What I Read in 2018

This is the second year I meet my reading goals. No, I have not yet read To Kill A Mockingbird or A Thousand Splendid Suns—which my sister keeps telling me about. I should rather say, I read as many books as I set out to read at the beginning of the year.

In 2017, I set my goal at 20, thinking it was a good step up from the 15 I didn’t actually read in 2016 (only read 13). I ended up reading 21 books. Having not grown up as someone who read for fun, or at all, I was quite proud of my accomplishment. So, for 2018, I would try to read 22 books. This, while reading plenty of scholarly articles for my grad program. Once you accomplish something, though, you have to take advantage of the momentum. Lo and behold, last Friday I finished my 22nd book of 2018.

I’d like to think my reading list includes a variety of genres and topics: from something like Mark Manson’s The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck to Alejandro Moreno’s The Mexican Voter. There are some novels (Orwell’s 1984), some pop science (Kahneman’s Thinking, Fast and Slow), some academic books, and some mainstream as well as some unorthodox Christian literature.

It is difficult to decide what my three favorite books I read this year are, but I do want to mention some you may find appealing and, later, enlightening (or entertaining).

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Americanah has been on my radar for a long time. Ever since I watched Adichie’s TED talk “The danger of a single story” in my freshman year of college, I have been wanting to read her work. Why I hadn’t is beyond me, but oh was I glad I finally did. I didn’t have to finish reading Americanah to know it would become one of my favorite novels, up there with García Márquez’s Chronicle of a Death Foretold. Perhaps it was how relatable I found the immigrant experience of Ifemelu, a Nigerian woman who moves to the United States and when she returns home her Americanness is quite clear to her and those around her. In addition, Adichie’s keen eye and brilliant descriptions of America’s race relations and the way immigrants fit into it (or are forced to fit into it) make this book a must-read.

Mark Manson, quite skillfully, gave a misleading title to his book. Rather than it being The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, the book argues that we should be conscious about the fucks we give. Each of us possessing a limited amount of fucks, it is important that we give them out carefully. This is no literary groundbreaker, nor does it intend to be, but it definitely makes you think about what are your underlying, fundamental principles which guide your life. Whether you are conscious of them, something drives you and there are standards which you use to evaluate yourself, and Manson wants you to be aware of what those are. A book which is just pure fun to read and gives one pause to reflect should make it into your reading list.

After listening to Peter Rollins in the Robcast, it was time I read one of his books. How (Not) to Speak of God reminds us to be humble when talking and conceptualizing God. If God is so beyond our human understanding, we must recognize how our language will always fall short in describing the whole of God’s nature. The book includes a set of unorthodox rituals such as experiencing Good Friday as the disciples did, without knowing about Sunday, without Good Friday being good. I should probably give this one another read to fully grasp Rollins’ arguments.

There are of course other books that I enjoyed and would recommend. Not all are well-written, to be completely honest, but sometimes it is necessary to get past it, get the main concepts, and get out. Other, while featuring good prose, are unnecessarily long. Be warned!

  • Moral Tribes: Emotion, Reason, and the Gap Between Us and Them by Joshua Greene
  • All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
  • Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman
  • Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell

These ones are more of a maybe:

  • The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See by Richard Rohr
  • The God-Shaped Heart by Timmothy Jennings
  • How Democracies Die by Steven Levitsky & Daniel Ziblatt
  • Zealot: The Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth by Reza Aslan

Here’s the full list on Goodreads. Perhaps the 2019 list will at last include A Thousand Splendid Suns and 22 others.

Filling Up Halfway

A couple days ago I stopped at a gas station to refill my tank when I saw the yellow light on my dashboard turn on. I pulled up to the pump and waited for the screen to hit $15 before removing the nozzle. The tank usually fills up with about $30, but I’ve been planning on paying off the balance on my credit card so I can pay for gas with it and get those precious cash back rewards. This has actually already happened twice, in a row. So, with better planning I could have filled up the first time and gotten my rewards.

Oh, well. That’s really not that important.

This may be a silly illustration (it definitely is), but it captures quite well how my mood has been. How my spiritual life has stagnated. How my soul consistently runs on half a tank. And it’s been a while. Too long, really.

Last night, as soon as I got home and put my backpack on the floor, I sat down on the couch and turned on the Xbox to play some FIFA. I was tired, but more than that, I felt empty. When my roommate walked in and said, “You look dead,” I couldn’t help but half-smile and assent. That had been my mood for most of the week. Just going through the motions, trying to find something but not knowing exactly what. My tank running on fumes for a couple days, I needed to find something, but really, I didn’t even want to try at that point.

Every week the story repeats to some extent. I get to Friday night intellectually and emotionally exhausted. Part of me looking forward to reading spiritual/religious books, doing some personal writing, playing clarinet, somehow getting closer to God; the other part staying in bed stressing out about how to best recharge during the remaining Sabbath hours and being so paralyzed that usually not much recharging happens.

