So Brave, Young and Handsome, by Leif Enger – It’s not as good as his first novel, Peace Like a River, but Enger’s trash is better than almost everyone else’s treasure.

The Reagan Diaries, edited by Douglas Brinkley – Regardless of your opinion of our 40th president, this book will help you understand his heart.

Methland, by Nick Redding – An agonizing look at the sociological, demographic, economic and spiritual aspects of drug addiction in small-town America.

Not for Sale, by David Batstone – The global human trafficking crisis told through the stories of several of its victims. A stomach-turning must-read.

The Lost World of Genesis One, by John Walton – A readable exploration of how Genesis 1′s Ancient Near Eastern readers/listeners may have understood the creation narrative.

The Language of God, by Francis Collins – The head of the Human Genome Project—also an evangelical—explores God’s fingerprints in biology.

Finally Alive, by John Piper – An important exploration of the new birth that exposes modern evangelicalism’s lack of precision in understanding God’s work of redemption.

The Pianist, by Władysław Szpilman – You probably saw the Palm d’Or-winning film when it was released nearly a decade ago. The book is even better.

Tortured for Christ, by Richard Wurmbrand – The convicting, disturbing, inspiring memoir of the Romanian pastor and Voice of the Martyrs’ founder.

Isaiah, by Raymond Ortlund Jr. – I read this commentary as I was working my way through Isaiah. Profound, pastoral, theologically sound exposition of the gospel in Isaiah.

The Gnostic: He possesses secret knowledge that God has supernaturally revealed to him because of his access to levels of spirituality unattainable to the common layperson. When he preaches, he prefaces his remarks with comments such as, “You’ve never heard this before, but …” or “The Lord revealed to me a new way of reading this passage …” His phraseology and convoluted explanations turn the simple complex as he transforms the plain teaching of scripture into mystical codes that may only be unlocked by one person: himself.

The Tycoon: He envisions the ministry as a bottomless source of personal enrichment, using his spiritual influence to sell products and build a business empire. The gospel—if it is ever preached—is subsumed under layers of business-speak and assurances that financial and professional advancement are the inevitable fruit of godliness. The tycoon fashions himself as the model of the benefits that come with following Jesus, but the only one reaping any benefits from his corrupt brand of religion is himself.

The Politician: Because his preaching is empty of any transformative power, the politician must resort to leveraging the forces of public policy to transform society. The pulpit becomes a mouthpiece for partisan invectives—both left and right—as the preacher seeks the affirmation and recognition of government leaders and policy makers. He envisions himself as a catalyst for cultural change, but ends up serving as a pawn in the hands of political opportunists looking to legitimize their self-serving agendas with his clerical endorsement.

The Moralist: His motives could not be more pure, as he strives to give you the tools to live a more productive, moral, unselfish life. His sermons are laced with nuggets of truth and maxims of self-improvement. From child-rearing and handling your finances to setting goals and getting along with your co-workers, the practicality of the moralist’s sermons is undeniable, but they are empty of the gospel. The moralist—whether the fundamentalist pulpit-pounder or the sensitive, liberal sociologist—is an expert in human nature, but ignores the only solution for transforming it.

The Comic: He genuinely believes that God is most glorified in you when you are most entertained by him. He can hold an audience in the palm of his hand with jokes about insightful babies and drunken Baptists. But these are merely a distraction from the real task that he cannot bring himself to perform: feeding his flock with solid meat.

“Pay close attention to yourself and to your teaching; persevere in these things, for as you do this you will ensure salvation both for yourself and for those who hear you.” – 1 Timothy 4:16

One of the books I read over my Christmas vacation was John Walton’s The Lost World of Genesis One: Ancient Cosmology and the Origins Debate—highly recommended for anyone unsatisfied with the major interpretations of Genesis 1: Young Earth Creationism and the Framework, Day-Age and Gap Theories.

For instance, Young Earth Creationism (YEC) had become increasingly problematic for me, as I read about the geological and astronomical evidence for an ancient universe and began to ponder the theological significance of living in a cosmos that was created 14 billion years before my arrival. Additionally, I did not see an exegetical necessity for a 6,000-year-old earth and found increasingly problematic YEC’s extreme attempts to reconcile scientific evidence with their biblical interpretation.

Although it is built on solid Ancient Near Eastern scholarship, Walton’s book is brief and highly accessible to the average reader. The core of his argument is this: The author of Genesis 1 was not attempting to argue that God created the material substance of the universe—his ancient readers would have all assumed this to be true. Instead, Genesis 1 is an account of God’s ordering and arranging the cosmos into a temple which would reflect His glory and from which He would rule. With this view, Walton argues, it is unimportant whether one believes the universe is 6,000 years old or 14 billion years old, because this is simply not what Genesis 1 is about.