It is, Rowan Williams assures me, a coincidence that his new book will be published three days after the installation of Sarah Mullally as Archbishop of Canterbury. “I will not be attending,” he says. “You don’t want to be Marley’s ghost.”

Yet, fittingly – since that book takes solidarity as its theme – this priest, poet and critic is keen to empathise with Mullally, the first female Archbishop, in the weight of challenges she faces. “Every archbishop starts, like every president or prime minister: with expectations being thrown at them,” he recalls of his time at Lambeth Palace from 2002 to 2012. “Realising you’re not going to be able to meet them is part of the job. It is no walk in the park.”

Williams, who now lives in Cardiff with his theologian wife Jane, comes across as gentler, kinder and more self-deprecating than I remember him from his episcopal tenure. He used to make regular headlines, his every utterance and act picked apart. His 2011 dismissal of David Cameron’s “Big Society” initiative as “painfully stale” had the Conservative benches in uproar. Today, as we sit talking in a book-lined reception room at his publisher’s London office, he stands out from the colourful backdrop in his black clerical shirt and trousers, with a simple cross hanging round his neck. Those monkish eyebrows remain as untamed as ever.

The two biggest issues in Mullally’s in-tray, Williams tells me, are the same ones he tried but failed to settle during his turbulent decade in post: women’s ordination and what he refers to as “the same-sex question”. With the first, he feels, at least in England, “some of the bitterness has gone out of it”. Not, though, in much of the 85-million-strong worldwide Anglican Communion, over which the Archbishop of Canterbury also presides, with some provinces muttering about schism. “I honestly don’t know whether the Communion will survive,” he says bluntly.

Read it all.

"Is he saying that British public life has lost its moral centre? “Yes,” he replies, boldly and without any caveat. “Increasingly, we permit and collude with dishonourable forms of behaviour, and we don’t seem very concerned about that.”" Rowan Williams: ‘I don’t know whether the…

— Mark Lambert (@sitsio) March 17, 2026

Here, Lewis is asserting the importance of stories for communicating truths, and the danger of dismissing them as feigned nonsense. The 1300 years that have passed since the reign of the Pevensie children means that they have once again taken on a mythical status among the inhabitants of Old Narnia. The beasts have no evidence of their existence, nor that of Aslan, but nevertheless they have faithfully passed on the stories through the generations and held fast to the truths they communicate.

Trufflehunter’s assertion of his faith is a kind of creed, which summarises the key tenets of his faith: “I believe in the High King Peter and the rest that reigned at Cair Paravel, as firmly as I believe in Aslan himself.” We might compare this statement of belief with the Apostles’ Creed and its opening statement: “I believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth.” The tendency for such stories to be dismissed as merely myths or fairy stories, recounting fabulous adventures of fantastical beasts like human beings, is an important reminder of the value of the stories of the Bible for continuing to transmit the Christian faith to new generations in a society where such tales are frequently dismissed.

IT’S not just the stories that are important in passing on the Christian faith: it is also the people. The passage we have considered provides an effective contrast between the transitoriness of humans, and the edifices that they build, and the steadfastness of the badgers.

Where human rulers come and go, badgers remain. 

Read it all.

"Here, Lewis is asserting the importance of stories for communicating truths, and the danger of dismissing them as feigned nonsense."

Our #Lent series continues with a reflection on C. S. Lewis’s Prince Caspian#CSLewis https://t.co/cv1iJSInqG

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) March 1, 2026

A new annotated edition of the Bible, published by the Bible Society and the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity (LICC), contains more than 1000 notes, prompts, stories, and features to help its readers to address “the nitty-gritty detail of life”.

Launched last month, the Everyday Faith Bible is designed to help readers to “follow Jesus every day of the week” through practical prompts, contextual notes, features, quotations, and real-life story examples.

It seeks to help people to connect with ancient texts in the 21st century by addressing “how the Bible speaks to the nitty-gritty detail of life in the UK today — from work meetings to football games to family dinners”, the LICC and Bible Society write in their introduction.

Read it all.

A new annotated edition of the #Bible, published by @biblesociety and the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity, contains more than 1000 notes, prompts, stories, and features to help its readers to address “the nitty-gritty detail of life”.https://t.co/x94ddfmRkL

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) February 27, 2026

The novel centers on an institution called the N.I.C.E., which stands for the National Institute of Co-ordinated Experiments. It presents itself as scientific, humane and forward-looking. It promises efficiency. Improvement. A better future, scrubbed clean of superstition and sentiment.

Behind the glass walls and polite language, however, darker intentions take hold. The organization seeks to “recondition” humanity. To reshape desire. To erase conscience. To replace moral limits with technical control.

Lewis saw where this road leads. When science proceeds without reference to anything beyond itself, it doesn’t remain neutral. It fills with myth. Bad myth. Ancient forces wearing modern lab coats.

The leaders of N.I.C.E. don’t worship God. They worship power disguised as progress. In the end, they openly submit to demonic intelligences, though they dress this submission in the language of evolution and inevitability.

Lewis’s point was as unambiguous as it was unsettling: When people stop believing in God, they do not believe in nothing. Instead, they believe in anything.

Fast-forward to our own moment, and the novel no longer feels imaginative. It feels documentary. In Silicon Valley, some technology leaders speak openly about “awakening” artificial intelligence. About communion with non-human intelligences. About revelations delivered not through prayer, but through code.

