JASON BOYETT: author of the Pocket Guides

Art Appreciation

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 14:00:00 +0000

The oil painting above is called "Mother Mary with the Holy Child Jesus Christ." It was painted by a European artist in the early part of the 20th century. It's not a fantastic piece of art by any means, but has some nice touches. For instance, rarely do you see Jesus pictures with daisies in them. And my eye keeps returning to the warmth and brightness of the background.

So here's my question: At first glance, do you like the painting? Is there anything attractive about it?

Look at it and answer the question for yourself, and then read my first comment, in which I'll pose a follow-up question.

Meet the Mama Monk

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 13:29:00 +0000

I'm the oldest of three Boyett siblings. I've discussed my brother the prestidigitator and his inner-city ministry a time or two, but haven't ever said much about my little sister. I'm not sure of the reason for this, other than the fact that she hasn't ever been very active online, and I didn't have anywhere to link.

In retrospect, that sounds really dumb, but it might in fact be true. Anyway, she's online now. Micha Boyett-Hohorst is now blogging as the Mama:Monk and tweeting as @mbhohorst, and it's about stinking time. She's an excellent writer, a wonderful person, and the only Boyett family member to have lived in the Northeast Yankee Territories (Philadelphia) and the West Coast Liberal Territories (San Francisco) of the United States. She's practically an alien life form in our family, but we love her all the same.

You need to meet her. So I decided to interview my very own sister, a graduate-degree poet who, just a few weeks into it, has already created a fascinating blog about motherhood and monasticism.

Jason: I've always thought you'd make a good blogger, but you've held out for a long time. Why make the leap now?

Micha: I am the least Internet-savvy 30-year-old on the continent. I am miserable about Facebook and I’m still getting used to email. I would have been so happy being a character in a Jane Austen novel. I could sit around all day drinking tea in an uncomfortable dress, my only task to write long letters with a pen and actual paper.

Also, I spent the last four years in full time youth ministry. It was not a season of my life where I felt I could focus on writing. Now that I’m staying home full time with my little boy, I’m excited about it.

Where did the fascination with Benedictine monks come from? You know we're Baptists, right?

I know, I know. I’m the worst Baptist ever. My Baptist college won’t even claim me anymore now that I went off the deep end and baptized my baby in an Anglican church.

The monk fascination started with a love for the liturgy. My faith often feels weak and really delicate. I need an earthy reassurance. There’s something about the liturgy that secures me, that tethers me in a fixed, permanent way to the believers who’ve gone before me. It’s this powerful connection. I love that the prayers and creeds and scripture passages we speak on Sunday in the liturgy are the same that believers all over the world are speaking. I love that we’re praying what has been prayed for centuries.

August’s birth changed everything, including my spiritual life. I was prepared for the outward changes motherhood would bring: diapering and comforting and feeding. But I wasn’t prepared for what motherhood would do to my inner life. My sense of normalcy changed so much that I struggled to focus on anything else but August. The time and attention that prayer required seemed impossible and that produced in me an overwhelming anxiety. I needed to relearn how to pray.

Around that time I was reading Kathleen Norris’ book The Cloister Walk, a book about a year she spent in a Benedictine monastery. Her prologue mentions that Benedictines live as if there is enough time each day for work, study, rest and prayer. And I had this moment of clarity: That’s what I need. Enough time to be a mom and pray and still enjoy the things and people I love. So I figured I’d better let Benedict and his monks start teaching me how to not be a crazy mother.

What was one of the biggest surprises about motherhood for you?

Amazingly, it has relaxed me. August has slowed me down in really lovely ways. Since I’m a naturally anxious person, I was fearful that when he was born, I’d be freaking out and screaming at my husband and constantly worried about all the ways he could die. And don’t get me wrong, I can still be nervous about the little guy, but the first time I held him, I felt my insides settle a little.

I have always been concerned with doing enough, wanting my life to count for something. Being a mother naturally forced me into another schedule, a much slower, all consuming schedule. And I can’t find my worth any more in how much I can “accomplish” each day. Because, really, with a toddler, I can’t accomplish much other than playing and eating and living.

You've been a mom for a couple of years now, in two different parts of the country. How is motherhood in San Francisco different from being a mom in Philadelphia?

We were in the suburbs in Philly. And we are right in the city here in San Francisco. I love being in the city with August. He’s exposed to so much of the world here. I love that we can walk down our block at 8:30 in the morning and see fifty elderly people from Chinatown doing Tai-Chi in the park. He hears people speaking Mandarin all the time. We come across homeless people every day and he’s learning to smile at them and say hi. I love the community feeling of having one park that all the kids in the neighborhood go to every day because there’s nowhere else to play.

In Philly, August had some really special adults in his life who loved him and prayed for him. As much as we live in more of a physical community here, it’s surface level and based around location. I know it takes time to develop meaningful relationships, but I miss the support system we had in Philadelphia.

You have a prestigious MFA in poetry from Syracuse. How is that degree impacting your life right now? (I ask this on behalf of the blue-collar side of our family.)

Thank you for the meaningful question, brother! It’s impacting my life because poetry is just a part of my life. I’ve always loved sound and form and rhythm. Poetry creates an emotion or image or moment of beauty in such a small amount of space. Every word has a purpose. Nothing’s wasted. Poetry doesn’t need anything other than words to do its work. The words make the rhythm; the language is the music.

I know that people get their MFAs in poetry to actually “become” poets and though I’m not saying I’m a poetry failure, I’m also not an MFA success story. I worked on publishing poems for a while and got burned out by it. I don’t think I have what it takes to make it in the dangerous world of poetry! Maybe that’ll change and I’ll pursue it again, but for now I think poetry’s role in my life is to make me a mother who loves Art and allows that to give me joy and help me pray.

Plus, my blog is committed to memorizing poems! Woohoo!

Describe the three Boyett siblings, as a whole, in a sentence of six words or less.

Three blond child-waifs eat burritos.

I think that fittingly describes our childhood.

Wow. I wasn't sure you could do it, but that pretty much sums it up. Well done. So after three weeks of blogging, what do you like best about it?

I love the pressure of writing everyday. I love hearing from readers and feeling like we’re connecting. And I love having a place where I can work through what I’m learning on a daily basis.

What are your goals for Mama:Monk?

I want Mama:Monk to be a place that challenges me and my readers to live a life of contemplation in the midst of the craziness of motherhood. I’m hoping it challenges us to live out a calling to hospitality in a culture that has locked individual families away neatly in suburban homes and broken our relationships to the point that friendships are something we have to schedule.

I want it to be a place where we can struggle with the complexities of being a stay-at-home mom in a culture that doesn’t value that choice. I hate meeting new people and having to answer the, “So what do you do?” question. It’s so loaded. Why is it so hard to value myself and my role as a stay-at-home mom? I want to learn how to answer that question without feeling like a lame-o.

I want to learn with my readers how to be moms of confidence and joy who live like monks, without being bald and wearing robes. (Well, sometimes I wear a robe.)

Why is August (the child) awesome?

Because today while we read his dinosaur book. I read: “There were dinosaurs with clubs on their tails,” and he lovingly caressed the dinosaur and said: “Boomboom! Owowow!”

Why is August (the month) awesome?

Fireflies. Swimming pools. My birthday. New school clothes!

What do you think my readers need to know about me that I probably would never tell them because I am too image-conscious?

They should know that when you were in high school you tried to be a Christian rapper. Mom sewed you several pairs of MC Hammer-esque balloon pants -- I recall a pair of black with white polka dots -- which you wore on a daily basis (or at least around our house). You and some friends performed a rap at my youth group’s middle school Valentine party. And (should I say it?), you called yourselves “The Sheep Posse.”

Wow. It’s out there. How do you feel, buddy?

Well. I certainly regret having asked that question. You couldn't have talked about my beautiful hair? Regardless: Sheep posse, ho!

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So that's my sister, Micha. If you're a mom -- stay-at-home or otherwise -- you need to be reading her blog. If you're like me, you'll also enjoy it, just because my sister is a deep spiritual thinker, a voracious reader, and a gifted writer.

Go get to know the Mama:Monk and follow her on Twitter.

12 Mostly True Facts About St. Patrick

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Wed, 17 Mar 2010 13:37:00 +0000

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Let us reflect today on the life of the great 5th century patron saint of Ireland, who lived in the 5th century.

1. St. Patrick wasn't born in Ireland. He was born in Britain. And when he was born, he wasn't named St. Patrick. It was just Patrick. Or, actually Naomh Padraig. Or Gaewyn. Either way, the "saint" part came later.

2. Truly the best part about St. Patrick's story is that, as a teenager, he was kidnapped by pirates. Pirates! Avast!

3. Eventually the pirates sold him as a slave to an Irish landowner who gave young Pat the job of tending sheep. After a months as a pirate captive, shepherding can seem pretty boring, so Patrick decided that prayer would make the long hours of nothing much happening...well, not quite as long. By his account, he prayed up to a hundred times a day.

4. Several years into his slavery, God appeared to Patrick in a dream and told him to pack up and head for the coast. So he did. Historically, it's hard to tell whether he escaped or was freed, but we do know that he traveled around 200 miles to a seaport, where he made friends with some sailors and headed out for a vacation on the high seas before returning to his family. Don't judge him. He'd been a slave! A guy's gotta let loose.

5. Once back home, his piratey adventures behind him, Patrick began training for the priesthood. Then he had another vision in which the people of Ireland were calling for him to come back to the land of his slavery. Specifically, they requested that he "come and walk among us." Sheep herding was not mentioned, so Pat was cool with it. He went back to Ireland.

6. Back in Ireland, he performed a variety of pious activities. Like converting thousands of people, including pagan kings and their entire kingdoms.

7. He also, according to legend, explained the concept of the Trinity by using, as an example, a three-fingered leprechaun. Wait, that's not right. It was a three-leafed shamrock.

