Welcome to Hutchmoot 2022

As many of you know, the original Rabbit Room was in the back of a pub called The Eagle and Child, which was right across the street from another Inklings haunt called The Lamb and Flag. From what I read, Lewis and Tolkien changed pubs because they were annoyed that the Eagle and Child had introduced a dartboard. I happen to agree that a good pub’s goodness is due to its hospitality to good conversation. Loud music and television screens and party games have no place in the pubs of my dreams. 

The Consolation of Doubt: An Address to the Buechner Institute

RR Note: It feels like every corner of the Rabbit Room is shaped in some way by the meaningful work of Frederick Buechner. As we grieve his bittersweet passing at the age of 96, we wanted to repost an address given by Andrew Peterson to the Buechner Institute from 2016 that pays tribute to his eternal impact. 

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God of the Garden Reading List

Hello, folks! I had good intentions of adding this resource list to the Rabbit Room’s annual “Stuff We Liked in 2021” post, but the document kept growing and I missed the boat. I ended up posting these on social media, but thought it would be helpful to compile them here for your perusal. One of my favorite parts of writing The God of the Garden was the excuse to read a whole bunch of books about place, culture, gardening, community, and the natural world, and to read them through the lens of my belief in Christ, his Kingdom, and the promise of a New Creation. Lest you think I read more than I do, I confess that I read a few of these in 2020, and a couple of others were first read years ago but were referenced in my book. I hope some of these will ignite in you a love for this creation that God so loves.

A Remembrance for Thomas McKenzie

The first time I met Thomas McKenzie, which was about twenty years ago, I said, “Do you want to hang out and be best friends one day?” I was being obnoxious, joking about how cool it would be for a non-Anglican singer-songwriter dude to be buddies with an Anglican priest. Thomas said, “Sure.” And that was that. Because of his quick and ready “yes,” it’s no exaggeration to say that over the years he became one of my dearest friends. Thomas, my brother and I, Jonathan Rogers, Randall Goodgame, and a few others had breakfast every Wednesday at Waffle House for more than ten years. I broke bread with him countless times, at the Communion table and the Waffle House booth. Today I’m disoriented, shocked, and heart-shattered by his sudden absence. Jamie and I are especially grieving for his wife and surviving daughter. Thomas was an anchoring presence for many of us in Nashville, so dear Laura and Sophie must feel unmoored in ways we can’t fathom. Ella, too, was a delight. I watched her grow up, and asked her to edit Pembrick’s Creaturepedia when she was just sixteen. Her notes made me laugh out loud, and she was smarter than me by a long shot.

Easter Is Just Getting Started

[Editor’s note: This was adapted from a 2019 post.]

Merry Christmastide from the Rabbit Room

[Editor’s note: This post was originally written as a letter to the Rabbit Room email list the day after the Winter Solstice, on Tuesday, December 22nd. We share it here both as an offering of closure to the year 2020 and as a first step in the direction of hope for the year ahead.]

Merry Christmas, friends of the Rabbit Room!

The Certainty of Time in Uncertain Times: A 2020 Commencement Speech

[Editor’s note: What follows is the text of Andrew’s commencement speech, which he gave last week to celebrate his daughter, Skye, on her graduation day. We offer it here for all of 2020’s graduates, and all humans living in this calamitous year of 2020.]

The Lost Art of Listening, Part 1: Ubiquity & Scarcity

A few weeks ago, my seventeen-year-old daughter Skye told me she wanted to take a walk and listen to a complete album, top-to-bottom. She said she was tired of listening to singles, and, though she spins full records all the time, wanted to experience an artist’s work in an intentional way. To my great pleasure, she asked what she should listen to.

A Matter of the Will: An Excerpt from Adorning the Dark

A few years ago I had lunch with a friend in Chattanooga. His name is Chris Slaten, and he’s an excellent songwriter, performing under the name Son of Laughter. I’m envious of his beard. I asked him how his songwriting was going, and since he’s a schoolteacher I wondered where and when he wrote. Did he have an office? He smiled between bites of tortilla chips and tapped his temple. “I do it up here,” he said.

Gobsmacked: An Afterword to The Light Princess

Years ago I was helping out in a Sunday School class, and the teacher asked the boys and girls what I thought was an unfortunate question.

Scared and Sacred: An Excerpt from Adorning the Dark

Being a writer doesn’t just mean writing. It means finishing. I’ve heard it said that a song is never finished, only abandoned. That’s not true for me. To the contrary, I can’t wait to be done with the thing, because only once it’s finished can I raise my hand at the back of the class and say something that will be considered, not ignored, something that might be a blessing to someone. Only then do I begin to take on some flesh and stop haunting the room. Walt Wangerin Jr. said once that art isn’t art until it’s experienced by another.

In the Beginning: An Excerpt from Adorning the Dark

You mumble a phrase. It’s gibberish, but it suggests a melody. You’ve gotten melodies in your head before, but this one feels different, like it’s made of something stronger and older. You notice this because you’re able to repeat it, and you like it, and you sing it again and again, enough times that you pull out your phone and record it. As soon as you get it down, you forget about it and move on.