Longform and the Affections


Michael Reeves, writing about Karl Barth’s loquaciousness in his new book: Theologians You Should Know: An Introduction: From the Apostolic Fathers to the 21st Century (Crossway, 2016), page 280:

Barth believed that the task of theology is the same as the task of preaching, and thus preaching is just what he does in the Church Dogmatics. But preaching is not about merely conferring information: it is about winning hearts, and thus involves the sorts of persuasion and repetition that take time. Points must be reinforced, the readers won. The result is that Barth can be deeply moving to read. It also means he is peculiarly resistant to being quoted. Context is needed, and this is why, when he is quoted, he usually sounds impossibly complicated and so off-putting. Perhaps most important of all, though, the fact that Barth writes in such a sermonic, almost story-telling style actually means the reader can relax. Failing fully to grasp a few pages really will not matter, for the sweep of the argument is larger than that.

Looking for the bigger picture is the main thing. Colin Gunton put it like this:

Barth is an aesthetic theologian. Barth worshiped before he theologized. His love for Mozart is to be noted here. The structure of Barth’s theology is assertive, it is not argumentative; it can be considered as a sort of music. In the sense that Barth is not concerned to argue any more than Mozart is concerned to argue, Mozart just plays. I think that is Barth’s aim: to play on the revelation of God so that its truth and beauty will shine.

Of course, that does all mean that Barth demands you give him time. He will not dish out theological fast food. But giving him time does make one a more thoughtful theologian.


Writer’s Block and Research

Sebastian Junger is a former war reporter, bestselling author, and award winning documentary filmmaker of Restrepo. He made a couple of key points about non-fiction writing recently on Tim Ferriss’s podcast, worth transcribing and sharing here:

Really there two kinds of writing: fiction and non-fiction. And the first step, if you’re a journalist — which I consider all non-fiction should be — the first thing you have to do is your research. You are writing about the real world and you need facts and quotes and interviews and all that. So my writing process really starts out in the world as I’m researching a story or in a library or on the Internet or wherever.

Fiction writers are trying to re-imagine the world in a way that’s never been done before, and reproduce it on the page and have people enter this fictional world and be riveted by it. And that’s where inspiration comes in, and that’s where you really have to be at your desk every morning because you never know when the ‘creative gods’ will speak to you.

But for a journalist, it’s much more like carpentry. You get the lumber, get the bricks, you build the basement and start putting it together. There’s a process, and a lot of inspiration in the actual language that you use. But it’s much more procedural than I think fiction writing probably is. . . .

I sit down with coffee and write for a couple hours. And if I feel that I’m blocked in my writing — I just can’t write the next section, I keep re-writing it, and it doesn’t work, and I get stuck — it’s not that I’m blocked, it’s that I don’t have enough research to write with power and knowledge about that topic. It’s not that I cannot find the right words, it’s that I don’t have the ammunition. I have not gone out into the world and brought back ‘the goods’ that I’m writing about.

You never want to solve a research problem with language. You never want to become such a fine writer that you can thread the needle and get through a thin patch in your research because you’re such a great prose artist.

Source: “Lessons from War, Tribal Societies, and a Non-Fiction Life” (May 22, 2016).

On Writing Well


C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (1952):

Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it. The principle runs through all life from top to bottom. Give up yourself, and you will find your real self. Lose your life and you will save it. Submit to death, death of your ambitions and favorite wishes every day and death of your whole body in the end: submit with every fibre of your being, and you will find eternal life. Keep back nothing. Nothing that you have not given away will be really yours. Nothing in you that has not died will ever be raised from the dead. Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in.

John Henry Newman, personal letter (March 2, 1868; ht: Justin Taylor):

First, a man should be in earnest, by which I mean, he should write, not for the sake of writing, but to bring out his thoughts. He should never aim at being eloquent. He should keep his idea in view, and write sentences over and over again till he has expressed his meaning accurately, forcibly, and in few words. He should aim at being understood by his hearers or readers. He should use words which are most likely to be understood — ornament and amplification will come to him spontaneously in due time, but he should never seek them. He must creep before he can fly, by which I mean that humility, which is a great Christian virtue, has a place in literary composition. He who is ambitious will never write well. But he who tries to say simply and exactly what he feels or thinks, what religion demands, what faith teaches, that the gospel promises, will be eloquent without intending it, and will write better English than if he made a study of English literature.

