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.