Some have dedicated their creations to ancient gods. Others speak of consciousness emerging from machines as if it were a spiritual event. The vocabulary changes. The impulse does not.

Lewis, an Oxford University academic who converted from atheism to Christianity wouldn’t be surprised. He warned that superstition doesn’t vanish with faith. It mutates. When humility disappears, fascination rushes in. When reverence fades, obsession takes its place.

Read it all.

In 1945, C. S. Lewis published a strange, unsettling novel called “That Hideous Strength.” It was marketed as fiction, but it read like prophecy.

At the time, many critics dismissed it as eccentric. Too symbolic. Too mystical. Too suspicious of science. Lewis, they said, was…

— Religion Unplugged (@ReligionMag) February 25, 2026

Christopher Wild, a lay Anglican, is a former Professor of Molecular Epidemiology at Leeds, with a particular interest in the relationship between environmental and genetic factors in the development of cancer.

Appointed, leaving Leeds, director of the prestigious International Agency for Research on Cancer at Lyon, he is now excellently qualified to give an overview of ethical issues arising from recent developments in genetic science. He does so with commendable clarity: someone useful for the new Archbishop of Canterbury to consult.

He repeatedly emphasises — as others have done, following the late, great Ian Barbour — that (genetic) science can be used for good or ill: “As with so much of genetics, honourable and dishonourable aims run side by side, employing the same tools. This is ‘dual use’ at its most dangerous. While some seek to overcome disease by genetic engineering, others seek to weaponise biology.”

Read it all.

Robin Gill reviews Unravelling DNA: Applying Christian values to a genetic age by Christopher Paul Wild 🧬📚#Bookreview #DNA #churchnews #churchtimes 📖https://t.co/1nTZv19uVi

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) February 25, 2026

The TikTok video that generated hundreds of requests for free Bibles was not, the Revd David Sims admits, his most dignified.

“I was dancing in my office, waving the Bible, and saying ‘If you want one, I’ll send you one for free,’” he recalled this week. “Within around three or four days, it had had over 100,000 views, and I’d had hundreds of messages saying ‘I’d love a free Bible.’”

Mr Sims, Vicar of St Thomas’s, Aldridge, in Walsall, has been broadcasting on TikTok for more than six years, and holds a regular Sunday service on the site. But, while at one time he sent out two or three Bibles a week, the dancing video last spring has brought the total to more than 2800. He now has a team of ten to 20 volunteers who spend Monday mornings packaging up Bibles to send out.

The requests mainly came from people, typically aged 20 to 40, who did not go to church, he said.

Read it all.

The #TikTok video that generated hundreds of requests for free #Bibles was not, the Revd David Sims admits, his most dignified

Read the full story 👇#freebibles #Evangelism #churchnews #churchtimes https://t.co/fow0hfxJhT

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) February 4, 2026

Religion rather than secular society is often blamed for using violence to achieve its aims. Professor Howard in Broken Altars: Secularist violence in modern history, in contrast, demonstrates convincingly how violence has been used more often by secular regimes against religion. He seeks in this book to “bring needed nuance and perspective to a complex, often fraught topic”.

He sets out three definitions of secularism: passive secularism, combative secularism, and eliminationist secularism, and focuses in his book on the latter two, describing as passive secularism what we in the West would consider to be characteristic of a tolerant political regime with liberal principles — church-state separation, freedom of conscience, and freedom of the press — all vital ingredients of a democratic system.

He presents, as examples of combative secularism, three case studies of early 20th-century modernisation: Mexico, Spain, and Turkey. 

Read it all.

Xenia Dennen reviews a study of #secularism in its aggressive forms 📚 #books #bookreviews https://t.co/o2xDU7RWds

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) January 11, 2026

In this month’s Q&A, contributing editor Serena Sigillito interviews Dr. Angela Franks about her new book, Body and Identity: A History of the Empty Self.

Serena Sigillito: I’ve just finished reading your fascinating new book. Can you give PD readers a brief description of the argument you make there?

Angela Franks: Sure. I argue that our concern with the body is usually a smokescreen for deeper questions about identity. I try to show historically why and how identity became a problem for us—why our culture is going through a systemic identity crisis. I try to show that this is not simply a new development, but it has its roots in phenomena that go back centuries, and even millennia.

SS: You’ve mentioned elsewhere that you were inspired, in part, to write this book by Carl Trueman’s The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self. I found that a really helpful and thought-provoking comparison. My sense is that your book is more unabashedly academic than Carl’s. Your book seems like it’s aimed at the kind of people who write for places like Public Discourse, who can then draw on your scholarly work and translate it into a more accessible register and help popularize the ideas you articulate. Does that seem right to you?

AF: Yes, I think that’s accurate. I had already been working on my book when Carl’s came out. We got to know each other pretty soon after that, and—as I told him—I was very relieved that his book was not making mine superfluous! I think Carl’s book is primarily a work of translation, whereas mine is a more academic synthesis. One of the books that was really helpful to me was Charles Taylor’s Sources of the Self, as well as A Secular Age. Those books are similar to what I’m trying to do—a work that’s lengthier, with an abundant use of footnotes, that really gets into texts at a deeper level. The hope is that it shifts the scholarly discussion around identity.

Read it all.

A great interview with @theologianmom @PublicDiscourse on her fine book on “the empty self.” With @SerenaSigillito.