Books on Building Great Sentences (Advice for Writers)


According to the Oxford English Dictionary, our language has more than 100 synonyms for verb forms of “to be wordy,” a detail I find beautifully enigmatic. English is rich, and writing sentences is an art with few concrete boundaries. But crafting great sentences means choosing the right type of sentence structure.

I love to read (and re-read) great books on beautiful sentences of all shapes and sizes: sound sentences, long sentences, short sentences, pop sentences, classic sentences, and literary sentences. I find it helpful to take apart a great sentence, break it down into its individual parts, and see how it works (like a typewriter).

Recently, I posted a picture of some of these books on Instagram, and got enough questions to warrant a quick explanation for why I chose these certain titles as my five favorites. And from the start I should mention that none of these books are written by Christian authors, at least not to my knowledge. In each case, the unbelieving worldviews of these non-Christian writers are not always shrouded.

Now, to the list.

On writing fundamentally sound sentences:

Style: The Basics of Clarity and Grace by Joseph M. Williams

This is a book for all writers. It’s a brief, to-the-point, and refreshingly visual guide to putting good sentences together. I read this book back in my early days of writing (way back in ought-nine), and it’s been with me ever since. At $30, it’s a wallet-gouging, over-priced little guide, used in a lot of academic training. For less expensive options for general writing help, see Roy Peter Clark and Steven Pinker below.

On writing long sentences:

Building Great Sentences: How to Write the Kinds of Sentences You Love to Read by Brooks Landon

This book is for more experienced writers who want to master the art of the long, right-branching sentence that seems to expand with no necessary end in site, that sends waves of compounding details washing over the reader and descriptions flowing to the mind. The content in this book was first a video lecture series, but the published version is a now more affordable way to get the same details. No surprise, Landon often is guilty of feather-tongued multiloquence.

On writing short sentences:

How to Write Short: Word Craft for Fast Times by Roy Peter Clark

Great journalists know how to write compact sentences, and Roy Peter Clark is one of the best. He also trains the best. Roy Peter Clark is to the writing life what Paul David Tripp is to the Christian life: You just read everything he writes, and enjoy the overlap. This book is a goldmine of writing advice.

Clark has a new book on reading, for writers, with a lot of tips on penning sentences: The Art of X-Ray Reading: How the Secrets of 25 Great Works of Literature Will Improve Your Writing (2016).

Beginning writers, especially, should consider everything by Clark. See also his books Writing Tools (2008), The Glamour of Grammar (2011), and Help! For Writers (2013).

On writing pop sentences:

Word Hero: A Fiendishly Clever Guide to Crafting the Lines that Get Laughs, Go Viral, and Live Forever by Jay Heinrichs

Pop sentences may or may not be useful for you as a writer, but every writer (and reader) can benefit from learning the lessons of the most thoughtful pop stylists. So much thought goes into witticisms and snappy pop-culture writing that understanding these trendy tips will help you frame your own message for today’s reading culture. Heinrichs is a genius when it comes to arguments and rhetoric (see his bestselling book, Thank You for Arguing), and his book Word Hero is equally valuable. Perhaps most impressive to me was the way he formulates the subtle skills of using syllabic sounds to strengthen sense and setting.

On writing classic sentences:

Clear and Simple As the Truth: Writing Classic Prose by Francis-Noël Thomas and Mark Turner

Thomas and Turner’s book is definitely for advanced writers. I feel like I’m cheating a bit here because the whole point of classic style is to not focus on the mechanics of sentence structure, but to build the flow of logic.

This is a subtle art mastered by French writers, but once you get a handle on it, you will learn why the readers of C. S. Lewis’s essays sometimes feel like they arrive at the conclusions before Lewis does. There’s a method behind classic style’s persuasive powers, and Thomas and Turner explain the deeper philosophical substructures well.

