In general, I try to keep up with Baker Academic’s Engaging Culture series. In fact, I’m hoping to share more about the titles in that series over the summer. The most recent title is Paul Heintzman’s Leisure and Spirituality: Biblical, Historical, and Contemporary Perspectives. It is, in short, “an exploration of how Christians and the church can address the phenomenon of leisure in contemporary society” (xv). He argues there are four reasons Christians should want to study the topic (xv):

  • Problems with current leisure practice that need to be addressed
  • Potential benefits of leisure to be appropriated
  • Understanding leisure as a spiritual need
  • Lack of theological reflection on the topic

Heinztman explains these issues in more detail in the introduction before getting into the argument of the book, which is split into 6 parts. In the first, he surveys understandings of leisure from contemporary society. There are seven main views (6):

  • Classical Leisure (a state of being; an attitude)
  • Leisure as Activity (non-work activities)
  • Leisure as Free Time (time after work and existence tasks)
  • Leisure as a Symbol of Social Class (conspicuous consumption)
  • Leisure as a State of Mind (an optimal psychological experience)
  • Feminist Leisure (meaningful experience; enjoyment)
  • Holistic Leisure (leisure in all of life)

Heintzman will return to these categories regularly throughout the book. After giving an expositional survey of them in the first chapter, he discusses trends and issues in the second. These include our use of time, boredom, issues in the work-leisure relationship, and the lack of spiritual dimension in many leisure activities. This then provides context for the second part of the book which traces the history of leisure concepts. Chapter 3 explains the history of classical understanding of leisure and chapter 4 offers a short history of leisure activities.

From here, Heintzman digs into the biblical understanding in part 3. Chapter 5 gives a short biblical theology of the Sabbath, while chapter 6 does the same for the concept of rest. Since this does not exhaust the relevant biblical teaching, chapter 7 gives a glimpse of other words and themes that relate. This includes a short look at festivals and feasts, dance, and hospitality in select Scripture passages. In part 4, the focus turns to our understandings of work. Chapter 8 gives a history, including references to how the Protestant work ethic has been misunderstood. Chapter 9 then turns to the biblical material in order to sketch out a theology of work.

This all provides context for part 5. There Heintzman begins critiquing the different Christian concepts of leisure, before offering a constructive way forward (chapter 10). Then he argues for an “identity” approach to the relationship of work and leisure (chapter 11). In short, this means that the distinction between work and leisure is not as well defined as one might think and there is no need to be liberated from work in order to enjoy leisure (206). This then leads to Heintzman’s discussion in part 6 about the relationship of leisure and spirituality. He connects leisure with our spiritual well-being (chapter 12), and also our ability to cope with life (chapter 13). His epilogue offers a concise and illustrated theology of leisure.

Heintzman’s book is both an interesting an important read. Interesting because it’s not a topic I think many of us have studied in detail, yet it is something we are engaged in on a daily if not weekly basis. It is also interesting because of the source material he draws on, which lies outside most of my normal reading. It is an important read because it has direct bearing on how we use our time and whether we are living spiritually healthy lives in our approach to work and leisure. While I wasn’t particularly riveted by the study, Heintzman presents his ideas and argument clearly, making a persuasive case. It is probably something I’ll be reflecting on further over the summer with the extra leisure time I’ll have on my hands.

Paul Heintzman, Leisure and Spirituality: Biblical, Historical, and Contemporary PerspectivesGrand Rapids: Baker Academic, April 2015. 352 pp. Paperback, $24.99.

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Thanks to Baker Academic for the review copy!

Apparently, this is the 50th anniversary of the NIV, and there’s a pretty intense new study Bible coming out later this year. I’ll be honest though, the NIV is not usually my translation of choice. I think I grew up with it somewhat, but my first study Bible was NKJV, and then I switched to ESV not long after that. I’ve moved away from thinking of NIV as a second rate (an idea from early Bible college days), as I realized it is just as legitimate as the ESV. If you’re not convinced yet, read this by Doug Moo and this by Bruce Waltke. Over the summer, I’m actually going to try to read the entire Bible in the NIV using a reading plan in Logos. (You could try a similar plan, but stretched out for a year by clicking here)

Zondervan is putting together quite a few resources to really highlight the usefulness and reliability of the NIV. Things like this infographic:WheelGraphic2

You can see more if you click through any of the links above. Given all that, what are your thoughts on the NIV? Do you use it regularly? If not, do you use it comparatively in your studies? I’ve pretty much always been ESV with a splash of NET here and there (and most recently N. T. Wright’s NT translation on occasion). How do you use translations in your reading and studies?

