Last time, I looked back at why I’ve been writing at least one article a week here on this blog. I’m already mentally committed to writing and delivering an article every Friday in 2024. I want to continue that discipline and improve my writing of non-fiction prose. I also want to work harder to make them a bit funnier, although the comedy is not the main driving force.
I would like to make these articles an end in themselves, rather than an extended plug for a podcast episode, or a cathartic rant about the failure of the House of Bishops.
Many readers might not notice any difference since I plan to lean into three main areas of interest that have been a feature of this blog since the beginning. These are:
#1 Church History
Since my teens, I have been fascinated by the history of the Church. I’ve always loved history and studied the Reformation for two of my A-Levels. I read Theology at the University of Durham where my final year contained a huge dollop of Church history which turned out to be my strongest papers. (I was awarded a First for my paper on the Papacy from Martin V to Martin Luther).
It was only today that I realised why I really wanted (but sadly failed) to get into Cambridge. It wasn’t the elitism, or the affirmation of being clever. Or even the desire to be part of the Cambridge Footlights, although that was a key reason I applied. It was the desire to study in a place where people had studied before me for hundreds of years. Even in my teens, that mattered. So I was sad not to get a place.

I’ve got form in writing about Church History. In 2017 I wrote a moderately successful family-friendly live show about Martin Luther’s 95 Theses called A Monk’s Tale. Since then, I’ve become even more interested in the church before and after the Reformation. That’s why I wrote the less successful Turbulent Priest show a couple of years after A Monk’s Tale. In my Twitter bio, I describe myself as a Lollard. (Don’t bother looking. I’m trying not use Twitter any more. But I still use Instagram).
Each period has something to teach us and I’m hungry to know more.
#2 Scripture
I’ve been content with the label ‘Evangelical’ since my teens since I believe in the supremacy – and inerrancy (whatever that means) – of Scripture. I used to think I was biblically literate. I did study Theology at university. Only recently have I comprehended my astonishing ignorance of God’s word. It pains me that I know entire episodes of Blackadder better than any biblical text. Huge swathes, like Jeremiah, are a total mystery to me. All I know about Ezekiel is that it crops up a fair bit in John’s gospel and there’s some kind of UFO in it. I know very little about the second half of John’s gospel, despite having written a book and a live show, Water into Wine, about the first half. (You can have the link to that now).
Since the Covid lockdowns, I have been reading the text of the Bible much more closely and for longer. I’ve been copying it out. I’ve been reading commentaries more feverishly. In the process, I’ve been truly enthralled not only by the astonishing artistry of the individual stories and the individual books, but the way in which themes are woven together across the books to create a tapestry that could only be eclipsed in beauty by the glory of the Lord himself.
Those two areas of interest are known to you. You may have sensed the emergence another one.
#3 The Space Between
I’ve never been one for exuberant Charismatic Christian worship. My preferred worship is of the ‘hands down’ variety. My cessationist theology does not mean that I believe miracles do not happen today. They clearly do. God can do what he likes in the way he chooses. But my culture has shaped my attitudes far more than my theology. Since the Enlightenment, the West has been very busy disenchanting itself. If one attends an elite university – and I will allow you to decide if Durham fits in that category – you will pick up a materialistic worldview. If it cannot be measured or repeated under lab conditions, it isn’t real.
If one takes scripture seriously, one has to acknowledge the world God has made is way weirder than we might wish to believe. Our ancestors believed many things we would consider strange, superstitious or downright silly. But they believed them for a reason. It is not clear why we abandoned these beliefs.
Keith Thomas wrote a lengthy and highly respected book called Religion and The Decline of Magic. I’ve read it. I recommend it. It’s fascinating. But when it comes down to it, Thomas cannot give a clear reason why the belief in religion, superstition and magic declined. Science was not so dominant in the eighteenth century that it swept away all before it. In fact, there were numerous spiritual revivals that century. So what was – and is – going on?
This is something I plan to think about and write about more in 2024. What did we used to believe? Why did we give up these beliefs? And are our current beliefs an improvement?
These articles, however, need a framework. And I’ve found one, based on another interest that has emerged over the last few years. But I’ll write about that tomorrow.
In the meantime, why not follow me on Instagram where I mostly put up pictures of beautiful churches and stunning trees?
I discussed the weird with Barry Cooper on the Cooper and Cary Have Words podcast in December 2023. We deep dive into UAPs and UFOs. You could have a listen here:
I'm not entirely sure where I came across your Stack. Maybe from @nojesuittricks?
All I know now is that I'll base my subscription solely on the relatability of this: "Only recently have I comprehended my astonishing ignorance of God’s word. It pains me that I know entire episodes of Blackadder better than any biblical text. Huge swathes, like Jeremiah, are a total mystery to me. All I know about Ezekiel is that it crops up a fair bit in John’s gospel and there’s some kind of UFO in it."
Many such cases. Looking forward to joining you on the journey, James.
I look forward to the fruits of your more refined focus in 2024. Have you considered reformed epistemology as an apparatus to guide your focus in "the space between"? It serves as a great counterweight to the evidentialism you describe.