In my foreword introducing the season, I reflected on the prophet Jonah, especially how, at one turning point in his life, he reorients his life to God: 'I worship the LORD', he says, accepting responsibility for his actions and offering himself entirely to God. This, I suggested, can serve as a model of how we, too, are called to continually reorient ourselves towards God. (This calling to worship God will be explored more deeply next year.)

But there is a second turning point in Jonah's story, and this takes place at the very end. Jonah has (reluctantly) proclaimed God's word to Nineveh; the Ninevites have repented. Mission accomplished! But the story is not over. There is still more work to be done: although Jonah has performed his task, although the Ninevites have turned from their violent ways and although even God seems to have changed his mind, now sparing the Ninevites from destruction, Jonah's heart remains unchanged. 

Jonah leaves Nineveh and sits down somewhere east of it, '[waiting] to see what would happen to the city' (Jonah 4:5), perhaps hoping that it would be destroyed anyway. Then, through growing a vine to shelter Jonah from the scorching wind and later destroying the vine, God teaches Jonah that, just as Jonah has cared for the vine, so God also cares for Nineveh. The story ends with God's question to Jonah: 'Should I not be concerned about that great city?' (4:11).

Here, Jonah is faced with another turning point. Will he remain as he is, angry enough to die, or will he understand the great love and mercy God has for Jonah's enemies, and so live the richer, fuller life that God has for him? Although Jonah has completed the first task God has given him, resulting in the salvation of his enemies, there is a deeper task to which he is called, resulting in his own salvation. He is now called to understand more completely the mystery of God's love, to be transformed so that he might begin to love the people and land he has been sent to save.

This second calling of Jonah surprises me because when I think about vocation, I usually think about it in terms of external work people do for God or others. As examples of such work, I can point to the abundance of compelling writing and conversations we have published this year, such as Kathryn Sadakierski's description of serving children as a spiritual mother, Alina Sayre's personal essay on her calling as a writer or my interview with Tim Harvey on tending a congregation as an ordained minister, to name just a few.

While such external tasks are important, the ending of Jonah's story suggests that they are only made complete with our inward transformation. In other words, vocation is not only about our deeds but also about our character formation. It's not only about the work we do in the world; it's more fundamentally about the work that God is doing in us, with our cooperation, to change us, heal us and make us whole.

When Jesus calls the Apostle Peter to follow him, for example, this calling certainly involves specific tasks he must do, such as strengthening, nourishing and teaching the other disciples. But in order to do these and other things, Peter's heart must first be transformed. Indeed, after Jesus' resurrection and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, we see that Peter develops the courage and power to serve Christ faithfully (this ongoing transformation of Peter's character is expressed wonderfully in Sandro F. Piedrahita's short story 'The Crucifixion of St. Peter').

As Peter would write concerning vocation, such a transformation is nothing less than '[participation] in the divine nature' (2 Peter 1:3–4). Who we are called to become, therefore, are humans ablaze with divinity. The Church has historically understood that such a transformation is the very reason God became incarnate in Jesus Christ. As Church Father Athanasius said, 'God became man that man might become [like] God'. 

Although this transformation is a gift from God, it requires our engagement. Peter urges his listeners to 'make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, love' (vv. 5–7) so that our work for Christ does not become 'ineffective or unproductive' (v. 8). 

In other words, these qualities, the foremost of which is love, are required ingredients for living fully into our calling, enlivening and empowering our activity. Also, we must do all we can, with God's help, to cultivate these qualities. Without this internal work, whatever external work we do is incomplete at best. As the Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthian Christians, even if we do the holiest and most sacrificial deeds, if we do not have love, we gain nothing (1 Cor. 13:1–3).

Our podcast guest Valencio Jackson, for example, has held a variety of different jobs, from engineer to aquatics director to music teacher. But as he describes to Will, he understands his calling as putting God and other people above himself in whatever he is doing, keeping himself open to God's voice. I imagine that, like sunlight shining through several different stained-glass panels at once, such an orientation has enlivened and empowered each of Valencio's roles.

