2023: A Year Reviewed
Needed More Salt, Plenty of Sage
As we round out the calendar today, I want to riff on
’s practice and ask a series of questions to review the year:What was hard about the year?
Part of why I started this newsletter was to consciously lean into my vocation as a Christian ethicist. With that comes the hard realization that my vocation is in ruins: the guild—ostensibly about inquiry—is largely settled conclusions now in search of justifications, and churches generally don’t talk about ethics beyond “don’t do these things”. As I survey the Substack landscape, I’m heartened to see others (albeit very few) trying to do this work as well:
is the gold standard, but in the new year, I’ll put together a list of helpful newsletters here.But, in terms of academic attention, churches, and Substack, lots of attention is given to Scripture, theology, and history (in that order). If you find something trying to do ethics, it’s usually of the order of “here are some tough scenarios and how to navigate them”. As Stanley Hauerwas observed decades ago, quandry-based ethics treat ethics as if we’re doing pretty fine for the most part, and just need to have some occasional help sorting out things.1 So, I’ll keep banging the drum for ethics as, as James McClendon2 put it, a fundamental concern to the Christian life—the setting within which we work out of theology, and not the thing that happens naturally when our theology is sorted out.
I made good headway on my next book, due soon for Baker Academic, and had some significant setbacks on another volume for Plough, on Howard Thurman. But neither are done, and both should be. I taught too much. I struggled finding a sustainable workout routine. Our beloved Elroi died. I struggled with the mid-life blues, and the realization that friendship is hard.
But on the whole, these things are the consequence of a good and full life. Who doesn’t have difficulty making good things better, or unhappiness that results from realizing that goodness is everywhere, and there’s not enough time to grab all of it?
What was good about the year?
It was the first year where COVID felt like a memory more than a cultural reality. It was the first year where my job—which I started in 2020—felt like it had enough traction to give me hope for its longevity. It was the year where the kids’ school became less like a trial experiment and more like something that we began to make other life choice around. We attended a homeschool convention, for Pete’s sake! Who am I?
January through May were a blur, as I spoke at churches and speaking engagements from Arkansas to Florida to Baltimore. I also had the good fortune of being able to stretch out and write for other online publications. I wrote twice for Christianity Today online, once on the war in Gaza, and once on Christian community. My piece in Comment on loneliness resonated with a lot of people. I had pulled way back from pitching online essays in 2023, as most of my online writing is done here, but I have several book reviews in the works for outlets in the first few months of 2024.
In my writing here, I finished the Keywords of the Moral Life Series after 20-something entries, started the year with one of my most-ever-read essays on church abuse discourse, wrote over 100 essays, gained over 1,000 readers, settled into a sustainable rhythm, and had a number of folks become supporting subscribers. In 2024, I’m rethinking how the supporting mechanism will work, mostly taking a cue from
, who has figured out how to game Substack’s 5$/monthly rule.What Do You Want More Of? What Do You Want to Change?
In no particular order:
—More time playing games. We have a number of new tabletop games for Christmas, and that’s going to be a regular feature of our days together.
—More time for friends. Friendship doesn’t just happen, but must be fought for. And my friends are worth fighting for.
—Less time online that isn’t writing. I already don’t engage on social media, and don’t plan on reversing course on that. But anxiety and worry cause my time on the phone to skyrocket, and it’s time to take some strong medicine.
In essence, I want more of the goodness that is all around. Last night, we broke out our new tent, and camped in the back yard. By morning, half our family had bailed out for the house, but as I woke at 6:30, warm in a sleeping bag and 40 degrees outside, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for a life that is full to the brim, and one that is worth living well.
So, here’s to 2024, and more of the same, and more of the more that’s good.
As a final note: supporting subscriptions are a hot $2.50/monthly, and 25$ for the year through the end of today. In 2024, we’ll do quarterly book clubs, beginning with Ivan Illich’s Shadow Work, weekly subscriber-only essays, and some other occasional goodies. But however you read, thanks for reading.
McClendon was a longtime theologian who taught at Fuller Theological Seminary. His work is weird, and I mostly disagree with it, I think, but he and I were both born in Shreveport, Louisiana, so there’s a bit of a soft spot.
Friendship was hard this year because you did it well. It's tough to be a good friend. And you are. At a certain age and distance, when friendship becomes "easy" it's because somebody's holding back.
Happy New Year!