The 2012 Oscar nominations were announced this morning, and as is typically the case, there are some hits and some misses. I’m pleased that the Academy recognized The Tree of Life (best picture, best director, best cinematography), but I’m also perplexed by some of its other choices (Demian Bichir best actor for A Better Life? No Michael Fassbender?). If I were to have a say in the nominations, they would have gone something like this:

Best Picture: The Tree of Life, Melancholia, Of Gods and Men, Poetry, Certified Copy, The Artist, Take Shelter, Meek’s Cutoff, We Need to Talk About Kevin, Martha Marcy May Marlene

Best Foreign Language Film: A Separation, Poetry, Uncle Boonme Who Can Recall His Past Lives, The Mill and the Cross, Certified Copy

Best Documentary: Into the Abyss, Cave of Forgotten Dreams, Bill Cunningham New York, Rebirth, Buck. 

Best Director: Terrence Malick, The Tree of Life; Lars von Trier, Melancholia; Lynne Ramsay, We Need to Talk About Kevin; Michel Hazanavicius, The Artist; Jeff Nichols, Take Shelter.

Best Actor: Brad Pitt, Moneyball; Michael Shannon, Take Shelter; Michael Fassbender, Shame; Ralph Fiennes, Coriolanus; Gary Oldman, Tinker Tailor Solider Spy. 

Best Actress: Kirsten Dunst, Melancholia; Elizabeth Olson, Martha Marcy May Marlene; Michelle Williams, Meek’s Cutoff; Jeong-hie Yun, Poetry; Tilda Swinton, We Need to Talk About Kevin. 

Best Supporting Actor: Jonah Hill, Moneyball; Albert Brooks, Drive; Nick Nolte, Warrior; Ezra Miller, We Need to Talk About Kevin; Patton Oswalt, Young Adult.

Best Supporting Actress: Jessica Chastain, The Tree of Life; Vanessa Redgrave, Coriolanus; Charlotte Gainsbourgh, Melancholia; Carey Mulligan, Shame; Jennifer Ehle, Contagion. 

N.D. Wilson’s new “bookumentary” DVD, Notes From the Tilt-a-Whirl, is sort of like the Waking Life of Christian apologetics films. And by that I mean, it’s full of awe, curiosity, philosophizing, and a lot of talking about ideas. Like the contemplative films of Richard Linklater (Waking Life, Before Sunrise, Before Sunset), Wilson’s film–inspired by his 2009 book of the same title–is heavy on heady, talky vignettes. It’s essentially a philosophy/apologetics education condensed into a series of 3-4 minute soliloquies and poetic riffs on huge ideas, packaged amidst images of beauty and a liturgical ambience.

I was somewhat skeptical going in to Tilt-a-Whirl; mostly because “Christian films” of any sort are almost always a let down. But this was a pleasant surprise–a genuinely compelling, well-made film that never feels false or inauthentic and actually leaves us with insights to ponder and stirs our hearts and minds toward God.

Tilt-a-Whirl advertises itself as “A cinematic treatment of a worldview. A poet live in concert. A motion picture sermon. VH1 Storytellers meets Planet Earth. 60 Minutes meets Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.”

All of those are accurate. It’s a refreshingly orignal thing–a documentary of sorts, a visual essay, an apologetics companion piece to The Tree of Life (though Malick would dislike Wilson’s dismissal of Heidegger). It’s the Kanye West Twitter feed of hyper-literate Reformed philosophy.

I also like the way Books and Culture described the film:

Imagine 51 minutes of an earthier Nooma video infused with an ethos of postmillennial confidence and injected with the steroids of Christian orthodoxy and Chestertonian Orthodoxy. Ponder all possible manifestations of “A Portrait of the Kuyperian Artist as a Young Apologist.”

Rob Bell’s Nooma videos are probably its closest cousin in terms of genre; yet it must be acknowledged that there are more original insights in any given 90 seconds of Tilt-a-Whirl than in the entire Nooma series.