It wasn’t only secularism that “liquified” the body and emptied the self. Christianity played a large role too. What do we do with that?https://t.co/y6RwYWeaqb

— Rachel Lu (@rclu) December 1, 2025

“Nothing in the world is harder than speaking the truth and nothing easier than flattery.If there’s the hundredth part of a false note in speaking the truth, it leads to a discord, and that leads to trouble.But if all, to the last note, is false in flattery, it is just as agreeable, and is heard not without satisfaction. It may be a coarse satisfaction, but still a satisfaction. And however coarse the flattery, at least half will be sure to seem true. That’s so for all stages of development and classes of society. -Svidrigailov (Crime and Punishment)”

― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

#OnThisDay in 1821, Fyodor Dostoevsky was born in Moscow. (Crime and Punishment, 1866) pic.twitter.com/xcK1G6rZRD

— Bibliophilia (@Libroantiguo) November 11, 2015

Fyodor Dostoyevsky began to write what would become his last novel, “The Brothers Karamazov,” in 1878. It was published in serial installments in the magazine Russkiy Vestnik from January, 1879, to November, 1880. Dostoyevsky had a deadline to meet every month, and his wife, Anna, later complained about the pressure he was always working under. Unlike many other contemporary writers, such as Tolstoy or Turgenev, who were well off, Dostoyevsky lived by his writing and struggled throughout his life to earn enough money. If not for this, Anna wrote, in her memoirs, after his death, “He could have gone carefully through [his works], polishing them, before letting them appear in print; and one can imagine how much they would have gained in beauty. Indeed, until the very end of his life Fyodor Mikhailovich had not written a single novel with which he was satisfied himself; and the cause of this was our debts!”

No one could claim that “The Brothers Karamazov” is polished, or even beautifully written—it is characteristic of Dostoyevsky’s style that everything is desperately urgent and seems to burst forth, and that the details don’t much matter. Reckless and intense: we are headed straight to the point of the matter, and there is no time. This urgency, this wildness, the seeming unruliness of his style, which is echoed in the many abrupt twists and turns in the action toward the end of the chapters—the reader must be kept in a state of suspense until the next installment—runs against something else, something heavier and slower, a patiently insistent question that is related to everything that is happening: What are we living for?

On May 16, 1878, just months before Dostoyevsky began writing “The Brothers Karamazov” in earnest, his son Alyosha died following an epileptic fit that lasted for hours. He would have turned three that summer. Dostoyevsky “loved Lyosha somehow in a very special way, with an almost morbid love, as if sensing that he would not have him for long,” Anna wrote later. When his son stopped breathing, Dostoyevsky “kissed him, made the sign of the cross over him three times,” and broke down in tears. He was crushed with grief, Anna wrote, and with guilt—his son had inherited epilepsy from him. Outwardly, however, he was soon calm and collected; she was the one who wept and wept. Gradually, she grew worried that his suppression of grief would have a negative impact on his already fragile health, and she suggested that he visit the Optina Pustyn monastery with a young friend, the theological wunderkind Vladimir Solovyov. There they met the elder of the monastery—the starets—Ambrose. “Weep and be not consoled, but weep,” he said to Dostoyevsky.

All of this made its way into “The Brothers Karamazov.” The protagonist bears the name of Dostoyevsky’s son Alyosha and many of Solovyov’s traits. The monastery is central to the story, and its elder—named Zosima in the novel—comforts a woman who has lost her child, aged two years and nine months, with words that echo those uttered by Ambrose. But more important to the story than the autobiographical details, which in any case are swallowed up by the vortex of fiction, is the devastating loss of meaning that accompanies the death of a child. 

Read it all.

“The Brothers Karamazov” asks what we are living for, and it “seeks the answer in the little life, among the small people, in the frail, the fragile, the fallible, the failed,” Karl Ove Knausgaard writes. https://t.co/llTCBZ9rHR

— The New Yorker (@NewYorker) October 21, 2025

O God, who in thy providence didst call Joseph Schereschewsky from his home in Eastern Europe to the ministry of this Church, and didst send him as a missionary to China, upholding him in his infirmity, that he might translate the holy Scriptures into languages of that land: Lead us, we pray thee, to commit our lives and talents to thee, in the confidence that when thou givest thy servants any work to do, thou dost also supply the strength to do it; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Today the Episcopal Church commemorates Samuel Isaac Joseph Schereschewsky, Bishop and Missionary, 1906 pic.twitter.com/F0xkkbLRRH

— The Anglican Church in St Petersburg (@anglicanspb) October 14, 2023

omething more powerful than philosophical argumentation is on display here. You can’t argue someone into seeing the Grand Canyon’s beauty. But you can point and say, “Look.”

Perhaps morality is like that. Encounters with both betrayal and loyalty, selfishness and self-sacrifice, greed and generosity—these are the experiences that shape our moral views. Philosophy simply refines them.

This means that weighing the validity of moral realism is never merely an academic exercise. It’s one of the most urgent and consequential tasks we can undertake.

If moral realism is false, then our deepest moral convictions—about justice and kindness, oppression and cruelty—are just preferences. How we treat others is negotiable. The Holocaust isn’t evil, and the abolition of slavery isn’t progress. All this leaves victims of abuse, persecution, and exploitation not only with the pain of their suffering but also with the silence of a universe incapable of calling it wrong.

But if moral realism is true—if there really is a moral structure to the universe independent of human opinion—then the picture changes completely. Our longing for justice is not naive. Charity and love are truly good, and cruelty and deceit are truly bad. Each human being has inestimable worth.

