacie.
Continue reading “You got burgled” →