Wilson tackles a wide array of topics, mostly having to do with God–as creator, as artist, as gardener, as judge. He’s at his best when talking about the “problem” of evil and putting man in his place while exalting God. I especially resonated and agreed with Wilson on his suggestion that evil has a purpose if creation is seen as God’s ultimate artistic masterpiece: “If we look at the world as art, suddenly tension makes sense,” says Wilson. “God is after a great story, and great stories require tension; great stories require trial and hardship; great stories require characters to grow. … Why does God allow evil and things which displease him in his story? So that they can be defeated.”

If you’re someone who likes to think about and discuss big ideas about God and existence, this film is for you. Watch it in groups, Bible studies, or on your own; I guarantee it will provoke something–whether discussion, debate, disgust, or worship.

Critics are going crazy for A Separation, the Iranian film by Asghar Farhadi that Roger Ebert named the best film of 2011. It currently has a perfect 100% score on  RottenTomatoes.com and ranked #3 (behind The Tree of Life and Melancholia) on the IndieWire critic’s survey of the best films of 2011. It’s the odds-on favorite to win the best foreign film Oscar.

Is it as good as the hype indicates? Yes, mostly.

A tender, nuanced portrait of modern city life in Tehran, A Separation is not a political or statement film. It’s a film about people and their struggles, specifically two families whose fates become perilously intertwined. It’s about an educated, secular middle class couple going through divorce, and their daughter who suffers in between a mother and father vying for custody. But it’s also about a lower class, religious family (also raising a young daughter) who find themselves in a his-word-against-mine legal struggle with the more resourced and eloquent middle class family.

Who are the heroes and villains in A Separation? There aren’t any. Perhaps the heroes are the two innocent girls, and the villains are systemic: an outmoded legal system, religiously justified oppression, class disparity. The beauty of the film is that has no agenda aside from immersing us in a world–something cinema does exceptionally well. It simply presents a slice of life–the struggles of a handful of everyday Iranians going through a particularly stressful stretch. And yet as contextual as the film is–many of the textures of its conflicts are Iranian to the core–it is also simply human.

The film humanizes Iran and gives it a face–a face that is not Mahmoud Ahmadinejad; a face that, under duress and in love, fear, anger, etc., looks awfully like our own. I suspect this is why critics have hailed the film as they have. It is exotic, foreign, and Other; and yet it is universal.

My only hesitation in crowning the film as some have is that it sometimes feels a bit too ambitious–trying to cover too much ground (gender politics, class, religion, family strife, justice, truth, education, etc.). It sometimes feels like an attempt at “modern Iranian life in a grain of sand,” which imposes an unnecessarily weighty burden on an otherwise believable and well-observed family portrait.

Still, it’s a superbly acted, beautifully made film. It is brilliantly observational and unsentimental, reminiscent of the quiet-but-powerful style of the Dardenne Brothers. For western audiences, it’s also a helpful glimpse inside a country that–beneath the “axis of evil” simplifications of political and media narratives–is full of people like you and I: family-oriented folks who have good moments and bad, but mostly want to do what’s right.

My 2011 recaps ends here, with my list of the best books I read in 2011. I read 42 books, of vast variety–some old, some new, some fiction, mostly nonfiction–many of which were in some way research for the book I am currently writing. About half were for no other purpose than pleasure. Here are my picks for the ones that stood out the most:

10) Did Adam and Eve Really Exist? by C. John Collins: A very thought provoking, biblically informed and fair assessment of a timely and important question. See also this Christianity Today story on the topic of the historical Adam.

9) Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer: For some reason the movie version looks terrible to me, but I enjoyed the book, which is lively, creative, unexpected and, in the end, a requisite bit of post-9/11 American literature.

8) Earthen Vessels by Matthew Lee Anderson: Anderson’s first book is a comprehensive but accessible theology of the body, covering plenty of controversial ground (tattoos, homosexuality, etc.) but doing so with impressive eloquence and erudite insights. The book is a welcome contribution to a very neglected but vital topic for evangelicals.