In this way, The Good, the Right, and the Real is not only a philosophical argument but also a gentle plea for moral attention….

Read it all.

'If moral realism is false, then our deepest moral convictions—about justice and kindness, oppression and cruelty—are just preferences. How we treat others is negotiable. The Holocaust isn’t evil, and the abolition of slavery isn’t progress. All this leaves victims of abuse,…

— Kendall Harmon (@KendallHarmon6) September 22, 2025

During the past 20 years or so, however, less emphasis has been placed on urban mission and ministry in the Church of England, as new challenges have arisen in response to the decline in affiliation and religious observance. This has resulted in new “mission” attempts to reverse that trend, which have focused more on increasing the number of personal conversions to Anglican Christianity, and on novel approaches to church-planting.

Sadly, however, in 2025, high levels of economic and social inequality, deprivation, and sometimes even mental despair are still being experienced by many in towns and cities. This raises the question of how far we have come since 1985 in improving matters.

It was with this purpose in mind that we decided to commission a number of essays written by some of those who were involved in the publication and implementation of the report itself, and others who have been engaged in urban ministry and community-organising since then, which evaluate the importance of Faith in the City for the present day, and seek to open a debate on urban policy, theology, and practice.

This collection of essays examines the impact that the report had at the time of its publication; the changes that have taken place in the political landscape in the period since; the changes that have taken place in English society in the period since; and the changes that have taken place in the Church of England, including in its approach to urban mission, ministry, and welfare provision.

Read it all.

📉 From radical report to quiet retreat? Critics say the Church of England has sidelined urban mission in favour of growth strategies. Time to re-centre the margins.

✍️ Terry Drummond & Joe Ford in the Church Timeshttps://t.co/7s2uC1gDTZ

— Sacristy Press (@SacristyPress) September 8, 2025

Tolkien later wrote that he began creating his Middle Earth mythology – the foundation for the future “The Lord of the Rings” – while “in grimy canteens, at lectures in cold fogs, in huts full of blasphemy and smut, or by candlelight in bell-tents, even some down in dugouts under shell fire.”

Yes, the man who survived days huddled in shell craters and trenches in France would later write, in a blank page in an Oxford student’s exam book, these famous words: “In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit.”

Tolkien and Lewis remain stunningly popular – in print and on digital screens. A graphic novel by John Hendrix, “The Mythmakers: The remarkable fellowship of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien,” will soon become a feature-length animated film. Netflix recently began filming the latest movie and cable-television production based on “The Chronicles of Narnia,” the seven novels Lewis wrote for children and families. Another film linked to “The Lord of the Rings” – “The Hunt for Gollum” – is scheduled for 2026 release.

Loconte stressed that the faith woven into the works of Lewis and Tolkien was a sharp contrast to the despair and doubt found in many classic books after “The War to End All Wars,” which killed 16 to 22 million soldiers and civilians.

Read it all.

#Tolkien, #Lewis and great post-World War I myths https://t.co/Iepqr5gWB0

— Religion Unplugged (@ReligionMag) August 21, 2025

I think the single most important contribution that Vernon makes to the literature is his choice at the outset to take Blake’s visions, his encounters with angels, apostles, prophets, and even God himself, seriously: to take Blake at his word and to see where that word leads us. So many writers on Blake never leave the modern secular mind-set, and so they patronise Blake rather than learn from him. They psychologise or medicalise his visions and speculate about migraines or psychotic episodes, and, likewise, they treat his poetry as an aesthetic or literary artefact rather than, as Blake intended, a call to awaken from sleep and see the world anew.

Given Vernon’s expertise and experience as a psychotherapist, one might have feared that he would do the same. Not so. By taking Blake seriously as a visionary, a prophet, and a teacher, he has written an exciting and refreshing book, which offers us what he calls “a Blakean education” in how to live well, which he summarises under four headings: “first, savvy innocence, second, perceptual openness, third, confident imagination, fourth, fearless critique”.

These approaches to life are set out in a series of chapters that skilfully combine biography of the poet with close reading of the works that he was writing at the various stages of his life. 

Read it all.

”…the Blakean insights that Vernon sets out so lucidly in this book are prophetic for our own age… he unveils the deeper powers at work and shows us a way out.” Thanks @malcolmguite for a great review @ChurchTimes https://t.co/OMPgQEDBcR

— Mark Vernon (@platospodcasts) August 1, 2025

Carr concludes Superbloom by proposing we look for ways to turn aside and form alternative communities on the edges of these digital networks. “Maybe salvation, if that’s not too strong a word, lies in personal, willful acts of excommunication,” he writes, in “the taking up of positions, first as individuals and then, perhaps, together, not outside of society but at society’s margin, not beyond the reach of the informational flow but beyond the reach of its liquefying force.” 

He’s right, but it’s the togetherness aspect of this response that is particularly vital, for communication technologies by their very nature pose challenges that demand cooperative responses. What Carr does not say is that communities and even institutions already exist, all over our country, that are uniquely equipped to rise to this challenge: Christian families, schools, and churches.

We should be taking the lead in embodying alternative ways of communicating and feeling together. We need to practice developing a different kind of consensus, the consensus of members of the church conforming to the mind of Christ (Rom. 12:2; 1 Cor. 2:16), not members of an increasingly secularized society oriented around New York and Silicon Valley. This type of consensus is the stability we need to avoid fresh waves of vertigo as dramatic technological development, particularly around artificial intelligence, continues apace.

