Hello, fellow wayfarers … Why I’ve been spotty writing and recording lately, and how I found a way to fix it … How we can apply what we’ve learned about “the Anxious Generation” to discipleship and mentoring … What Tim Keller taught me about hope in a time of fear … In today’s Desert Island Bookshelf, we’re goin’ to Jackson, and that’s a fact … This is this week’s Moore to the Point.
Some Good Things on the Way
I told all of you that the weeks from mid-August to mid-September would be kind of sporadic here, because my travel schedule right now is insane. But I think your patience will pay off, because I’ve been working on some huge projects—some I can tell you about now and some I’m not allowed to until just a little bit later.
I can now say that I am working on a new book, Hope Against Hope: Reclaiming Sanity and Meaning in an Age of Anxiety and Emptiness, with Nelson Books. I am really, really excited about this because it’s a lot of things that I’ve been wanting to say for a long, long time.
Like every other book I’ve written, it is grounded both in the conversations I’m having with people right now and what I see coming over the horizon, both in terms of challenges and possibilities. It’s about where I see the world heading and what we are called to do about it and through it, especially when the words Christian and hope seem to have lost their meanings. I have also signed a contract for another book, which I’m not allowed to talk about yet, but will as soon as I can.
Like everybody, I go through fallow and dry times. But looking back, I can see that all kinds of ideas were coming together under the surface during those times that I wasn’t aware of. Then those ideas tend to come erupting to the forefront seemingly all at the same time.
It’s exciting for me, but also frustrating, when I have so much I want to say and create and don’t know how to get it all done. That has all ramped up lately. It’s the good kind of frustration where I am in a “flow” of creativity and want to keep it going, rather than stop-start-stop-start.
In addition to my regular column and weekly essays, the podcast has grown beyond what I can handle in ways that are surprising to me. We celebrated over a million listens this month, and I’m kind of stunned.
I started that podcast (originally called Signposts, which I prefer, but I lost the argument) as a kind of side conversation, back in the ERLC days, building off of The Cross and the Jukebox show from even further back in the Southern Seminary days. I thought it would be a place where a few people could listen in on conversations I wanted to have. It’s expanded far beyond that—and I am having fun with it while also frenetically trying to keep up.
We have some interesting new avenues for the show on the way—including one that, if it works out, will cause me to jump up and down with excitement, and I mean that literally. So stay tuned on that.
Plus, we have some fun new projects planned in the Resources area that I also can’t talk about yet, and I am trying not to leak them out to you because they are going to be really, really fun for me.
A few years ago, Tim Dalrymple asked me to take the title of editor in chief here at CT, and I said I would for a little while until I could cultivate somebody who could do (and enjoy) the parts of that that I hate. I said to him, “I’m a writer, not a meet-er.” I thought the person I would cultivate would be a younger journalist who is a news journalist, which I am not, but who would need some seasoning in theology, ethics, and cultural analysis. And then God sent me Marvin Olasky.
For those of you who don’t know Marvin, he was the titanic editor of WORLD magazine for many years, and his blood type is ink. I would read WORLD every week back when it was in its golden age, and I would quite often open up an issue with a low whistle and comment, “I can’t believe he is courageous enough to take on that.”
I wouldn’t have known then how to describe it, but after seeing lots of hacks for whom truth is a brand rather than a way, I do now. He was, and is, someone who sees truth as an objective reality outside of us, not the sum total of opinions of whoever is on our “side” (whatever our “side” means for people who say that Jesus is Lord).
I finally convinced Marvin to take the EIC parts of this role so I can expand all this writing and speaking without collapsing. I was able to sell it to the powers-that-be at CT by noting that they could get the best of both of us if they let me have it this way.
It took a while (over a year and a half), but I was persistent, and they are now allowing me to hand the day-to-day to someone who has proven he can not only do it but can change the world (no pun intended) as he does. And I now have the title I want: editor at large and columnist, the language used for Philip Yancey during the days when his writing changed my life as a teenager.
The only thing that will change is that I will have the time and space to “create content” (to use a phrase I hate). That means that I will be able to write to you every week without wondering every Tuesday whether it is going to get done in time to send it, and we’ll be able, finally, to expand out the podcast offerings in ways some of you have been asking to happen. Jiminy Cricket is on my shoulder telling me not to give away some surprises that I’m excited to show you, since I don’t yet have permission to unveil them, so I will listen to him.
One of the passages of Scripture that’s been on my mind a lot the last decade is this one, from when King Jehoiakim burned the scroll on which Jeremiah had been dictating. I’m no Jeremiah, but I’ve known a Jehoiakim or two. And I identify less with the “weeping” side of Jeremiah than with his description of himself as having a fire in his bones (20:9) to express what he knows God has given him to say.
That’s why I always smile when I read the matter-of-fact way the Book of Jeremiah puts it: “Then Jeremiah took another scroll and gave it to Baruch the scribe, the son of Neriah, who wrote on it at the dictation of Jeremiah all the words of the scroll that Jehoiakim king of Judah had burned in the fire. And many similar words were added to them” (36:32, ESV throughout).
