The power of a book

A while back I was in a large bookstore just browsing the shelves. I came across a book of Johnathon Edwards sermons. Of the thousands upon thousands of books in that store that day…that was the only one that caught and held my attention. I carried it around and skimmed the pages of it as the family members I was with perused many different books.

One of those family members asked me what I was reading…and I read a small section of Sinners in the hands of an angry God. I could tell with only a few words that this family member didn’t share my interest in the writings contained in that small book.

And that was okay. I’ll admit that some of those writings were hard to read. They were written in the language of Edwards’ time and weren’t always that easy to understand. For someone that isn’t used to the deeper truths of Scripture…I can well imagine how that small section I read would have been received.

But as I think back on that day now…as I think of the hundreds of thousands of books contained in that store. I am saddened. Books…for me…are like old friends. They have been a much loved part of many of the years of my life. They were friends when I didn’t have friends, they were therapy when I needed it, they were family when I was far from family, and they were examples of what life could be when I didn’t like what life was.

And…

They were escapes when I needed one.

The ability to leave the world behind could be had as quickly and easily as picking up the next book. Within the pages of even a bad book I have been transported to places…to being people…that my real life didn’t allow for. As a result…

Books are like old friends.

Only now…when I browse the many, many books to be found in a bookstore…or even a section of most any kind of store…I am left with a sense of…loss…or something. Where once lived old friends, now I see those books for what they are. Where once I found true enjoyment…now I see what isn’t there.

Books really are escapes. They open up world’s that don’t exist for the reader. I remember the many times I escaped my life through the pages of a book. I think of the articles I have read that talk of how important books are to prisoners…because they allow them…for a while…to escape the reality of the world they live in.

There is no denying that books do that for their reader.

But…there is also no denying that books bring with them so many influences that aren’t good. Even so-called Christian books fill our minds with things that aren’t Biblical.

I recently sorted through the many years worth of books that I have collected. Among those were books put out by a Mennonite company that I spent a small fortune to own. These books were bought many years ago…and with the exception of a very select few…were never read.

I bought them because they were ‘Christian’ books that I thought…at the time…would be good, wholesome, books for our home and the children. Only…the children never liked them…and they sat there mostly untouched. They were packed with great care when we moved and given a place in our new home…where they sat, once again, untouched.

Thinking of those books now reminds me of the many sermons I sat through during the early years of my life as a parent. I well remember leaving the ‘church’ building every Sunday having gained nothing for the time spent there but a pleasant…or unpleasant, depending on the day…experience. Hard as I tried…and I did try…I gained nothing, or at least very little, from those sermons.

I understand now that was the Lord’s way of protecting me from false doctrines that would complicate ideas that had already been filed into my brain and heart. Ideas that would later lead to my understanding Truth…and false ideas and beliefs that would have been fed and grown had I absorbed what was taught in those sermons.

All those Mennonite books…would have done the same thing. Because within their pages were the very beliefs that the writer held. In the case of those books it was the Mennonite beliefs.

All of those beliefs weren’t wrong, and I’m sure they would have told at least some Truth, but all of those beliefs weren’t right either, and I’m sure they would have also twisted those truths.

And so…despite the fact that those books lived in our home for years (most of them have now moved on and the few that remain will soon move on) my family was protected from the doctrines taught within them by a lack of interest in those books.

As a homeschool family we have encountered many books, have owned many books, have read many books. We have also owned so many books that we never read. Books that I bought thinking we would use only to watch them sit unused year after year.

I remember reading something online a few years ago that spoke of how important it is to be careful what books we allow our children to read because the beliefs of the author will be portrayed within the pages of the book no matter what the subject is or what the story line is about. This article went on to tell of beliefs held by some popular authors…most of which have written books that have come to be called classics.

Reading that article changed the way I saw books. It also prompted a huge purging of our book collections.

And still…too many books remained.

I understand more now. I understand better. We are influenced by the things in our lives, no matter what they are. For those of us that are in Christ…He will give us discernment where it is all concerned. For those that aren’t…they will be easily influenced by everything…and will be consumed by some of it.

