We are delighted to announce Belle Tindall-Riley as the new editor of The Mockingbird magazine. A writer and critic based in the UK, Belle brings a rare combination of theological depth, cultural attentiveness, editorial curiosity, and wit — qualities that feel deeply aligned with the spirit of both the publication and organization. In the conversation below with managing editor Meaghan Mitts, we wanted to give readers a chance to get to know Belle a bit better: her influences, editorial vision, hopes for the magazine, and the questions that animate her work.
If you’d like an early glimpse into Belle’s voice and imagination, we also recommend her wonderful talk at our recent NYC conference, which you can view below or listen to here. (Or check out her continuing work with our friends at Seen & Unseen).
MM: What was your first encounter with Mockingbird, and what drew you to it?
BTR: This is a distinct memory. Elizabeth Oldfield had written an essay for the Holy Spirit issue, and I loved it so much I wanted to turn it into wallpaper or something. But that was just the beginning. I plunged into the depths of the Mockingbird archive — it felt like a glimmering treasure trove. I’d find it hard to think of another publication that I fell in love with that quickly.
MM: What does it mean to you personally to step into the role of editor?
BTR: It feels like grace. It really does. This role, the fact that I’m about to step into it, is dripping with the playfulness and extravagance of grace. I am truly bubbling up with excitement. I think that to be a reader-turned-editor also means that I hold this role tenderly; not gripping the magazine too tightly that I squeeze anything that I love out of it, nor holding it too loosely that I let anything topple out. I will hold this beloved publication with reverence and deep affection.
MM: Mockingbird has always occupied an unusual space — intellectually serious, spiritually grounded, culturally attentive, and often very funny. What do you hope to preserve about that voice?
BTR: Oh, all of the above. There is nothing quite like Mockingbird. I really mean that. If I’m doing my job well, not one of those ingredients will be left out of the mix. Nor will a Zahl-curated Spotify playlist, of course.
MM: Are there themes or tensions you feel especially drawn to exploring in future issues?
BTR: The theology of time. As soon as I think of that theme, my brain spills over with ideas and ponderings. A few other evergreen topics for me are wildness, romance (in every sense of the word), and the undefinable nature of poetry (and what that teaches us about us).
MM: Much of your writing engages pop culture with theological attentiveness. What do films, music, and contemporary culture reveal that theology sometimes misses?
BTR: Yes! I have a mantra: nothing is trivial. Or, at least, nothing is as trivial as it seems. I tend to think of culture as the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. Or, on the flip side of that, the stories we tell each other about each other. So, I’m constantly looking for those stories — paying attention to where and how they’re being told.
What are we celebrating? What are we lamenting? What are we calling success? What are we calling failure?
Jesus used to have this specific way of correcting things, if you notice. He used to say, “You have heard it said … but I say to you … ” It struck me a while ago that I can’t comment on stories that I don’t know we’re telling. If I don’t pay deep attention to films, music, all things that fall into the pop-culture category — high and low brow — I find myself answering questions that nobody is asking and contradicting things that nobody is claiming.
MM: You’ve written thoughtfully about romance, shame, attention, politics, celebrity culture, and storytelling. What ties those interests together for you as a writer?
BTR: Oh, what a lovely question to ponder. I’m going to pause and put the kettle on while I indulge in thinking this one through. I think (having returned with a tea in hand) that the core thread might be “restlessness.” I endlessly return to a quote by St Augustine — “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts remain restless until they find their rest in you.” I find myself constantly on the lookout for that restlessness he speaks of.
And, when you have eyes to see it, it’s everywhere.
This reminds me: the first conversation I ever had with Mockingbird veteran Jacob Smith, he referenced the time that Jesus pointed to the stones on the ground, turned to his disciples, and warned that if they stay too quiet, the stones will cry out. Jacob then, rather prophetically said, “Part of our job (as writers/communicators) is to notice what stones are crying out.” What a guy. Right?
I was floored by such an idea then. I’m still floored by it now. When I write about those topics you mention, that’s what I’m trying to do — notice the stones that are crying out and point them toward that which they’re crying out for.
MM: What cultural conversations do you think Christians are currently getting wrong?
BTR: Oh gosh. I’m based in the UK, so you tell me if there’s anything relatable in this list:
+ Power. It’s not only us, no human can claim to have 20/20 vision when it comes to the nature/complexity/very existence of power. I just wish we were known as the ones who did.
+ Compassion. What it is. What it isn’t. What can be. What it can’t be. Biblically speaking, that is.
+ Forgiveness. Speaking for myself here, I’m as drawn in by the allure of cancel culture as anyone.
+ Burnout. We should be a slow people. A “relaxed” people, as Dallas Willard would say.
I could go on. But that’ll do.
MM: Where are you currently seeing signs of grace in ordinary life?
BTR: In community. In the people who are so stubbornly there, you know? Those who are loving me from a place of inconvenience. I’m quite bad at receiving grace in that form — being hyper self-dependent and allergic to vulnerability — but that doesn’t deter them. Grace is rather undeterrable, thank God.
MM: What do you think a good editor owes a writer?
BTR: Honesty. Which, as a chronic people pleaser, I do solemnly vow to give each and every writer. That and a heap of buy-in.
MM: How do you know when a piece is finished?
BTR: When I can synthesise its main point in one sentence. And when that one sentence, alone, makes me want to read it.
MM: Mockingbird has long emphasized grace as something dynamic, surprising, and expansive. How do you interpret that vision?
BTR: Hmmm. How to sum my many thoughts up. Grace makes the first move. Always. And that move is toward me (and you). Always. I’ve been reciting this quote from Charles Spurgeon recently, “Remember, therefore, it is not thy hold of Christ that saves thee — it is Christ.” If I’m to be really honest with you (and why not?) my “hold” of Christ has been pretty limp lately. So, this line (even with its “thy” and “thee” cameos) has sliced through the noise of my “deadness.” It’s been all I have in my locker. And it’s moving me, deeply. Even in the moments that I manage to convince myself that grace has departed, there it is so stubbornly. I’m wowed by it again. Grace is everywhere and it is everywhen, right?
MM: What would you love someone to feel after spending an afternoon with a copy of Mockingbird?
BTR: Relieved, mostly. Like they’ve Sabbath-ed, somehow. There’s a certain kind of retreat that is necessary for advancing, a specific type of escapism that encourages us to be totally present, a precise sort of safety that makes us want to go ahead and risk. Mockingbird has long been those things for me. My aim is that it’ll continue to be those things for you all too.
MM: A book you recommend constantly?
BTR: Oh, this one is easy! Liturgies of the Wild by Martin Shaw. I keep buying it and then giving it away — it’s just too good to keep hold of.
MM: A film that changed the way you see the world?
BTR: This is so tricky. There are so many. Rob Reiner’s Stand By Me is the first adult-ish film I ever watched. I distinctly remember the depths and complexities of it felt like they hit me in the stomach. I couldn’t sleep for days. And then, of course, I learned that River Phoenix had died in real life too, and that was another sleepless night. The whole thing felt so adult to me; such raw and uncharted terrain.
MM: What are you reading right now?
BTR: Paul Kingsnorth’s Against the Machine and Liza Minnelli’s Kids, Wait Till You Hear This. And I think that bizarre combination pretty much sums up my entire personality.
