As I write, I am sitting in the cathedral of San Giovanni in Laterano. There is a sort of profanity in what I am about to attempt; to resort to written words in such a moment, hoping to capture something of this place, carries a tinge of blasphemy, aside from it being a fool's errand.…
As usual, the most recent Forefront arts review covers a broad spectrum of topics: -I discuss Leo Tolstoy's Confessions, an incredibly profound spiritual memoir, and one with particular relevance to the philosophical underpinnings of Forefront's mission. -Zack reviews the album Lent from Liturgical Folk. -Nate reflects on the recent documentary American Gospel: Christ Alone. -Rich…
In my latest contribution to the Forefront blog, I reflect on our need to adopt habits of "long art." Doing so can reconnect us to a theologically informed stewardship of our world and its beauty, ultimately pointing us toward eternal things: "To participate in the creation of long art, to spend time in its presence—this is…
I recently had the opportunity to interview my friend Dr. Alastair Roberts, who I met last spring during the Davenant Institute's Protestant Wisdom Primer. We discuss here his recently published book Echoes of Exodus: Tracing Themes of Redemption through Scripture, which was a collaborative project with Andrew Wilson. Among other things, we cover the musical…
An essay that I recently wrote has been published over at Mere Orthodoxy. In it, I argue that localism provides the much needed resources for building strong and compassionate communities, as well as anchoring our cultural and political endeavors to their proper aims. I also respond to the notion that localism, unchecked by a federal…
London Snow When men were all asleep the snow came flying, In large white flakes falling on the city brown, Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying, Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town; Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing; Lazily and incessantly floating down and down: Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and…
The Soldier If I should die, think only this of me; That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, and made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam A…
Dickinson has the wondrous capacity to produce verse both so short in length, yet timeless in its wisdom. One could read this poem in a few moments, but spend an entire lifetime learning of its truth. Indeed, these lines contain insights which have held true throughout the centuries, and which are not going away any…
I Wandered Lonely as a CloudI wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky…
"Come see the north wind's masonry." Ralph Waldo Emerson said this of some other place, but it seems that he wrote these lines looking out my own window this morning. I have read this poem many times before, but as usually occurs when experiencing timeless poetry, today it takes on a new meaning. In the…
