Are there any working journalists in this day and age who do not have a love-hate relationship with paywalls, those digital fortresses erected by many publications to force readers to pay for their best online content?
Pod people: The thin line between insight and hearsay
Earlier this week, I critiqued an Associated Press story on the hullabaloo caused by a newspaper column in which a pastor’s wife referred to Southern Baptists as “the crazy old paranoid uncle of evangelical Christians.”
Public esteem for journalists keeps sinking. Why? (#shockedshocked)
I’m not ashamed to say that I love journalism. I’m elated that I get to work in this field and I love the work I get to do. I have high regard for the good that journalists’ accomplish, this week providing just one example. You can’t be a media critic without being aware of the downsides. Heck, it’s my job to look at problems with media coverage. And yet still, I am so very thankful for newspapers and media outlets that tell us about the world around us. When I read a story about an event or an interview, I try to remember what a blessing it is that someone was there and took the time to tell me about it.
Strangely faith-free story about ministry to feed the poor
For the past two decades, I have spent quite a bit of time driving the back roads of the Southern Highlands, which is one of the many names that locals use to describe the Appalachian Mountains of East Tennessee and Western North Carolina.
What The Economist gets wrong about Calvinist Baptists
Today is the 504th anniversary of the birth of John Calvin (July 10, 1509) — and the 497th anniversary of misunderstanding Calvinists.
In Kentucky, 'Shiite Baptists' and the crazy old uncle
Not all things considered: NPR on hymns
Online porn: crack cocaine for Christian men?
No, this post isn’t a totally blatant attempt to drive up pageviews by including “porn” in the title.
A tune on gay evangelicals that evangelicals won’t recognize
While working on a recording together, Johnny Cash asked Bob Dylan if he knew “Ring of Fire.” Dylan said he did and began to play it on the piano, croaking it out in typical Dylanesque fashion. When he was done he turned to his friend and said, “It goes something like that, right?” “No,” said Cash shaking his head. “It doesn’t go like that at all.”

