At my seminary aspiring preachers are encouraged to preach through entire books as a series instead of preaching topically every week from different books. I’ve applied the same principle to my personal Bible study and now work through a psalm or two almost daily. (I miss a day here and there.)

What’s great about Psalms is that by reading one a day or something similar one covers more topics than would be covered by doing a topical study. Topics emerge which you might not expect to research or do more reading on or even think about. When we think of topics of Scripture, we think of faith, love, peace, and patience, all virtues that are relatively easily understood, learned, and applied (not always, but usually). For such virtues we hang out in Paul’s letters or in the Gospels with the Old Testament almost entirely forgotten. Psalms brings such oversight to a screeching halt.

Covering lots of topics by reading through Psalms, however, is by no means “a walk in the park.” There are hard sayings which we Christians aren’t quite sure what to do with. David seems always to be crying out to God for him to crush his enemies. He wants God to shut their mouths because they’re mocking him. Let them get caught in their own traps that they laid for him. David appears a guiltless man pursued by bandits unjustly whom he wishes God would smite.

At this point in reading (coming across such things), a two-option tension arises:

1. How should I interpret (tweak?) this Scripture to make it more palatable to my own experience and understanding of God? Or…
2. How should this surprising passage of Scripture change me, my understanding and theology?

You see, it’s either change or be changed. I can say, “David didn’t mean such-and-such, he meant this,” changing the text. Or, I can say, “Woah, I didn’t realize the saints operated in such a way or that God would be like this,” allowing myself to be changed by what I read.

But I must be careful here because a careful reading and interpretation of a hard passage is not “changing” the Scripture. For, what is careful reading and changing of interpretation of a passage but changing what I think a specific word means or refers to? Thus, it is me, the reader, who changes not Scripture. I allow what I think something means to change to be more consistent with Scripture. On the other hand, what we must never allow happen is a changing of the Scripture to suit oneself or one’s personal understanding. I am not the measure of all things nor does the Scripture have to account for what I deem my incontestable experience.

The word of God stands. I change.

photo credit: applejan

Case against bookmarks is almost certainly language too strong for this but brief thought I had several days ago.

We use bookmarks to remember where we left off reading a book. But shouldn’t the reading be so stimulating that we remember exactly where we left off and therefore have no need for a bookmark? Bookmarks seem to aid in the task of “working” one’s way through a book instead of enjoying the material. For example, any student knows the feeling of having a required reading which they are not looking forward to. The material is hardly stimulating and the reading proves rather onerous. It’s burdensome! But we “work” through it because it’s required, perhaps taking breaks periodically to do something more interesting (or from going crazy) so we slide in a bookmark to remember exactly where we left off in order to safeguard against reading the same (burdensome) material twice. Reading it once was bad enough.

But it’s not only with these kinds of books that we use bookmarks, we use them all the time with books of all sorts. Harry Potter. Bible (ribbon bookmark). Such-and-such theology. So-and-so’s novel. All over the place. We should ask ourselves, Is my reading really worth my time if I need a bookmark? If the answer is no, then we should adjust how we read to make it worth the while. If the answer is yes, maybe you’re just reading a fortified man-book that’s rocking your world and a bookmark’s understandable. If we don’t care, we should ask if we’re just reading for the sake of reading or for the privilege of being able to say, “I read that book.” You may have read it, but did you read it? Did you enjoy it? It’s easy to slip into reading for the sake of reading and thereby need a bookmark to remember where we left off “reading.”

But what if we could close a book, walk away, come back later, and remember right where we left off? That’s a great feeling! Now we’re reading! I’ve recently tried simply remembering the page number (which I guess is a mental bookmark, but still guards against forgetting what I was reading). If we do forget the page number, it shouldn’t take too long to get at least in the ballpark of where we left off and after skimming, find where we left off. If we don’t remember reading a section, but think we did, we probably didn’t. Read it again for the first time!

Respond

Do you use a bookmark? How do you remember where you left off? Is it reasonable to eschew bookmarks? I think so. It seems the less we test our memories the less we’ll get out of them.

I’ve finally finished Tim Keller’s The Reason for God and I only say “finally” because I’ve had 10ish pages to read for the past week or so which is not only annoying but embarassing. I found the book very helpful especially the attitude and grace with which Keller approaches the issues many in his New York context find most difficult to deal with when thinking about Christianity (e.g., exclusivist claims).