8. You'll occasionally find St. Patrick pictured with a bunch of snakes. That's because, according to legend, he drove all the snakes out of Ireland. Which is an interesting fact seeing how the surrounded-by-water, post-glacial geography of Ireland has never been a very good snake habitat, so giving Patrick credit for the absence of snakes in Ireland is like giving Oral Roberts credit for the lack of swordfish in Oklahoma.

9. In retrospect, a lot of historians think "snakes" are a metaphor for pagan druids.

10. Beware the poisonous red, yellow, and black-striped coral pagan druid. Remember, "red and yellow, kill a fellow."

11. Speaking of killing fellows, one story has a pagan druid chieftain named Dichu attempting to stop Patrick from entering Ireland as a missionary. As pagan druids often do when confronted with missionary activity, he lifted his sword to cleave Patrick in two. But suddenly Dichu's arm became rigid, and he was unable to move it until he pledged obedience to Patrick. Dichu became the first Irish convert to Christianity.

12. Sure, Ireland gets all the press for claiming Patrick as its patron saint. But you know who else he's the patron saint of? Nigeria, that's who. Because Patrick once traveled there after being told that the widow of a deposed African dictator needed his help to access a large amount of unclaimed money, and could he please provide account transfer information to help secure his percentage of the funds?

13. March 17 is believed to be Patrick's death date -- either in 461 or 493 (it's disputed) -- so eventually that became his feast day and a good excuse to pinch people and/or drink green beer.

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For additional fun facts about St. Patrick (and other saint), check out my 2009 book Pocket Guide to Sainthood.

Ride:Well Tour Participant Chase Livingston

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 11:46:00 +0000

Chase Livington has been a reader of this blog since he won one of my contests back in the summer of 2009 ("Chia: An Inconvenient Pet"). I recently found out that Chase has been accepted as one of the participants in the Ride:Well bicycle tour across the United States this summer. It's a big fundraiser for Blood:Water Mission, made famous when Don Miller participated in the first event a couple years ago.

Anyway, to help raise money for this worthy cause, Chase is giving away signed copies of my book Pocket Guide to the Bible for every $25 donation.

I'm sorta biased, I think this is a great idea and asked if I could interview him about it.

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Tell us about yourself. For those who don't know, who are you?

I am a husband, caregiver, and storyteller. I am an aspiring advocate for victims of extreme poverty, modern-day slavery, and sex trafficking. I hope to motivate young adults to take their lives seriously and to passionately pursue mercy rather than money or mediocrity. Also, as my mom will tell you, I try to be funny.

I write at chasebook.wordpress.com and contribute regularly to Christ and Pop Culture.

Why did you decide to apply to participate in the Ride:Well tour?

I blame Donald Miller.

We moved to Jackson from Nashville last year to provide care for my wife’s mom, who requires live-in assistance. This was not the ideal time to forsake a state job (or any job for that) but it had to be done. Unable even to secure an interview, I spent most of the year worried.

I had been reading Miller’s A Million Miles in a Thousand Years when, up too late one November night, I scoured job sites in futility. In that book he tells of his involvement with the inaugural Ride:Well Tour in 2008. He details his hesitation and how he concluded that, aside from fear, he had no reason not to participate.

When I read that Ride:Well was taking applications [for the 2010 Tour], I could faintly hear Donald Miller’s voice as if it were calling from a wheat field and directing me to build something. I believed the cause a worthy one. I had supported it for years. Unemployed, I didn’t have anything better to do and that didn’t appear to be changing anytime soon. I wanted to be an advocate but I waited for approval. Why? This was my ticket.

I was beckoned from a wheat field: Go!

You heard it here first. Don Miller isn't just a great writer and speaker. He may also be the ghost of Shoeless Joe Jackson. Anyway, what are the specifics of the Tour?

On June 2nd, 15 of us depart from San Diego on a cross-country cycling expedition en route to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, where we will arrive 3,000 miles later on July 26th. Along the way, we will stop and share with churches and others about the need for clean water to combat and prevent disease in sub-Saharan Africa.

This year we have the privilege of sharing the experience with Anne Jackson, author of Mad Church Disease and the forthcoming Permission to Speak Freely.

[Note: I interviewed Anne back in 2008 before the release of Mad Church Disease.]

What was your response upon finding out your application had been accepted?

I expected not to be accepted. I was preparing myself for that. The interview went amazingly but I've learned that doesn't always mean very much. They called back and asked a couple of clarifying questions. I was babbling explanations when I realized he (Josh Iniguez) wanted to speak. He said, "I'd like to invite you to be a part of the 2010 Ride:Well Southern Tour." I was so surprised I answered dryly, "OK." After hanging up the phone, I started laughing. It was a moment of great joy.

Were you a bike rider beforehand? What are you doing to prepare for the Tour?

Actually, no. People have said, "I didn't know you were a cyclist." I tell them, "I am becoming one." Through the winter months, the stationary bike has been my best friend. I was doing 10 miles most days. Other days, I alternated between the treadmill and strength training exercises. I'm glad that it's warming up now, I've been able to go out on the road everyday this week. By the end of March, I look to be doing 20 miles comfortably.

I've adjusted my diet a bit and have joined Fat Church...err...Weight Watchers. So far, in two weeks, I've lost eight pounds. They gave me a sticker!

Congratulations on your sticker. What are you looking forward to most about the experience?

It will be nice to see the country (I've never been west of Louisiana) and pushing my limits is a big plus, but the thing I am most anticipating is one which I have already gotten a taste for: watching as people recognize a need and then get pumped about meeting that need. That really changes the shape of a person's life. It brings hope in.

What's the scariest thing about it?

I'm afraid I'll get hit by a car. That fear has been with me many years, which makes it pretty hilarious that I am going through with this.

It's likely that I'll get lost. I got lost on nearly every youth trip I ever went on. On one of my outings this week, I made a wrong turn and ended up 3 miles out of the way. Of course, GPS will be mandatory for me.

I am most concerned about how excessively I am going to miss my wife.

Where did the Pocket Guide to the Bible giveaway idea come from? (Thanks for that, by the way.)

Last summer, I won your "Name Your Own Toy-Based Movie" contest. My winning entry was, Chia: An Inconvenient Pet. My prize was a copy of Pocket Guide to the Bible. Upon receipt of it, I immediately recognized its potential as both a gift and a handy resource.

This is my first foray into fundraising but I take my campaign very seriously. I aim to accumulate several thousand dollars above the required amount. My goals are huge, yet my resources are limited. So, I'm considering every option. I remembered that you had a garage full of Pocket Guide to the Bible. I believed that all variety of people would find this a worthy incentive to give.

How much do you still need to fund the trip?

$3,700, but $1,000 of that is a required donation to Blood:Water Mission. I am anxious to arrive at that point $2,700 dollars from now when trip expenses are covered and I can say, "Every dollar provides water for one African for one year." I think people will be more enthusiastic about that. I know I will.

How can my readers help you reach your goal?

A $25 donation will get them an autographed copy of your Pocket Guide to the Bible and an entry to win 61 other books from my personal library. If I could sell all 124 copies, I'd be just short of the amount I need to raise.

Additionally, I am launching what I call the 1,000 Blogs Project. I have adapted the name from Blood:Water's 1,000 Wells Project in which they have set out to build or restore a total of 1,000 wells. My project is simpler and slightly less ambitious. I want to get an outrageous number of bloggers to commit to raise $55 for Ride:Well Tour by way of their blogs before April 3rd, the last day of the 40 Days of Water Campaign. If 1,000 people did this, we could make up $55,000 for clean water.

Also, I will guest post about this wherever anyone will let me. I am eager to get the word out. Contact me if you are interested in either of these ideas. charles.livingston at gmail.com

Together we can build an army of people concerned about a crisis and moved to respond. It is dire, but it is not hopeless. Something can be done. Change can be effected.

Thank you.

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Thank you, Chase. Best of luck in the fundraising and the eventual Tour. Now, go get on your bike.

Follow Chase on Twitter to keep up with his fundraising and, eventually, the progress of the Tour. If you want to help spread the word, get in touch with him and blog about it. And if you have a few spare bucks, give toward his campaign.

Do It Well

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 19:07:00 +0000

Today I went to the funeral of my great uncle James Johnson, my paternal grandmother's older brother. He was one month shy of turning 90. He was recently honored by his church for having been a Baptist deacon for 50 years. He's had cancer for the last several years. He was a good man.

I returned from the funeral to discover that the cancer prognosis of my friend Michael Spencer, the Internet Monk, is grim. Not good at all. Maybe six months. Maybe he's got a year. And this is the year his first book is being released. Finally. This was supposed to be his big year. And now...

Crap.

Michael's wife Denise wrote this yesterday:

Though he will still say with unashamed honesty, "I don’t want it to all be over at age 53!" he has the confidence of knowing that he has run the race God set out for him. He believes he has done the work our Lord intended for him to do, and if the last task God has for him in this life is dying, then he will do that to the best of his ability.

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Whether you're living or dying, whether you're a middle-aged blogger in Kentucky or an elderly deacon in Texas, whether you're enjoying ice cream with your girlfriend or wrestling with your kids, whether you're going to school or heading off to the factory, whether you're working or playing or singing or laughing, do it to the best of your ability.

Do it because you can.

And do it well.

Life is too short to aim low.

FAQs About Freelance Writing

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 18:36:00 +0000

I get questions quite often from aspiring writers and freelancers who want to know about what I do and how I do it and is there any chance in the world they can do it, too?

So I usually email them back with brief answers. But I thought it might be interesting to post some of my answers to those frequently asked questions (and other questions) here on the blog. Maybe you've long been harboring a writing-related question. Maybe I can answer it.

I'm impressed that you're making a living as a freelance writer. I want to do it, too. What's your secret?

