Getting to the Last Page: Part 3

My brother-in-law’s wife apparently has a habit when it comes to reading books—a habit that really only applies to fiction and not non-fiction, but a habit I’ll likely never emulate all the same: she reads the last page first. I suppose that’s one way of making sure that you get to the last page and of alleviating the suspense about how the story is going to work out. I guess it helps in case something happens and for some reason you aren’t able to read all those pages between the beginning and end—you can, with relief, say, “Ah, but at least I know how it all turns out!” But I don’t do this, and not only because I rarely read fiction.

My problem is different. You see, I have a lot of books. And many of them I have started reading. And many of them I have not finished reading. And since most of them are non-fiction, skipping to the last page for a glance wouldn’t help me much. But because I end up putting books aside, forgetting about them, and not finishing them, it’s always something of a triumph when I actually manage to get to the last page.

That’s why I can say I have been victorious and triumphant over the last several weeks. I have actually read and completed a number of books: A.W. Tozer’s The Knowledge of the Holy, Timothy Keller’s The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Skepticism, Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz: Non-Religious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality and his Searching for God Knows What, and Henri J.M. Nouwen’s The Living Reminder: Service and Prayer in Memory of Jesus Christ. Each of these authors is very different from one another. And I have appreciated, enjoyed, learned from, and been moved by them all in one way or another.

This time, however, rather than my problem being not finishing a book it might have been plowing through the book to make sure I do get to the last page. Sometimes I have the tendency to keep reading rather than stopping and taking time to reflect on what I have just read.

One example: last night after posting on discovering Nouwen’s The Living Reminder, I finished it. Now, granted, it was a thin book, easy to read in an evening. But easy to read doesn’t mean easy to digest or process. And his reflections on ministry certainly warrant more prayerful reflection (and at a future date I will share some of what he says).

Particularly when reading authors who are reflecting on the Christian life, theologically or pastorally or personally, I feel as though I am in the company of spiritual companions. And depending on the author, I may also feel as though this author is very nearly a pastor to me, a guide on how to listen more attentively to God’s voice in my life.

But for such a thing to happen, ideally, we have to digest what these authors tell us. Truth takes time to absorb. Books involve us in a spiritual conversation and our taking time to think about what we’ve read—something not always easy to do or something we’re inclined to do—becomes our half of the dialogue.

I confess that sometimes I feel guilty after reading a book, because even though while I was in the process of reading it so moved me or helped me I find I can’t remember specific quotations and would struggle to convey what it said to someone else. Often in trying to get across the meaning or impact of what I’ve read to someone else, it comes out drained of colour and lacking in the very qualities that engaged me in the first place. That makes me wonder whether I’ve really read it after all, if you get my meaning. And this is why I have the habit of reading paragraphs, sections, and sometimes whole chapters of books to my wife—I want to share what it says, but I want to do that without getting in the way. My wife is often, but not always, very accommodating about this.

All that said, I do hope that even if I can’t remember specific quotes from a good book and can’t always convey very well what it says in my own words, that somehow the simple act of reading it has changed me and formed me. That is, just like having a conversation with a friend can make you feel loved and understood—more human—even if you don’t remember all the details of the conversation, the important thing is that you had the conversation, that you sat across from one another at Tim’s; so here.

Anyway, already I want to go back with some of these books and be more intentional about gleaning wisdom from them by reflecting on them. With Nouwen’s book, I intentionally underlined here and there. This is also a good way to make a book a conversation partner. I suppose this would help me to slow down and digest a little more. And it occurs to me that rushing through a book that deserves more careful attention is not unlike trying to rush through a conversation with a person who deserves our attention. We gain more by not rushing to the last page.

Getting to the Last Page: Part 1

My office shelves are well-stocked with many books. Most are books of theology and biblical studies. Many are academic, and quite a number fall somewhere between academic and popular-level reading. I used to buy books much more frequently, unsurprising since I once was but am no longer a university student.

During that period of my life not only did I get the textbooks required for my courses, I also frequented the religion and theology sections of any used bookstores I could find. I would scour the shelves for volumes recommended by professors, for books by authors I was already reading, for tomes that would be financially inaccessible at retail, and for classic works I knew I should have.

In more recent years I have not been as avid a book-buyer. This is partly because of the cost of books, but also because, while I used to buy books in the hopes that one day I might get around to reading them, now I usually only purchase books that I know (or am pretty sure) I will read. That narrows it down considerably. There are books and even book-sets (Barth’s Church Dogmatics being one example) that would look mighty impressive on a bookcase but would likely gather dust rather than get read.