Such a disposition, I would argue, is also what God is trying to cultivate in Jonah. The book named after him ends with a question: 'Should I not be concerned about that great city?' (Jonah 4:11). This implies, 'Should you, Jonah, not also be concerned about that great city? Should you not also pray and work for the well-being of the people and animals that live there? Should you not also be transformed so that your heart resembles mine, offering mercy even to your enemies?'

As we go about seeking to fulfil the work God has given us to do, may we hear for ourselves God's question to Jonah. May we understand our calling not only in terms of what we do but also who we are becoming -- and may we continually embark on that pilgrimage towards transformation in Christ.

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Thank you to all of our contributors and guests this season! It has been a privilege meeting and working with you all, and the Foreshadow team hope to see more of your work next year.

Thank you also to the Foreshadow/Forecast editorial team for their insights and hard work. 

I've included links to many, but not all, of the work we published this season in the article above based on their relevance to my message. Unfortunately, I was unable to include everyone's work here, but I encourage you to check out all of the writing and conversations from this past season.

Next year, our theme will be 'Songs of Ascents: Pilgrimage and Worship'. Stay tuned for a foreword introducing the theme in January 2023.

In the meantime, submissions for next year open on 1 December 2022, and look out for bonus material over Advent and Christmas.

​Next year, our theme is 'Called Forth: Vocation and Faith'. Submissions are open, so do share with us any work that contributes to the conversation. You can view submission guidelines here.

God-willing, I look forward to 'seeing' you early next year, sharing more work that points to the kingdom of God.

Jesus said, 'Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.' But in a culture that prizes strength and often overlooks meekness (or gentleness), what is the value of gentleness? ​ This Forecast is an arrangement of writing, music and conversation, some of which have been published on Foreshadow and some elsewhere, connected by their witness to the strength of gentleness. 
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Outline of today's Forecast, including links 
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• 00:00 -- ​Introduction
• 01:37 -- Behold the Mandalorian: Meekness and Masculinity in Star Wars by Josh Seligman, cultural commentary published in Plough
• 12:50 -- Scott Stevens on composing music for Sometimes I Shake (from Forecast Ep 4: Listening Inwardly)
• 17:14 -- Perspective, music by Scott Stevens
• 19:54 -- The Holy City, non-fiction written, narrated and sung by Sam Seligman
• 33:20 -- A reading from Psalm 37

Below is an excerpt from the clip with Scott Stevens featured in today's Forecast. It has been lightly edited for clarity and concision. 

When you suffer from the symptoms of Parkinson’s – the shaking of your limbs, of your digits, your head, your feet, your hand – that’s a fairly fragile and vulnerable thing to experience…When I was thinking about the shakes in terms of music, I started thinking that this needs to be a story that’s very vulnerable and offers some very thin and fragile sounds. Jared, at the very start, said, ‘Scott, I need you to think broken instruments, discarded instruments' – which isn’t to say I broke a piano and lit a guitar on fire or anything – but trying to feature very fragile sounds…
 
Dan’s life followed that arc in a very interesting way in that, as his body became more frail, as it became more susceptible to all kinds of things – even though some might look at that as a decrescendo, the twilight of his life, on his way out, getting quieter – the intentionality with which he lived his life became much more focused, and the things he accomplished – helping establish an orphanage in Rwanda and trying to make reparations, reconciliations with people, trying to be more soft-hearted than he’d been – to me it felt much more like a crescendo, like even as your body’s growing more and more weak, the force and faith and intentionality of your life is growing. 

This month marks half a year of Foreshadow’s existence as an online literary magazine. I want to take this occasion to update you on Foreshadow’s emerging identity. 

I identify three qualities that the magazine aspires towards:

1. Eschatological. Eschatology is the study of last things, and the Christian faith teaches that one day, Christ will establish his kingdom of righteousness, peace and joy, uniting heaven and earth. It’s not our job to know when this will happen (as Will Shine’s song satirically describes), but we are called to live in eager expectation of that day. This is where the name Foreshadow comes from: the magazine aims to be a signpost of God's kingdom, offering both hope and a challenge to be ready for its coming, and to notice signs of its presence already in our midst.
   