My secret is that I don't just make a living as a freelance writer. I get paid for a lot of different things. Here's a top-of-my-head breakdown of my annual income by percentage, based on nothing but flat-out estimates and no real fact-checking:

• Income from books and speaking engagements (20%, though this varies year-to-year)
• Income from writing articles for magazines, etc. (9%)
• Income from corporate copywriting, like newsletters, flyers, TV scripts & advertising (35%)
• Income from graphic design (35%)
• Diamond heists (1%)

So while, technically, the majority of my income is from writing types of services, there's also a big chunk of design income in there. You'll notice how very little of my earnings come from the books and magazine articles -- and I'm not a newbie writer or anything. I could probably write more magazine stuff if I wanted to (I end up turning down quite a few assignments when on deadline for a book manuscript, for the sake of simplicity), but I doubt I could write more books than one every six months or so.

The conclusion? It's very, very difficult to make a living solely as a freelance publication writer. I do that stuff to keep my name out there and maintain a platform, in hopes that someday one of my books will hit big. But I write the client-based stuff so my kids can eat. It pays better, and it pays more regularly. That's my secret.

How do you get the place where magazines will assign you stories?

It's difficult. Here's how it worked for me. First, I got to know a magazine. Read it. Saw what kinds of articles it ran and how they were written. Then, I came up with an idea for an article that would fit within the mag's framework. Then, though the magic of networking, I got myself introduced to an editor there. (This is key: finding someone who already knows the editor and can introduce you, so when you pitch them an idea, it's not coming from someone they've never heard of. Unfortunately, it helped in my case that I had written some books, because that means they're not taking a risk on an unknown writer.)

Then, once you've met the editor, you pitch your article idea, usually via email. Maybe they like it and assign it. You do an awesome job with it, turn in a crisp and publishable article ahead of deadline. They like it and think, He's good. We should work with him more often. And then your name pops up from time to time when they are brainstorming article ideas for new issues. So they ask you to write more stuff.

That's how it works. You have to get their attention and then deliver on what you've promised. You earn their trust. Only then do you get invited back to the dance. It's the initial getting-their-attention part that's hard, because unless you can get an introduction or already have quality work to your name, they hesitate to take a risk on an unknown.

Will you introduce me to a magazine editor?

Maybe. But probably not. The only way I'll introduce you is if I know you are a good writer and a good fit with a particular magazine. I can't risk introducing a shoddy, unproven freelancer. If I do, I am wasting the time and resources of editors with whom I've worked hard to build a good reputation. So I'll only introduce you if I think you're a sure thing.

So based on the income breakdown above, you're not a millionaire from writing books?

Yes, of course I'm a millionaire. What you don't know is that my annual income is $100 million. Around $20 million of it comes from my books.

Silly rabbit. The reality is that, even for someone like me who has written 10 books and had a moderately successful sales record (which pretty much means I sell enough that publishers are willing to continuing taking a chance on me from book to book), it's hard to make a full-time living just by doing this. Unless you're a big-name who has hit the best seller list -- and can coast on those royalties and the notoriety for a few years -- you're probably not going to make a living solely on book royalties. That's why most authors also do a lot of speaking engagements, or are on-staff at magazines, or teach at the college level, or plan and execute diamond heists.

Will you write a review of my new album for Relevant Magazine? You're on-staff there, right?

No. I am not on staff at Relevant, though I do write for them pretty often. They've been republishing a lot of my old stuff among their online articles, so it seems like I'm always writing something for them. But it's a lot less than you think.

Either way, I have only written one music review in my life. It was for Andrew Osenga's album The Morning. Which was awesome. So unless you're Andy, I don't do music reviews.

(You'd be surprised how often I get asked about this. Everyone wants to be in Relevant.)

I saw you on the History Channel the other day talking about the Apocalypse. Will you please read my 10,000-word manifesto about the end of the world in 2012 and my theory that Barack Obama is the Antichrist and the Jonas Brothers are the prophets spoken of in the Book of Revelation?

No, crazy person. I do not want to read your insane scribblings about the end of the world. Perhaps this wasn't clear in the documentary you saw, but I wrote a book making fun of people like you. And anyway, Obama isn't the Antichrist. That's way too obvious. The person you need to be focusing on is someone like Oprah.

Though I admit the Jonas Brothers idea is intriguing, if only because skinny jeans have long been considered a sign of the coming apocalypse.

Has anyone ever told you that you look like Bob Harper from Biggest Loser?

No. That's news to me.

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If you have a writing-related question for me (or any other kind of question), leave it in the comments. Maybe I'll answer in an upcoming FAQ post.

Phyllis Tickle Endorses!

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 19:49:00 +0000

Some people get nervous when their books release to the public and the reviews start pouring in. But the most nervous I get is when advance copies of my books go out to endorsers. Usually, I've hand-picked these first readers because either 1) I know them already and think the book will resonate with them, or 2) Their name carries such weight that I'm just taking a shot in the dark. Because you'll never score if you don't take the shot, right?

So you send your book out to famous people or well-known writers or whomever. In most cases, they are people I look up to. People whom I think are better writers, or more successful, or whatever kinds of self-defeating thoughts pop into my head. So I'm always nervous, because endorsers are people I so want to impress...and, at the same time, endorsers are people who are generally hard to impress. They are busy. Their time is valuable. They're writing their own books or seeking their own endorsers. When my books hit their mailboxes, I'm always worried I'll strike out. That these big-time voices will be unimpressed with my work and decline the endorsement.

Today I feel relieved. Stunned, happy, and relieved. Because the first endorsement for O Me of Little Faith just came in, and I would be plenty satisfied if this was the only one I got.

Because it's from Phyllis Tickle. THE Phyllis Tickle. Legendary former religion editor for Publisher's Weekly. Best-selling author of The Divine Hours and The Great Emergence. One of my favorite spiritual writers.

I sent a copy to her because of Reason #2 above. We weren't acquainted beforehand, though we share a publisher at Jossey-Bass. I asked my editors there for an introduction. I had no idea whether she would agree to look at the book -- or even like the book -- but I was going to take a shot.

Her endorsement arrived today:

"Never before have I known of—much less ever read--a book about Christian doubt that is chocked full of laughter and sanctity, confessional candor and credible confession all at one and the same time. In fact, I did not even know that such a book could be written; but that’s exactly what Jason Boyett has done. O Me of Little Faith is the work of a devout, passionate, and believing doubter, and it has the ring of truth on every single page."

Wow. I'm humbled, excited, and relieved. And relieved, and excited, and humbled.

Whew.

Thank you, Mrs. Tickle. You've made my month.

I Believe...

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 14:31:00 +0000

Yesterday, via my Twitter and Facebook accounts, I asked my friends and followers to complete a phrase any way they liked.

The phrase was "I believe..."

No real reason to do it, other than thinking it would be interesting to see what kinds of responses I'd get. They ran the gamut from the spiritual (belief in God) to the less serious (belief in the power of a cowbell in healing certain fevers) to an unsurprising number of verbatim quotes from songs by Whitney Houston and/or R. Kelly.

Either that, or some people really believe: 1) they can fly and touch the sky, or 2) that children are our future, and we should probably teach them well and let them lead the way.

Anyway, here are the responses, pretty much in the order I received them:

DaronFraley
I believe that our Creator is not the God of just one planet--we are not alone in the universe.

rcichon
I believe you have a lot of time on your hands!

Jeremy_Courtney
I believe that children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way. Show them all the beauty they possess inside.

sensuouswife
I believe the best is yet to come

shanellelee
I believe in taking the scenic route.

EmandaSays
I believe your Twitter profile photo looks like Bob Harper from Biggest Loser & I keep waiting for u to tell me to run faster.

contemplife
I believe people are the oddest confluence of imago dei and selfish messes

Vikki Stearns Huisman
I believe that nice guys finish last.

RicknKelley 'Waltz' Gebauer
I believe that biracial kids are absolutely gorgeous!

Sella Maples Garlich
I believe the children are our future. (Sorry, can't help but think of Whitney when I hear those words. I think I've been brainwashed by the top 40 radio of my youth.)

bcourt9048
I believe you can do anything you set your mind to, but only God can do the impossible, unthinkable and unchangeable.

tbone323
I believe that nothing about God is as easy to believe as I used to think it was

ZacHolmes
I believe in a thing called love!! Whoowhoo whoo oo oo ooo! Guitar!

dubdynomite
I believe that there is as much or more good in the world as bad. The good is just not as entertaining to talk about.

mattnightingale
I believe I'd get more done if I shut down Tweetdeck more often.

Delonda Baker Dunn
I believe that Jason Boyett is the most talented, creative and unique individual I've ever met!

(Thanks Delonda. Your check is in the mail.)

Ryan Paige
I believe in the Church of Baseball.

Tracy Karroll
I believe God didn't invent the corporate ladder.

Tanya Summar Bates
I believe that God uses us whether we want Him to or not.

Matt Hafer
I believe every man over 14 who wears a jersey in a non-sports competition fashion is a tool.

Cale D. Hawley
I believe in the fever for the flavor of pringles.

kylechowning
I believe I can fly

brandonsneed
I believe good music is good as any drug. Also, so is Mountain Dew.

Matthew Todd Morgan
I believe I could sleep better at night if Morgan Freeman read to me as I was drifting off.

Rob Swick
I believe that I got a fever! And the only prescription.. is more cowbell!

Scott Grow
I believe that spring can't come soon enough!

Robert Fortner
I believe what I believe, is what makes me what I am.

Scott Jesko
I believe in the magic of Santa Claus.

Kristy Compton Kersh
I believe that Jesus is who he says he is.

Emily Diana Sijabat
I believe in love!

Tommy McGregor
I believe I can fly. I believe I can touch the sky!

Akelaa
I believe I'll have a cookie, thanks

Kyle Davis
I believe because I must. My very human nature demands that I place value in things. It is the only impetus for deliberate action by a human being. I cannot choose to act, or not to act, unless value exists, which by nature implies that a metaphysic must exist. Since I can't prove a metaphysic exists, I must believe.

