Acknowledgments

I feel like I’ve been writing this book for half my life, so I will undoubtedly forget to thank some of those who’ve nourished me along the way. But that failure is worth the risk of expressing my gratitude.

I have to begin with a word of thanks to the community I found at Villanova University. While I was warmly greeted and supported by my doctoral advisor in philosophy, John Caputo, this book reflects the impact of those I didn’t know I was going there to meet, particularly a cadre of Augustinian priests and patristics scholars who welcomed a curious Protestant into the conversation (I always used to tease them by reminding them about Martin Luther, OSA). I’m especially grateful to Fr. Robert Dodaro and Fr. Thomas Martin (of blessed memory) for their exemplary scholarship and warm teaching that introduced me to the “whole” Augustine—not just the author of treatises, but the pastor, bishop, and advocate who preached sermons and wrote letters. I can’t imagine this book without that lesson.

There is also a community of Augustine scholars beneath much of this, even if they don’t show up in the notes. Who isn’t still indebted to the magisterial biography by Peter Brown, for example? But closer to me is the work of friends like Eric Gregory, Gregory Lee, Joseph Clair, and others from whom I’m still learning.

Undergirding this book is a three-week journey in the footsteps of Augustine in Italy in March 2017 (terror threats in the border region of Algeria and Tunisia frustrated our plans to visit his African homeland). The trip was a series of epiphanies for me, made possible by a grant from the Calvin Alumni Association, which is itself a beautiful testimony to the way the wider constituency of Calvin University remains invested in scholarship. A Calvin Research Fellowship also bought me some time, early on, to draft a couple of early chapters. And a grant from the Theology of Joy project of the Yale Center for Faith and Culture, funded by a grant from the Templeton Foundation, underwrote a trip to southern France to revisit some of Camus’s haunts in Provence and consider the émigré community of Marseille. I’m grateful for all these tangible modes of patronage.

I was able to present early drafts of some of these chapters as part of two lecture series: the 2018 Parchman Lectures at Truett Seminary of Baylor University and the 2018 Bailey Lectures, hosted by the Front Porch ministry of All Saints’ Episcopal Church in Austin, Texas. Both communities provided a warm welcome, thoughtful engagement, and incredibly helpful feedback.

As always, I remain thankful for the team at Brazos and Baker Publishing Group, particularly Bob Hosack, my longtime editor, and Jeremy Wells, marketing director, both of whom have championed my work and given me a long leash, dreaming with me about what this book might be.

I’d also like to acknowledge the significant role of Tim Hibma, my counselor during a critical season of my life, who helped me live into the story of a gracious heavenly Father who found me and loves me and will never leave me. This book is in many ways the fruit of soul work we did together—and it’s a veiled way of trying to share that same story with others.

A significant portion of the first draft of this book was written in the enchanted space of David and Susan Hoekema’s home on the shore of Lake Michigan. At just the right time, in ways I couldn’t have realized, they offered Deanna and me a respite and retreat that turned out to be both restorative and productive, a combination that is sure to make any Calvinist’s heart glad. Thank you.

Finally, the most inadequate thank you of all. As I mentioned, in many ways this book is fueled by an extraordinary journey that Deanna and I took in the footsteps of St. Augustine. What began as a research itinerary (with, sure, a fair bit of Tuscan wine-tasting built in) turned into a spiritual adventure that was both a microcosm and a blossoming of our twenty-nine years together. Like Augustine with Alypius, I started on the Way with Deanna by my side from the beginning. We’ve grown up together, kids raising kids. But we’ve also grown in the faith together—we’ve walked valleys of doubt together, mourned losses together, been humbled by parenting together, and been surprised by God in ways we wouldn’t have known to dream. The vignettes in this book won’t adequately capture what we learned about ourselves and God’s grace on the way. But for us, the Via Agostino has become a road we share. We will treasure memories of our children alongside us in Milan and Cassiciacum. And we’ll never forget the bright sun on our shoulders while walking the ancient stones of Ostia, the cool hush of Monica’s tomb in Rome, or an unforgettable lunch at the café in San Gimignano that was like its own foretaste of a heavenly banquet. If I’ve entrusted myself to the One who will never leave me or forsake me, it’s because he was gracious enough to give me this partner who is the embodiment of that on the way home.

READERS HAVE COME to expect a soundtrack for my books, and I don’t want to disappoint. The background music for this project is an eclectic mix, from Simon & Garfunkel’s “Homeward Bound” to “February Seven” by the Avett Brothers, Tunde Olaniran’s remarkable album Stranger, Jason’s Isbell’s “Cover Me Up” (a favorite of Deanna’s), Jeff Tweedy’s “Via Chicago,” Moby’s Play: The B Sides, and more. Watch for a Spotify playlist online.