Read it all.

“It’s our commitment to living as members of Christ’s body that will enable us to serve a techno-addled society and call it to a better way of life,” writes @jeff_bilbro.https://t.co/04inICPPOo

— Christianity Today (@CTmagazine) July 25, 2025

The reason I do not hesitate to call my experience representative of a multitude of people is that how Packer reached me was the printed word. This is the story of Packer’s life and ministry. Packer never held a prestigious professorship at a famous university, nor did he fill a high-visibility pulpit permanently. Furthermore, he lived before the age of social media and the instant dissemination they confer. When I interviewed Packer for my biography of him, he affirmed his steadfast refusal throughout his life to cultivate a following.

Additionally, Packer was a soft-spoken and unassuming man. No assignment was too small or humble for him. During one of the summers that the ESV translation committee met in Cambridge, England, Packer accepted an invitation to speak to a group of local young people in a church member’s living room. One of the translators and his wife smuggled their way into the meeting. They later reported that the living room was so crowded that some of the young people sat under a table.

In view of this absence of ordinary channels for becoming widely known, how is it possible that surveys of influential evangelicals conducted early in the present century found Packer near the tops of the lists? The answer is that J. I. Packer achieved his prominence through the printed word and its uncanny ability to reach ordinary people in the ordinary circumstances of life. Some of Packer’s books, such as his first book (Fundamentalism and the Word of God), began as a series of addresses to students and lay people. His signature book Knowing God, which sold a million and a half copies, began as a series of articles on basic Christian beliefs for a religious magazine. J. I. Packer is a classic case of someone who was faithful in little and thereby found himself set over much. I cannot think of a better validation of the effectiveness of Christian publishing than the career of J. I. Packer.

Read it all.

#OTD July 17, 2020:
Death of J.I. Packer evangelical theologian, cleric and writer in the low-church Anglican and Calvinist traditions. He was considered one of the most influential evangelicals in North America. Known for his best-selling book, Knowing God, written in 1973,… pic.twitter.com/AXFXN4x828

— ☧ Today in Christian History (@HistoricalRook) July 17, 2025

“In Philadelphia, the same day as the British landing on Staten Island, July 2, 1776, the Continental Congress, in a momentous decision, voted to ‘dissolve the connection’ with Great Britain. The news reached New York four days later, on July 6, and at once spontaneous celebrations broke out. ‘The whole choir of our officers … went to a public house to testify our joy at the happy news of Independence. We spent the afternoon merrily,’ recorded Isaac Bangs.”

“A letter from John Hancock to Washington, as well as the complete text of the Declaration, followed two days later:

“‘That our affairs may take a more favorable turn,’ Hancock wrote, ‘the Congress have judged it necessary to dissolve the connection between Great Britain and the American colonies, and to declare them free and independent states; as you will perceive by the enclosed Declaration, which I am directed to transmit to you, and to request you will have it proclaimed at the head of the army in the way you shall think most proper.’ “Many, like Henry Knox, saw at once that with the enemy massing for battle so close at hand and independence at last declared by Congress, the war had entered an entirely new stage. The lines were drawn now as never before, the stakes far higher. ‘The eyes of all America are upon us,’ Knox wrote. ‘As we play our part posterity will bless or curse us.’

“By renouncing their allegiance to the King, the delegates at Philadelphia had committed treason and embarked on a course from which there could be no turning back.

“‘We are in the very midst of a revolution,’ wrote John Adams, ‘the most complete, unexpected and remarkable of any in the history of nations.’

“In a ringing preamble, drafted by Thomas Jefferson, the document declared it ‘self-evident’ that ‘all men are created equal,’ and were endowed with the ‘unalienable’ rights of ‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.’ And to this noble end the delegates had pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor.

“Such courage and high ideals were of little consequence, of course, the Declaration itself being no more than a declaration without military success against the most formidable force on Earth. John Dickinson of Pennsylvania, an eminent member of Congress who opposed the Declaration, had called it a ‘skiff made of paper.’ And as Nathanael Greene had warned, there were never any certainties about the fate of war.

“But from this point on, the citizen-soldiers of Washington’s army were no longer to be fighting only for the defense of their country, or for their rightful liberties as freeborn Englishmen, as they had at Lexington and Concord, Bunker Hill and through the long siege at Boston. It was now a proudly proclaimed, all-out war for an independent America, a new America, and thus a new day of freedom and equality.”

—-David McCullough, 1776

Happy birthday, America!

Wishing our Army Reserve Soldiers, their families, and the nation a great Fourth of July!#July4th #IndependenceDay pic.twitter.com/NXRd77Mqd3

— U.S. Army Reserve (@USArmyReserve) July 4, 2025

Without considering these wider questions, it is hard to see how the politics of abundance can work. Even if one accepts that liberals have been complicit in the undermining of government, it doesn’t make it any easier to undo the damage. Trust in politicians and officials is exceptionally low, and with good reason. Klein and Thompson argue that liberal politicians would benefit from taking more risks and being able to show results, and they cite the example of the Pennsylvania’s governor, Josh Shapiro, rushing through the rebuilding of the I-95 bridge in Philadelphia after a disastrous accident. As they acknowledge, however, his scrapping of procurement rules, and the autonomy given to project leads to bypass normal safety procedures, could have gone horribly wrong. If it had, voters would have been unlikely to give Shapiro the benefit of the doubt. In the UK, during Covid, the vaccine programme bypassed normal procurement rules to great acclaim, yet attempts to do the same for protective equipment led to widespread fraud and a big scandal. Much of the worst regulation is created reactively – in response to scandals, to assuage an angry public – and it is not hard to see how taking more risks could backfire in such an adversarial political system.