MarshallJonesJr
I believe the problem isn't dependence - it's who (or what) I'm depending on.

smalltownpastor I believe that God is faithful always!

natedogreimer
I believe NPR did a similar called 'This I Believe'" http://bit.ly/quHBv

OnHerToes
I believe that children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way.

michaelcriner
I believe the gospel.

Cheryl Tooley Lashbrook
I believe because unless i want to go backwards in my life i must believe in order to keep moving forward.

Scott Green
I believe that children are the future, teach them well and let them lead the way.

Brooks Boyett
I believe in Kingdom Come, then all the colors will bleed into one. And also that Sasquatch do indeed exist.

Ricky Garzon
I believe that monsters are coming to get me when I close my eyes.

MattTCoNP I believe "the children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way" is the start of a rather dumb song.

hemantmehta
I believe... there are no gods :)

kara_schwab
I believe I will have another.

Tess Mallory
I believe that all things work together for good through God and His mercies.

Dawn Xiana Moon
I believe that art and culture matter.

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What do you believe? If you didn't respond yesterday, feel free to state your own belief in the comments. Whatever you want, even if it's related to Sasquatch, aliens, or Whitney Houston.

Seussian Questions

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Tue, 02 Mar 2010 17:09:00 +0000

Today is the birthday of Theodor Geisel, who was born on March 2, 1904. I was a huge Dr. Seuss fan when I was a kid. His Happy Birthday to You! remains one of my favorite books of all time. Its illustrations bring back a whole bunch of warm, fuzzy memories. It's my Proustian madeleine, if you'll allow me to make such a nerdy English major allusion.

Anyway, I figure today is a good day for some reader feedback and discussion. Thus, three questions for you to answer in the comments:

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1. What is your favorite Dr. Seuss book?

2. What is your favorite breakfast food?

3. What bad habit are you proudest of having broken?

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My answers kick things off below.

Six Jesus Statues That Creep Me Out

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 17:52:00 +0000

Jesus statues: Like MTV reality shows and limericks about an island south of Cape Cod, rarely are they made in good taste. Occasionally they are just plain disturbing, as in these examples...

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1. Drowning Jesus

This 62-feet high sculpture of Jesus rises out of a reflecting pool near the 3,000-member Solid Rock Church in Monroe, Ohio. It faces I-75, and is supposed to be Jesus with his hands raised in post-Resurrection worship. But the placement at the end of a reflecting pool doesn't exactly say "Glory to God" so much as it says "Help! I'm drowning."

Or, in the fall, "Touchdown!"

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2. Ninja Victim Jesus

Some people might be taken aback by the a bit-darker-than-typically-Jewish olive skin tone of this Jesus, or by the frilly lace undergarment he seems to be wearing beneath his royal purple robes. But me? I'm concerned that, in addition to his crucifixion wounds, his head has clearly been pierced by trident-shaped weaponry. Had there been ninjas at the crucifixion, I could have gotten a lot more of my elementary-school friends to visit Sunday School with me.

No idea where this Jesus statue comes from, but that's OK, because I'm not sure I need to see it in close proximity.

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3. Weirdly Overdressed Baby Jesus

Toward the beginning of the 17th century, a statue of the infant Jesus was given to a group of discalced Carmelites in Prague. The donor was a Spanish princess who'd received it as a wedding gift. The Carmelites set it up at their monastery, and performed special devotions to it twice a day until the monastery was plundered in 1631 by a bunch of Lutheran Protestants during the 30 Years War. The statue was thrown into a pile of trash behind the altar, until seven years later it was joyfully rediscovered. Today you can see it at the Church of Our Lady Victorious in Prague -- along with a number of ornate outfits that have been made for it over the years.

Yes. Outfits. According to the stories, this little baby Jesus statue protected Prague during the 30 Years War. And today, those who pray before this statue of baby Jesus can expect blessings, healings, and spiritual favors. So people love this statue, and make clothing for it.

Of course, baby Jesus would have come from a working-class village, and probably wouldn't have been caught dead in these fancy duds even on the day the Magi arrived. And anyway, there is no way such a wide robe would have fit in the manger. Who puts babies in that kind of twerpy clothing anyway? One leaky diaper and you've ruined a good tapestry.

And according to most parenting magazines -- and basic physics -- you're not supposed to put gigantic crowns on the heads of infants, especially during those first few months when they have weak little necks. Sheesh.

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4. Jesus with Gaping Chest Wound

Look, I'm pretty sympathetic to Catholicism. Have some good friends who are Catholic. Love the Catholic devotional writers like Manning and Nouwen. Really appreciate the Benedictines and am a huge fan of the saints. (The religious ones, though the football team's OK, too.)

But I've never understood the Sacred Heart of Jesus devotional statues and paintings. The hand and feet wounds are disturbing enough. I don't need Jesus calling my attention to his open chest cavity and the apparently still-beating heart located inside it. Even if that heart is beating for me. And even if mystical light is shining forth out of the aorta and even if the whole thing is surrounded by a tiny little crown of thorns. Because, I'm sorry, that's weird.

For what it's worth, the whole Sacred Heart of Jesus devotional theme -- which is supposed to call attention to Christ's love for humanity, and encourages me to show my own love and adoration for him -- seems to have begun with a series of visions experienced by Sister Marguerite Marie Alacoque, a mystic French nun in the 17th century.

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5. Skateboarding Jesus with No Skateboard

For its 50th anniversary, Our Lady Immaculate and St. Philip Neri Catholic church in England wanted a contemporary-looking statue of Jesus to be placed 100 feet up in the air near the top of the church's bell tower. So they commissioned a barefoot Jesus who was wearing jeans and a mostly unbuttoned dress shirt to match his artfully unkempt hair and trimmed beard. And also, apparently, he needed to look like he was riding an invisible skateboard. And also, it was windy.

Why? Because the church “wanted a figure of Christ not in suffering but dynamic and welcoming.” And nothing says Welcome to Our Church like a levitating sk8tr boi Jesus in a hurricane.

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6. Jesus You Should Take a Step Back From

During a spectacular lightning storm in Rio de Janiero in February 2008, the world's largest Jesus statue, Christ the Redeemer at the top of Mt. Corcovado, got struck by lightning. Sure, there's that whole thing about lightning striking the tallest structure in an area, but let's ignore basic meteorology to get to the confusing theological implications of this event. Like: what does God have against giant Jesus statues, and why?

----------------

Question for the crowd: Have you ever seen a Jesus statue you actually liked?

Hi, I'm Bob (Apparently)

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 22:42:00 +0000

You know what people tell me often enough that I'm starting to feel weird about it? That I look like super-trainer Bob Harper from The Biggest Loser:

Granted, these are people who typically don't see me shirtless. And I don't pose for many photos shirtless, except that new Zondervan Authors Beefcake calendar I'm doing with Rob Bell and Rick Warren.

But I have to admit, Bob is a nice-lookin' guy.

I think it's because we both have blue eyes. And scruffy chins. And gigantic foreheads. We are similar in that scruffy giant-forehead kind of way.

Thanks to Kyle Trafton for the sweet publicity photos.

Worm Hunters, Bowel Disease, and Book Titles

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 17:06:00 +0000

This is awards season. And like most of us, I get really into awards season. I like it all -- the competition, the drama, the unapologetic self-promotion, the lethal robot behavior...

Oh, you thought I was talking about Hollywood? No. I don't care that much about the Oscars or Grammys or any of that. My favorite award isn't given out in Hollywood. It's not even given out in the United States. Nope, it's a British book award: the The Bookseller Magazine’s annual Diagram Prize for the Oddest Book Title of the Year (The Bookseller is the

’s industry mag).

Nominations are in and this year's list has been narrowed to six spectacular finalists -- and the public gets to vote on the winner.

Here's the shortlist of finalists:

• Afterthoughts of a Worm Hunter,
by David Crompton (Glenstrae Press)

• Collectible Spoons of the Third Reich,
by James A Yannes (Trafford)

• Crocheting Adventures with Hyperbolic Planes, by Daina Taimina (A K Peters)

• Governing Lethal Behavior in Autonomous Robots, by Ronald C Arkin (CRC Press)

• The Changing World of Inflammatory Bowel Disease, by Ellen Scherl and Maria Dubinsky (SLACK Inc)

• What Kind of Bean is This Chihuahua? by Tara Jansen-Meyer (Mirror)

Past winners include masterpieces like Living with Crazy Buttocks and The 2009-2014 World Outlook for 60-Milligram Containers of Fromage Frais.

This is an excellent crop of nominees. I've been trying to fit the phrase "Worm Hunter" into the title or subtitle of one of my books for years, and just haven't found a way to do it. So congrats to David Crompton. I've never been much into spoon-collecting or crochet, but potentially lethal autonomous robots? Sign me up. I've been warning people of the coming robot apocalypse for decades, and this book seems to be something we all need to read. And inflammatory bowel disease is no laughing matter...if you suffer from it. But if you have healthy bowels? And if you're a frat boy? Well, then, that's one hilarious book title. I have no idea what kinds of changes are in store with inflammatory bowel disease, but I can't imagine they're good changes.

And for the record, I have no idea what kind of bean that chihuahua is. That's a real thinker, right along with What's the difference between a duck? and What doessss it have in its pocketssss?

Anyway, exercise your freedom, bibliophiles. Make your voice heard. Vote today (there's a poll at the bottom of the left-hand sidebar).

Mad Libs Contest Winner!

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 17:07:00 +0000

Thanks to everyone who entered yesterday's fill-in-the-blank Mad Libs contest using a line from O Me of Little Faith.

I discovered two things from the contest:

1) Creativity, among readers of this blog, is apparently a license to describe the pestering of animals. Mice, Jack Russell Terriers, cats, birds, sheep, llamas, gophers, flies, chickens, buffalos and Velociraptors all made appearances. Variously disturbing things were being done to them. I fear a PETA backlash.

2) The excitement of animal-bothering can be a distraction. That's my conclusion, since many failed to follow the explicit parts of speech needed for the sentence. A number of the entries were disqualified for not adhering to the specified last two words: on a/an (place) (noun). Sorry. But rules are rules, and this is a highly legalistic blog.