A good summary of the classic style can be found in The Sense of Style: The Thinking Person’s Guide to Writing in the 21st Century by Steven Pinker. Pinker devotes his entire second chapter to a synopsis of Thomas and Turner, and loads the remainder of the book with practical tips for pulling it off. Pinker’s attempt is less philosophical, less advanced, and more practical.

In Pinker’s words, “Classic style is not a contemplative or romantic style, in which a writer tries to share his idiosyncratic, emotional, and mostly ineffable reactions to something. Nor is it a prophetic, oracular, or oratorical style, where the writer has the gift of being able to see things that no one else can, and uses the music of language to unite an audience. . . . The guiding metaphor of classic style is seeing the world. The writer can see something that the reader has not yet noticed, and he orients the reader’s gaze so that she can see it for herself” (28–29).

Classic writing isn’t punchy or sexy, it’s often long, works best in books, rarely goes viral, and it’s certainly not the best style for every situation. But it is a style you must master if you want to understand the psychology of persuasion and if you want to use sentences to move readers toward ah-ha moments of self-discovery. And the important philosophy behind the style is why I say don’t pass over Thomas and Turner too quickly.

On writing literary sentences:

Artful Sentences: Syntax as Style by Virginia Tufte

Tufte’s book is for advanced writers, and I recommend this book all the time because it’s worthy of repeated commendation. Tufte dives into what makes sentences work well, and highlights hundreds of the best sentences she can find. Every serious writer should have a copy of this book on hand to read and enjoy, as Tufts splendidly reveals the secrets behind the slight of hand by the masters of literature.

So there it is, my favorite books on writing sentences. Like a well-balanced workout, writers will need exercise in all these fields: a technical kettlebell routine (classic), some jogging (long), and walks (literary), sit-ups (short), and a little PX90 (pop).

Also in this series:

• What Kind of Writer Am I? (Advice for Writers)

What Kind of Writer Am I? (Advice for Writers)


No writer can write about everything, but just about any writer can write about anything. So at some point, you’ll need to have an honest conversation with yourself about what subjects you’ll tackle (and which ones you won’t).

Recently, I set aside one hour of time to reflect on this dilemma, and to write out — at a more conceptual level — what types of writing most interest me. I wanted to see if I could detect certain themes already at work in what I already publish.

This was not my first attempt at this categorization, and the theories I present here are still very much in process, but that hour of reflecting and meditating brought several key conclusions.

As a writer, I am at my best when I observe and express three things:

  1. the essence of a thing (as defined by the Creator)
  2. how beings relate to God and other beings, and
  3. what pressures change these relationships.

That was a summary of three specific conclusions:

(1) I like to write about ontological marvels. I am very interested in quiddity, in getting to the essence of a thing. I enjoy articulating its haecceity, its this-ness, what makes anything unique and describable. I love to press in past the surface appearance of things, to study the property, quality, and distinctions of all things based on God’s revealed intentions. What does God declare to be true? What he says is true, is true, about creation, about beings (both in union/disunion with Christ), and about the nature of God as he reveals himself. Helping convince souls of what is true, certainly does not ignore the affections. “There is a dignity and poignancy in the bare fact that a thing exists” (C.S. Lewis). Or, “Christians enjoy their worldview, aesthetically, once they have accepted it as true” (C.S. Lewis). In fact conviction of what is true, in the details, is necessary for stirring all of the religious affections. And it is often where Christians stumble today.

(2) I like to write on spiritual socio-ecology. I am attracted to the study of how we understand our selves and then how we related to others in various environments. Additionally, I enjoy studying the phenomenons of identity and longing and belonging, and describing the nature of all things and beings in their primary relationship (to God).

(3) I like to write on the essential spiritual dynamics at play in the push and pull of enticement and coercion. I am interested in understanding the forces in play in the physics of our relationships with one another, of our relationships to creation, and especially of our relationships with God. My interests focus on the compressive influence of human culture to coerce, persuade, or dissuade the soul. And of course I am most interested in the enticements of God, and in his work in Christ to allure and woo us toward himself.

Finally, after contemplating what I like to write about, I took some time to define how I like to write.