You might remember my series on building a theological library. Several volumes were from the Tyndale Commentary series, which is on sale at Westminster.
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Not long after I had said bye to my friend Matt after hanging out for the weekend, I get a text. “Mae is playing at the House of Blues tonight.” I’m pretty sure this is a mistake. They had already gone on a farewell tour, broken up, and now had other projects in motion. But, after a quick Google search, I not only confirmed it was actually Mae playing, but that this was the 10 year anniversary tour for The Everglow.

This is an incredibly busy month, but this weekend was kind of open. Matt and his wife Sarah were down from Philly at the start of their vacation and we were able to hit up Epcot late Saturday afternoon. After church and lunch, I had suggested Matt and his wife Sarah check out Downtown Disney. They decided to do so, and that’s how Matt stumbled upon the House of Blues marquee. Matt and I had been roommates freshman year of college at Word of Life and we, along with several others, would often drive down to Tampa for shows. The most vivid for us being when the not yet wildly popular Anberlin headlined the Tooth and Nail tour with Emery and mewithoutYou.

Alongside this, Mae was probably one of my favorite bands in college, and The Everglow was my favorite album. It bridged the gap between my time away at college at Word of Life and my final two years at home before leaving for Dallas. In terms of albums high on the nostalgia meter, The Everglow is up there. I remember when it came out in late March and winter was slowly coming to an end in upstate New York. It became the soundtrack for my road trips in the final days of the semester and then for the summer of working at camp. Later that year I was able to see them in Atlanta, and even later again in Dallas after Singularity came out.

Needless to say, last night’s plans went on hold and me and Matt headed down to the House of Blues. Neither of our wives are big concert fans, so it was like going back in time in some respects to hear Mae play an album from 10 years ago when we were both still in college and unmarried. They opened with 3 songs off three different albums before playing the entire 15 track album start to finish, and then closing with an encore of another two songs. There were minor hints of rust, but it was a stellar performance that did not disappoint.

The House of Blues here in Orlando is smaller than the one in Dallas and the show wasn’t that crowded. But, it was pretty much only serious fans and so everyone sang along for most of the set list. You can see in the stage setup in the picture it has a kind of intimate feel already, and this only added to it. It’s always hard to tell whether a band is just playing to the crowd when they say they were touched by sharing the night with you, but the guys in Mae seemed to genuinely enjoy us. The feeling was of course mutual.

Lots to ponder here. I tend to agree with the barb about 50 Shades. There is something about the curse associated with the fall that perverts our desires, which renders the case made above for Schizoanalysis off track. Psychoanalysis is more on track, but is confused about what constitutes “normal” because it doesn’t take into account the original creation and the perverting effects of the fall. In the end, there is a case to be made for our desires for fascism. We want to be controlled, but fail to choose the right Lord for our lives.


Yesterday, an article of mine posted over at Christ and Pop Culture:

Over time, my taste for metal hasn’t really mellowed. It’s continued to expand and grow more progressive. And while I haven’t been overly analytical of my musical tastes, I have reflected on them here and there, and in one particular instance, found myself interacting with a series of videos from Pastor Doug Wilson.

I don’t remember how I stumbled across the series’ first video, but it was Wilson responding to this question: “When young people in a church are death metal fans, what are the operating principles for discussion with them on this topic?” Without really defining the genre, Wilson argued that some musical genres are essentially rebellious by nature and that’s kind of the point. Additionally, he seemed to argue that if you actually sat down and explained what the lyrics were about, it would answer the question of whether or not a Christian kid should be listening to it.

This wasn’t particularly satisfying. On the one hand, some musical genres are rebelling against Western tonal musical standards, but I’m not sure that makes them rebellious in the sense that it’s sinful to listen to them. That seems to be treating the two rebellions as equal, which assumes that Western tonal music is the God-given standard for music (i.e., the correct way to compose and play music). Certainly I can compose music that rejects current social conventions, but metal in general, and death metal in particular, aren’t really doing that. The lyrics may reject conventions, but the music is still mainly in the Western tonal tradition.

You can read the rest here. I am curious to see when and if Wilson responds. He seems apt to do that kind of thing, so I hope I’m not thoroughly demolished by his wit and wisdom. I guess we’ll see.


Over the past several weeks, I’ve been continuing on through the book of Numbers as part of my devotional reading. I told you about snakes on the plain a few weeks back, and how they are some very instructive stories scattered through Numbers. The barrier to getting to these stories is usually working through the opening 10 chapters which are mostly geneological, hence Numbers.

