Monday, February 5, 2018

Why I Read

Once upon a time, someone asked me why reading was important to me and why I made the time to do it in the midst of the insanity of grad school, practicum, and just general life happenings. At the time, due to my incredible eloquence, I believe I made some sort of high pitched humming noise and then said “because it’s fun!” The topic was changed, we both moved on, and the conversation has been following me around waiting for me to readdress it ever since.
Now this is me readdressing it, in random, creative, bullet type form. I hope it kind of makes sense, I hope you enjoy it, and I hope at the end it’s clear that it really IS fun, so I sort of (kind of) wasn’t lying.

So. WHY I READ:

1. Reading teaches me to be patient with my own story.
My best friend’s favorite movie is Love, Actually. In the midst of the movie, one character quips that “people only get together at the end.” As a reader, it’s easy for me to view the narrative as one might look at a maze overhead. The entrance and exit are both clear, the path between the two even more so. One forgets that in the midst of trying to navigate the maze, all anyone actually sees are dead ends, high walls, and feeling trapped. When I read a book, it’s easy for me to brush past emotions because I know how it ends. I know this isn’t forever. I know we’re halfway through, and the next chapter could change everything. One day, via what could only be called grace, I realized that we’re not so different. Every day we wake up one page deeper into a story that’s ours. We could be three chapters in, fifteen pages from the epilogue, six pages away from the chapter that changes everything. Reading has taught me that it’s ok to feel lost in the midst of my own fairytale, because right now all I can see are the hedges, the dead ends, and the height of the maze. Reading teaches me that I will learn when and as I need to, that it’s ok to grieve now and understand later, and that other characters will be introduced when they’re meant to. It has taught me that it’s ok not to be able to articulate everything now, because my story isn’t over. But it’s also taught me it’s ok to voice what I do understand now, because being afraid of failing or not completely understanding isn’t a fear I’ll get over until I’m dead.

2. Reading provides a world where the villains are clear.
Often, it’s relatively easy to tell who the villains, heroes, and love interests in the story might be. It’s easy to root for the hero and demonize the villains, and more than anything else, it’s easy to tell who they are. In real life, people are nuanced. Emotions are hard. Learning how to counsel has taught me that most often the people who hurt others, who would be the villains in a story, often do so because their soul was wounded too and they haven’t recovered. It’s hard for a human to be “just” anything, but it's impossible for them to authentically fit into one box and it can be exhausting remembering that and applying it and trying to love well. And so, I'm thankful for the comfort of stepping into a story where I'm asked to be passive learner and observer for just long enough to catch my breath.

3. Reading lets me feel through the parts of my own story I’m not ready for.
Growth is hard, and more often than not it’s painful. I’d love to say that I’m the kind of person who seeks growth just for the fun of it, but that’s often not human nature or the human inclination. Most of the time, I seek growth because I’ve gotten uncomfortable where I’m at. Something painful has happened. I’ve been made aware of a character piece that I don’t love about myself. But more than anything else, it’s terrifying as heck. When I look at my list of favorite books over the years, it’s easy for me to see what I was learning to deal with because more often than not I was obsessed with characters who were dealing with the very same things. The people I let myself fall into on the page gave me just enough distance from my own problems to be taught that I needed to deal with them. And even though they weren’t real, finishing a book that resolved made me feel a little more encouraged that someone else had gone through it and survived. Even if it was just on paper. And if they could, then so could I.

4. Reading helps me understand an eternal story.
“The God one?” Yes, the God one. I personally attribute it to my amazingly talented and beautiful friends, but hanging around them for as long as I have means that art will always, in some way, remind me that God is worth choosing. The Christian life, if lived authentically, is one of the hardest things I’ve ever been part of OR watched anyone else be part of. So I read, and I write, and somewhere along the way I fall into something bigger than myself and find myself alongside everyone else. We’ve used a billion words and a million covers and thousands and thousands of story lines, but what we’re all looking for is redemption. Assurance that good wins, evil doesn’t, that the people we’ve lost matter, that the pain isn’t for nothing. That creation matters. That our stories matter. The theme is almost always the same. It also helps me understand stories I’d never be able to understand otherwise. My friends make fun of me all the time because I’m obsessed with LGBTQ literature – but I’m obsessed because it helps me understand. And understanding makes me love people. And loving people is never a bad idea, but always always a brave one. Also, this is my ETERNAL plug for “I’ll Give You The Sun” by Jandy Nelson, because not only is it art but it gave my tiny, conservative, confused Christian heart understanding that I desperately needed and am incredibly grateful for. Good literature will always touch something in the reader, and the reader will always become more "them" than they started.

AND FINALLY….

5. Reading helps me believe.
Reading gives me hope. Reading helps me remember that who I am is broken and fallen, but being formed. Countless characters have taught me that dignity is God’s to give, mine to find, and absolutely no one’s to take away. Narnia taught me at an early age to yearn for and come to terms with the idea that heaven existed, because I couldn’t touch or feel or be present in Narnia but it was shaping and teaching me and making me better. Somehow, without even being present, Narnia and the Shire and Hogwarts and Prythian brought me peace. Experiencing that made the concept of God and heaven, two things I can feel in words I can’t express but can’t experience fully, seem like things that not only could exist but do exist and that one day I’ll be able to be part of in every aspect. Further up and further in, one might say ;). A country no longer hidden in the wardrobe.

And so, I will continue to nerd and read and hide myself in corners and occasionally neglect my homework (sorry parents and teachers). It’s not always this philosophical. Most times I pick up books because the covers are shiny. But God persists, and somehow even in the most trivial of stories I never come away empty or unformed. And even when nothing else seems good, that (and He) always, always is.


Happy Monday, friends. I hope it is a glorious one.