7) Walking in the Spirit by Ken Berding: Berding’s book is a quick read and offers a practical, biblical, wise guide to life in the Holy Spirit, as outlined in Romans 8. Filled with real-life examples and engaging personal stories, Spirit recalibrates our understanding of the ministry of the Holy Spirit, providing an invaluable corrective to many of us who have either ignored, forgotten, or misunderstood the role of the Spirit in the Christian life.

6) A Meal With Jesus by Tim Chester: As a lover of Jesus and a lover of food, I was in heaven reading this book, which combines the two. Chester sketches a sort of theology of eating (missionally, with hospitality, etc.) by taking us through the biblical instances of eating–particularly the many “eating scenes” of Jesus in the Gospels. A delightful read.

5) Last Call by Daniel Okrent: Between Ken Burns’ documentary Prohibition, Boardwalk Empire, and the speakeasy bar craze, it seems Prohibition is en vogue right now. Okrent’s book is a fascinating history of it, full of all sorts of great details about how the Volstead Act came to pass, what life was like during Prohibition, and what led to its demise. A must read for anyone curious about American history during the Prohibition years.

4) On Evil by Terry Eagleton: Aside from the occasional cable news talking head who refer to terrorists or serial killers as such, “evil” is not a word you hear much anymore. That’s why Eagleton’s treatise on the subject–a witty, sharp, characteristically well written argument that yes, evil exists–is so surprising and refreshing. Eagleton is not a Christian apologist (he’s a Marxist literary critic, albeit with a penchant for calling B.S. on people like Richard Dawkins), but his book on evil would be a helpful addition to any theologian’s library.

3) King’s Cross by Tim Keller: Keller is as reliable as they come. He’s a rock-solid  biblical expositor, pastor, writer, and all around exemplary Christian, and his latest–King’s Cross–is a wonderful read. Refreshingly straightforward–essentially a chapter-by-chapter exposition of the Gospel of Mark–Cross is a biography of Jesus Christ that brings the story to life in a way that is relevant and powerful without feeling opportunistic or agenda-driven.

2) Columbine by Dave Cullen: The most haunting and intense book I read this year. A true page-turner, Cullen’s book is the definitive account of the 1999 Columbine High School massacre. Massively detailed–part psychological portrait of the killers, part harrowing account of the massacre itself as compiled from a decade’s worth of research and interviews–Columbine is a modern day In Cold Blood. It dispels many myths (the Trench Coat Mafia, Cassie “She Said Yes” Bernall’s martyrdom, etc.) and in 400 pages offers more detail about the killers and victims than any of us every picked up through the media coverage. For anyone who remembers watching the Columbine massacre unfold live on T.V. that horrible day (as I do–I was a sophomore in high school), this book is essential reading.

1) Simply Jesus by N.T. Wright: Subtitled “A New Vision of Who He Was, What He Did, and Why He Matters,” N.T. Wright’s latest (his 2nd or 3rd book to come out in 2011, I can’t keep track) is a wonderfully concise, popular-level summary of his 1996 magnum opus, Jesus and the Victory of God. As he typically does, Wright tells the story of Jesus in a way that makes it seem fresh and thrilling, even for someone who’s been a Jesus follower their whole life. Wright is the rare academic star who is also a wonderful writer–accessible, witty, to-the-point, full of apt metaphors and imagery (his “storm” motif in this book is especially memorable). His books are incredibly meaty and rich, but not intimidating, full of historical insights and big-picture context. Simply Jesus is a grandiose, inspiring, fascinating book about Jesus that I’d eagerly lend to even my most skeptical of unbelieving friends.

Honorable Mention: For Calvinism by Michael Horton, The Thank You Economy by Gary Vaynerchuk, Art For God’s Sake by Philip Ryken, Everyday Theology edited by Kevin Vanhoozer, Rabbit Run by John Updike

Because Twitter increasingly seems to be the medium through which the “now” moments of life are expressed (albeit not remembered or archived for posterity), I thought I’d attempt to summarize the highlights from my year in 12 tweet-style updates  (one for each month) of 140 characters or less.