One of the best chapters in Abundance looks at the way in which scientific funding in the US is granted ever more cautiously to academics who – and projects that – already have a track record, thus failing to support riskier ideas that could lead to paradigm-shifting breakthroughs. The authors also highlight the absurdly bureaucratic grant processes that lead to scientists spending a vast amount of time filling out forms and managing obsessive audits of their spending. The same is true in the UK. But there is a reason that this happens – this is public money, and it is easy to embarrass politicians by highlighting even small amounts of fraud or by “outing” a silly-sounding project in the media. The political environment is what decreases risk appetite.

Ultimately, “abundance” is a highly optimistic political philosophy – even utopian in Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson’s version – and we do not live in an optimistic age. It is hard to get people excited about nuclear fusion and driverless cars when even the most basic services don’t seem to work, and public spaces look ever shabbier. These authors are making an important point about the rigidities of regulation and the cost of procedural sludge. But to make progress, we need a much more coherent and broader framing that tackles the deeper defects of our economic and political systems. Assuming that the problem is primarily about over-regulation mistakes a symptom for the cause.

Read it all (subscription).

'California is home to 12 per cent of the US population and 50 per cent of the country’s unsheltered homeless people.'

Sam Freedman (@Samfr): The centre left has joined the populist right in despairing of good government
https://t.co/JdxdLEDE5n

— The TLS (@TheTLS) July 2, 2025

Have not many of us, in the weary way of life, felt, in some hours, how far easier it were to die than to live?

The martyr, when faced even by a death of bodily anguish and horror, finds in the very terror of his doom a strong stimulant and tonic. There is a vivid excitement, a thrill and fervor, which may carry through any crisis of suffering that is the birth-hour of eternal glory and rest.

But to live,–to wear on, day after day, of mean, bitter, low, harassing servitude, every nerve dampened and depressed, every power of feeling gradually smothered,–this long and wasting heart-martyrdom, this slow, daily bleeding away of the inward life, drop by drop, hour after hour,–this is the true searching test of what there may be in man or woman.

When Tom stood face to face with his persecutor, and heard his threats, and thought in his very soul that his hour was come, his heart swelled bravely in him, and he thought he could bear torture and fire, bear anything, with the vision of Jesus and heaven but just a step beyond; but, when he was gone, and the present excitement passed off, came back the pain of his bruised and weary limbs,–came back the sense of his utterly degraded, hopeless, forlorn estate; and the day passed wearily enough.

Long before his wounds were healed, Legree insisted that he should be put to the regular field-work; and then came day after day of pain and weariness, aggravated by every kind of injustice and indignity that the ill-will of a mean and malicious mind could devise. Whoever, in our circumstances, has made trial of pain, even with all the alleviations which, for us, usually attend it, must know the irritation that comes with it. Tom no longer wondered at the habitual surliness of his associates; nay, he found the placid, sunny temper, which had been the habitude of his life, broken in on, and sorely strained, by the inroads of the same thing. He had flattered himself on leisure to read his Bible; but there was no such thing as leisure there. In the height of the season, Legree did not hesitate to press all his hands through, Sundays and week-days alike. Why shouldn’t he?””he made more cotton by it, and gained his wager; and if it wore out a few more hands, he could buy better ones. At first, Tom used to read a verse or two of his Bible, by the flicker of the fire, after he had returned from his daily toil; but, after the cruel treatment he received, he used to come home so exhausted, that his head swam and his eyes failed when he tried to read; and he was fain to stretch himself down, with the others, in utter exhaustion.

Is it strange that the religious peace and trust, which had upborne him hitherto, should give way to tossings of soul and despondent darkness? The gloomiest problem of this mysterious life was constantly before his eyes, souls crushed and ruined, evil triumphant, and God silent. It was weeks and months that Tom wrestled, in his own soul, in darkness and sorrow. He thought of Miss Ophelia’s letter to his Kentucky friends, and would pray earnestly that God would send him deliverance. And then he would watch, day after day, in the vague hope of seeing somebody sent to redeem him; and, when nobody came, he would crush back to his soul bitter thoughts,that it was vain to serve God, that God had forgotten him. He sometimes saw Cassy; and sometimes, when summoned to the house, caught a glimpse of the dejected form of Emmeline, but held very little communion with either; in fact, there was no time for him to commune with anybody.

–Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom’s Cabin

#OTD, 1850: Harriet Beecher Stowe arrives in Brunswick. She wrote "Uncle Tom's Cabin" in her husband Calvin's study in Appleton Hall (he was Class of 1824 and taught theology at Bowdoin) and at their home on Federal St, often hosting students to discuss drafts of the book. pic.twitter.com/6IlBvkhoDl

— Bowdoin College (@BowdoinCollege) May 25, 2020

The High Court rejected school board’s description of the books as merely “exposure to objectionable ideas” or as lessons in “mutual respect.”

The Court said the storybooks “unmistakably convey a particular viewpoint about same-sex marriage and gender.” The books are designed to present certain values and beliefs as things to be celebrated, and certain contrary values and beliefs as things to be rejected….

