I love to be surrounded by physical books. Find your way to my office, and you’ll see them lined against the back wall, overflowing from bookshelves, and double-stacked on library carts. My study, on the opposite side of the church, contains my favorites.
I enjoy learning from mistakes, but I don’t have to be the one who makes them. I’m happy to learn from the mistakes of others. Stories of victories are helpful as well.
Good books speak to me like trusted friends.
My journey with Eugene Peterson
I’ve read 27 books written by Eugene Peterson. I still remember the first one. I picked up A Long Obedience in the Same Direction while browsing a local bookstore in my college days. I smirked at the clever phrase in the title and sensed the bearded author could share a few stories and a dose of wisdom. Little did I know.
Perhaps my love for the Psalms traces back to Peterson’s reflections on the Songs of Ascent, and my admiration for Dietrich Bonhoeffer and the quotation opening chapter three.
As I handle the book now, it is in remarkably good shape considering the number of times it’s been thumbed through. It’s covered in underlines and asterisks, my note taking cue for something important. The margins are graffitied with my chicken scratch.
My favorites
When I entered seminary, I learned Peterson was not simply the translator of The Message and the author of A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, but a wellspring of knowledge and inspiration for those in pastoral ministry.
He was a veteran and skilled pastor, a scholar, and the author of a vast collection of books. I began to work my way through his writings. Each wise. Each beautiful.
Reversed Thunder is the greatest commentary on Revelation I’ve ever read. Leap Over a Wall is a pastoral reflection of King David’s complex life and spirituality. Run with the Horses, a commentary on Jeremiah, blessed my soul at a time when it was greatly needed.
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Practice Resurrection, his exploration of Ephesians, gave me a vision of bowing before God that still drives me to my knees. His memoir, The Pastor, is on my Mount Rushmore of books. It is battered and bruised. I’ve read it nearly once a year since it was published in 2011.
My self-absorption
Eugene Peterson died Oct. 22, 2018. His death impacted me more than I thought it would. After all, he never knew me. Then again, perhaps he did.
He knew the beauty and challenges of pastoral life. His words often rub against my get-things-done-at-all-cost nature and push me toward contemplation. He provided me with a full, rich understanding of pastoral ministry. He gave depth, beauty, and honor to the title “pastor.”
I think of my own death far more than I care to admit. I’ve already picked out the songs that will be sung, all congregational, and the Scripture that will be read, a bunch of Colossians and some of John 14. I’ve jotted down notes on the key points I want the preacher to hit.
More than anything else, I wonder about who will show up to pay respects. I’m concerned about the sentiments that will be shared by the gathered crowd.
This likely reveals my self-absorption and narcissism. Yet, I hope it is less that and more of a desire to be faithful to God. If I’m faithful to God in the ministry given me, I’ll impact lives. And people will show up to my funeral.
Peterson’s funeral service was held in his beloved Montana. I did not make the trip. I was “too busy” being a pastor. For those who know the life and ministry of Eugene Peterson, you know how much he would despise the previous sentence. I still have much to learn.
Jeff Gravens is pastor of First Baptist Church in Sulphur Springs. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.
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