Monday, April 8, 2013

Confessions of a Bibliophile. . .



Jane Austen and Tolkien get cozy. C.S. Lewis and Georgette Heyer rub shoulders. Lucy Maud Montgomery, C.J. Cherryh, and Agatha Christie have more than just a nodding acquaintance. Never mind the other odd pairings that happen from time to time. Shakespeare and Betty Neels? Believe me, though I blush to confess it, it has happened. My Greek textbooks often sit cheek by jowl with Mary Stewart, while books on literature, theology, music, nutrition, history, et cetera, et cetera, all share shelf (or floor) space. 

An eclectic bibliophile. . . yes, that most definitely I am.

If you saw my book shelves, you would know it. In no way, shape, or form do I have enough shelves to house all my books. Which is why I have piles of books stacked in front of those one the shelves, why the top of the dresser in my bedroom is piled with them, and why there are tottering towers on the floor around my bed and beside my computer, not to mention those strewn on the coffee table. And, confession time, I've got four plastic totes (the kind that are meant to slide under the bed) filled with paper backs that I don't read (as much) stacked in the closet and under my dresser--who needs room for hanging clothes anyway?

When, as a teenager, I discovered second-hand books could be bought for a song at local thrift stores, I was hooked. Therefore, when I moved and discovered second-hand books stores in the university town where I lived, I was already beyond hope.

However, I had begun my addiction to written word long before this. My mother has pictures! There is also that rather incriminating video of me lying on the pull-out couch while my brothers and sisters romp with my Opa, and I am reading, only stopping to complain when they nearly sit on my head!  

My family used to (still does?) talk about the smoke issuing from my ears as I snarfed (yes, that is a word) down my latest tome. 

You might well catch me reading some section of great dialogue out loud because it's just so funny I can't help myself. I might giggle or guffaw, then try to share my amusement with anyone who will listen. 

A particular recording or song maybe forever associated with this or that book because I listened to it when I read it for the first time. Or I might not even process any kind of sound, I'm so involved with the story. 

Oh, was someone calling my name? Sorry, I didn't hear; I was spending time with Valancy. Those dishes that should be washed or the laundry that needed to be folded? Frodo and Sam distracted me. . . or Anne Elliot or Venetia or one of hundreds of other book friends. Oops. Guilty as charged. 

I have to chose my reading material carefully at times, knowing that if I start that particular book now, I will be up until the wee hours of the morning--and I know that cannot happen since I have to teach the next day. So I save my snarfing till Friday night--if I can. Sometimes I get caught unawares by a book that started out slow, but then press ganged me into finishing it. (Against my will, of course!)

I've been trying to balance the many different types of reading I do, making sure to read more non-fiction to balance out the fiction. Only occasionally am I so mentally tired that I can't read anything. 

I find that I'm becoming less tolerant of bad writing. It used to be that if I started a book, I would finish it, even if I found it dull or poorly written. I've begun to realize I don't have time for books that annoy me. There are too many good books out there to warrant reading those that are sub-par. This is not to say that I don't enjoy a fluffy romance novel at times, but not one that irritates me beyond expressing.

I don't know how many books I've read in the past year, but I always have one with me in some shape or form. My new ereader or my iPod or a hard copy book is always with me to ensure that I never waste precious reading time, sitting somewhere with nothing to do. 

I find, however, that I need to be more diligent about Bible reading. Often, I catch myself reading a book about the Bible and realize that I'm not not actually reading the Bible itself. It is like reading a book about poetry, but not actually reading a poem--quite ridiculous! The academic knowledge becomes useless when it is not connected to the source of that knowledge. 

"for my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water."
Jeremiah 2:13 (ESV)

I don't want to be trapped into hewing out broken cisterns, instead of drinking from the living waters. Knowledge about God is nothing, if I do not know Him as well as I should. Knowledge about God will not save me: only knowing Jesus will. If I don't read the Word, I only have a second-hand relationship with God,  and I only know Him by hearsay. All the books in the world will do me no good, if I don't read His Book and know Him through it. 

"But I am the Lord your God from the land of Egypt; you know no God but me, and besides me there is no savior." 
Hosea 13:4 (ESV)

"Incline your ear, and hear the words of the wise, and apply your heart to my knowledge, for it will be pleasant if you keep them within you, if all of them are ready on your lips." 
Prov 22:17-18 (ESV)


Don't be content with a second-hand relationship with Jesus. 
Read the Word to know the Word. 

"But he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. 3 To him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4 When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice."  . . .I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me."
John 10: 2-4, 11

No comments:

Post a Comment