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 2

In one of my recent posts I said, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my own relationship with God and about how hard it is sometimes to give it a lot of thought or consideration because God is what I do for a living. I don’t intend for that last sentence to sound irreverent, but being a pastor sometimes makes it hard to spend time focusing on your own faith, on your own walk with Christ.”

At the heart of what I was feeling was something of a disconnect that can occur too easily: the separation of ‘professional’ ministry and personal faith. Part of the reason a pastor may experience this is because each week you’re responsible for preaching, organizing a worship service, perhaps preparing music, leading group studies, and visiting; and in the midst of all this—the appointments and events that fill our day-planners—our own relationship with God can end up on the periphery.

I know that I’ve felt this. Life can get pretty busy, and between making sure I fulfill all of my pastoral and family responsibilities my own personal faith can sometimes fall between the cracks. But when this happens, it doesn’t take all that long—but even then perhaps it takes too long!—to realize that something isn’t quite right. Something is askew.

And though all of my vocational responsibilities are getting done, some indefinable quality needed in the midst of fulfilling my vocational calling is missing. That indefinable quality is the one thing that is indispensable: God. And of course God is not a quality, but a person, the Person, the reason why my vocation exists at all. But because he’s not, strictly speaking, visible, we can, unfortunately, ignore him and carry on doing ministry on our own.

Now when I say we can ignore him, I don’t really mean that. Instead, we neglect prayer. We read books other than Scripture. We fail to spend time quietly meditating in his presence. We avoid dealing with our own spiritual life for the sake of the ministry and in doing so we inadvertently impair our ministry; that is, we hinder our own ability to serve others by being reminders of God’s grace and light.

But the fact is that the two cannot be separated; professional ministry and personal faith go hand in hand. It is the dynamic between the two that makes a pastor. I say that, of course, and I believe it, but I am not always the best example of it.

So all of this is going through my head, and in my case I’m trying to find my way back to that balance, and while in my office one day I come across—accidentally?—a book. I was looking for a completely different book, which I never did find. The book whose spine drew my attention was Henri J.M. Nouwen’s The Living Reminder: Service and Prayer in Memory of Jesus Christ. I actually took it off the shelf because I couldn’t read the spine! It’s a thin book, less than a hundred pages, and I once I had it my hands I took a quick glance at the introduction. Here is what I read:

“What are the spiritual resources of ministers? What prevents them from becoming dull, sullen, lukewarm bureaucrats, people who have many projects, plans, and appointments but who have lost their heart somewhere in the midst of their activities? What keeps ministers vital, alive, energetic, and full of zeal? What allows them to preach and teach, counsel and celebrate with a continuing sense of wonder, joy, gratitude, and praise? These are the questions of this book.”

And as soon as my eyes poured over these words, I knew I had to read this book. It was just one of those moments where it felt like what I could have regarded as a coincidence or accident—the plucking off the shelf of a book I wasn’t even looking for—was actually a God moment.

That being the case, I’m reading it in anticipation that God wants to say something to me through these pages. I don’t know precisely what yet and maybe I won’t know right away. I’ll hopefully have more to share later. But right now reading this unassuming little volume feels to me like a small, seemingly insignificant act of obedience. I’m hoping and praying that my reading will bear rich fruit even if my doing so only results in a small nugget of insight or encouragement. That alone is reason enough to get 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.

Truth in Fiction

Both at home and in my office at the church, there are walls lined with books. And in both places some books belong to me and some belong to my wife. In fact, during our actual wedding ceremony we included as a part of the vows, "All my worldly goods to thee I endow." Then and now, there is something ironic about that vow. We didn't have an abundance of worldly goods then, and the same is true now. We joked at the time that this part of our vows referred specifically to our respective book collections! So, appropriately, my books are also hers and vice-versa.

But of course we have different interests when it comes to books. Alisha prefers fiction, particularly historical fiction, and books that relate to whatever she's working on. For instance, she does some home-schooling with our daughter, and so we've seen many books on this topic borrowed from the library clutter endtables and dining room tables and various other nooks and crannies.

As far as I'm concerned, however, my reading tends toward the academic or semi-academic. To take one example, I just picked up Darrell Bock's book, The Missing Gospels: Unearthing the Truth Behind Alternative Christianities. And I likely would have done so whether I were presently a pastor or not. It's not simply work reading. I also spent a considerable amount of time re-reading some recent books by Eugene Peterson over my vacation: Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places and The Jesus Way. I didn't finish them by any stretch, but enjoyed immensely what I did read.

But one thing that rarely makes my reading list is fiction. For some reason fiction and I have never clicked. My interest has never been stoked by novels. I think in part the reason is that my experiences with literature in high school did nothing to endear the classics to me. If anything, it instilled in me an aversion to the likes of Shakespeare and anything that we had to study in class. We were taught (or they tried to teach us) to analyse rather than enjoy and savour. But nitpicking and picking apart just seemed, to me at least, to suck the life out of books that I might have otherwise appreciated.