Unless you’ve done some background reading, you might not be aware that there are problems with the numbers in Numbers. Mainly, the issue is that the numbers are very large (600,000+ people in Israel) and there is genuine lack of archaeological evidence that a people group that large was assimilated in to Egypt at some point and also wandered the Arabian peninsula for 40 years. While archaeological evidence does not determine the truthfulness of the biblical record, there is something to be said for considering how to take the numbers in Numbers. If nothing else, people were instructed to go outside the camp for certain, shall we say, business, and if there are over a million people present, that’s a long walk for a bathroom break.

Gordon Wenham outlines the four main problems with accepting the numbers at face value:

First, it is very difficult to imagine so many people surviving in the wilderness of Sinai for forty years. When women and children are included, the census figures suggest there were about two million people all told. Even allowing for heaven-sent quails and manna and occasional miraculous supplies of water, there would be great difficulties in providing for all the physical requirements of such a multitude, the more so when they are all supposed to have camped neatly round the tabernacle (Num. 2) and marched together, and so on. The bedouin population of modern Sinai amounts to only a few thousand; and until relatively recent Jewish immigration into Israel, the total population of Palestine, a much larger and more fertile area, was only just over a million.

The second difficulty about accepting these figures is that they appear internally inconsistent. The most obvious point concerns the ratio of adult males to first-born males, roughly 27 to 1. This means that out of every 27 men in Israel only 1 was the first-born son in his family. In other words an average family consisted of 27 sons, and presumably an equal number of daughters. The average mother must then have had more than 50 children! This figure would be reduced if multiple polygamy were common in Israel and only the father’s first child counted as the first-born in the family. But other evidence suggests bigamy was unusual in Old Testament times, and that multiple polygamy was restricted to the very rich.

The third difficulty arises from other texts which apparently acknowledge that initially there were too few Israelites to occupy the promised land all at once (Exod. 23:29f.; Deut. 7:6f., 21f.). But two million Israelites would have more than filled the land. Indeed, in the judges period the fighting men of the tribe of Dan numbered only 600 (Judg. 18:16; cf. Num. 1:38–39).

The fourth point is a mathematical oddity, and does not prove anything, though it may suggest these figures are not quite what they appear. Not only are most of the figures rounded off to the nearest hundred, the hundreds tend to be bunched: 200, 300, 400, 500, 600, 700 occur but never 000, 100, 800 or 900. This concentration of hundreds between 200 and 700 suggests the totals are not random as might have been expected in a census. (Wenham 69-70)

He then suggests four solutions:

  1. The numbers are accurate
  2. The numbers are accurate, but reflect a later time, probably David’s
  3. The numbers have suffered textual corruption
  4. The numbers are symbolic

He leans toward the latter, but still has nagging questions. While we might not be able to completely solve the problem, Timothy Ashley’s conclusion seems appropriate:

No one system answers all the questions or solves all the problems. Rather than assuming this complex (mis-)use of ’lp, one might be better served to assume that a zero needs to be dropped from all the figures involved. This would give a fighting strength of 60,355 and a total population of between 200,000 and 250,000 (still quite high by ancient standards). The flaw in this suggestion is that the mistake in zeros would easily occur only where numbers were represented by figures rather than by words. We have little or no evidence that figures were used in the biblical texts during the biblical period.

A weak point in all the solutions that understand ’lp as “tribal subgroup” is that the text of Numbers understands it as “thousand.” The editor simply totals the figures to get 603,550. Using the ’lp = “group” solution, the total is (according to Flinders Petrie and Mendenhall) 598 groups of 5,550 men. To understand ’lp in any other way than “thousand” assumes a misunderstanding and mistransmission of the text in all the census lists of Exodus and Numbers (not to mention other texts). Since both the LXX and the Sam. Pent. basically agree with the MT, the misunderstanding must have taken place as early as the 5th or 4th cent. B.C.

In short, we lack the materials in the text to solve this problem. When all is said and done one must admit that the answer is elusive. Perhaps it is best to take these numbers as R. K. Harrison has done—as based on a system familiar to the ancients but unknown to moderns. According to Harrison the figures are to be taken as “symbols of relative power, triumph, importance, and the like and are not meant to be understood either strictly literally or as extant in a corrupt textual form.” (Ashley, The Book of Numbers, 65–66)

Ashley’s discussion is worth reading in full if you can get your hands on his NICOT volume. Wenham’s is more accessible (price-wise), and I’d highly recommend picking it up if you want to look into this further. At the end of the day, there is much to learn in reading the Old Testament and often that means leaving certain things in tension and awaiting further resolution.

