The Book That Didn't Exist

About a year ago, I was on a family trip when I woke up in an Airbnb and reached for a book that didn’t exist.

For years I had tried, off and on, to use the Book of Common Prayer as a daily practice. It never lasted very long, though there is so much I love about it: the intentionality of the written prayers, the methodical reading through Scripture, the connection to the roots of my faith. At the same time, there are a lot of bookmarks and calendars and words I don’t fully understand.

What I wished I could have picked up that morning was a book for that month — a simplified version of the Book of Common Prayer or other daily liturgies with Scripture readings all cleanly put together in one place. I wanted to open to that morning’s page and find everything I needed right there.

That sentence above is honestly more structured than the picture I had in my head. What I actually saw was just the book, where it fit within a larger series, and it all felt perfectly clear.

It seemed so simple, but a long while of Google searches revealed that nothing like that seems to exist. At least, nowhere near the form I was picturing.

At that point, I had spent the previous few months leading a small team with the goal of launching a new kind of record label. We had identified some things we thought were broken in the current system and ways we might address them. There was a mission statement, a logo, artists in orbit, endless charts… Conversations with investors had just begun.

It was a lot and at the same time, it was kind of nothing, too. More on that in another post. The point was, it was many things and none of them were clear.

When I reached for that book and realized it wasn’t there — because it didn’t exist — my mind immediately filled in the blanks.

I had to make it.

Total clarity.

In a way I’ve felt only a few times in my life, something shifted.

This was what I needed to do.

Over the coming weeks, I had to have some hard conversations. First internally, then with the people I had been working with. Thankfully, every single person, though disappointed, recognized the idea as something special and fully supported me in pursuing it.

Now, this is what I’ve spent much of the last few months on, and what I’ll devote almost the entire spring and summer towards.

The Quiet Hours will be a series of prayer books offered either as standalone 30-day thematic volumes or as a year-long, 12-volume set. They’re rooted in the Book of Common Prayer and other ancient Christian practices.

All of the Scripture readings will be included, so you can throw it in your bag and have everything you need in one place. To make it as accessible as possible, we’ve partnered with the CSB translation — a relative newcomer noted for its readability while retaining strong accuracy.

These books will include prayers from men and women across many centuries and continents, as well as creeds and guided practices like Lectio Divina, the Examen, and the Jesus Prayer.

You might recognize the name. About a year and a half ago I released some instrumental music under The Quiet Hours. It was stuff I made early in Alison’s cancer diagnosis sort of as my pressure relief valve. When I thought about what I could call these books I realized the name was staring at me right there in a folder on my computer.

I went to go buy the website thequiethours.com and was bummed that somebody already owned it. I clicked on it to see what it was — and it was me. Something I made one night and forgot about it. Praise Report!

We have some early artwork I’m thrilled about, too, but we won’t be sharing it yet. There’s still a long way to go, and the internet is forever. I want to be careful.

But this is very important: These books will not look Irish!!

And they will not be in Ye Olde English!

There is growing interest in liturgical worship, church history, and ancient practices. That’s a beautiful thing! But sometimes the beards-and-pipes crowd (of which I have sometimes been a member) can unintentionally crowd the doorway.

Our hope is to create books that feel at home in a dorm room or on a Pottery Barn shelf. Books that say “you and me” rather than “thou and thee.” Books that help a new generation fall in love with ancient rhythms — and, most importantly, build a deeper, more tangible relationship with Scripture.

Working on this project already has for me.

We want to remove as many barriers as we can, while creating as many opportunities for entry as possible.

Our goal is to release three or four 30-day volumes by early October this year, followed by the full 12-volume set around the same time in 2027. (Yes, the Bible Reading Plan we’ve been doing together has been a test run towards that series.)

I’ll share more in the coming weeks: why physical books matter, what it means to focus, what kind of pivot this really has been, and some of the thinking behind the reading plan.

For now, I simply wanted to share this with you.

I know it’s early. These books won’t be available for a while. But if you’re open to it, I’d love to share the progress, ask for feedback along the way, and invite you into the process.

It’s unlike anything I’ve ever done, I’m in way over my head, and every day I wake up and can’t wait to jump back in.