
With the new year comes the promise of ever-greater distractions in our fast-moving world. So far, 2025 seems to be the year of over-the-top headlines: devastating fires and frigid arctic storms; a funeral for one president and the anticipated inauguration of another; wars and rumors of wars. All the while, cultural buzzwords like artificial intelligence, algorithms and chatbots occupy greater territory in the national lexicon.
Most of us just try to keep pace these days. But as big news unfolds in this fast-knowledge era, I can’t help wonder, where do any of us find wisdom in the current moment? In an age where disasters—natural and those of the human variety—seem to happen with greater frequency and intensity, what does wisdom even look like? When institutional trust has been fractured in so many ways and the whole of creation seems to be groaning, how do we cultivate and share wisdom with one another?
A Seat at the Table
Ben Pilgreen has a worthy idea. He calls it the wisdom table, and I write about it in my latest piece for The Washington Institute of Faith, Vocation and Culture. In his book, Bring it Out, Pilgreen writes, “Your future is going to be determined by the people seated at your wisdom table.” He continues, “When you pursue a major calling in your life, it really matters who is in it with you.” In other words, who is holding you accountable? Who is whispering in your ear? Who do you look to as a role model?
Proverbs 13:20 reminds us that “whoever walks with the wise becomes wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm.” At the dawn of a new year, who are the best candidates to have a seat at your wisdom table?
I explore this theme in my long-form article, Finding Wisdom in a Distracted World, which I invite you to read and share as you set your own wisdom table for 2025.




Nearly two years into the pandemic, the time is right for rediscovering the bonds of community. Historically, Americans have a way of coming together in moments of crisis. Whether organizing food drives, raising barns, planting victory gardens, or rationing scarce resources, the importance of civic duty is generally understood and appreciated. But when civic duty requires that community stay apart, the results present an added depth of hardship.
Today, Christians around the world observe Maundy Thursday. The holy day with the curious name (Maundy derives from the Latin for commandment) marks the Last Supper Jesus shared with his disciples. There was nothing socially distanced about that first gathering some 2,000 years ago when the sacrament of communion was first introduced. By design, the setting was intimate and close—no digital worship in the first century. In the modern-day context of COVID, it’s hard to imagine how Zoom from the Upper Room would have been impactful.