“And many similar words were added to them.” In a time when people are scared to say what they really think, I am firmly convinced that that’s what is needed from those who believe that this stuff really matters. And I do.
So, let’s do it—and bear with me as the scattershot appearance of this newsletter and the rerun or two of the podcast comes to an end, and I can whirl out the stuff I’ve been planning for y’all. This is the new phase I’ve been praying for, and I’m excited to get to be able to be both Moore and to the point!
The Anxious Generation and the Need to Break Promises
In our multiple conversations with Jonathan Haidt over on the podcast, we’ve talked quite a bit about how some of the roots of the anxiety crisis facing young adults and adolescents right now is linked to what he calls “helicopter” parenting (a hovering, over-engagement) and “snowplow” parenting (seeking to remove the obstacles and keep kids from getting hurt in any way).
I thought about those conversations this week while listening to a conversation with one of my favorite poets, David Whyte, over on The Christian O’Connell Show.
O’Connell, talking about how unexpectedly crushed he was by taking his daughter off to college, initiated this exchange:
Whyte: But I mean, we’re often humiliated into the next dispensation of our life. And, you know, parenting is often a constant humiliation—
O’Connell: Oh gosh, yes.
Whyte: —of your powers, of your patience, of your integrity. Every parent falls down in their integrity at one time or another.
And then having to let them go—going from this godlike figure when they’re so young to being a walking embarrassment. You come into the kitchen, and they immediately leave. You’re just not wanted in that way anymore. And so you’re humiliated into the next level of maturity in parenting, which is giving them some distance, giving them some space, giving them some freedom from your specific advice, no matter how good it is, and saying, “Fare thee well.”
There’s a lot of humor in parenting, but there can be a lot of tragedy if you don’t have a sense of humor about yourself.
O’Connell: It’s so true. You’re right. I remember thinking, you go from almost getting standing ovations at bedtime in front of your kids, almost being a golden god—and then suddenly, with 18- and 20-year-olds, I’m reduced to a consultant Dad, with reduced hours and reduced powers. And like any consultant, they don’t really listen to half the stuff you say. It’s like, “Yeah, just give us your findings, Dad, and I’ll look at it when I get around to it.”
So now I’m just some kind of assistant, a consultant on the sidelines of their lives. And I’m thinking, hang on a minute—do you think I was always just a consultant at the side of it? Maybe I was never really the central driving force. I just kidded myself that I was.
Whyte: Yeah, life is a series of humiliations. You’re right—if you can have a sense of humor about that, you can navigate it.
Yes, and the root of that word is humus, actually, both in humor and humiliation.
O’Connell: I didn’t know that.
Whyte: All the fancy ideas you had about yourself—you’re suddenly returned to the ground of your being. And those abstract notions you had about yourself are stripped away.
Also, there’s this whole dynamic of having to let go of what seemed like sacred promises. For instance, the promise you make over a newborn child—whether you’re a father, a mother, a godparent, an uncle, an auntie, or just a good friend—there are always promises of complete and utter safety: “Nothing’s going to happen to you on my watch. I’ll make sure you’re kept safe.” And that’s a really appropriate promise for the infant.
But if you kept to that promise when they were 15, you’d ruin the child’s life by trying to provide ultimate protection. You’re meant to have let go of that many years before they’re 15.
It’s a magnified version of many promises we make in life that are now out of season. And we have a lot of advice in our theological, religious, and psychological literature about making promises. There’s almost nothing about the breaking of promises—which is just as necessary.
To speak to the breaking of promises can be quite freeing, actually—to understand that all of us are always grappling with a promise we now have to break. One that was previously sacred in its season and completely appropriate is now imprisoning both myself and the person to whom I made the promise.
Whyte’s point here is an apt one, although I would probably want to use a different phrase than “breaking of promises.” What is right at one stage of development is wrong at another. And that applies to far more than just parenting or being parented, in the strictly natural familial sense. It also applies to the way we mentor and disciple the next generation.
The writer of Hebrews says to his hearers in the church, perhaps at Rome: “You need milk, not solid food, for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil” (Heb. 5:12–14).
We tend to think about the milk / solid food dichotomy in terms of doctrinal precision, and certainly that’s part of it. But it’s also about helping people prepare for the manageable crises they need to be ready to lead. Sometimes the protectiveness from heartbreak or danger that would be perfectly right for a new believer extends to a kind of “snowplow” discipleship that is no discipleship at all.
What Tim Keller Taught Me About Hope
This week would have been the 75th birthday of Tim Keller. I wanted to mark that, so we decided to run an old conversation he and I had (back when the show was Signposts!). I hear this episode differently than I did when we first recorded it, and I think you will hear it differently too.
At the time we recorded, Tim was just a few months out from learning about the cancer that eventually took his life. He had just written a book called Hope in Times of Fear: The Resurrection and the Meaning of Easter. He had also just written a piece for The Atlantic wrestling with mortality, how to order our loves in this life, and finding hope in the midst of suffering.