Given the earlier celebration of May the 4th this week, I thought we’d get back to film Friday with these videos from Earthling Cinema. In case you’re curious, the premise of these videos is that human culture no longer exists and an alien is explaining it to other aliens using the cultural artifacts of our movies.


One of my earliest reviews was Joe Thorn’s Note to Self. I thought it was an excellent little devotional work.It is not so much something you read and move on from, but continue to come back to read time and time again. In a very similar vein, Joe Thorn’s most recent book, Experiencing The Trinity: The Grace of God For the People of God, offers readers devotional readings to be savored and re-read. The 50 short chapters are divided into three parts, one for each person of the Trinity. Each chapter focuses on either the person or work (or both) of the Father, Son, or Holy Spirit. I gave it an initial read-through so I could comment here, but I plan to go back and read them with my wife this summer.

Initially what really caught my attention was Thorn’s introduction, which you can actually watch an interview about here or read the excerpt offered below. The short version is that in 2011, Thorn went through a “dark night of the soul.” In the process of reaching out to David Murray, making some lifestyle changes, leaning more into God and the gospel, he began finding a way out of the darkness. It resonated with me because much of what he described feeling was what my summer was like last year and I’ve only recently started feeling semi-normal again. I don’t think my experience was as intense as Thorn’s, but there seemed to be similarities. Knowing that, I now know that this will be a book that I come back to when the anxiety seems overwhelming, and that seems to be what Thorn has in mind for readers. As he says by way of conclusion,

What follows are fifty daily readings that reflect on God and the gospel and how they overcome our fear, failure, pain, and unbelief. Much of this I preached to myself over the last couple of years, and all of it is directed toward my own heart. So, for instance, when I write “there is a kind of deficiency in your christology,” I’m referring primarily to my own weakness. But if you find yourself with a heart like mine, weak and in need of grace, I pray these readings will be an encouragement to you. For God offers his grace to people like us. (18)

What I hope you will discover—what I continue to learn over and over again—is that all of us are far weaker than we know. Our sin, which is much darker and goes much deeper than we realize, is the real source of our most significant weakness. Neither you nor I can measure up to God’s standards. We are trapped in our condition of guilt, and the only hope is the offer of grace by our triune God. (19)

Joe Thorn, Experiencing The Trinity: The Grace of God For the People of God. Wheaton: Crossway, february 2015. 144 pp. Paperback, $10.99.

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Thanks to Crossway for the review copy!


Although I didn’t request it, I recently found myself with a copy of Brant Hansen’s Unoffendable: How Just One Change Can Make All of Life Better. A simplistic explanation of the book is that it’s like the main song from Frozen. Or, at least it’s a plea to reader to not get so worked up about things that would otherwise make us angry. In that sense, the book is an explanation of the author’s own journey to being less able to be offended.

On the one hand, I appreciate Hansen’s argument since I’m already tired of the current outrage culture and cannot really relate to it. To some extent, I’m already unoffendable, and I worry that might not be a good thing. I’ve wondered if maybe I should be more outraged than I am about certain things. In that sense, I’m kind of predisposed to read Hansen’s book as a justification for what I already feel.

On the other hand, I think there is probably room for a general ability to be offend and outraged when the time calls for it. Hansen’s argument is that we’re not necessarily entitled to our anger (hence the need to “let it go”), and that righteous anger is generally a myth. I’m not sure I completely bought the argument for the latter, but I do think placing things in the righteous anger category doesn’t necessarily mean that being worked up about the issue is psychologically or spiritually healthy for everyone involved.

That being said, I enjoyed reading the book, will probably reflect on it a bit more, and would recommend others read it as well. I’d particularly be interested what some other reviewers think since this book is a little outside of the normal types of books I see reviewed (based mostly on whose reviews I read). I think at the very least, we as evangelical Christians could probably stand to be less offendable than we currently appear to be, but whether or not we should be completely unoffendable is something we could still explore.

Brant Hansen, Unoffendable: How Just One Change Can Make All of Life Better. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, April 2015. 224 pp. Paperback, $15.99.

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Thanks to Thomas Nelson for the review copy!