Anyway, I've chosen some finalists from the qualifying entries. Here they are:

Lauree
... like herding cats with a laser pointer on a glass company truck rack.

(Lauree used some extra words but followed the intent of the law, so I'll allow it. And the idea of cats chasing a laser pointer surrounded by glass is awesome.)

Danny Bixby
...is like soothing velociraptors with an airhorn on a fault line.

(Great imagery. And I will almost always respond favorably to sentences about Velociraptors.)

Denise
...is like shearing sheep with a lightsaber on a Six Flags roller coaster.

(Lads like me love alliteration. And shearing sheep with a lightsaber sounds really fun, whether a thrill ride is involved or not.)

dkamfam
...is like twirling matches with a fork on a desert island.

(A person who could do this would no doubt be elected the leader of the survivors following a plane crash, though that might also mean a lot of headaches what with the time travel and polar bears and stuff.)

bobfromchicago
...is like catching flies with chopsticks on a Niagara Falls tightrope.

Bob wins! I give Bob the creative victory for two reasons, because his sentence involves two distinct cultural and historical allusions. #1 is the Karate Kid catching-flies-with-chopsticks thing, which I love because Mr. Miyagi = awesome. References to movies from the '80s are always welcome here. #2 is because the Niagara Falls tightrope refers to the Great Blondin, a daredevil from the 1800s who crossed the falls several times on a tightrope and who -- get this -- makes an appearance in O Me of Little Faith. A pretty important appearance, metaphorically speaking. Bob? Where'd you get an advance copy of the book?

Bob, send me your shipping address and I'll give you a signed Pocket Guide to the Bible along with a copy of Picking Dandelions by Sarah Cunningham.

And Denise gets second place, because the shearing-sheep-with-a-lightsaber image is irrevocably wedged in my brain. So cool. Denise, send me your shipping address and I'll put a signed Pocket Guide to the Bible in the mail for you.

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What was the original sentence from O Me of Little Faith?

The practice of praying in my head -- of lining up stray thoughts to present them to God in an official, well-reasoned and coherent manner -- is like sweeping marbles with a push-broom on a gym floor. I can’t sustain it for any length of time before everything scatters.

O Me of Little Faith Mad Libs

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 12:01:00 +0000

So I have a new contest idea. While reading for my audiobook last wee k, I was pleasantly re-introduced to one of my favorite sentences from the upcoming book. I smiled when I read it, and I remembered that one of my early readers (my sister, who has just started blogging and it's about freaking time) had marked it with a happy face on an early draft. So I thought I'd post the sentence here...only Mad Lib style.

That's right: I'll give you the parts of speech, and your job is to fill in the blanks.

The most creative entry will win a two-book prize: a copy of Picking Dandelions (the great new title from Sarah Cunningham) and a signed copy of my own Pocket Guide to the Bible.

Here's the Mad Lib sentence, with a little context to help you out:

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The practice of praying in my head -- of lining up stray thoughts to present them to God in an official, well-reasoned and coherent manner -- is like (verb ending in -ing) (plural noun) with a (noun) on a/an (place) (noun).

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Sample entry #1: ...is like plucking eyebrows with a cherrypicker on a restroom countertop.

Sample entry #2: ...is like hammering nails with a screwdriver on a Texas highway.

To be clear, I'm not judging based on how close you come to my original sentence, which I'm sure won't be nearly as entertaining as these submissions. Nor am I judging by whether or not your entry makes sense, or matches the context, or helps me overcome my prayer challenges, or anything else. I'm only judging by creativity.

Because creativity is good. And good writing is good. Especially when you're writing about the difficulties of prayer.

Have fun. Entries will be closed at 9 am tomorrow (Tuesday, Feb. 23).

12 Things I Learned Recording My Audiobook

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 21:54:00 +0000

I spent several hours on Tuesday and several today recording the unabridged audio book version of O Me of Little Faith. It wasn't my first time in a recording studio, but was definitely my first time to record an audio book. I learned some things in the process:

1. Never, ever write a book that includes long names like Zoroastrianism or Mictlantecuhtli if you plan to read it aloud some day. One of my chapters uses Zoroastrianism and Zoroaster about half a dozen times apiece. My goodness, this was a big mistake. Eventually I just started saying "Zorizzle" and "Z-dog" as replacement words. My apologies, Zondervan.

2. Voice acting is hard work. Man. I can't believe how worn out I am. Today's session took about four hours. Five chapters. 90 laser-printed pages. And I'm exhausted. My legs are tired from standing for four hours. My neck hurts from looking slightly downward at my pages. My throat muscles are fatigued just from all the talking. If ever in my life I have spoken ill of you, people who read audio books, I totally take it back. I've daydreamed before that voice acting would be a really cool job to have. I'm rethinking that now. I ran five miles last Saturday. Today I read five chapters of my own book. I'm feeling a lot worse today.

3. I worried the whole time about how sarcastic my voice sounded. I think my natural cadence and inflection tends toward sarcasm, so I tried to be aware the whole way through. You don't want the serious stuff to sound like I'm saying it in the midst of an eye-roll and a thought bubble that reads Snerk. No idea if I succeeded at this or not.

4. I can pronounce the name Keirkegaard just fine. But I used the name way too much. Should have gone with a lot more hes and hims. Otherwise, I sound like a philosophy show-off.

5. I'm probably one of the least twangy Texans you'll meet, but if you do hear a twang, it will occur in a word with a hard a-sound. Like day. Or away. Or ballet. (Not that I ever mention ballet in my book.) Also, I drop a lot of gs. Were I a rapper, this would be awesome, because it means I'm spending a thousand bucks at a time, frequently. Droppin' Gs, yo. But as a Texan, it means I say writin' and hopin' and dancin'. (Not that there's a lot of dancing in my book, either. Other than my recap of that decade when I was into modern jazz.)

6. I'm just kidding. I was never into modern jazz.

7. Why do I keep talking about dance? Who let that rabbit in?

8. Footnotes are awesome when you're reading silently. They let you interject a little nugget of explanation or weirdness or humor into a paragraph without disrupting the flow. But when you're reading aloud, footnotes are completely annoying. With some of the footnotes, I tried to work them into the text in as unobtrusive a way as possible. But most of them I just dropped completely from the audio recording. It just didn't work to try to wedge them in. So if you only listen to the eventual audiobook, be aware that you're probably missing some cool stuff.

9. In the turtle chapter I keep saying the phrase "first turtle." But when you say it without precise pronunciation of those t-sounds, it sounds exactly like "first hurdle." Which actually works in the context of the book, so I guess that's OK. But for the record, I never use the word "hurdle" in the book. It's always "turtle."

10. When you write (Crickets) in a solitary paragraph, in the context of sudden silence, it totally works. When you pause and say "Crickets" aloud, it sounds completely stupid.

(Crickets.)

11. See?

12. If you are one of the four or five people who called me today and got my voicemail, it's because you called while I was reading into a microphone, passionately and with great inflection. But you should know that, despite my ear-covering headphones and despite the fact that my phone was set on vibrate and sitting on a table 15 feet behind me, I could still hear the "incoming call" buzz as I read. I could hear it! And it was ridiculously distracting. So when you hear me stumbling over Zoroastrianism, just assume it was your fault.

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Actually, recording my audiobook was a lot of fun. The first half of each session, before the fatigue set in, was great. And I'd rather be doing that than digging ditches, or working in a factory, or teaching 13-year-olds.

I'm blessed.

Thanks, Carlos at Audio Refinery.

Thanks, Zondervan.

Thanks, Mictlantecuhtli.

The LENTerview

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 14:20:00 +0000

A conversation:

Seriously? "The LENTerview"? That's horrible.

Sorry. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, like when I got that figure-skating demon tattoo.

Which is also horrible.

Agreed. I have my regrets.

So the season of Lent begins today, right?

Yes. Today is Ash Wednesday. Lent continues from today until Easter, which is April 4.

I didn't know you were Catholic.

I'm not. My denominational background is Southern Baptist.

But isn't Lent something that Catholics observe?

Well, yes. It's also something that Episcopalians, Anglicans, Lutherans, and other high-church Christians have observed over the years. Lent is not exclusive to a certain denomination, though. It's been a part of the Christian calendar since, like, the 2nd century. Since before Catholics were called Catholics, and before there was such thing as a Protestant.

Ok, then. But I totally didn't know Baptists were into that kind of thing.

Uh, they're not. Not really. The Anabaptists in our history tossed out any religious practice that seemed too Pope-y back in the 17th century, which meant the Christian calendar and Lent got pushed aside. Growing up, it wasn't just that Lent wasn't much emphasized in my church. It pretty much didn't exist at all. Easter was a big deal, and the church was closed on Good Friday. But that was it. Never a word about Ash Wednesday.

The first time I ever heard about Lent was in the movie Fletch 2, when Chevy Chase's character said he'd given up rattlesnake for Lent. I was in high school, I think.

Fletch 2 was totally underrated.

No it wasn't.

So why do you observe Lent now?

Because I think observing Lent -- which I've done for 4 or 5 years now -- is one of the most valuable spiritual practices in my life. It's something that I honestly believe all Christians ought to consider making a part of their faith. Not to earn some kind of holiness points or heavenly crowns or anything, but just because it makes Easter that much more meaningful.

By "observing Lent," you mean fasting, right? Giving up something for Lent?

Yes. Fasting during Lent is a way to acknowledge (with great humility) the self-sacrifice of Christ on the cross. In observance of Lent, Christians give up something they love -- coffee, sweets, alcoholic beverages, shopping -- for a few reasons. First, it's a mild form of discipline and self-denial. And let's face it: there's not much discipline or self-denial in the life of the modern Westerner. Second, you replace whatever you've removed from your life with something of benefit, like prayer or scripture reading or service. Third, giving up something helps keep your small personal sacrifice at the front of your mind, which means it's a great way to focus on the larger sacrifice of Jesus and remain conscious of his death during the weeks leading up to Easter.

