When it comes down to actually writing, I sometimes get the feeling that every sentence needs to be perfect too, as if I cannot even begin writing a new chapter of the dissertation unless the perfect sequence of words spills out on the page. This is ridiculous, really.

This week I came across two authors that have written about this problem. I have no frame of reference for Anne Lamott’s work, but in a book about writing she makes a key point—that we should get over our intimidation of the blank page and give ourselves permission to write crappy first drafts:

“For me and most of the other writers I know, writing is not rapturous. In fact, the only way I can get anything written at all is to write really, really sh—y first drafts. The first draft is the child’s draft, where you let it all pour out and then let it romp all over the place, knowing that no one is going to see it and that you can shape it later. [...] Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts. You need to start somewhere. Start by getting something—anything—down on paper.”

Writing a crappy first draft gives you something that you wouldn’t have had otherwise if you waited for all of the “perfect” set of circumstances, and that’s momentum. That’s what you need when you’re starting with nothing—like a blank page. Stephen King wrote that fear is at the root of most bad writing, or non-writing in this case. And he’s right. If I can get something down on paper—even if it’s horrible—then I have momentum to continue. And I shouldn’t fear it. After all, no one will see my first draft, and I’m much more capable of turning that horrible first draft into something presentable during the rewriting/editing process. Momentum is the key.

Author/entrepreneur Seth Godin makes this same point. He says,

“the only path to amazing runs directly through not-yet-amazing. But not-yet-amazing is a great place to start, because that’s where you are. For now. There’s a big difference between not settling and not starting.”

Blogger Jon Bell (@ienjoy) calls this the “McDonald’s Theory.” He writes,

“I use a trick with co-workers when we’re trying to decide where to eat for lunch and no one has any ideas. I recommend McDonald’s. An interesting thing happens. Everyone unanimously agrees that we can’t possibly go to McDonald’s, and better lunch suggestions emerge. Magic! It’s as if we’ve broken the ice with the worst possible idea, and now that the discussion has started, people suddenly get very creative. I call it the McDonald’s Theory: people are inspired to come up with good ideas to ward off bad ones.”

So there it is. Half of our problem as writers, pastors, theologians, etc. is that we’re afraid of failing, and then we apply it to our writing. We’re all afraid of failing at some point or another. But the path to successful writing (or a dissertation in my case) might go through McDonald’s. The bad needs to happen before the good. Having something on paper gives you something to work with and to allow your ideas to flow.

Jim Hamilton gave me some advice during my first PhD seminar that has been helpful these days. He used to say, “just write the first sentence.” When he said that, I instantly knew what he meant. Writers spend so much time just fiddling with words and desks and research and notes that they end up procrastinating their main task: writing. When Jim said, “just write something,” he means to just get something on the page and start moving with it. The blank page sucks. Half of the writing experience is rewriting anyway, so get the move on.

“The usual ‘strict’ understanding of a ‘grammatical-historical’ approach is too limited in its scope, since it studies a passage primarily from only two angles: (1) investigation of only the human author’s viewpoint through a study of the historical, linguistic, grammatical, genre contexts, etc., of a passage; (2) the divine author can theoretically be left out of consideration until the ‘grammatical-historical’ study is complete, since the meaning sought for is only that of the human author. For example, even an interpreter who does not believe in divine inspiration must study a prophet like Isaiah from the viewpoint that Isaiah himself believed that he was inspired in what he wrote, and, therefore, that intention must be projected onto the process of interpreting Isaiah. How much more should this be the case for the believing exegete? Accordingly, this is only one example showing that considering divine intention should be part of a grammatical-historical approach. Thus, grammatical-historical exegesis and typology are two aspects of the same thing: hearing God speak in Scripture.”

G. K. Beale, “The Use of Hosea 11:1 in Matthew 2:15: One More Time,” JETS 55, no. 4 (2012): 700, fn. 14.

The values which we most ignore, the recognition of which we most seldom find in writings on education, are those of Wisdom and Holiness, the values of the sage and the saint. . . . Our tendency has been to identify wisdom with knowledge, saintliness with natural goodness, to minimize not only the operation of grace but self-training, to divorce holiness from education. Education has come to mean education of the mind only; and an education which is only of the mind . . . can lead to scholarship, to efficiency, to worldly achievement and to power, but not to wisdom.