January: Began ’11 in Kansas. mom’s health crisis. Kansas Jayhawk basketball. Published article for Princeton Theological Review: http://bit.ly/hvrYW5

February: Valentine’s Day w/@glutenfreebird. Spoke at Risen Church. Helped launch blog for @talbotnews faculty:  http://thegoodbookblog.com/

March: Trip to NYC for @IntlArtsMvmnt conf, met best friend’s fiance. Spoke in chapel @biolau. Tsunami. Blogging break 4 Lent: http://bit.ly/eUhvxC

April: Returned to @WheatonCollege to lecture; also spoke @CalvinCollege, enjoyed @TheCivilWars. Sealed deal on book #2. Explosions: http://bit.ly/mSzWaL

May: The Tree of Life. @LACMA retrospective. Opening night Arclight party & afterparty. Malick month on the blog: http://bit.ly/kofCuk

June: Wknd trip to KC. Will’s wedding in Pasadena, Ryan’s wedding in Cleveland. Best man duties. #FridayNightLights ends. http://bit.ly/lelcQ3

July: Work trip to Boston w/@albertbrios. Trip to Europe (Geneva, Swiss L’Abri, Oxford, Cambridge). Reflections on Christian divisions:  http://bit.ly/p3f0iI

August: Long wkd in Altea, Spain. Swam in Mediterranean, wine-tasted in the countryside. Writing retreat: 1st ch. of book completed! 10 yrs since fresh in college: http://bit.ly/pRRbpV

September: Speaking engagements at Malone University (Ohio). Ten years since 9/11: http://bit.ly/qF9qH8

October: Speaking engagement at Covenant College (Georgia). Tree of Life comes to DVD/Blu-Ray. Occupy Wall Street: http://bit.ly/nKxybH

November: Moved into new apt. Couch-to-5k running regime. Thanksgiving in Kansas City. Presidential candidate wishlist: http://bit.ly/tzrMt8

December: 29th bday, celebrated in SD. Technivorm Moccamaster  revolutionizes my at home coffee-making ; ended ’11 in Kansas. Tebow: http://bit.ly/uhX5Hz

Happy New Year to all of my wonderful friends and blog readers!

Perhaps I’m biased (see my #1 pick and they entire month of May in my blog archive), but 2011 was a banner year for cinema. The Tree of Life is one thing, but there was a lot more going on this year to make a cinephile like me excited. There was a lot of artful doomsday (Melancholia, Take Shelter, Tree of Life, Another Earth), some great homages to early, classic and Spielbergian cinema (Hugo, The Artist, War Horse, Super 8), and some truly exceptional films about faith (Of Gods and Men, Higher Ground, The Way, The Mill & the Cross, Tree of Life). There was so much good cinema that my “best of” list actually includes three different top tens: the best 10, the second best 10, and then 10 honorable mentions. Many of them are available now on Netflix Instant, while a few of them have yet to release in most parts of the country. However you can, I hope you get a chance to see them!

10) Martha, Marcy, May, Marlene (T. Sean Durkin): An astonishing, accomplished debut from director T. Sean Durkin, Martha gives the audience more respect than any other film this year. There are a lot of gaps we, the audience, must fill in. But far from a head-scratching frustration, this subtle insinuation and refusal to spoon-feed is one the film’s most thrilling qualities.

9) We Need to Talk About Kevin (Lynne Ramsay): By far the scariest film of the year. Not jump-in-your-seat type scary, but horribly unsettling dread and tension scary. Tilda Swinton plays a mother in a worst-nightmare-for-any-parent scenario, as she deals with an evil teenage son, Kevin, who commits a massacre at his high school. But the scariest parts of the film are the things we don’t see and the questions that go unanswered: where does the evil of a kid like Kevin come from? What do parents do wrong to lead to this?

