Books have formed the soul of me. I know that spiritual formation is of God, but I also know—mainly because I learned it from books—that there are other kinds of formation, too, everyday gifts, and that God uses the things of this earth to teach us and shape us, and to help us find truth.
It’s out of control. I’ve lost count of the books I’ve started, and am partially through, reading. There are books on my Kindle, books on my bedside table, books on my dining room table, and books on the credenza next to my wing chair in the living room. Classics, non-fiction, poetry, novels. It’s ridiculous.
For years, I disciplined myself to read one book at a time. (I’ve been an out of control reader before, perhaps not to the degree I find myself i now). It was orderly. I believed I retained better what I was reading. It felt civilized.
Then I decided I wanted to return to the experience of reading physical books, so kept one going on my Kindle for night reading, and another physical book for daytime reading.
Then I started visiting the library regularly again and—well, a book addict such as I didn’t stand a chance.
In my early morning meandering, I started coming across new authors, and new thoughts I wanted to explore. Suddenly it seemed that emails from the library about books on hold that were ready, and Amazon deliveries at the front door, were overwhelming me.
So here I am, with books on the go, and books piled up, and not enough hours in the day to read. I’ve got to reign things in.