A Spiritual Discipline: General Reading For many of us, and I include myself, a “spiritual discipline” tends to be assigned to something overtly religious – like prayer and Bible reading and solitude and fasting. But Austin Carty squares it up when he contends general reading is a spiritual discipline. The Tov Book Club is reading Austin Carty,
For several years, I have been exploring the physicality of reading, experimenting with how engaging the senses changes how I think about what I am reading. I see this idea when Carty (and Nouwen) talk about setting aside a "special place" for reading. Often, literature calls us out of our comfortable and asks us to step into the unknown, an unfamiliar setting with unfamiliar people. The personal and special place then does two things: first, it provides a "safe home" when the reading demands intellectual discomfort; and second, it creates a pavlovian anticipation for the act of reading. I think of ways that readers describe the experience, such as "curling up with a good book," invoking feelings of safety and comfort. So in this special place that I have created for reading, (which like you, Scot, is actually several different places) I add elements that touch the senses, a scented candle, a fragrant drink, textured pillows and blankets. I feel a hint of liturgy in this, that I am breathing in the anticipation of a soulful encounter. I know there is tension here, as spiritual discipline often demands asceticism, but I believe there is also room for wonder, in the way that our physical senses ignite our thoughts.
Reading to be changed is so different from reading to convince another. It’s dangerous, it’s surprising, and it’s a significant spiritual practice for me.
I think I became a reader as soon as I learned to read. Early on I discovered our church library and books for kids as well as for women. Before long I was rereading kids books as well as Christian romances two and three times. In my teens I turned away from the church library and began picking up Russian novels, French novels, anything that piqued my curiosity. As an adult I shifted into the Christian books I needed for ministry use. Now I go back to old favorites and discover much that I had missed in earlier quick reads. My pattern? Every day I practice two different kinds of reading: My daytime reading connects with my work; it's often heavy stuff. After 4 p.m. I set work-reading aside and reach for anything that strikes my fancy. I keep at least two or three books going at a time, at different places in the house and different hours of the day. Reading is the frosting on the cake of my days, what I promise myself when I've accomplished more mundane responsibilities. AND I often read a book two or three times, noting that I frequently missed interesting or important items on the first read. I know Carty is right: general reading can be a spiritual discipline. In fact, I KNOW it is.
For me, an overstuffed chair and a cup of coffee make the reading a delight. For most of my adult life, reading has been a nighttime treat, though I’ve had sporadic seasons where I’ve read during the day. The best daytime reading is in a quiet coffee shop or a coffee-friendly library. One thing I’ve missed from not doing international travel is the long blocks of time to read.
Reading has always been my main and favorite spiritual discipline. I didn’t know that it was considered a spiritual discipline until recently and thought I was an oddball. Early morning with coffee before the household rush begins is my preferred time. I usually read from several books each day. Currently I’m reading: Levine and Brettler’s The Bible With and Without Jesus, Pete Enns’ How the Bible Actually Works, Jersak’s A More Christlike Word & The Lord’s Prayer by Adam Hamilton.
I also read multiple books at once. I read a commentary over breakfast (Michael Birds on Romans right now (story of God- longman and McKnight series), a systematic theology over lunch (bird’s Evangelical Theology at the moment) , and assorted topical books in the evening. I mark everything up, type up summaries when it’s a whole new idea, and am thinking of starting a ‘reading group’ on Facebook for our church, to encourage this discipline which has so helped me grow closer and more in awe of God.
One constant for me is a red pencil for highlighting and a black pen for marginalia. Pencils are only used if I think the pen will bleed through the paper.
Another constant is that I tend to read about five books at the same time. Different types of books being read at the same time carries these benefits: they start forming a conversation among themselves, if you are slogging through a tome like one of Charles Taylor's big books you can take a break and read something lighter, and it is motivating to finish a bunch of books about the same time.
For many years, I have kept a log of what books I've read, or in some cases, reread. It serves as a good accountability to hit my goal of about 50-60 serious read books each year and it allows me to evaluate how balanced my reading is across different disciplines.
