I know this sounds dramatic, but I mean it: When I’m not writing, I’m not well. Writing is how I discover what I think. It leads, for me, to what the Greeks called eudaimonia – being well-guided by a creative spirit – which is deeper than our idea of happiness and more akin to flourishing, or blossoming in flow. Since the focus of my writing is New Testament literature, I spend my days contemplating the great enigmas of life: truth, beauty, justice, meaning. The fact that I get to share my musings with students, who trust me enough to enter into true dialogue – and who then go on to change the world – is an undeserved and unreserved privilege. This is quite simply, as my former professor Bob Gregg says, “a wonderful way to spend a life.”

The New Testament is not one book, but a remarkably diverse library of ancient texts written by the earliest followers of Jesus. My scholarship explores how literary theory – the study of human meaning-making through written poetry and prose – can improve our understandings and uses of these complex texts in today’s world. More specifically, I’m fascinated by the power of narrative. In my work, I ask my students and colleagues to think with me about how the way early Christian stories are told matters just as much as what they are telling.