When I was looking through the available books on BookLook Bloggers, I came across Jeff Goins’ most recent effort, The Art of Work: A Proven Path to Discovering What You Were Meant To Do. To cut to the chase, the path Goins suggests looks like this (196):

  • Awareness: Before you can tell your life what you want to do with it, you must listen to what it wants to do with you
  • Apprenticeship: Every story of success is s story of community. Although mentors are hard to come by, accidental apprenticeships are everywhere. Your life is preparing you for what’s to come.
  • Practice: Real practice hurts. It takes not only time but intentional effort. But some things do come naturally. Be open to learning new skills, and wathc for sparks of inspiration to guide you.
  • Discovery: Don’t take the leap; build a bridge. You never “just know” what you’re supposed to do with your life. Discovery happens in stages.
  • Profession: Failure is your best friend. Don’t push through obstacles; pivot around them. Let every mistake and rejection teach you something. Before a season of success, there often comes a season of failure.
  • Mastery: A calling is not just one thing. It’s a few things, a portfolio that isn’t just your job but the life you live.
  • Legacy: Your calling is not just what you do; it’s the person you become – and the legacy you leave.

While this more or less lays bare the conceptual structure of the book, it doesn’t give you the full picture. Goins is a masterful storyteller and so part of the effect of reading is the way his stories might spark your imagination. Personally though, I was more interested in the conceptual structure and particularly the follow up exercises that Goins suggests doing to pursue this particular path. As I’m still in a place of clarifying and consolidating my calling and work, I found Goins these the most helpful and still need to put some of the suggestions into action.

If you’re in a place where you’re trying to figure out what you want to do with your life, or like me are in a season where graduation looms large and helps you re-think life, this book might be worth checking out. At the very least, it might make an excellent graduation present to either some embarking on college or a career. I learned a lot in my 20’s, but one thing I learned the harder way was that figuring out your work is not an easy task. But as Goins helps explain, it’s not supposed to be, but that doesn’t mean you should shy away. Rather, Goins will hopefully help readers work their way down the path that will clarify exactly what they were meant to do.

Jeff Goins, The Art of Work: A Proven Path to Discovering What You Were Meant To DoNashville: Thomas Nelson, March 2015. 240 pp. Paperback, $16.99.

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Thanks to Thomas Nelson for the review copy!


For a while, I wondered whether or not to request a review copy of Michael Wittmer’s Becoming Worldly Saints: Can You Serve Jesus and Still Enjoy Your Life? I had heard both good and critical things about it, and it seemed to be getting enough publicity without my 2 cents. But then, a copy showed up unexpectedly with a note from Wittmer himself. I’m not sure whether I was specifically selected by the way it was worded or whether my name came from a list of people that ought to get a review copy. So, if you’re reading this Dr. Wittmer, thanks for the copy, personal invitation or not!

To the book itself, I thought it was a bit mis-titled after reading it. The question posed by the subtitle arises from the background of fundamentalist evangelical culture that seems to treat pleasures of the world as antithetical to true Christian living. I went to a Bible Institute the first two years of college that gave that impression and it seems like Wittmer had a similar college experience. Wittmer’s answer in this book is really to offer a balance between a Kuyperian and Two-Kingdoms approach to appreciating culture. In that sense, it’s not really a plea to be “worldly” in either negative connotation (as in Scripture) or in a sense of being overly focused on the good pleasures of creation in the here and now.

As you read the book, Wittmer works through four major parts: Creation, The Meaning of Life, Fall, and Redemption. Curiously, “Consummation” isn’t a separate part but is instead the last chapter under Redemption. In it, the Beatific Vision is more or less absent, and God’s presence as part of the Consummation of all things is a seemingly minor feature. In trying to address the problem of conservative Christians undervaluing creation and recognizing its original goodness, Wittmer has perhaps unintentionally downplayed a major feature and expectation of life on the new earth. At the same time, maybe I need to read Wittmer’s other book, Heaven Is A Place on Earth to get the full picture of his thought on the matter.

For the rest of the book, I thought Wittmer did a helpful job of explaining the original goodness of creation and our life in it (parts 1 and 2). His section on the Fall is likewise helpful in moving readers to see that the problem is not creation or culture, but sin and its effects on both. In addition, I think Wittmer offers an interesting alternative between Kuyperian views of culture and a Two-Kingdoms approach. In that case, the fourth part of the book is where Wittmer I think invites the most critical interaction and engagement and attempts to further the conversation on topics that relate to eschatology and culture. If that’s something that’s right up your alley, you might want to check this volume out!

Michael Wittmer, Becoming Worldly Saints: Can You Serve Jesus and Still Enjoy Your Life?Grand Rapids: Zondervan, January 2015. 208 pp. Paperback, $15.99.

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Thanks to Zondervan for the review copy!