8) Meek’s Cutoff (Kelly Reichardt): One of the most original and haunting westerns I’ve ever seen. Kelly Reichardt’s minimalist, observational style (see Old Joy and Wendy & Lucy) is perfectly suited to this period costume drama set in the 1840s on the Oregon Trail. And Michelle Williams is mesmerizing as the centerpiece heroine. Like Martha, Marcy, May, Marlene, this film is intentionally ambiguous and invites the interpretations of an active audience, which is something I always applaud.

7) Take Shelter (Jeff Nichols): A jittery, tense, unsettled film for the unsettled world in which we live, Take Shelter is about the fears and anxieties of a modern-day working class man who simply wants to protect his wife and daughter from all manner of peril. Featuring stunning performances by Michael Shannon as a good-at-heart man (possibly) losing his mind and Jessica Chastain as his longsuffering wife, Shelter builds and builds to a finale that will leave you speechless.

6) The Artist (Michel Hazanavicius): One would have reason to approach this film skeptically. A silent film? Really? But what at first glance appears to just be a stunt or gimmick is quickly found to be something remarkably beautiful, charming, nostalgic and yet new. It’s an homage to Hollywood, to storytelling within the bounds of technological limitations; but it’s also about pride, love, adaptation, and the fickleness of fame. Go see it. You won’t find a more pleasant surprise at the movies this year.

5) Certified Copy (Abbas Kiarostami): Certified Copy is essentially Before Sunset in Italy, which is good because Sunset is one of my all time favorite films. Filmed in glorious Tuscany, featuring the sublime Juliette Binoche, and riffing on notions of originality, inspiration, and cinema itself, Copy is a wonderfully complex modernist experiment in the style of Alain Resnais, and yet it flows breezily and romantically, never too pushy with its philosophical or theoretical notions. Academics should watch this film and take note: academic inquiry doesn’t have to be convoluted, dry and inert. It can be as simple and beautiful as walking and talking in lovely Italian sunlight.

4) Poetry (Lee Chang-dong): It’s a tragedy that only about 30 people saw this masterpiece when it opened in theaters early in 2011. From the masterful Korean filmmaker Lee Chang-dong (Secret Sunshine), Poetry is a film befitting its title if ever a film was. It’s about poetry literally, in that the protagonist–an elderly woman in the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease (Jeong-hie Yun)–is taking poetry classes; but the film itself is poetry: a delicate, quietly observant film that is unsentimental and yet profoundly moving, especially after it’s sat with you for a bit.

3) Of Gods and Men (Xavier Beauvois): A true story about monks in North Africa who risk it all in pursuit of their mission, Gods is one of the most inspiring films about faith, sacrifice, and community that I’ve ever seen. A quiet, austere, but utterly transcendent film, Gods paints a picture of what it means to be faithfully present as Christ’s ambassadors in a world that is beautiful, dynamic, and frequently hostile. At once entirely timely (it deals with terrorism and Christian-Muslim relations) and timeless, Gods is a film I’ll come back to in years to come–for inspiration, encouragement, and instruction for my own journey of faith.

2) Melancholia (Lars von Trier): Though often, and rightly, contrasted with Tree of Life (both films juxtapose the cosmic and intimate, and depict earth’s demise), Melancholia stands on its own two feet as one of the year’s most masterful films. More than just the antithesis of Tree of Life, Lars von Trier’s gorgeous apocalyptic vision contains some of the most striking imagery and sequences you’ll see this year. It may be bleak, nihilistic, and (insert depressing synonym here), but Melancholia is above all authentic. It’s Lars von Trier speaking his auteurist mind and bombarding us with sound (Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde), image (a planet colliding with earth, Kirsten Dunst unhappy in a wedding dress), and mood (sadness, dread) to astonishingly powerful effect.

