So begins The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, the fifth book in C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia.2 Eustace “almost” deserves his name for a variety of reasons, most especially his self-centered smarter-than-thou attitude.
His unpleasant personality and inability to decipher the standard trials of everyday tween life (turning into a dragon, for instance) are due in large part to this:
“Eustace had read only the wrong books. They had a lot to say about exports and imports and governments and drains, but they were weak on dragons.”3
It would be unfair to assume that people who read only informational books of facts and data are as disagreeable as Eustace (though Lewis certainly thought so). However, without doubt, people who never read about dragons—if dragons here serve as a metaphor for all good books—miss out on something not found anywhere else.
Books—Our BFFs
The bookshelves of most youth workers are packed full of resources: books on games, small groups, at-risk teens, adolescent development, spiritual formation, surviving your first two years of ministry, surviving your middle two years of ministry, surviving ministry period.
We love our books, especially utilitarian books that deliver a quick and practical action plan. The book instructs; we comply. It’s a comforting relationship. We wouldn’t survive without them, especially on those days when every imaginable crisis converges upon us just before a large event begins or before we step on a bus with 48 middle-school students. Our books have saved our skins more than once. Ministry would be difficult and lonely without them.
However, viewing books as primarily something to be consulted, referenced and employed is dangerous. We are well aware of how much damage is done when we view Scripture this way—as a spiritual Wikipedia for the life of a hurting (or misbehaving) teenager.
If our shelves are filled with only utilitarian books and if our primary interaction with books is to use them, we will miss out on the most important thing books can be for us: doorways of adventure and exploration that open our hearts, minds, and souls through emotional discovery, mental engagement and spiritual eagerness.
My own experiences as reader, writer, teacher, mentor and youth worker lay claim to this reality: Reading good books that haven’t a single iota of practical youth ministry advice is time well spent.
I would go so far as to say it is time necessarily well spent—that bereft of such reading, we risk losing some of our inherent imago dei, for we are created by an adventurous God who communicates with us through powerful means, not the least of which are language and story.
Communicating To vs. Communicating With
There is an important distinction between books that communicate to us (utilitarian) and books that communicate with us. Rather than serving up practical content, books that communicate with us:
• invite us into the creative process as we read something that is already fully formed but also unfolding as we read;
• usher us into a textual space where we do not ingest information but rather examine time, place and people not only with our frontal lobes but also with our souls;
• welcome us to a sphere that does not primarily instruct but rather encourages adventurous exploration.
If that sounds too literary highbrow for the world of youth ministry, I would argue the opposite is true. No one appreciates adventurous story and engaging narrative more than a youth worker, for these are at the very core of our vocational calling. We care deeply about leading students to true and meaningful exploration where their personal narratives—which they may view as dull, lifeless, perhaps utilitarian—first intersects and then fully integrates with the larger narrative of Christ—which they also may view as dull, lifeless and merely utilitarian. We must demonstrate for our students that life and faith are anything but that.
We do this first and foremost by nurturing our own adventurous faith journey; but further, we can read good books to sharpen our sensibilities inwardly (brain function) and outwardly (empathy) in ways that can keep alive and fresh for us the adolescent experience of becoming.
Consider this: Our ministries and lives are centered around individuals who are in the throes of self-discovery, identity development and spiritual formation. Every day presents them with new challenges, discoveries, disappointments, heartaches and joys. Reading can provide similar experiences for us in ways that are not only personally rewarding but also vocationally beneficial. The adventure of reading can remind us of how adventurous growing up can be, not because it is full of adventure but because it is an adventure that we walk in and through with the Almighty Creator of heaven and earth, the author and authority of our lives—lives that (like books) already are written in full but also are unfolding before us in stages. Reading books—good books—can be a reflection and reminder of this reality.
Needles in a Bookstack
Publishing experts estimate there are currently several million different book titles in print. Assuming 50 percent of them are terrible (entirely possible) and another 40 percent are OK, we still would have 300,000 good books from which to choose. You could read a book a day for the next 50 years and barely make a dent in the total stack. In other words, we all need some help sifting through the options. [Cue practical action plan here:]
1. Consult a list. This is a perfectly acceptable utilitarian step. Compile your own; ask several friends for their top 10 lists; or rely on the Internet, where a search for “Best 100 Books” may overwhelm you. Take a deep breath. Time magazine and Amazon have decent lists. (Disclaimer: I love about one-fourth of the books on each.)