To be fair, I do fill up some of my tank. Setting aside and forgetting about any and all schoolwork for the Sabbath is tremendously liberating. It’s the time I can best disconnect from the need of doing—although I can easily end up substituting for other kinds of doing. When the sun sets on Saturday and Sabbath is over, I find myself ready for the week only to find out a couple days later my tank was only half full.

See, Sabbath is a huge blessing, but I just can’t seem to figure out how to recharge. Am I even supposed to figure it out? How much effort should I put in before it all becomes about how well I can perform and then it’s no different from how everything else around me works?

I feel lost in my spiritual practice—if I can even say I have such a thing right now. I often leave church feeling emptier, more upset and frustrated. And I’m just not sure what I need.

This helps. Writing about it. Sharing what’s going on, even if it all comes out as mumble jumble. I will keep looking, trying, searching, and staying still. It’s not about religionand it’s not about correct Sabbath-keeping, although rituals (spiritual practices) can certainly help. I want to better understand how to be present and aware of my place in and connection with a deeper reality.

Sabbath ended not long ago. I hope next time I stop at the gas station, I can fill up the tank all the way.

Like an old Sabbath

A few weeks back, I was invited to do special music for the church I’ve been attending since I arrived in Houston. Given that I really had not other performance opportunities in sight, I accepted.

I haven’t played much, and I have honestly felt the void. On Monday, I had an excellent practice session. It was productive and fun—one of those you don’t get all the time. Then on Wednesday, while preparing the piece for Sabbath, I hated my guts because my altissimo register just plain sucked (that’s what practicing is more like on a daily basis).

So even though I generally don’t play music outside of the classical genre, I looked forward to performing once more, to feeling those nerves and the adrenaline, to enjoy being shaken by the beauty of music.

My faith has been faltering; my spirit has struggled with finding purpose, my self-esteem with the ever-challenging demands and expectations of a PhD program. But today, playing for the worship service at the West Houston Seventh-day Adventist Church, I felt fulfilled. Making music, participating in worship, if only for a moment, I was home.

The Sabbath closes and I thank God for a much-needed reminder of who He is even as I am overwhelmed with, not doubt, but questions. And I am grateful for another chance to make and share music. I needed it.

#023 – Michael Paradise

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Before leaving Lincoln, Neb., for good, I sat down with Michael Paradise in his office at the College View Seventh-day Adventist Church where he serves as the young adult pastor. I was curious to know what it is like to work with young adults and what made him want that job—it may have something to do with having a pretty wife.

After a fun chat, I left so he could continue eating pizza and playing worship songs on the guitar, which is basically his job description—according to him, not his employer.

#022 – Honest and Self-revealing

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Slade and I have been spending quite a bit of time attempting to read at our local coffee shop, but we just end up talking whenever we run into each other. We decided to talk for the podcast about some of the Christian books we’ve read—or more specifically, just me ranting about an “honest and self-revealing” book I read. Enjoy!

This episode contains some explicit language.

This was our new set up! How does it sound (and look)?

Making a decision

We make decisions all the time: spending five more minutes in bed (or 30, who knows), taking a shower, putting off shaving one more day, heating up a slice of pizza instead of making an omelette, listening to On The Media rather than The Axe Files. I think you get the point.

Some decisions matter more than others, of course. Whether you decide to have pancakes or cereal—or both—for breakfast will be probably less consequential than marrying the struggling freelance musician—just talking about me here—or the Ivy League-educated, med school-bound white boy coming back from a year of self-discovery in Italy.

It’s difficult to know exactly where a decision will take you. You can make all the plans you want and take care of your part just fine. I didn’t know my resolution to apply for OPT—basically a limited work permit for those with F1 status—would result in the worst six months of my life.

All situations, though, come with myriad opportunities to make choices. Not the kind that will necessarily turn out good or change anything at all, but sometimes it’s not so bad to delude yourself into thinking something can be done—because sometimes, something, in fact, can be done.

My daydreaming has inspired many stupid ideas, and the idealist in me has forced me to put them into action before their novelty wears off. That’s how this and my new podcast startedThat’s also the way one of my top 10 “Stupid ideas I should not pursue but will anyway” came to happen: I decided that without a single political science course in my college transcript—one with a 3.9 GPA, mind you—I’d apply to several top-notch Ph.D. programs in political science.

In a turn of events I cannot quite comprehend, I was offered admission with fellowship to the program at Rice University in Houston, Tex. Maybe someone decided to see where one of their top “Stupid ideas I should not pursue but will anyway” would lead: what happens if we let a music major into our Ph.D. program?

Thanks to one decision, the steps I took to follow through, and who knows what kind of other weird factors,* I will be answering that hypothetical professor’s question for—hopefully—the next five years (unless I fail before then).

Lastly, I made a choice to go to Target and get some milk. I guess that choice will lead me to have cereal for breakfast tomorrow.


*God, too, of course. Hold your horses!