The content of my writing is driven and refined by a writing style I adopted early in my career. Known simply as the “classic style,” a conversational style with an emphasis on shrewd observation (which is overt), and builds upon strict flow of logic (which is mostly concealed). The classic style not only reads conversationally, it should read spontaneously and even passionately. Any hints that a piece of writing is premeditated is strictly removed. Given other forms of style, and given the simplicity of prose it aims to produce, the classic style is quite complex and takes some time to understand. Even more, it takes years of work to employ (I’m still in process). Classic style is also old and proven by years of successful examples written most consistently, it seems, by the French, who first embraced the genre on a massive scale, and gave it prominence in the seventeenth-century (Blaise Pascal, in our circles, being the most famous example). The style is beautiful for the way it naturally draws out the writer’s personality, but also for its clear air of simplicity, and all the while being driven by an internal engine of logic. The style is attractive and rich, but it’s not without limitations. By design, the classic style aims to help readers make their own conclusions and therefore stresses the value of observable truth over blunt attempts at persuasion.

To more fully understand how the classic style works, I commend Clear and Simple As the Truth: Writing Classic Prose by Francis-Noël Thomas and Mark Turner. More on that book (and others) here.

Hopefully what I actually write, on a published level, sounds less geeky than all of these meditations. But sketching out my writing interests at a conceptual level, and putting them on paper, is illuminating to me.

But now it’s your turn. Invest a little time for this type of self-reflection to understand yourself as a writer, and you will reap the life-giving reward of focus.

We Are All Apologists Now

fools-talkOs Guinness, in his new book Fool’s Talk: Recovering the Art of Christian Persuasion (IVP), pages 15–16:

We are all apologists now, and we stand at the dawn of the grand age of human apologetics, or so some are saying because our wired world and our global era are a time when expressing, presenting, sharing, defending and selling ourselves have become a staple of everyday life for countless millions of people around the world, both Christians and others. The age of the Internet, it is said, is the age of the self and the selfie. The world is full of people full of themselves. In such an age, “I post, therefore I am.”

To put the point more plainly, human interconnectedness in the global era has been raised to a truly global level, with unprecedented speed and on an unprecedented scale. Everyone is now everywhere, and everyone can communicate with everyone else from anywhere and at any time, instantly and cheaply. Communication through the social media in the age of email, text messages, cell phones, tweets and Skype is no longer from “the few to the many,” as in the age of the book, the newspaper and television, but from “the many to the many,” and all the time. . . .

That is why it can be said that we are in the grand secular age of apologetics. The whole world has taken up apologetics without ever using or knowing the idea as Christians understand it. We are all apologists now, if only on behalf of “the Daily Me” or “the Tweeted Update” that we post for our virtual friends and our cyber community. The great goals of life, we are told, are to gain the widest possible public attention and to reach as many people in the world with our products — and always, our leading product is Us.

Are Christians ready for this new age? We who are followers of Jesus stand as witnesses to the truth and meaning of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus as a central matter of our calling. We are spokespersons for our Lord, and advocacy is in our genes. Ours is the apologetic faith par excellence. But regardless of the new media, many of us have yet to rise to the challenge of a way of apologetics that is as profound as the good news we announce, as deep as the human heart, as subtle as the human mind, as powerful and flexible as the range of people and issues that we meet every day in our extraordinary world in which “everyone is now everywhere.”

Later Guinness writes (pages 166–167):

On the one hand, modern words suffer from inattention. Everyone is speaking and no one is listening. On the other hand, modern words suffer from inflation. Under the impact of the omnipresence of advertising and “adspeak,”words are nothing more than tools to sell products and agendas, and the highest and most sacred words can be used to give a leg up to the most trivial of goods and the worst of causes. Words today are all so much “verbiage,” “propaganda” and a matter of “words, words, words.”

In direct and forceful contrast, we Christians must show again that we are both people of the Word and people who believe in words. Words are never mere words for us, for they are linked indissolubly to truth, freedom, worship and human dignity. Words matter because we worship the Word himself, and our words used on his behalf should be spring-loaded with the truth and power of his Word — especially to those who are closed.

The problems of inattention and inflation are only two of the oddities of communication in the great age of communication. But they show how great communicators as Christians are called to be and have often been, communication today is often harder and not easier. More importantly, they show that the best answer to the challenge is not through improved technology but through deeper theology.