So the fast ends at Easter?

Exactly, and that's the point. Before I began observing Lent, it seemed like Easter just kept sneaking up on me. Suddenly it was there, without warning. You'll notice this never happens with Christmas. Christmas never sneaks up on us, because we start preparing for it as soon as we get the dishes washed after the Thanksgiving meal. That's the role the Lenten season plays: because you're fasting from something, it makes you anticipate the coming of Easter and the end of your fast. You start looking toward Easter several weeks beforehand. In a small way, this deepens your celebration of the resurrection.

What should I give up?

I'm not going to say you should give up anything. This isn't a rule you have to follow. Lent isn't a biblical command or anything like that. It's just a religious tradition, and God doesn't love Lent-fasters more than he loves everyone else. But it is a valuable practice. Anyway, to answer your question, there are plenty of things you could do without for the next six weeks. Give up sodas the whole time, or your morning coffee. Give up television on one day a week. Give up the game apps on your iPhone. Stop eating sweets. Stop snacking between meals. Give up Twitter or blogs or--

Gasp. You're not giving up blogging, are you?

No. Not this year. I can certainly see the value of something like that -- and it may be something I do in the future for Lent -- but not this year.

Thanks. I was worried.

Whatever. The first time I observed Lent, I gave up listening to my car's radio or CD player when I drove. No music or NPR or anything. Just silence. I used that time to pray. It was very quiet and pretty cool. And the result was that, by the time the Lenten season ended, I was ready for Easter. I had been thinking about it and preparing for it for those 40 days.

Wait. There's more than 40 days between today and April 4. It's something like 47 days.

Right. There are seven Sundays in there, and you don't count Sundays. A lot of churches recommend you break your fast every Sunday, because the sabbath is a day for celebration -- not self-denial. Take away the Sundays and you have the 40 days of Lent.

What about your atheist or agnostic readers? Is there any virtue in them observing Lent?

Well, I doubt the part about making Easter more meaningful will entice a nonbeliever into a Lenten observance. But I definitely think there's some personal value in taking a few weeks every year to do without something. Self-denial is an important virtue, and its one that separates us from the animals. People deny themselves stuff all the time because of a perceived benefit. Dieters do it, then add exercise to their lives in order to become healthier. If you decide to train for a marathon, you're willingly going to give up a lot of free time and replace it with jogging. I guess, if they wanted, a nonbeliever could observe a fast during the Lenten season without having to connect it to religion. Environmentalists might give up driving their cars the whole time. Take public transportation and let the planet benefit. Or you could go without sweets for a few weeks and let your body benefit from the sugar detox.

But to be honest, I wouldn't expect atheists to derive much meaning out of Lent. And that's OK. My Southern Baptist heritage doesn't put much stock in it either. :)

Although Protestant enthusiasm for the practice is definitely growing...

Any other words about Lent?

Not really. But if you've never observed the practice, and if you're a Christian, I'd encourage you to try it. Just to see. I have no doubt you'll see the value in it.

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Update: You might consider joining Blood:Water Mission for their 40 Days of Water campaign. Drink only water during Lent and donate the money you save toward building clean water projects in Uganda.

The Kid on the Cover

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 14:14:00 +0000

I'm no investigative journalist, but I've got skills, and Twitter, and email, and every once in awhile I can come up with a pretty sweet scoop.

Which I have done today: I've identified the kid on the cover of O Me of Little Faith, and uncovered the intriguing backstory behind the band-aids, the pose, and the awesomeness.

The little dude's name is Drew and he's 8 years old. Drew's mom and dad own an advertising agency in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and one of their clients is the Grand Rapids Marathon. In the spring of 2008, they were shooting campaign images for the marathon with photographer Steven Wohlwender. Wohlwender is a distance runner, and so was the agency's creative director.

(Sidebar: As you might know, the constant bounce of running a marathon can occasionally cause some, well, chafing of the nipples. So a lot of male marathoners will put tape or band-aids over these delicate areas to keep them safe during the event.)

Anyway, according to Drew's mom, the photographer and creative director got to talking about how funny it would be to take a photo of a little kid wearing the band-aids. The Grand Rapids Marathon has a kids' marathon, in which kids commit to walking or running a mile three times a week for eight weeks (accumulating 25 miles), then on race weekend they run/walk the last approaching the 1.2 miles of the race course -- making them official marathoners. What if they photographed a kid approaching his marathon with the same intensity as an adult? And taking the same precautions an adult marathoner might take against the painful injustices of endurance sports?

They decided it would make for a really funny picture, but the light was waning and the shoot was practically over. Where could they find a kid whose parents would consent to a photo shoot at such short notice? Especially a photo shoot in which the child was shirtless? Lucky for them, the agency's owners had such a kid: Drew, who was 6 at the time.

They hurried to the drugstore to buy some SpongeBob bandages and finished up the shoot in the remaining natural light. "Steve just asked Drew to make his fiercest face, and that's the picture that you see," Drew's mom told me. The original photo -- in which Drew was wearing a bib from the kids' marathon (it's been Photoshopped out in my cover) -- was used to advertise the event and eventually was discovered by the design team at Zondervan, which is located, of course, in Grand Rapids.

Here's the original photo of Drew by Steven Wohlwender. You can find it in the portraits section of his online portfolio:

And here's the book cover:

Drew's mom said he doesn't know about the book cover yet, but he's already enjoyed his 15 minutes of local fame from the marathon advertising. I guess those few minutes are about to get extended a bit.

Drew us now in second grade and is a Cub Scout who loves guitars, music, swimming, and Legos. Sounds like my kind of kid. I'm thrilled to have him as my scrawny, fierce book cover representative.

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My friend Matthew Paul Turner's new book, Hear No Evil, releases tomorrow.

Right now at Amazon, you can get O Me of Little Faith AND Hear No Evil AND Jon Acuff's upcoming Stuff Christians Like in a great package deal: all three books for just $27.63. I smell a delicious pre-order.

Picking Dandelions with Sarah Cunningham

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 15:12:00 +0000

I like to read stories about interesting people. And I like to read books by excellent writers--the kind who, technically, are very good at their craft. When a gifted writer happens to be an interesting person with compelling stories and a creative perspective, then that's a book I will enjoy and recommend.

Which brings us to Sarah Cunningham and her latest book, Picking Dandelions. Short review: She's a great writer. She's an interesting person. She's got excellent stories to tell and makes thoughtful observations about contemporary Christianity. I loved this book.

Sarah first caught my attention with her first book, Dear Church, in which she drew on her church-staff experience to write 14 letters to the capital-C Church--a Church she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be part of. She was impassioned, disillusioned, and discontent with the business-as-usual approach to church. She became a fresh voice for a generation of believers who thought the Church should be more than a Sunday morning social club.

While Dear Church was passionate and raw, Picking Dandelions is warm and mature. In it, Sarah sets aside the letter-writing approach and transitions into a straight-up spiritual memoir. It's funny, honest, and instructive, as she tells about the virtues of searching for Eden--of finding hope and goodness and God--amid the messiness of life. And she's seen messiness. She's lived in a homeless shelter in Chicago. She worked at Ground Zero in the days following the 9/11 attack. And she teaches high schoolers in Michigan, which is really scary.

With the nationwide release of Picking Dandelions, I got a chance to email-interview Sarah about her new book.

JB: The idea of change weaves through the stories in Picking Dandelions. What are some things that changed in your life between the writing of Dear Church and Picking Dandelions?

Sarah Cunningham: Man. For starters, I stopped whining about church experiences gone wrong. I got sick of my own immaturity. And then, another noticeable one: I got pregnant with our first child. Mostly, I think I just kept growing up. By the end of Dear Church, I was already starting to make a shift away from being "disillusioned" to a person who could find goodness "beyond disillusionment." Picking Dandelions captures part of that stretch. Picking Dandelions will never be done for me though. I've still got a lot of changing left to do.

A lot of us think of transformation as something that happened in the past...maybe at the beginning of a life of faith. But you look at it as something that should be constant, right? Why should we, as Christians, always be changing--or as you call it, "converting further"?

Wow. There are a lot of ways to answer that. One would be to say that, from the beginning--from Eden--God intended good for us. Along that same line, Jesus said he came to give life to the full. In light of those two statements, who wouldn't want to experience more of the fullness he wanted for us?

As we try to adopt more of God's way of life, its going to pull us forward into change. And change in this case, may be hard, but it will be good.

I've always thought the designation between "desired plants" and "weeds" to be entirely subjective and unfounded. Who ever decided that a cute little yellow dandelion was a weed? You're pretty pro-weed in the book--no, not THAT kind of weed--so I thought you might be able to explain it.

(Again, I'm referring to garden weeds.)

Ha ha. Yeah, I'm pro-weeding especially. The more we cut out unhealthy things that grow up around us, the more room we have for the good things to grow.

I think I identify with the dandelion especially. Its this intense, fuzzy flower that brings wonder to children, but it still has some of the characteristics of a weed. And that's me in a nutshell. I'm intense, driven, want to nurture goodness for other people, but in the end, I'm also a really flawed and dysfunctional human being. The cool thing is that when we begin to recover God's intentions for us--to recover Eden, you might say--even the weed-parts of us end up looking pretty beautiful.

Speaking of which, I love the section where you talk about your flaws, which always reminds me of the Apostle Paul going on and on about how he boasts about his weaknesses. Is it hard to write so transparently about your personal failures and shortcomings? Or is it empowering for you?

Its not as hard as you might think. There comes a time in any person's life when they decide who their public self is. Are they going to keep their spiritual and personal life private? Or can that be shared with those who share your life? Because my dad is a pastor, its always been natural for me to include a wide group of people in my development. Now, it just seems like I've extended that openness to the general public. Its sorta like going ALL-IN. This is who I am, good or bad, when no one is looking...and when everyone is.