2. Don’t force yourself to read something you find dull or disagreeable. There are plenty of other books, and life is too short to read what you don’t like. First and second chapters can be agonizingly slow. Give yourself permission to call it quits if by the end of chapter three you’re bored to tears. You are not a failure; batting .250 is more than fine. It wasn’t a waste of time; you’ve learned something useful about which books and authors you’ll set aside. In my case, that includes most brand new books.
3. Whether fiction or non-fiction, read old books. Not just old books, but at least some old books. They have stood the test of time for a reason. C.S. Lewis makes this point (especially as it relates to theological books) in his Introduction to Athanasius’ The Incarnation of the Word of God,4 a delightful old book of which I happen to own a second printing of the first edition for which I paid 50 cents at a public library book sale.
4. Hunt for used books. Embrace their quirks: notes in the margin, signatures on the flyleaf, flowers pressed between the pages. Some thrift stores are worth scouring, but the best treasures will be found at public library sales where there is always a large selection of books in every possible genre and age group. This is especially important for those who’ve discovered modern American realistic novels aren’t their cup of tea.
5. Don’t apologize for your reading style. Among other things, I enjoy young adult fiction, Icelandic sagas and Nebraska authors. I’m OK with that. If someone presses you to read a futuristic dystopian novel published in 2014 because it’s sure to be the best book you will ever read, but you prefer animal fables written by a dead British guy almost a hundred years ago, be OK with that. It would be a grave mistake never to read what you don’t love, but it’s fine to read mostly what you do love.
A Reader’s Life & Creed
On the final day of spring semester, Titus—a non-reading, literature-leery, ROTC-dress-uniform-wearing student in my literature course—bravely made the following announcement: “Well, I’m never going to see any of you people again, so I’m just going to say this—I loved Persuasion.”
Thus, we do become readers. We begin and finish a book. We are surprised by the adventure and joy. Occasionally, that same book calls out to us again, beckoning us to reread and discover it anew. The suspense of the unknown no longer intrudes; so we are now free to take our time, fully read and carefully notice. We love the book more with each subsequent reading.
My own experience testifies to this. I read and reread a gamut of books: children’s, young adult, fantasy, historical, realistic, science fiction, devotional and theological. They are my personal classics, and all have these three things in common:
• beautiful writing that only a true wordsmith can spin;
• inner consistency that makes the most fantastic storyline believable;
• something J.R.R. Tolkien calls eucatastrophe, which acknowledges pain, darkness, sorrow and failure while offering an unexpected turn of “sudden and miraculous grace” that “denies universal final defeat.”5
Beyond that, my reading creed is simple:
• I do not read books that talk at me. I read books that take me someplace.
• I do not read books that lecture me. I read books that lead me into new truths.
• I do not read books that rebuke me. I read books that remind me of who I am and what I value.
• I do not (unless absolutely necessary) read books about imports, exports, governments and drains. Instead, every chance I get, I read books about dragons (literal and metaphorical) in books that communicate with me instead of to me.
I read these kinds of books not only because I love them, but because doing so ultimately draws me closer to the one Book that matters most. By helping me appreciate the power of language, listen more carefully to story and truth, and keep my heart and mind open to the joyful power of written words, reading good books deepens my love and hunger for God’s Word.
1 C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, (London: Geoffrey Bles, 1952) 9.
2 In newer editions, VDT is number five, based on tenuous evidence. Almost all Lewis scholars agree it should be number three, in accordance with publication history and internal evidence of the books themselves.
3 Ibid, 83.
4 New York: Macmillan, 1946, pp. 5-12.
5 J.R.R. Tolkien, “On Fairy Stories” in Tree and Leaf. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1965) 68-69. Though Tolkien wrote primarily about fairy stories, eucatastrophe is definitive of all books worth reading.
Crystal Kirgiss, Ph.D. has worked with students for 30 years in public and private schools, the adjudication system, church ministries, Young Life, Capernaum and small groups. She is part of the Youth Specialties national training team and speaks year-round to adults and teenagers at camps, retreats, churches and conferences. She has written many books for youth workers and teens (including Girls, Guys, Creative Bible Lessons on the Prophets, and More Than Skin Deep), is a monthly columnist for Youthwalk (Walk Thru the Bible), was a core writer for The Way Bible (Tyndale, 2012), and has a forthcoming book on the history of adolescence. She earned her Ph.D. in Medieval Language and Literature from Purdue University, where she conducts research and teaches. She lives in West Lafayette, Ind., with her husband, Mark, a veteran youth worker. They have three grown sons. You can read more from Crystal at CrystalKirgiss.com.