“I’m encouraged by the Court’s ruling today to protect the rights of parents to raise their children according to their deeply held convictions, even as they are educated in public schools,” said Brent Leatherwood, president of the Southern Baptist Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission (ERLC).

“As the primary teachers of their home, parents should have the right to opt their children out of curriculum that actively undermines their religious convictions regarding marriage, family, gender, and sexuality. Religious families should be accommodated so that parents do not have to worry that their children will be indoctrinated in an educational setting.”

Read it all.

“Supreme Court sides with religious parents seeking to opt out of LGBTQ storybooks.”

Yup.

The 6-3 decision could have big implications for schools nationwide.

Good decision. I’m always struck by just HOW oppressive heavy-handed “inclusion” proved to be. https://t.co/dH83SutF2C

— Frederick M. Hess (@rickhess99) June 27, 2025

E

very few weeks, it seems, we hear statistics about an American epidemic of loneliness, the purposelessness of young men, an increase in anxiety and depression in younger generations, and growing political tribalism. But we haven’t identified reliable pathways through the morass.

Meanwhile, our church cultures are not immune to these larger challenges. Although the number of those leaving the church may be stabilizing, Pew reports the “stickiness” of religion is declining. What can account for a disconnect between the gospel the church proclaims and the lives we often lead? What has captured our imaginations?

It’s possible for Christians to hold broadly similar doctrines while differing dramatically in how those doctrines shape their lives and outlooks. Accordingly, Christian leaders who care about discipleship in 21st-century American evangelical churches should be asking not only what we believe but how.

I’ve come to believe that much of our discipleship gap results not from an informational deficit but from an imaginative one. Although we need deep familiarity with theological truths, we first need to form a more robust Christian imagination so we can incorporate these truths into a coherent way of life. This has less to do with knowing facts, important as they are, than with learning to think, dream, and love more Christianly.

Two recent books on beauty and the imagination are helpful starting points.

Read it all.

“To behave and believe Christianly, we need a certain imaginative flexibility, one that can embrace the already-and-not-yet grammar of the gospel,” writes @aahales.https://t.co/kSDQAIMFeu

— Christianity Today (@CTmagazine) June 18, 2025

Based on the 2022 Cambridge Hulsean Lectures, this short book (c.50,000 words) is a finely argued text that successfully covers a wide range of issues. Imagination is seen at work in ordinary, everyday perception in the interaction between what we suppose ourselves to see and how this is modified and restructured by more social determinants such as wider inherited assumptions and presumed roles. This is to reject the existentialist search for an internal, self-sufficient authenticity, and instead to find “Christian faith . . . as a mode of seeing the world which beholds in that world an unseen depth of goodness, significance and love which we do not make but in which we can participate”.

In the next chapter, the late plays of Shakespeare and Samuel Beckett are then used to illustrate how we can be challenged to revise those roles, sometimes in a more explicitly Christian direction, while, in the subsequent chapter, the way in which the visual artist or poet encourages new ways of perceiving (depth perception) is explored, and the parallel drawn with Christian faith in its capacity to “invest that world imaginatively (or inspiredly) with an unseen depth of divine intention and spiritual significance”.

Read it all.

Book review: David Brown considers the part played by the imagination in theologyhttps://t.co/y892qeqqoe

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) June 16, 2025

Three

very different people — C. S. Lewis, W. H. Auden, and T. S. Eliot — all thought that Charles Williams was the most genuinely good person that they had ever met. Eliot for example wrote: “He seemed to me to approximate, more nearly than any man I have known familiarly, to the saint.” On the other side, it has to be noted that he had a troubled marriage and, like Eliot, a “Beatrice” figure in his life.

Seventy years ago, the works of Williams, with their strong Christian themes, were widely appreciated. Today, he is little known, though an excellent Wikipedia article on him indicates the extraordinary range of his writings and the influence that he had not only on Eliot and Lewis, but on Dorothy Sayers and Dante studies more generally — all this while he had a full-time job at the Oxford University Press.

Stephen Barber however, has remained a big fan not only of his novels, but also of his much more difficult poetry. In this book, he assembles writings of his own on Williams, of varying length and purpose….

Read it all.

Book review: Richard Harries reflects on lesser-known work of a spiritual influencerhttps://t.co/HBvAOS57BX

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) June 10, 2025

‘The Celtic Christians had a name for the Holy Spirit that has always intrigued me. They called Him An Geadh-Glas, or “the Wild Goose.” I love the imagery and implications. The name hints at the mysterious nature of the Holy Spirit. Much like a wild goose, the Spirit of God cannot be tracked or tamed.

An element of danger and an air of unpredictability surround Him. And while the name may sound a little sacrilegious at first earshot, I cannot think of a better description of what it’s like to pursue the Spirit’s leading through life than Wild Goose chase. I think the Celtic Christians were on to something that institutionalized Christianity has missed out on. And I wonder if we have clipped the wings of the Wild Goose and settled for something less—much less—than what God originally intended for us.’

–Mark Batterson, Wild Goose Chase: Reclaim the Adventure of Pursuing God (New York: Crown Publishing Group, 2008), pp. 1-2

Let me share with you my favorite depiction of Pentecost from Ethiopia! ❤️‍🔥

The caption on top says: "How the Paraclete descended upon the Apostles on the Fiftieth Day and they drank the medicine of the Holy Spirit."