1) The Tree of Life (Terrence Malick): What can I say about this film that I haven’t already said? It met and exceeded all my expectations and instantly took a place on my list of all time favorites. Critics are right to be universally heralding this as the best film of 2011. It’s one of the best films of all time. It’s a film with the kind of scope, ambition and excellence that we just don’t see anymore. It’s a film that goes after big questions (the biggest) and attempts to be all-encompassing (God, life, death, sin, redemption, creation, apocalypse, everything else in between), but does so as much or more through the inherent strengths of the cinematic form as through traditional narrative exposition. It’s a film that shows us the world in a grain of sand, so to speak. It blows open the possibilities of the medium, or rather–at times–perfects the medium to such an extent that it looks foreign to us, like something altogether new. Malick achieves something with Life that can rarely be claimed by a filmmaker or artist of any kind: He’s given us something that we’ve truly never seen before, and yet something that will undoubtedly endure.

The Next Ten: 11) Hugo 12) Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives 13) Midnight in Paris 14) The Way 15) The Descendants 16) Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy 17) The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo 18) Bellflower 19) Another Earth 20) Warrior

Honorable Mention: Coriolanus, The Mill and the Cross, Contagion, Moneyball, The Trip, Hanna, Drive, War Horse, Higher Ground, Margin Call

I love good documentaries–especially the ones that combine artistry and exposition without becoming preachy or didactic. My picks for the top 5 documentaries of the year include films about cowboys, fashion photographers, 9/11 survivors and two films by the venerable Werner Herzog. (Click here for my list of the best overall films of 2011.)

5) Buck (Cindy Meehl):  The log line for Buck is simple: “The story of real-life horse whisperer, Buck  Brannaman.” which would be fascinating enough to watch. But Buck is a story with unexpected depth because there is a lot more to Buck than meets the eye. How does our past, and the pain and ghosts therein, affect our path today? With Buck as its case study, this film explores that question somberly and gracefully, offering a vision for growth and redemption–both for wayward horses and for broken men.  

4) Rebirth (James Whitaker):  10 years after 9/11, how are those who lost loved ones in the World Trade Center coping? This film follows the grief process of 5 people over the course of the last decade, featuring interviews with them once a year during that period. The film is fascinating in the way that it shows us the physical aging as well as the gradual emotional healing of these people, and–juxtaposed with beautiful time-lapse footage of the new Freedom Tower being erected at Ground Zero–offers very tangible examples of hope and renewal coming out of tragedy.

3) Bill Cunningham New York (Richard Press):  There are so many fascinating things about this film, which is at once an inside look at the fashion world, at photography, at New York City, the nature of trends, high society, class, and more. But above all this is a character study of Bill Cunningham, a lovable veteran photographer for the NY Times who rides his bike around Manhattan, snapping photos of whatever street fashion catches his discerning eye. It’s a fascinating portrait of an elderly man who has never married, goes to church every Sunday, and is beloved by everyone who’s anyone in the world of fashion.

2) Into the Abyss (Werner Herzog): Ostensibly a look at the death penalty through the lens of one particularly heinous Texas murder case, Herzog’s 2nd masterful 2011 film, Into the Abyss, is really about so much more. Herzog is chiefly interested in life, not death, and especially the quirky messiness of “you cant write this stuff” real life people. There are plenty of fascinating, tragic characters in this film, and Herzog’s sensitive interviews with them bring out an array of insights about life, love, grief and evil.    

1) Cave of Forgotten Dreams (Werner Herzog):  Werner Herzog has such an ability to explore the curiosities of the natural and human worlds and make them seem even more magnificent and mysterious than we’ve ever considered; and Cave is Herzog at the top of his game. Far more than just a close up look at some of the worlds earliest known cave paintings, Herzog’s film probes the very essence of humanity, creativity, and the way that meaning is made and interpreted. It’s a vast, stirring, beautiful and incredibly thought provoking film.

Honorable Mention: Page One: Inside the New York Times; Transcendent Man; The Arbor; Prohibition; Life in a Day.

