A good review of a book I know pretty well!
Here is Doreen teaching at Dallas Theological Seminary. Professor Michael Svigel has Doreen in every year to talk about her book and field questions. Doreen’s book is required reading for the class as you can see from this snippet of Michael’s syllabus for the course.
III. COURSE TEXTBOOKS
- Required: Gonzalez, Justo. The Story of Christianity, vol. 2, The Reformation to the Present Day. Rev. and updated. New York: HarperCollins, 2010.
- Marsden, George. Fundamentalism and American Culture. 2d ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 2006. (260 pages)
- Moore, Doreen. Good Christians, Good Husbands? Geanies House, U.K.: Christian Focus, 2004. (200 pages)
- Oden, Thomas C. After Modernity…What? Agenda for Theology. Paperback ed. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1992. (224 pages)Response Paper (25%)There will be one 7–10 page paper required for this course. This will be a summary, evaluation, and personal application paper in response to the book Good Christians, Good Husbands? by Doreen Moore. The paper will consist of three clearly-labeled sections: 1) summary of the book reporting the basic thesis and content of the book (approximately 1 to 2 pages); 2) evaluation of the book, including a critical review of the book’s argument, evidence, use of history, and conclusions, including at least three positives and three negatives (3 to 4 pages); 3) personal application of the book, including a discussion of how the argument of the book affects your view of history, ministry, and family and a description of how one can utilize the information in the book in ministry (3 to 4 pages).
What President Obama told his daughters about Trump:
“What I say to them is that people are complicated,” Obama told me. “Societies and cultures are really complicated … This is not mathematics; this is biology and chemistry. These are living organisms, and it’s messy. And your job as a citizen and as a decent human being is to constantly affirm and lift up and fight for treating people with kindness and respect and understanding. And you should anticipate that at any given moment there’s going to be flare-ups of bigotry that you may have to confront, or may be inside you and you have to vanquish. And it doesn’t stop … You don’t get into a fetal position about it. You don’t start worrying about apocalypse. You say, O.K., where are the places where I can push to keep it moving forward.”
HT: Karen Swallow Prior Twitter Account
The rest is here:
Wonderful advice that economist Steven Levitt received from his dad:
I remember this one time–I must have been like seven or eight years old–my dad took me to Gibby’s Diner. This was in the closest village called Quaker Street. And Quaker Street is just like one stoplight, a general store and the diner. And all my brothers and sisters had at one point worked at Gibby’s Diner either cooking or as a waitress or whatnot. And for my dad to bring me there alone, the two of us to sit at the counter, to this kind of sacred place. It was surreal to be there. And I remember we sat at the counter, and I don’t remember what I got to eat, but I remember my dad got a cup of coffee with a scoop of vanilla ice cream in it, which looking back I realized–he could have been a Starbucks imaginer. And I was having whatever I was having, and he introduced me to this game he called Powers of Observation.
And the way Powers of Observation worked was he would say, “All right, Stevie. I just want you to look around and take it in. Just really look around, pay attention, see what you’re looking at, take it in, and get attuned–and listen hard to, OK?” Like I said, I was probably just eight or seven years old, and he said “I’m going to give you five minutes to just take it all in.”
So I sat there and I looked around; and I take it all in. And I don’t really know where he’s going with this. And then after a few minutes, he told me to close my eyes.
He’d say, “OK the waitress, Ann”–you know, we knew her, “Ann–what color is her apron?”
And I said, “White?” And he said, “Ahh, you’re just guessing.” And I said, “White!” And he said, “That’s right, that’s right. OK. The lady behind us, what did she just order?”
“Nope. Chili. OK, how many people have come in since we started playing Powers of Observation?”
And on it went, just like that. And he’d grill me on these facts large and small, any kind of site, smell, sound–anything like that. And the first couple rounds we did this, I was terrible. I couldn’t get anything right at all. I just didn’t have any powers of observation. And then as we kept doing it, I got better. And then about after 20 minutes, I felt that I could take these little snapshots with my mind. And then repeat what I’d seen. My father, that one day, at Gibby’s Diner in Quaker Street, New York, he taught me that memory–or at least observation–is a muscle that you can build. And I’ve been flexing that muscle every day since then. Or at least trying to. So we were a family with practically no money, and without really that much time with each parent, but I will never forget that one day, that incredibly great thing, an incredibly valuable thing, that my father gave me.
The rest is here:
Video I made for my dad:
Officiating wedding for older son’s best friend, Tyler. David was best man. Special time!
One of my favorite living writers, Eugene Peterson, reflects on the faithfulness of his parents:
The great suburban build-out is over….We shall have to live with its consequences for a long time. The chief consequence is that the living arrangement most Americans think of as “normal” is bankrupting us both personally and at every level of government…A further consequence is that two generations have grown up and matured in America without experiencing what it is like to live in a human habitat of quality. We have lost so much culture in the sense of how to build things well. Bodies of knowledge and sets of skills that took centuries to develop were tossed into the garbage, and we will not get them back easily. The culture of architecture was lost to Modernism and its dogmas. The culture of town planning was handed over to lawyers and bureaucrats, with pockets of resistance mopped up by the automobile, highway, and real estate interests.
You might say the overall consequence is that we have lost our sense of consequence. Living in places where nothing is connected properly, we have forgotten that connections are important.
Howard Kunstler, The Geography of Nowhere: The Rise and Decline of America’s Man-Made Landscape (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1993), 245-46.
HT: Patrick Schreiner at Ad Fontes