T. S. Eliot, The Idea of a Christian Society and Other Writings (London: Faber and Faber, 1982), 142.

Just me on piano, and I added a double-bass and cello part on Garageband, just for fun. Enjoy! Let me know what you think.

Sing to Jesus

On the New Testament’s Use of the Old Testament (part 1)

On the New Testament’s Use of the Old Testament (part 2)

Would Paul Have Made a Good Evangelical? (part 3)

Would Paul Have Made a Good Evangelical? (part 4)

While not dismissing the value of some of Enns’ works on the OT (his Exodus commentary in the NIVAC series is excellent, as are some of his contributions to Wisdom Literature studies), his more recent works have only confirmed why WTS dismissed him (rightly, in my opinion) from their faculty.

1. Yahweh’s Voice in Deuteronomy—31:14b, 16b-21, 23b; 32:49-52; 34:4b
2. Moses’ Voice in Deuteronomy
   1. Moses’ Lone Voice—1:6-4:40; 4:44-26:19; 28:1-69 [Eng 29:1]; 27:11-26; 29:1 [Eng 2]-30:20; 32:1-43, 46b-47; 33:2-29
   2. Moses’ Accompanied Voice—27:1-8, 9-10
3. The Narrator’s Voice in Deuteronomy—1:1-5; 2:10-12, 20-23; 3:9, 11, 13b-14; 4:41-43, 44-5:1a; 10:6-9; 27:1a, 9a, 11; 28:68 [Eng 29:1]; 29:1 [Eng 29:2]; 31:1-2a, 7a, 9-10a, 14a, 14c-16a, 22-23a, 24-25, 30; 32:44-46a, 48; 33:1-2a; 34:5-12

Block holds the traditional view that Moses is the author/speaker (the main “voice”) of the majority of the book of Deuteronomy, and I think his article is convincing on this point and helpful, especially as I read through the biblical book. Block has also published a companion volume prior to this one, How I Love Your Torah, O Lord!: Studies in the Book of Deuteronomy (Cascade, 2011). Both volumes are great to have in my personal library, and I look forward to his forthcoming commentary on Deuteronomy in the NIVAC series, which is slated to be released in August 2012.

I was skeptical about Counterfeit Gospels at first, mainly because so many books on the gospel have been printed recently and I didn’t think that we needed another. But I really enjoyed this one in particular. Trevin’s writing style is engaging and personal. Many of his stories and illustrations I can relate to, which kept me reading. The book is broken up into three parts: (1) Story, (2) Announcement, and (3) Community. These three parts form the backbone of the biblical gospel. There is a story that culminates in Jesus (his life, death, and resurrection), an announcement that all people should repent and believe, and a community that gospel believers should be a part of—the church. Trevin frequently refers to this as a three-legged stool: the gospel story provides the context for the gospel announcement, which then births the gospel community. The best way to do evangelism, Trevin says, is to emphasize all three.

Within each part Trevin highlights two “counterfeits” that subvert the gospel. For part 1 there is the therapeutic and judgmentless gospels, each offering a counterfeit story/announcement/community. In part 2 Trevin mentions the moralistic and quietistic gospel counterfeits, and in part 3 the activist and churchless counterfeits. I won’t explain them here, but Trevin provides a helpful chart on pg. 210. All of the counterfeits are false gospels that ensnare the church. Thus the purpose of the book is to articulate the true gospel and to show how attempts to change it ultimately fall flat.

The implications of the gospel are far-reaching, so the church must get it right. Every generation will need to understand the biblical gospel and apply it to appropriate contexts. Trevin Wax has given us a great little aid for doing that in this generation, and I’m glad I had the opportunity to read Counterfeit Gospels and recommend it to others.

When this book was released I kept avoiding it because I knew I would get sucked in and be distracted from seminary reading. But I’m glad that I finally read it. I would encourage anyone interested in WWII history to pick it up.

John Hobbins, who is on the editorial board, gives his assessment on his blog this morning, and his comments are intriguing. I would encourage anyone interested to check it out: Introducing JESOT

I read through Doug Stuart’s review of the new Exodus commentary by Victor Hamilton (Baker, 2011), which is illuminating to say the least. I hope to review this work through another journal, and I will give due attention to Stuart’s comments. In a gist, Stuart says that about 1/3 of Hamilton’s novel ideas are worth their salt. The rest are rubbish.