Being open about your shortcomings can also be freeing. You're not pretending to be anything you're not. You're not projecting yourself as perfect. It allows people to take you as you are.

And being transparent can also help me step up in my life. Right now, I've been blogging about forgiveness on my website. For me, that's fresh; its one of those areas where I need to grow so badly it stings. But putting it out there is also like cementing the actions I'm trying to take.

I love that this book doesn't feel like a sermon repackaging (which I always assume is the case when reading new Christian books by well-known pastors). You're a good writer and storyteller and a great prose stylist. You do the memoir thing very well. So, now that all that praise is out of the way, what are some of your favorite memoirs? When you're writing these personal stories, do you ever find yourself trying to channel certain writers?

Thanks. I felt like it was a little bit of a dice roll. One of my favorite memoirists is Anne Lamott, but I didn't know if I could tap into that genre because I come from the exact opposite place on the spectrum. I was raised in an ultra-churched family on the right wing. When it comes down to it, I'm the clean-cut lily white girl from the midwest. But I want people to know that, whatever their context, life can still be quirky and funny and you can still laugh at yourself while you sort through the messes of your life. That is not limited to people raised on the left wing or the west coast. It's a universal experience for all of us who search for God and for meaning among life's weeds.

The stuff about Ground Zero is one of the most powerful parts of the book. I don't want to give anything away, but the idea of searching for Eden at such a place of devastation makes for a really compelling narrative. Was writing that part of the book difficult? Mentally speaking, is it hard for you to go back there? Or is writing about it cathartic?

Ground Zero was a crazy experience. The whole time we were there, it felt like I had been cast in a real-life disaster movie. I would look around and think to myself, this moment right here, this block I'm standing on, it is going to be in the history books. Surreal.

It wasn't hard to write about Ground Zero this many years later, but it was hard to absorb the experience into the rest of my life back then. When we were at the site of the World Trade Center towers, we were living on adrenaline the whole time, working through the night, watching people slip around the rubble. People were literally buried under concrete. It was all emergency-level. So it was weird and almost disturbing to come back to Michigan and realize the rest of the world was still functioning normally.

And I think, more than cathartic, talking about 9/11 is meaningful to me. Its important to be able to say to other people, even in life's darkness, there is light. Even in devastation, God stirred goodness.

You write about having had a "boiling lake of magma" in your front yard. I love this, because I had one, too! It was in our living room, and we could only cross it using the couch cushions and a couple of well-placed pillows. This isn't a question. I just wanted you to know.

I've been surprised by the reader reaction to our lava-jumping. Apparently all of us had boiling lava pits in our yards. Who knew the U.S. was built on an ocean of underground magma?

Did you get everything off your chest with Dear Church? Or is there another letter you'd perhaps like to write, maybe something that has developed since that book released?

I think you continue to learn about how to live and be church as life continues. But I don't need to write any more letters for Dear Church. That book stays true to who I was then; it's a true reflection of being in your twenties and trying to find a church that reflects all your ideals. It's meant to connect with people in that stage of life, so I'm not going to project any of my 31-year- old or older self into it.

What's next on your plate? Do you have another book or idea in the works?

I toy with all kinds of ideas, but I do have an idea for a second memoir--in the voice of Picking Dandelions, but without the growth metaphors. It would be about the bond God intends between his followers.

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Thanks for the interview, Sarah! Stay tuned, because at some point next week, I'll be giving away a copy of Picking Dandelions.

• Read a free excerpt from Picking Dandelions.

• Get a $10-off coupon code from Zondervan, which means you can get Sarah's book for $4.99 if you buy it through Zondervan.com.

• Learn more about Sarah.

• Disclaimers: Sarah and I share a publisher. Zondervan provided me with a review copy of Picking Dandelions. I feel an affinity with her due to the lava pits connection. I also have warm feelings about anyone with the last name "Cunningham" due to my childhood fondness for Happy Days.

Enough about Me: 3 Questions for You

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 12:13:00 +0000

We've had quite a few new readers lately -- thanks, everyone, for stopping by -- so I figured today would be a good time for some feedbacky fun. Let's get to know each other better.

How? By answering highly personal questions in a highly public forum, that's how.

Please use the comments to answer the following:

1. What kind of car do you drive?

2. On a normal day, what time do you get up in the morning and go to bed at night?

3. Lent begins next Wednesday. What would be the hardest thing for you to give up from Feb. 17 until Easter (April 4)?

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My answers are below.

Rant: NOW Hated the Wrong Ad

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 12:11:00 +0000

It's Tuesday, but I'm still thinking about the Super Bowl ads. I happened to watch Super Bowl 44 at home, with my family, and got to really focus on the ads more than usual. There were a few good ones -- as I mentioned yesterday, Google's ad was genius -- but most of them were unmemorable and uncreative.

But that's not why I feel a rant coming on. I've got the rant going because Terry O'Neill, the president of the National Organization for Women (NOW), made headlines in recent weeks about one of the Super Bowl ads being "extraordinarily offensive and demeaning" to women. Those are strong words. Extraordinarily offensive. Demeaning.

Let's see if we can guess the offensive, demeaning ad.

Was it this ad for Flo.tv, which featured Jim Nantz telling a guy to "change out of that skirt" and grow a spine because he gave up watching a football game in order to shop with his wife?

Nope. Apparently NOW is OK with this ad.

Was it this ad for Bridgestone tires, in which a man in some sort of dystopian future gives up his wife in exchange for keeping his (apparently) excellent tires?

No, it wasn't the Bridgestone ad. Apparently NOW is cool with the wife-for-tires exchange.

Was it this ad for GoDaddy.com, a company that seems to sink all of their advertising money into titillating ads that objectify women as sex objects?

No, it wasn't the GoDaddy.com ad, which might as well change their tagline to "Tasteless Ads and Websites." Nor was it the Snickers ad in which the joke was that a guy was playing football like "an old lady" (the hilarious Betty White), or the Dodge Charger ad in which a male voiceover seethed about the sacrifices required by marriage.

It wasn't any of those ads, of course. According to the National Organization for Women, the "extraordinarily demeaning and offensive" that they tried to get CBS to drop from its Super Bowl advertising lineup was this one featuring Tim Tebow and his mom, Pam.

Seriously? Really? That ad -- and its message of "Celebrate family. Celebrate life." -- was more demeaning to women than all the other ones above?

Look, I get why some groups were upset about the ad. Lots of people -- liberal and conservative, Christian and secular, male and female -- have problems with Focus on the Family. I certainly do, and I've ranted about it before.

I understand that there are better ways for a non-profit organization to spend its money than on a Super Bowl ad.

I understand that Pam Tebow's faith-fueled decision to give birth to Tim despite the risks, and despite its positive outcome, is a decision that -- had it gone the other way -- could have left her other kids without a mom. (And which doctors were absolutely correct to worry about...and which likely kills too many other mothers and unborn children every year.)

And I understand that this ad was a total letdown after all the controversy of the preceding week. Everyone at my house watched it, and then said, in unison, "That's IT?"

But what I don't understand is how this ad, just this ad, in which one mother tells how she exercised her freedom of choice and chose to have a baby despite the risks to her own health...how does this demean women? How does this even damage the pro-choice cause? She had a choice. She chose to give birth. But she had a choice. This is wrong how?

This is more demeaning than women used as sex objects to sell websites?

This is more demeaning than an ad suggesting women are worth less than a set of tires?

This is more demeaning than saying a televised football game is more important than hanging out with your wife or girlfriend? That choosing her over sports makes you a skirt-wearing sissy lady?

Really? Really?!?

I don't have any problem with feminism. I have a 9 year-old daughter, and as often as I can, I tell her she can be and do anything she wants when she grows up. She can be a doctor. She can be president. She can be a mom. She can do all those things. She is smart and cool and capable of anything a boy can do.

I think it's ridiculous that, just a few generations ago, women couldn't vote. I think it's ridiculous that, in more than a few Christian denominations, women can't be pastors (like Southern Baptists, who won't let a woman be the senior pastor of a church of 25 people but will allow Beth Moore to be the most popular Bible teacher in the English-speaking world). If my own daughter wants to be the pastor of a church someday, I will do everything I can to support her in that. I don't have any problem at all with female pastors or ministers or whatever. I think we need more of them.

I don't have a problem with feminism.

But I do have a problem with stupidity. I have a problem with mindless, lockstep adherence to a political stance. And I have a problem with logical inconsistency. So when NOW can't see beyond Tim Tebow's devout faith or his pro-life beliefs or his connection to an organization they hate -- and when this hysterical myopia makes them blind to advertising that is far more offensive to women -- then I have trouble taking NOW's version of capital-F Feminism seriously.

I'm not alone. Even among feminists.

Otherwise, I have to conclude that being a feminist means being OK with objectifying women, and devaluing women, and denigrating women -- as long as you complain long and loud when a woman uses her freedom of choice to have a successful, well-rounded son who makes a choice to appear alongside his mother, whom he clearly loves, in an ad promoting a devilish, hateful message that can be summed up this way:

Celebrate family. Celebrate life.

Grrrrrr. I thought feminism was a good thing. I guess I'm wrong. Because you know what? I kinda like family. I'm also a fan of life. And Tim Tebow comes across as a goofball, but I sorta like him, too.

And I hope my daughter grows up to celebrate things like family and life, in a world that does not place limits on what she might want to be and accomplish.

She is worth more than a tire. She is more than a body. She is interesting enough to miss a football game for. If she grows up to be confident enough and smart enough to make hard decisions and live with the consequences -- like a certain Mrs. Tebow -- then I'll be proud, regardless of her politics or stance on social issues.

I'll be a happy, satisfied dad. But I guess I won't be a the NOW brand of Feminist, because you know why?

They don't hold women in high-enough esteem for me.

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Update: There's a great conversation occurring at Slate's Double X blog about the sexism in this year's crop of ads ("...some of the worst cases of lady-bashing in Super Bowl history"). Recommended.