Our children fall into that category. I see it daily in my children. I see it in my middle daughters and their obsessions with animals. I see it in my son with his obsession with certain toys.

And I see the protection the Lord gives to those of us that are regenerate in my own life. There are times when my mind wants to grab onto things, to put great importance in those things…only I’m given very little time to do that before the Lord reminds me that He is what is important. And whether I am ready to turn lose of that which my mind has grabbed onto or not…He pulls me away from it.

My husband tells me often that there’s a difference in the interests of the regenerate and the unregenerate. He tells me how people have questioned why their interests in something is an obsession while his interests aren’t. How they want to know the difference…only they don’t truly want to know the answer.

I can look no further than my own book collection over the years to see that in myself. There was a time that I put great stock in my collection of books. A time when I would arrange them on a bookshelf, when I would look over them with pride, when I took joy in just knowing I owned them.

Today, I still own books, but now my collection is different. I recently got rid of about 90% of the books I had collected over the years…and felt not a hint of remorse at seeing them go. In fact…I almost felt relief. It was like having a weight lifted off me with the dispensing of those books.

The books that I did keep serve a greater purpose. There is still a collection of books in my possession that are to be used in schooling the children. They are still here because they have to be. The personal books that I kept are almost all Bibles…and I even parted with a few of those…and those that aren’t are mostly written by reformed writers. There are a couple of books on gardening and the like…and the rest…are gone now. Moved on to live on someone else’s shelf.

I feel the difference in my interest in books each time I browse through a book section or book store. Where once I was greeted by old friends, I now feel more like I’m looking at wolves trying to devour sheep. I know that they are not, because I know that most people that will read those books aren’t sheep. But I know too…that books are an escape.

I know that we can lose ourselves within the pages of a book. I know that what we read has the power to affect our thoughts and our lives. And I know that the beliefs held by the writer will be passed on to the reader…what that reader does with them…who know?

I think of how my own beliefs fill the pages of this blog. Of how there is no way for anyone to read what I write and not be affected…at least in some way…by my beliefs in the Lord.

I think, too, of Paul. Of how he wrote so much of the New Testament. How many times did he say he was a servant of Christ? How many times did he tell those he was addressing just Who and What he stood for? Can you imagine the things Paul wrote…without Paul’s beliefs?

I can’t. The writings that we were given through him are so filled with his beliefs that there would be little left if his beliefs were taken out of them.

I think again of my own writing. Recently my husband told me that he enjoys reading what I write for the chance to see life through the eyes of another that is reformed. Now…my husband gets to see life through my eyes pretty much all the time. He knows me like no one else does. I tell him things I would tell no one else. And so…I truly don’t know what he sees in my writings that he doesn’t see every day in me. But others that read my writings…they don’t see life through my eyes as my husband does. They aren’t there to see…me in all of life. But in the things that I write are my beliefs. What I am fills the words, the sentences, the paragraphs, and the pages of everything I write.

I recently thought of my blog…if it were a book…and imagined myself handing it to different people. I thought of which ones I would be comfortable giving it to and which ones I wouldn’t want to have it. Because this blog…it is me. It is my thoughts, my feelings, my beliefs.

And in the pages of the thousands of books that lined the shelves in that book store are the thoughts, feelings, and beliefs of the people that wrote them.

As I walked those aisles, as I looked…mostly from afar…at those books…I couldn’t help think they weren’t friends at all. I experienced a sort of disconnected sadness at seeing things I had once enjoyed so much and realizing just how much of a delusion they cast on people.

Books have the power to transport people like few…if any other…things do. They capture our minds, our hearts, our senses. They pull us into the pages until we completely lose track of when and where we are. They have the ability to make us lose all touch with life as it happens around us.

I have read thousands of books in my life…maybe more than thousands. I know what lies within the covers of those books that line the bookshelves of the store. I may not know the story, I may not know the characters, I may not even know the genre…but I know the escape waiting to transport the reader to another place.

And they have the power to influence us.

They have the power to instill…or at least expose…us to the beliefs of the person writing the book.

I can think of only one Author I want having that kind of power over me.