Have you ever seen a baby kick from inside a pregnant mother’s belly? I mean really kick, so that you can see the little foot’s imprint moving rapidly across the belly. It’s like something out of Alien. But it’s also pretty jaw droppingly magnificent. There’s a baby in there… a little human in tight quarters, antsy to get out and stretch.

As I watched a baby kick inside the belly of a pregnant friend a few weeks back, I was awestruck by the thought that came to my mind: Jesus was once doing this inside Mary’s belly. Jesus, the God of the Universe, the creator of all things (including the very ideas of birth, babies, bellies, etc), was once a minute little baby, cramped inside of a belly, unable to do anything much except kick and change positions slightly in a very crammed space. How crazy is that?

The Incarnation. How can it be comprehended?

It seems to me that one of the biggest lessons/realities of the Incarnation is that of humility. Humility seems too soft a word for it, actually: the notion that God himself, the king of the universe, left his throne and came down to earth. But not only that: He took on human form! And not only that: He started as a baby, helpless, crying, unable to survive on his own. And not only that: He was born in a  manger, around farm animals, a baby who grew up to be a carpenter and died at a relatively early age, terribly and embarrassingly on a cross.  And this was God. 

Humility is the theme of Christ’s life. A God who freely subjected himself to the most unfathomable of all degradations. A God who could have done anything he wanted, but didn’t. He limited himself. He humbled himself. He of all Beings whose greatness would warrant self-satisfaction. Why? To show us an example of humanity as it should be. To teach us a lesson we’ve forgotten since Adam and Eve first fell in the Garden. A lesson about humility.

It’s something I know I always need reminding of. It’s a lesson I chronically forget. I forget about it in the dozens of times I check my Facebook or Twitter pages each day, wondering if anyone’s said anything about or in response to me. I forget about it in the regular moments when I care too much about what others write about what I write or say or think about me. I forget about it when I complain about not getting paid enough or when I silently lament not getting enough respect for things I’ve done. I forget about it every day, every hour, every minute pretty much… when my pride insists to me that I’m great, awesome, deserving, eloquent, talented, wise, important.

I am none of those things. Because God is all of those things, and yet he shunned it all, stripped it all away and came as a baby to live humbly and die on a cross.

Gloria in excelsis Deo indeed.

Pride has been the problem all along. Since Adam and onward through me, the pride of thinking I know best, or I deserve better, or I am at least as smart as God, has characterized the sin problem of man. And so it makes sense that perfect, ultimate humility–in the Incarnation of God as a baby and the crucifixion of Christ on the cross–would usher in the solution.

And indeed it also makes sense that those who followed Christ and carried on his kingdom would also be called to humility. For humility is the ultimate affront to and underminer of pride. In this world, pride leads to every bad thing: to politicians destroying nations because they can’t give any ground to their opponents; to people using sex, drugs, violence, food, etc. to feel better about themselves; to relationships gone awry because one or the other party can’t put the other’s interests ahead of their own; to the 1%, the 99% and the 100% of us who in some way believe we deserve better than what we have.

In such a world, humility is revolutionary. Focusing away from the self is countercultural. Denying the self and carrying the burdens of others is the way to change the world.

It’s not about me.  I’m just a speck of dust on a tiny grain of sand on a little planet in a medium sized galaxy, which itself is a speck of dust in the scope of the cosmos. And yet, ironically, this is what Jesus appeared to be too, that dark night in the dirty manger so many years ago. Indeed, humility can do great things for the world.

It’s December, which means one thing for a guy like me: list making. I’m starting my “best of the year” series on my blog with my picks for best albums of the year. Here they are: my top ten list and honorable mentions for the best music of 2011. (You can listen to all 15 hours of this music on Spotify here).

10) Panda Bear, Tomboy: In his sophomore solo effort, Animal Collective’s Noah Lennox (aka Panda Bear) simplifies (if that’s the right word) from the sprawling ambitions of Person Pitch and yet creates an album that is equally layered and beautiful and I daresay more cohesive than his groundbreaking debut. Listen now: “Slow Motion,” “Friendship Bracelet.”