This isn’t counting books I have gotten with every intention of reading but which, after I have begun reading them, have gotten set aside either because of time or forgetfulness or more immediately pressing responsibilities.

So I’m always glad these days when I get books (either myself or as gifts) that I actually manage to finish. I have a few recent examples, one of which I’ll mention in this post. The first is A.W. Tozer’s The Knowledge of the Holy, which is part theological treatise on God’s attributes and part devotional on God’s attributes.

What I really appreciated about Tozer’s writing is that he really took some very abstract ideas, such as God’s self-existence or transcendence, and personalized them—that is, he makes the connection between the attributes of God and our own relationship with God. This is not a dry theology text, but a meditation on God’s nature that, if read prayerfully and thoughtfully, cannot help but move the heart as well as inform the mind.

Tozer is also intentional about making each chapter (one on each attribute) relatively short, never more than 10 pages each and often between 5 and 6 pages. This makes it ideal for reading one chapter a day along with your Bible reading. At the beginning of each chapter there is also a prayer whose theme reflects the attribute examined in that particular chapter. Even in his exposition he sometimes breaks into prayer—not unlike Karl Barth in Prayer, his book on the Lord’s Prayer and the Reformers' interpretation of it.

Another thing I like about Tozer’s book is that in a day and age when in evangelical circles we can sometimes seem too cozy or comfortable in our relationship with God, he communicates effectively the holiness, that is, the otherness, the apart-from-us-ness, of God. And in doing so, any sensitive reader will, at times, be both comforted and convicted, challenged and assured.

And rather than start from our experience and ask, “What does this mean for my relationship with and understanding of God?” he starts with a characteristic of God and asks, “How should this inform my experience and my relationship with God?” God comes first. Who God is shapes our experience and understanding, not the other way around. That this is a basic biblical approach doesn’t stop a lot of believers from relying on their own experience more than what the Bible says about God’s nature and character.

Several times while reading The Knowledge of the Holy I found myself thinking how great a sermon series this would be—and by that I mean, how great would it be just to stand at the pulpit and read Tozer to the congregation. You know a book is at the very least a good book if it’s one you’d like to share with others; you know it’s a great book if you have to find a way to share it with others. Tozer’s book, for me at least, is an example of the latter.

We are not alone . . .

Though I don't read anywhere near enough, I do try to plant my nose solidly in a book as much as possible. And usually I have one or more books on the go. Both as a pastor and even simply as a follower of Jesus, I read in part to know I'm not alone, to be reassured that my own experiences, frustrations, failings, hopes, and aspirations don't completely mark me off as an oddity among my brothers and sisters in the faith. Thankfully, I often discover that I am not alone.

One of my favourite writers at the moment is Mark Buchanan, a pastor and writer from BC. His reflections and explorations of the Christian life have a way of penetrating mind and heart. And I think this is so because while he is a pastor he freely admits to his own failings (though not necessarily specific sins) and places himself among the body of Christ rather than above it. He writes on the Christian life as a means of dissecting the issues that he himself has faced as a disciple of Jesus--and in so doing he manages to unearth truths from Scripture, distilled through his experience, that reverberate and echo in my heart as well. Though often we feel alone in our struggles as believers, we are usually not the first to feel what we feel and to face the problems we face.

This is especially comforting to me as a pastor, because sometimes, wrong or not, I can feel as though I need to have it more together than everyone else in church. It's though what makes a pastor effective is that he (or she) is immune to the daily toils and troubles that assault the rest of Jesus' followers. We have to exist and live somewhere between the clouds of heaven and the dirt of the earth. But this isn't true at all. And it may not even be what people in the pews think. I hope that it isn't. All I know is that I do not feel immune nor do I have the ability to don angels' wings and view matters from above. I am here just like everyone else. And, wonderfully, so is our God. He who is heaven also was on earth in Jesus; and he continues to be present here by his Spirit for those who trust him.

So I read. I read to know that I'm not alone. I read for other reasons too but that's not a bad place to begin. I'm currently reading Buchanan's book Your God is Too Safe. And this past Christmas someone gave me his book Hidden in Plain Sight. That one I've already devoured. I've also read The Rest of God and The Holy Wild. I heartily recommend any or all of them. Maybe as you follow Jesus, you'll discover in reading that you too are not alone.