Ethiopia, 15th c. #apostles #pentecost #africanart pic.twitter.com/8EsVtuuptp

— EthiopicManuscriptArt (@ArtEthiopic) June 9, 2025

In the classroom, MacIntyre followed the example of Socrates, who demonstrated to those in his company the depths of what they did not know. My first graduate class with him was on twentieth-century ethics. I read all the books for the fall semester the summer before, so I thought I was ready to impress. On the first day of class, he began in stern British schoolmaster style, “I’m Alasdair MacIntyre, but if you don’t already know that, you probably shouldn’t be in this class.” Unlike other professors, he did not address us as “Christopher” or “Rebecca,” but as “Mr. Kaczor” and “Ms. DeYoung.” The only exception was “Master Resnick,” who had gained his MA already. MacIntyre announced that in order to earn an A on a paper, we would have to write an essay of the caliber that he would put his own name on it. An A minus meant he would almost put his name on it. My first paper came back with a grade that I had never before received. Indeed, a grade I had never before seen: B minus minus.

A philosophical version of a Marine boot camp instructor, MacIntyre left us in much better shape than when we began. As Lee Marsh put it, “When I met Alasdair MacIntyre, I realized how much I did not know and why I should know it.” We learned that there was such a thing as a stupid question. One grad student asked, “What are the Thirty-Nine Articles?” MacIntyre replied, “Do you happen to know where the library is? It’s not too late to learn.” We were kept continually off balance, often not knowing where the jokes ended and the serious warnings began. One day, Alasdair announced, “I happen to be one who believes torture is not always wrong—something you may want to remember.” He warned us, “Never call me at home unless you want to no longer be a student in the graduate program.” This admonition was entirely unnecessary as most of us were afraid to speak with him even during class time. Graduate students brave enough to visit his office, dark as a cave and lit by a solitary lamp, found it adorned with a Gallic cross and a photo of the Jewish-born philosopher Edith Stein, who died in the gas chambers of Auschwitz. One day, having finally earned paper grades in his classes better than B minus minus, I ventured into his office to ask for his coveted letter of recommendation. It took courage to request one. He told one grad student, “I can certainly write you a letter, but it is the kind of letter that keeps you from getting a job.” Fortunately, his letter of recommendation for me was not that kind of letter. 

Not only did he help us on the job market, MacIntyre’s virtues gave his students an example to emulate. When doing a directed readings class with one undergraduate, MacIntyre remarked that there was a recent article in French very much relevant for their discussion. Unfortunately, the student couldn’t read French. So the next time they met together, MacIntyre provided the student with a translation he had made of the article. Alasdair had a great love for American football, especially Notre Dame football.

Read it all.

Alasdair MacIntyre (1929-2025)

Requiescat in pace pic.twitter.com/Ta89InMBX3

— Chad Pecknold (@ccpecknold) May 22, 2025

In the past few years, Americans have grown generally more positive toward the Bible, but that doesn’t mean they’re reading it more.

According to a Lifeway Research study, U.S. adults increasingly view the Bible as a book worth reading multiple times, but few have actually done so.

More Americans describe the Bible as true, life-changing and helpful today, compared to a 2016 Lifeway Research study. Additionally, more than 2 in 5 Americans (44%) say the Bible is a book to read over and over again, up 4 points from the previous study. Yet 9% say they’ve read it all more than once, unchanged since 2016. Still, half of Americans have engaged with the Bible beyond just a few stories.

Read it all.

NEW RESEARCH: In the past few years, Americans have grown generally more positive toward the Bible, but that doesn’t mean they’re reading it more. https://t.co/AQ1x8mDsLd

— Lifeway Research (@LifewayResearch) May 13, 2025

Jipp’s view is that Paul wants to offer “a robust theory of how relation to Christ is humanity’s supreme good, and is, therefore, necessary for human flourishing”, and he is right to insist on the importance of facing the inevitability of death”, as our “fundamental human predicament”, which means that in this life human flourishing is unobtainable because of the undeniable presence of sin and death (“this present evil age” — Galatians 1.4). But for Paul, of course, death is not the end; our only hope is that God has raised Jesus from the dead. Paul sees the possibility of a “transformed moral agency”, whereby we are seen to think, act, and feel in a way that is orientated towards, and therefore unified by, loving and worshipping God.

This is a very rich and powerful doctrine, in which Christ is seen as the “foundation of a new epistemology for persons-in-Christ”. Love is absolutely central here, making of us a sacred community, related to Christ and to one another, where the Church has to be a reconciling and forgiving community.

Jipp offers a very attractive vision of how “persons-in-Christ” can speak to our world. What, in your view, does it mean for any of us to flourish and live a good life in the world? I strongly recommend this book; it is not easy reading, but sheds interesting new light on the remarkable apostle Paul and his very telling use of athletic and military imagery.

Read it all (registration or subscription).

Book review: Nicholas King looks at being in Christ in St Paul's theologyhttps://t.co/baVGtgLjKc pic.twitter.com/ICUNsKhtA0

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) March 21, 2025

‘Christian faith is less about providing a set of cast-iron winning arguments, more about an invitation to “come and see“.’

–Rowan Williams, Discovering Christianity: A guide for the curious (London: SPCK, 2025) p. 93

Contemplative prayer classically finds its focus in the awareness of God at the centre of the praying person's being— and, simultaneously, God at the centre of the whole world's being: a solidarity in creatureliness.
— Rowan Williams, ‘On Being Creatures’ (76) pic.twitter.com/sa3CPJJf1H

— Jacob Sherman (@Shermanicus) January 27, 2025