And rarely does my wife hassle me to read anything. Except she recently read a quadrilogy of books by Karen Hancock called The Legends of the Guardian-King. So she kept insisting (more or less) that I ought to read these books. One thing in her favour this time is that they were fantasy novels. One of the rare instances where I picked up novels includes reading The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

So when on vacation, I decided to give them a whirl. I have to say that I was very surprised and impressed. Of course, I still have to finish book four. Full judgement is something I reserve until the very end. They're touted as being an allegorical fantasy series, and there are definite biblical parallels to both characters and events, but they would be readable and enjoyable even without that extra layer to the narrative. On a non-allegorical level, there is a faith perspective in these books; that is, there is a spiritual world-view that parallels Christianity. Tersius is the Christ-figure. Eidon is God. Terstmeets are church services. If you're looking for some good fantasy fiction, I heartily recommend Hancock's books.

One of the things that struck me as I was reading these books was how the author wove into the story faith elements that could resonate deeply with people of faith in the real world, whether it was about the mystery of God and what it means to trust him even when we don't fully understand his ways or how we can sometimes struggle with our calling and vocation, with our own weaknesses, despite the identity we know God has given us. She also shows through her narrative the way people struggle even in coming to faith and how individuals can resist the pull of God on their heart. She shows how God can allow us to experience trials and how trials can make it more difficult for people to believe in God. We also see characters who are Christians ("Terstans") and how they try and live lives of witness to those around them who still refuse to believe.

What I also appreciated about her writing style is that she doesn't bludgeon anyone over the head with religious belief -- there is never a moment when you feel manipulated as a reader. Rather, she allows the story to play out more naturally. These books are not sermons in narrative form. Her writing is artful, thoughtful, and rich with visual detail and description that pulls you not only into the characters but into a vivid, imaginative world that betrays the rich influence of other writers like Tolkien (Middle-Earth) and Lewis (Narnia). Of course, I doubt she's unique among modern fantasy writers in her ability to do this, but since I read next to no fiction it is new to me.

I also enjoyed how some of her themes and ideas resonated with me personally -- that is, I found myself, at times, in her story. And this, of course, is the whole point of story. This is the power of story. And so it's no wonder that much of our Bible is cast in story form. The Scriptures are the story of God with us. I said that her ability is obviously not unique. All good storytellers do this. So when I told my wife and mother-in-law about my experience of reading these novels, they weren't surprised but were glad that I enjoyed them. If you're already a fan of classic writers like Tolkien and Lewis, no doubt you'd enjoy these books too.

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.

Books and Pastors

I find that at the moment, books have become my pastors. The pastoral life can be confusing, isolating, bewildering, exhilirating, joyful, and frustrating. It all depends on the day of the week sometimes. And in the midst of all the challenges that that are likely inevitable, I too need people who can show me the way and ground me responsibly in my calling, both as a follower of Jesus and as a pastor. Such help often shows up in people who write books about this life in Christ that we find ourselves thrown into by the mysterious yet faithful grace of God.

Yesterday, I was wishing I had something helpful and encouraging to read. I started scanning my bookshelves--on which there is no lack of books!--and my eyes landed providentially on a book I purchased nearly a year ago but had barely touched: David Hansen's The Art of Pastoring: Ministry Without All the Answers. Already I've read a good chunk of this book and have been encouraged and challenged, not only in my pastoral calling but in my Christian walk in general. The chapters on temptation and eschatology are so far the ones that have challenged my thinking the most. I read something like this and I realize how much we misunderstand ministry and the Christian life. We try to boost ourselves and our churches up by employing management-style programs--which means we are ultimately trying to manage ourselves and our churches without recourse to God, who is our life and end goal. Reading Hansen reminds me that the life of a pastor is nothing short of being a "parable of Jesus," and that the pastor is but a concentrated example of what every follower of Christ is called to be. I will be processing the truths of this book for a long time.

I've also just started reading a book by Eugene Peterson and Marva Dawn, The Unnecessary Pastor: Rediscovering the Call. So far, so good. But almost every page Peterson graces with his pen rings with truths you felt but could never express or dared not imagine. And this book also makes me want to pick up more stuff by Marva Dawn. Another great book is Peterson's The Jesus Way. This, along with Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places and Eat This Book, represent Peterson's first three volumes of a projected five-volume opus on spiritual theology. Worth ten times their weight in gold, these books speak more than hundred of volumes on Church strategy, management, growth, and health.

I've realized that I tend toward books that tell me the truth rather than books that just give me good ideas or ideas the author proposes are good or are based on sound social science research or business techniques. I agree with Hansen, when he says, "I discovered that spending a day reading thirty pages of Karl Barth's Dogmatics helped me more in my pastoral work than a hundred pages of how-to literature." While I haven't read much Barth lately, I resonate with these words. I want depth. I constantly want to feed my identity in Christ. I want authors who will tell the truth, which may include being told things I don't want to hear. I want to read authors on the spiritual and pastoral life whose words are a prescription against the seemingly unwavering tendency I have to take shortcuts, avoid prayer, avoid loving people, and to do whatever I can except what I ought to be doing. I want authors who do more than quote Scripture when convenient for their purposes; I want authors steeped in the salvation-narrative of Scripture, the grand story of redemption given to us through the Father, Son, and Spirit. I want authors and books that remind me of the truth, because even if the truth sometimes hurts, it is still what sets us free.