Intro:

Summary: The main thrust of God’s Wisdom in Proverbs is that the biblical book is not primarily about wisdom in general, but wisdom rooted in the revelation of God’s word; i.e., a wisdom that is defined as the skill for living in the fear of Yahweh. The first two chapters deal with interpretative issues, authorship, and design. Then Phillips spends a great deal defining “the fear of Yahweh” and “wisdom” in both the context of Proverbs and God’s unfolding revelation. These early chapters are focused on the sections of Proverbs that are most familiar: 1:1-7, 2:1-5, and 3:1-12. Then Phillips has three lengthy chapters on big topics in Proverbs like godly relationships, marriage, and child-training. The book ends with four appendices that provide further material—FAQ’s, as it were—on common mistakes and questions that Proverbs addresses, as well as some suggestions for teaching or preaching from the book. As someone who has thought a lot about how best to preach from Proverbs, I found this section particularly helpful.

I was a little confused as I began reading this book because I was expecting something entirely different. The title suggests that the book is a commentary. It is not a commentary. It begins like one (with introductory topics on the front end) and ends like one (with appendices on a few ancillary issues). So my initial comments in the margins of the book are the critical “this-is-not-how-to-write-a-commentary” type. But as I continued to read I was corrected, and then I was more and more refreshed by Phillips’ writing, particularly  in the chapters on marriage and child rearing. Indeed, I think Phillips has written the best thematic study on training children in Proverbs that I have read. No other commentary or book goes into the depth that he does on this topic, which includes a helpful biblical theological perspective. I was greatly encouraged by it and I hope to read that section again with my wife.

A little criticism: I have a few points of critical interaction. First, if someone is interested in delving into the issues surrounding Solomonic authorship I would suggest a few other resources. This is not to say that Phillips’ arguments are invalid, only that he doesn’t deal with all the historical and grammatical evidence against Solomonic authorship (I obviously agree that Solomon wrote the majority of the book). For instance, there is no mention of the Wisdom of Amenemope and how it relates to Proverbs 22:17-24:22, which is a huge issue in the authorship of Proverbs debate. One might think that this discussion has no place in a book like the one Phillips is writing, but since he devotes 11 pages at the beginning of the book to the issue of authorship in addition to an entire appendix (20 more pages), I would say that a big issue like this is worth treating (or at least referencing). He could easily point to Kenneth Kitchen’s article, “Proverbs and Wisdom Books in the Ancient Near East” (TB, 1977) or even Waltke’s section in his commentary to refute the critical view that says the Proverbs were adapted from Egyptian wisdom literature (which is patently false).

Second, the bibliography is a little dated, too, and Phillips missed a few excellent works like Steinmann’s commentary in the Concordia series (2009). That commentary has its own issues, but overall it’s the newest exhaustive commentary on Proverbs from a conservative perspective. Additionally I would have liked to see journal articles in the bibliography, of which there are very few. On the sources that Phillips does include in the bibliography, he adds a few comments so that readers know ahead of time what he thinks about the source. I’m studying with Duane Garrett who wrote a commentary on Proverbs (albeit a short one). On this book Phillips writes, “I would say that 90% of the time I go to Garrett for help with a verse, I come away disappointed.” I would be happy to expound on that point if Phillips ever desires to hear it.

Third, sometimes the organization of the various chapters is confusing. I would expect that in a book on Proverbs, for instance, the author to treat the material of a specific topic (such as marriage) within the book of Proverbs first before going to other books of the Bible to find material on the same topic. Phillips does this the other way around. In the end the reader arrives at the same point, just only by getting there via different avenues.

Last, Phillips goes a little overboard on word studies. I grant that lexical analysis is needed, especially in Proverbs as every commentator is prone to point out. But I think that Phillips could communicate his points clearly without going into the definitions of so many words. The definitions help, 0f course, but I was more interested in how the words are used in various contexts.

Conclusion: Dan Phillips and I are a like in a few ways. We’re both pastors. We’re both new to the Houston area. He’s bald and I’m balding. And we both love the book of Proverbs. On this last point I’m grateful that he has given us a fresh look at Proverbs with a pastoral perspective. He is a clever and witty writer, and the his points are clear. Although I have a few foibles with the book, it’s infinitely better than Longman’s How to Read Proverbs, and deserves a place on the shelf. I’m glad to have read it and I would certainly recommend it to others. It’s not a seminary-type book and I wouldn’t use it in the classroom at the M.Div. level, but I would in an undergrad setting.