Not a constant, but close to one, is that I usually take a book with me to appointments. I don't get perturbed when someone is late!
For several years, I have been exploring the physicality of reading, experimenting with how engaging the senses changes how I think about what I am reading. I see this idea when Carty (and Nouwen) talk about setting aside a "special place" for reading. Often, literature calls us out of our comfortable and asks us to step into the unknown, an unfamiliar setting with unfamiliar people. The personal and special place then does two things: first, it provides a "safe home" when the reading demands intellectual discomfort; and second, it creates a pavlovian anticipation for the act of reading. I think of ways that readers describe the experience, such as "curling up with a good book," invoking feelings of safety and comfort. So in this special place that I have created for reading, (which like you, Scot, is actually several different places) I add elements that touch the senses, a scented candle, a fragrant drink, textured pillows and blankets. I feel a hint of liturgy in this, that I am breathing in the anticipation of a soulful encounter. I know there is tension here, as spiritual discipline often demands asceticism, but I believe there is also room for wonder, in the way that our physical senses ignite our thoughts.
Reading to be changed is so different from reading to convince another. It’s dangerous, it’s surprising, and it’s a significant spiritual practice for me.
I think I became a reader as soon as I learned to read. Early on I discovered our church library and books for kids as well as for women. Before long I was rereading kids books as well as Christian romances two and three times. In my teens I turned away from the church library and began picking up Russian novels, French novels, anything that piqued my curiosity. As an adult I shifted into the Christian books I needed for ministry use. Now I go back to old favorites and discover much that I had missed in earlier quick reads. My pattern? Every day I practice two different kinds of reading: My daytime reading connects with my work; it's often heavy stuff. After 4 p.m. I set work-reading aside and reach for anything that strikes my fancy. I keep at least two or three books going at a time, at different places in the house and different hours of the day. Reading is the frosting on the cake of my days, what I promise myself when I've accomplished more mundane responsibilities. AND I often read a book two or three times, noting that I frequently missed interesting or important items on the first read. I know Carty is right: general reading can be a spiritual discipline. In fact, I KNOW it is.
For me, an overstuffed chair and a cup of coffee make the reading a delight. For most of my adult life, reading has been a nighttime treat, though I’ve had sporadic seasons where I’ve read during the day. The best daytime reading is in a quiet coffee shop or a coffee-friendly library. One thing I’ve missed from not doing international travel is the long blocks of time to read.
Reading has always been my main and favorite spiritual discipline. I didn’t know that it was considered a spiritual discipline until recently and thought I was an oddball. Early morning with coffee before the household rush begins is my preferred time. I usually read from several books each day. Currently I’m reading: Levine and Brettler’s The Bible With and Without Jesus, Pete Enns’ How the Bible Actually Works, Jersak’s A More Christlike Word & The Lord’s Prayer by Adam Hamilton.
I also read multiple books at once. I read a commentary over breakfast (Michael Birds on Romans right now (story of God- longman and McKnight series), a systematic theology over lunch (bird’s Evangelical Theology at the moment) , and assorted topical books in the evening. I mark everything up, type up summaries when it’s a whole new idea, and am thinking of starting a ‘reading group’ on Facebook for our church, to encourage this discipline which has so helped me grow closer and more in awe of God.
One constant for me is a red pencil for highlighting and a black pen for marginalia. Pencils are only used if I think the pen will bleed through the paper.
Another constant is that I tend to read about five books at the same time. Different types of books being read at the same time carries these benefits: they start forming a conversation among themselves, if you are slogging through a tome like one of Charles Taylor's big books you can take a break and read something lighter, and it is motivating to finish a bunch of books about the same time.
For many years, I have kept a log of what books I've read, or in some cases, reread. It serves as a good accountability to hit my goal of about 50-60 serious read books each year and it allows me to evaluate how balanced my reading is across different disciplines.
Not a constant, but close to one, is that I usually take a book with me to appointments. I don't get perturbed when someone is late!