I like this episode because I love hearing his voice again. And I love thinking about the fact that he knows a lot more now about the hope he was expressing then.
You can listen to it here.
Desert island bookshelf
Every other week, I share a list of books that one of you says you’d want to have on hand if you were stranded on a deserted island. This week’s submission comes from reader Tracie Barnard, a native Floridian now living in Jackson, Tennessee:
- Elvis ’68 Comeback by Steve Binder: Elvis fans, unite. Beautifully photographed, well-written eyewitness account written by the man behind the Comeback Special. You can almost hear the music.
- Three Cheers for Pooh by Brian Sibley: If you’re stuck on an island, there’s no better set of companions.
- The Princess Bride by William Goldman: Adventure, comedy, romance, drama—you name it. All in one book.
- The Little Way of Ruthie Leming by Rod Dreher: It’s about place—and being content with where you are. You might need that kind of perspective if you’re stuck on a desert island.
- To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee: A personal favorite.
- Emma and Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen: Classic Jane. Again, some great companions—and characters that make you giggle. Or swoon. Take your pick.
- Liturgy of the Ordinary by Tish Harrison Warren: A lovely, insightful book about the beauty of ordinary rituals, rhythms, and daily life.
- The Trouble with Thirteen by Betty Miles: Fantastic coming-of-age book that I discovered in my elementary school library. Many years ago. Let’s just say it was the early ’80s and leave it there 🙂
- Chocolat by Joanne Harris: Dreamy and mystical. Takes you to a provincial French village where the new chocolaterie is all the talk. As is its colorful owner and her daughter.
- The Mitford Bedside Companion by Jan Karon: I was going to list At Home in Mitford; however, if you are stuck on an island, with no access to a library, reading the first book in a series is so sad. So this lovely read brings all of Mitford to you. And you can’t beat Uncle Billy’s jokes!
Thank you, Tracie!
Readers, what do y’all think? If you were stranded on a desert island for the rest of your life and could have only one playlist or one bookshelf with you, what songs or books would you choose?
- For a Desert Island Playlist, send me a list between 5 and 12 songs, excluding hymns and worship songs. (We’ll cover those later.)
- For a Desert Island Bookshelf, send me a list of up to 12 books, along with a photo of all the books together.
Send your list (or both lists) to questions@russellmoore.com, and include as much or as little explanation of your choices as you would like, along with the city and state from which you’re writing.
Quote of the Moment
“Sometimes you need chaos. Sometimes chaos is what keeps you alive, keeps you moving, running, burning. Sometimes chaos is what breaks you out of outmoded patterns. I’d only say that there are certain kinds of chaos, and then there are other kinds. You might want to think about the distinction.”
—Paul Kingsnorth
Currently Reading (or Re-Reading)
- Vaclav Havel, Letters to Olga, trans. Paul Wilson (Faber and Faber)
- Paul Kingsnorth, Against the Machine: On the Unmaking of Humanity (Thesis)
- Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls (Scribner)
- Donald S. Lopez Jr., The Buddha: Biography of a Myth (Yale University Press)
Join Us at Christianity Today
Founded by Billy Graham, Christianity Today is on a mission to lift up the sages and storytellers of the global church for the sake of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Subscribe now to get exclusive print and digital content, along with seasonal devotionals, special issues, and access to the full archives. Plus, you’ll be supporting this weekly conversation we have together. Or, you could give a membership to a friend, a pastor, a church member, someone you mentor, or a curious non-Christian neighbor. You can also make a tax-deductible gift that expands CT’s important voice and influence in the world.
Ask a Question or Say Hello
The Russell Moore Show podcast includes a section where we grapple with the questions you might have about life, the gospel, relationships, work, the church, spirituality, the future, a moral dilemma you’re facing, or whatever. You can send your questions to questions@russellmoore.com. I’ll never use your name—unless you tell me to—and will come up with a groan-inducing pun of a pseudonym for you.
And, of course, I would love to hear from you about anything. Send me an email at questions@russellmoore.com if you have any questions or comments about this newsletter, if there are other things you would like to see discussed here, or if you would just like to say hello.
If you have a friend who might like this, please forward it, and if you’ve gotten this from a friend, please subscribe!
Russell Moore
Editor-at-Large, Christianity Today
P.S. You can support the continued work of Christianity Today and the Public Theology Project by subscribing to CT magazine.
Moore to the Point
Join Russell Moore in thinking through the important questions of the day, along with book and music recommendations he has found formative.
Delivered free via email to subscribers weekly. Sign up for this newsletter.
You are currently subscribed as no email found. Sign up to more newsletters like this. Manage your email preferences or unsubscribe.
Christianity Today is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization.
“Christianity Today” and “CT” are the registered trademarks of Christianity Today International.
Copyright ©2025 Christianity Today, PO Box 788, Wheaton, IL 60187-0788
All rights reserved.