Keller’s use of endnotes has led me on a quest to follow up some of the referenced material for further reading on topics of interest. Of particular interest was his reference to Miroslav Volf’s Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation, a book which I have since and currently checked out of the library. It speaks of the formation of identity based on excluding others and the need (read: Christian imperative) for reconciliation. This might be one that I just skim read to catch the gist of and survey for quotables.

On a slightly differerent note, I have categorized this post in the Reasons to Read section simply to point out the trail of further reading which footnotes can provide for the reader. The mention of Volf’s book above is exemplary. In reading The Reason for God I was intriqued by the thoughts of Volf which were being incorporated into Keller’s book and decided to look into them in more depth and ad fontes. The reason for reading here given then is that books are connected and one will lead you to another and seemingly ad infinitum. (OK, I’ve just ended two sentences in a row with Latin phrases. Anyways…) It would go like this: Read Keller’s The Reason for God. Find out about Volf’s Exclusion and Embrace. Read it and find out about blah blah blah, etc (et cetera? I’ve done it again). Maybe this is how you read books already or find what to read after you finish the book you’re currently reading, but the idea just kind of dawned on me while constantly flipping to the back of Keller’s book to take in the endnotes.

I was even thinking that it would be neat to set up a web site where people could see connections between books and get ideas on what to read after what. This could be computer-generated based on footnotes/references or user-submitted. But then again maybe it’s best to leave it up to the reader’s fancy to string books together which help maintain an interest in reading altogether instead of easing a reader into a rut. Rut notwithstanding, I reckon it could be a useful tool. So, let me make the first suggestion(s): check out Exclusion and Embrace after reading The Reason for God; other options include: Mere Christianity (Lewis) or Simply Christian (Wright), both of which are repeatedly referenced by Keller.

How do you figure out what to read after what? Can books be strung together?

Having just finished The Kite Runner, parallels between it and Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which I just finished listening to a BBC radio dramatization of, come to mind.

In The Kite Runner (2003) the reader along with the protagonist, Amir, eventually finds out that the household servant boy, Hassan, is not merely a servant of a lower class, but actually a half-brother. It turns out that his father (Baba) has led a somewhat seedy sexual life, climaxing with the impregnation of a disreputable woman, the offspring of which relationship is taken in not by the father himself (for that would be shameful and everyone would know the father had been promiscuous), but taken in by the older, male household servant (Ali) who likewise has a tainted reputation as the village idiot. The father is then able keep his illegitimate son in close proximity while keeping the scorn of having such a child at a distant. Ultimately in the novel who finds his death within the pages is the bastard and the father.

The Brother Karamazov (1880) shows similiar details. The reader finds out that it was indeed a Karamazov who killed their father, Fyodor Pavlovich, though none of the known brothers, but the half-brother who was born of licentiousness relationship between the father and a mute street woman. Smerdyakov of offspring of which relationship, like Hassan, though being a son did not enjoy the benefits thereof because of the disrepute of his birth to an ignoble woman. He was taken in rather as a servant in the household by an older, male household servant. Ultimately in the story who finds his death within the pages is the bastard (suicide) and the father (murdered).

The BBC radio dramatization has been a nice introduction to The Brothers Karamazov, but judging by what I read elsewhere on the Internet of the plot and story they cut quite a bit out. I guess I’ll have to read the book next. Amazing story. Why haven’t they done a modern cinematic version?

I just literally minutes ago finished reading Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner. The book is one of the many reasons why I read: time/space travel. In this novel, you are transported to Afghanistan before and after several coups and government take-overs in the volatile land. It feels so foreign, but yet so enchanting. One could object, like Augustine, that we shouldn’t allow ourselves, our emotions, to be so easily swayed by something we know is only a fictional novel; but knowing the sinful heart of man and the cry for justice and restoration within everyone, the novel rings true; knowing that such events as unfold in the novel are not too far removed, unfortunately, from reality, the novel makes me long for Afghanistan to be safe and stable and without oppression and faction and strife and rape and orphans and injustice. Would that Christ would come and heal the broken land and draw men and women and children to himself. For he himself is our peace. This book will give you a heart for Afghanistan, peoples in need of the gospel.

Look no further than1 Corinthians 15:19 for proof that you should never read a Bible verse:

If in this life we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.

Oh, no! What did Paul say? How are we supposed to make sense of this? Read the verse in context and especially the following verse, v. 20:

But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.

Never read just a Bible verse for a text out of context becomes a pretext.