Right Now

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 14:36:00 +0000

It's been a long time since the first time I did a "now list." Which means it's probably time to do one again.

Feel free to contribute your own list at your blog or in the comments below.

What I was listening to when I began this post:
"Honey, I Been Thinking About You" by Jackie Greene (via Pandora)

What I am drinking right now:
Coffee. Black. Home-brewed Starbucks Sumatra blend.

What I have just finished doing:
Making a play against Bryan Allain in Words with Friends on my iPhone. The word was "Qi." Which is an alternate spelling for "Chi," which is the Chinese word for the life force present in all things. The Q was on a triple word score, so it got me 31 points. Scrabble-nerd!

What I will do immediately after posting this:
Finish designing a magazine ad for a local clothing retailer.

What books I am reading now:
Picking Dandelions by Sarah Cunningham (look for an interview with Sarah next week)
The Titan's Curse (Percy Jackson Book 3) by Rick Riordan
Hear No Evil, by Matthew Paul Turner

Last email/text I received:
A promotional email from a church video company about Lenten resources. I know. So boring.

Last email/text I sent:
An email to my sister to give her a GoDaddy.com coupon code.

Last article I read:
"Ozzy Does It: The Improbably Persistence of Ozzy Osbourne," at Slate. True Story: One of the first article I ever wrote for Relevant Magazine was an online recap of the first episode of "The Osbournes." I thought it was great, but then I never watched another episode.

Favorite Super Bowl commercial from last night:
The Google one. So good. Told a great story while, you know, actually showing how the product works. Perfect. Google wins.

Least favorite Super Bowl commercial from last night:
That "Super Bowl" shuffle remake. Awful.

Biggest Super Bowl commercial loser:
Dockers. Because its "people without pants on" spot aired right after the Casual Friday spot that showed office people in their underwear. Which totally spoiled the whole guys-in-their-underwear vibe for the second spot. Dockers execs have to be sitting around in their tasteful chinos while cursing the advertising gods today.

What I just looked at right now:
The snow outside my window. There has been snow outside my window for about two weeks now.

What I was listening to when I finished this post:
"Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve (via Pandora)

OK. That's me today. Now it's your turn.

Dinosaurs and Jesus

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 13:55:00 +0000

Earlier this week I revealed my childhood love for dinosaurs. And as a kid growing up in a devout Christian home, I also harbored a childhood love for Jesus. Some of my first real spiritual questions came when I wasn't able to fit my beloved dinosaurs into the biblical narrative.

Too bad I didn't have these religious dinosaur pictures to inform me. Because they sure would have made me feel better about things.

The Most Awesome Picture Ever:

This is actually a fine art print available from an artist named Derek Chatwood. But the really sad thing is that, when I first saw it a couple of years ago, I wondered for a long time whether it was real. A long time. Because I would absolutely not be surprised if coloring books like this actually existed from Answers in Genesis or some other such Young Earth creationist organization. (H/T: Josh Hatcher for the reminder)

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The Second Most Awesome Picture Ever

I have no clue about the origin of this one -- if you have any idea let me know -- but it's wonderful. That baby dinosaur looks so content in the arms of Christ! All creatures great and small...including juvenile killing machines from the late Jurassic period.

Anyway, when I'm down in the dumps, I always picture myself as a baby Allosaurus leaning my carnivorous head against the sturdy chest of an anglo Messiah who clearly brushes his long hair. It helps.

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The Ark Must Have Been a-Rockin'

The big Creationist/Young Earth idea explaining dinosaur fossils is that most of them are the result of the biblical flood. But since the Bible says every creature "that lives upon the ground" was represented on the ark -- and because organizations like Answers in Genesis insist that the dinosaurs were still alive at the time of the flood -- they conclude that dinosaurs were on the Ark, too.

So obviously, the biblical ark-boarding scene would have looked just like above. The T.Rex will lie down with the lamb, etc.

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Hi, I'm Man

This isn't specifically a religious picture, but I love it all the same. It's a typical dinosaur-size comparison chart like you'd find in a textbook. These images always compare dinosaurs to the size of an adult male. So you have dinosaur silhouettes situated next to a man-sized silhouette, who, inexplicably, is always waving at the camera.

Trust me: if you are within 12 feet of a line of five different bloodthirsty predators, all of whom are leaning toward you with mouths agape, it would probably serve you well not to stop and wave at the camera.

Unless, of course, you're Jesus. The logical conclusion, then, is that the unspeakably calm blue figure in these illustrations is the Son of God.

Turtles All the Way Down

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 14:17:00 +0000

In Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time, the famous physicist opens with a story about a prominent scientist (probably Bertrand Russell) who gave a public astronomy lecture way back in the day. He explained how the earth moved around the sun, and how the sun is just one of an countless stars in our immense universe.

When the lecture ended, an annoyed little old lady approached him. She told him that he was talking nonsense, because all that stuff about the planets and solar system and stars was just plain wrong. "The world is really a flat plate," she explained, "supported on the back of a giant tortoise."

The scientist was unphased. He asked her, "What is the tortoise standing on?"

"You’re very clever, young man, very clever," the old lady replied. "But it’s turtles all the way down!"

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There are several different versions of this story floating around out there, often identifying different scientists (could have been William James). Hawking uses the story to explain the existence of different cosmological myths. But in O Me of Little Faith, I employ it a bit differently.

I love the visual of a turtle stack, suspended in space, turtle upon turtle upon turtle. Every turtle supports the turtle above it. Every turtle rests on the turtle below it.

It occurs to me that my faith is the same way. The world at the top of the turtle stack is me. Each turtle is a specific presupposition of my faith -- all of the things that support who I am. Basic morality. How I live. How I treat people. How I raise my kids. My career. The books I write. Whether or not I attend church. The doctrines I hold about the Bible. What I believe about Jesus. All of these things link together in a chain that informs, supports, and sustains my life, turtle upon turtle upon turtle.

There are a lot of turtles in the stack, but it's not turtles all the way down. Because all of these doctrines and viewpoints and ideas ultimately balance upon one thing: whether or not I believe God exists. That's my first turtle, and that turtle rests upon nothing but starlit emptiness and space. We can talk about proofs for the existence of God and all that stuff, but let's face it: the first turtle is supported by mystery. Faith.

Every turtle chain has a beginning, a foundational belief that everything springs from. Mine is that God exists. An atheist's starting point may be that there is no God or gods. Both of us build stacks upon those first turtles. Both of us are depending on the strength of that first turtle, because it supports everything.

God is hard to prove. God is hard to disprove. The existence or non-existence of God is unprovable. But both of us -- the believer and the nonbeliever -- are basing everything on our starting turtle. And once the turtle is in place, switching it out with a new base can be incredibly disruptive, painful, and dangerous. Everything is at stake.

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Of course, in the book, I go into a lot more detail about the turtles-all-the-way-down metaphor -- including a brief tie-in to Dr. Seuss's Yertle the Turtle -- but that's pretty much how the turtles work in O Me of Little Faith.

You had some great guesses about the turtle metaphor as it relates to faith, but as you now know, the winners were the ones who correctly guessed "turtles all the way down." Josh quickly identified the ancient belief that the world rested on the backs of turtles, but didn't quite predict the correct metaphor. (He's right about one thing, though: a literal belief in the turtle arrangement is pretty easy to doubt.)

Angela was the first to introduce "turtles all the way down," but then again, she's my editor. She already knew. Radosh knew it, too, but 1) he's already got Pocket Guide to the Bible and the other Pocket Guides and 2) he's getting an advance copy of OMOLF anyway. I'm going to disqualify him on the amount of stuff he already has. (Sorry!)

So that leaves me with Myles, a theology student at Baylor. Congrats, Myles! We've met before, and I'm thinking yo may have PGTTB already, but if not, let me know. (And if you'd prefer one of my other books, just tell me which one and I'll send it your way.)

Thanks for playing, everyone! Come back for some meaningless frivolity tomorrow, when I won't be talking about turtles, theology, or OMOLF at all.

Update: When I checked this after posting it, the Google-based ad in the sidebar was for turtles. So awesome.

What's Up with the Turtles?

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Boyett) — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 13:05:00 +0000

For those of you who are interested in such things, here's the back cover copy for O Me of Little Faith:

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True Confessions

I am a Christian.

I have been a Christian for most of my life. But there are times—an uncomfortable frequency of times, to be honest—when I'm not entirely sure I believe in God.

There. I said it.

From this unconventional profession of faith, Jason Boyett sets off on a journey down a sometimes painful, often hilarious, always honest road of inquisition, searching for a God who occasionally seems to disappear.

An earnest seeker who clings to faith even as he explores the hiddenness of God, Boyett asks uncomfortable questions -- the questions many of us have but dare not say aloud. His willingness to ask these questions have made him immune to over-spiritualized church talk, suspicious of public prayers, and annoyed by too-certain believers who seem to get "personal promptings from Jesus and detailed directions about even the most trivial aspects of their lives." (Boyett has his doubts.)

Written for doubters by a doubter, this is not a tidy, 5-step solution for fixing spiritual uncertainty. Nor is it a cynical, anti-religious screed. Instead, it’s a hopeful, confessional exploration of the relationship between faith and doubt. It’s a book loaded with grace, encouragement, humor, and -- for what it’s worth -- an inordinate number of references to turtles and French daredevils.

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That's right: turtles and French daredevils.

Seriously, the second chapter of the book is pretty much built around turtles as a metaphor for faith. So I have a contest idea. If you can identify what role turtles play in this metaphor -- guess the symbolism, the illustration, the object lesson, the literary allusion, or otherwise figure it out -- then I'll send you a free signed copy of Pocket Guide to the Bible. (If you already have PGTTB, I'll send you something else.)

Leave your guesses in the comments. The contest closes at 9 am tomorrow (Thursday, Feb. 4), at which time I'll reveal the answer.

If you have already read the chapter in question, or if I have told you about the turtles, then you are excluded from this contest, cheater.

Predict away, friends.