Nine months since book launch

Somehow it’s been 9 months since my first book was published.

The book was published on September 24, 2024. 42 days later Donald Trump would be elected president.

I’m not sure anyone tells you how to feel when you publish a book, and I’m not going to simply unload all of my feelings about its launch and reception—I don’t think anyone would want to read that. But one of the most consistent feelings I’ve had since then is that it feels as if I wrote this book in the hopes of a different outcome.

I had hoped that my book would join the chorus of others that sought to inform, contextualize, and warn the broader public of the threat of Christian nationalism that had taken hold in this country, and that because there would be such an abundance of witnesses, we would be heard and heeded.

But of course that’s not what happened.

Instead, our country re-elected a convicted felon, who empowered a drug addled-billionaire to run roughshod over federal agencies & decimate American soft power abroad by gutting organizations like USAID that is projected to lead to hundreds of thousands of needless deaths. Oh, and Trump is leading us into further protracted military conflict and his “big beautiful bill,” which seems like a sure-thing, will remove millions from healthcare assistance & food assistance while adding trillions to the debt.

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My hope is in much shorter supply today.

I recognize that I am writing this missive in a somewhat fragile & vulnerable emotional state.

I question my own capacity to contribute to any work (commentary or otherwise) that seeks to mitigate any of the harms being inflicted upon our country.

I loathe that the most influential people in our society use their power and wealth to exacerbate inequality, quash freedom of expression & assembly online and in person, tear apart families, and tear down institutions.

I rage at my own inability to make a meaningful difference in any sphere.

I lament the state of conversation around religion & public life and the way it takes place over the internet, and how that online conversation seems completely detached from both fellowship halls and the halls of power. Everyone retreats to their corners—progressive Christians talking to progressive Christians, atheists talking to atheists, evangelicals finding ever more nuanced ways to support whatever the Trump admin is doing but being evasive about it—and meanwhile the NAR and other violent forms of Christianity thrive online and spread their selfish gospel to anyone who will listen.

I’m annoyed at how much these frustrations get to me, and how I struggle to build anything cumulative.

I refuse to give up hope entirely. But today I am deeply, deeply discouraged.