9) The Antlers, Burst Apart: Slightly more upbeat than their morose-but-beautiful debut, Hospice, The Antlers’ latest is an eloquent, moody, subtle pop album that sounds like something out of a foggy/jazzy David Lynch nightclub movie scene. Listen now: “French Exit,” “Putting the Dog to Sleep.”

8) M83, Hurry Up We’re Dreaming: This double-disc album from French singer/songwriter Anthony Gonzalez is simply epic. Lush, grand electronic anthems abound, alternately melodic, experimental, upbeat and somber. Listen now: “Midnight City,” “Steve McQueen.”

7) Girls, Father, Son, Holy Ghost: No album surprised me more this year than this one, full of so many pleasant twists and turns that you won’t even mind the few times it goes off the rails. It’s retro, rough-edged beach pop with a lot of soul. Listen now: “Honey Bunny,” “Jamie Marie.”

6) James Blake, James Blake: London-based producer James Blake offers a gorgeously subtle collection of dubstep ballads in this self-titled album, one of the best debuts of the year. Listen now: “Limit to Your Love,” “Measurements.”

5) Radiohead, King of Limbs: Radiohead’s latest didn’t make as big of a splash as their albums usually do, perhaps because we’ve come to expect masterpieces from them and this album feels somewhat less grandiose and significant. But make no mistake: Limbs is an incredibly well made record. Cohesive, relaxed, atmospheric, jazzy, a masterful collection that feels effortless and natural for a band completely at ease in their own skin. Listen now: “Morning Mr. Magpie,” “Codex.”

4) The War on Drugs, Slave Ambient: What is a true American rock sound in 2011?   With their new album, The War on Drugs offer a stunning answer to that question. It’s an album that channels Dylan/Springsteen at the same time that it blends minimalism, electronica, shoegaze and punk in seamless fashion. An album for the road, for skylines of cities and big horizon sunsets, Slave Ambient is a poetic treasure of ambient nostalgia. Listen now: “Your Love is Calling My Name,” “Come to the City.”

3) Washed Out, Within and Without: “Glo-fi” and “Chillwave” may be an ambiguous genre descriptors, but Washed Out embodies it the best of any band, and Within and Without is their crowning achievement. The music is 80s, shoegaze, ambient, and yes, washed out. But mostly it’s just lovely. A dreamy, moody, sometimes danceable record for the morning after. Listen now: “Amor Fati,” “You and I.”

2) Fleet Foxes, Helplessness Blues: There are no finer melodies anywhere in music this year than on Fleet Foxes’ sophomore effort, Helplessness Blues. Expanding ever so slightly on the anachronistic folk balladry of their stellar debut album, Fleet Foxes offer a collection of songs here that are somber, poetic, nostalgic and just downright wonderful. It’s easy on the ears and soothing for the soul; a gourmet comfort-food album you return to more than most. Listen now: “Helplessness Blues,” “Someone You’d Admire.”

1) Bon Iver, Bon Iver: More daring, more accomplished, more significant in every way than the gorgeous masterpiece For Emma, Forever Ago. This self-titled album floors you on first listen and grows from there. There’s something so raw, elemental and earnest about Bon Iver’s music. Only Justin Vernon (the genius behind Bon Iver) could make a 90s power ballad (complete with a Kenny G-esque saxophone solo) feel like the natural, unironic culmination of his body of work and also, perhaps, the most sensible musical expression of our largely nonsensical musical moment. Listen now: “Holocene,” “Beth/Rest.”

Honorable Mention: Real Estate, Days; St. Vincent, Strange Mercy; Low, C’mon; Destroyer, Kaputt; Wilco, The Whole Love; Feist, Metals; Jay-Z and Kanye West, Watch the Throne;  Viva Voce, The Future Will Destroy You; TW Walsh, Songs of Pain and Leisure; Paul Simon, So Beautiful or So What.