Newsletter #150
On a Reset
It’s Morning in Missouri
In a few days we’ll embark on a new year. It’s perhaps one of the best examples of how two people can look at a single thing and respond in two entirely different ways.
A new year signals hope and enthusiasm for many. For others, it signals anxiety and trepidation. Regardless of which end of the spectrum you sit on, this is quite a lot to project upon the changing of the calendar.
I suspect that most people occupy neither extreme of the spectrum, but some kind of Aristotelian golden mean—not too jacked, not too apprehensiveness. We are hopeful for better things in 2025 than in 2024, but we are also mindful that there are no guarantees or surefire omens. We know we’re obliged to be disciplined to see a certain kind of future materialize, but more than anything, our lives are in the hands of Providence.
For my own part, I tend toward the optimistic end of the spectrum. I inevitably find myself weary and frustrated by the end of the year. I’m ready to turn the page. Why? Because the next year surely can’t be as bad as the last.
Of course, this is entirely illogical. The subsequent year can be just as bad—twice as bad!—as the prior year. While I have some control over what will transpire, I am mostly responsible for how I respond to that which transpires around me. That fact is a bit disappointing and sobering.
However, I hang my hat on a handful of verses:
“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8)
“Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.” (1 Corinthians 15:58)
“Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life. And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” (Galatians 6:7-9)
These verses resonate so deeply with me, some in the context of the difficulties of 2024, and some simply in the larger context of Scripture. Even partially shorn of their canonical context, they are at once simple, powerful, and practical.
They remind the reader of Scripture that Jesus never changes, despite everything else that changes.
They remind us that our work for the Lord always matters, and to persevere in it.
They compel us to keep sowing the obedience of the Spirit, because a harvest awaits.
Biblical, Interesting, Helpful
As I hinted at in my last newsletter, some changes are forthcoming for Churchatopia and its readers. If you look carefully, you’ll already notice a few. Among them are some modest aesthetic changes, changes in benefits for unpaid subscribers, and some changes in my pattern of posting. I’ll say more about the third in an upcoming post, but let me briefly comment on the second.
I was recently reminded that some Churchatopia readers have arrived rather late in the game. (Though, they are quite welcome!) They will experience this site/page as a brand new venture, when in fact, it is nearing three years of operation. This means that the lion’s share of what I have written on will be unknown to the newcomer. And due to some different benefits between subscription types, this means that unpaid subscribers do not currently have access to posts older than one year. Practically, this means that newcomers cannot access a full two-thirds of what I’ve written here.
For two reasons, I’m changing this policy effective immediately. For any and all subscribers, I am opening up my archive of past content so the past two years of material can be read. This means that only year one of the archives is behind a paywall.
My two-fold reason for this move is this: (1) I am confident that readers will find something in the archive that is biblical, interesting, and helpful; and (2) I believe that demonstrating this will entice you to become a regular reader and recommender of Churchatopia—and possibly a paid subscriber (though the latter isn’t my main goal at all).
I hope for a day when people who are preparing to preach, teach, or think soundly about a matter will feel like Churchatopia has helped them to think Christianly about all of life, including the specific topic on their mind.
I want for people to visit this Substack page/site, click on the magnifying glass on the top of the page (see below), type in a key word or phrase, and find a meaningful reference or two in the archive. Even if it’s merely a quote, illustration, or the occasional exegetical insight, if this is biblical, interesting, and/or helpful, then I’ll consider it “mission accomplished.”
So with all that being said, thank you for your readership!
Ted Gioia of The Honest Broker provides an eclectic array of insights into arts, media, and culture (broadly defined). His recent comparison of social media platforms and shopping centers/malls is interesting, humorous, and disturbing, all at once.
He identifies several ways that these web platforms resemble ugly malls: People go there because other people go there—but this is a fragile foundation for a community.
Malls died because there were too many of them. Social media is now entering that same phase. And Malls started to look identical, with the same merchandise, tenants, architecture, and ambiance.
Take a look at the entire piece.
When The New York Times published this sympathetic piece about the Cass Review in May of this year – roughly the same time that AOC changed her Twitter bio – it became clear to me, and to many other people, that the progressive elites were starting the process of disassociating themselves from a movement that had become a political liability.
Their embrace of transgenderism was never going to last. The ideology always leant too heavily on obviously false ideas, demanding that adherents reject the truth of their own eyes. And the movement itself was made up of a combination of fetishists and the mentally ill, which doesn’t make for a happy political coalition. In the early days, it was edgy and cool, and seemed to fit with some bigger political ideas about freedom and anti-traditionalism, which made it appealing to progressives. But, in the end, it was the equivalent of a brief and embarrassing fashion trend – the sort that makes early adopters cringe at old photos of ourselves.
Louise Perry, “Transgenderism is over.”
Language is a place. We cannot see or know that for which we do not have at least some language, and so the language that we speak maps the boundaries of our world. Because we can see and know only what we can speak of, every new facility with language that we gain, whether a new word or a trick of syntax, expands not just what we have available to us to make sense of the world—it expands the world itself, for us. In contrast, when our language is shallow, enervated, or insufficient for our needs, so is the world we inhabit. We grope for what we need in speaking, or even thinking, and we do not find it. We depend upon terms that cannot do the work we need them to do. And we are changed: a diminished language diminishes us.
Matthew Miller, “Empty Words: Against Artificial Language.”
Michael Crichton, Pirate Latitudes.