   As the Apostle Paul writes, 'Set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.'
   
   Most pieces are not explicitly eschatological (with some exceptions, like Evan Amo’s World Reborn or Urzula Glienecke’s A Foretaste of the Kingdom), but to varying degrees, each piece can (re)orient us towards our hope of glory in Christ.
   
   
2. Sacramental. As a signpost of the kingdom, at its best, Foreshadow also seeks to offer glimpses of that kingdom. This is grounded in the faith that if we are truthful and cooperative with the movement of God in our lives, we can hope that Christ is also present in what we create, touching, speaking to and blessing those who encounter it. You will know from our Forecasts that several of our guests have spoken about this belief in their own lives and work. Thus, Foreshadow isn’t primarily abstract or otherworldly; it is rooted in the nitty-gritty of daily life, illustrated with personal narratives and images, as I wrote in my Foreword.
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3. Formational. This results from Foreshadow's eschatological and sacramental qualities; as the Apostle John wrote, 'Everyone who has this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.' To its best extent, Foreshadow engages in the Christian task of making disciples of Jesus, challenging and encouraging our readers, listeners and ourselves in our pilgrimage towards the Kingdom. One example is Tim Harvey’s article considering how best to respond as a follower of Christ to the ideological rift between a friend and himself. Again, such teaching is usually not explicit; for example, Eileen R. Kinch’s poem Planting Forgiveness illustrates the life-giving power of forgiveness with the image of planting a seed. 
   
   

Half-way through the year, I remain excited and confident about sharing more insightful, inspiring work with our readers and listeners. If you resonate with Foreshadow's vision, I invite you to contribute work and share this project with people you think would enjoy and be interested in it.

Please do get in touch if you have any questions or comments. Thank you for reading, listening and supporting. With your help, I look forward to seeing what the future has in store. 

'Ah, but what is the Kingdom of God?'

A relative asked me this question recently when I was describing Foreshadow to her. She is a theologian by profession, but it's a question I suspect most people ask, at least subconsciously, when I tell them that Foreshadow will feature writing that points to the Kingdom of God.
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My answer to this question, as it involves Foreshadow, is essentially 'Watch this space'. One of my aims is that Foreshadow embodies an answer to this question through its memoir pieces, fiction stories, poems, music and other content. As several of my professors have advised in the craft of creative writing, 'Show, don't tell.'

Didn't Jesus himself describe the Kingdom of God through stories and images? 

• The Kingdom of God is like 'yeast that a woman mixed into a large amount of flour until the yeast worked its way through all the dough'...

• The Kingdom of God is like 'a mustard seed which, when it is sown on the ground, is smaller than all the seeds on earth; but when it is sown, it grows up and becomes greater than all herbs, and shoots out large branches, so that the birds of the air may nest under its shade'...
• The Kingdom of God is like 'a certain king who arranged a marriage for his son, and sent out his servants to call those who were invited to the wedding; and they were not willing to come'...

Stories and metaphors have power to teach people about spiritual realities that are difficult, if not impossible, to describe through other means.

I'm not saying direct teaching or preaching is ineffective. Jesus did this too, and called his disciples to do the same. It's essential, and it doesn't exclude the use of imagery. Effective sermons, for example, use illustrations to help listeners connect with and understand the message.

But many magazines already feature sermons and direct forms of teaching, and many do it well. Not many publications, though, are dedicated to proclaiming the Good News of the Kingdom primarily through art, beauty, music and narrative. Foreshadow seeks to fill this gap.

As author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry said, 'If you want to build a ship, don't drum up the men to gather wood, divide the work and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea.'
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I wonder if one of the reasons Jesus told his parables was to teach us to yearn and strive for the Kingdom of God. May Foreshadow​ continue that work.