I commend to you the reading of good books.
The purpose of reading is not to fill the mind with googleable facts. The work of books is much deeper and more subtle. It is something more like formation – to be shaped as a person. But even formation often does not happen directly. Rarely will someone say, “I have made the following seven changes to my life as a result of reading this book.” Reading guides the growth of affections, gives a sense of the range of the possible, offers insight into the thoughts of others, traces the workings of Providence, develops intuitions about the natural world, and invites meditation on the nature of God.
On this point, in 1754, Samuel Johnson observed:
Books have always a secret influence on the understanding; we cannot at pleasure obliterate ideas: he that reads books of science, though without any fixed desire of improvement, will grow more knowing; he that entertains himself with moral or religious treatises, will imperceptibly advance in goodness; the ideas which are often offered to the mind, will at last find a lucky moment when it is disposed to receive them.
Unfortunately, this “secret influence” more often comes from the practically unavoidable electronic media and advertising. This is both on account of its content, which is often less than praiseworthy, but also because of its nature. It works against the formation of attention control, deep contemplation, and nuanced thinking. Reading exerts a counter-influence to these tendencies.
As beneficial as reading is to the individual, the value increases as the habit is shared by a family or congregation. It helps us to understand one another and helps equip us to better minister to one another. The ideas and patterns of thought that have developed in the mind of one person make their way into the culture of the community.
I grew up hearing the story of how Abraham Lincoln, when he was a boy, left his log cabin in the woods and walked barefoot for five miles in order to borrow a single book. While his dedication is admirable, the modern problem is precisely the opposite to Lincoln’s. We can easily be paralyzed by the proximity of so many options and so many marketers competing for our attention. This is where book lists come in. Umberto Eco rightly observed that “lists are the most necessary literary accessories of all.” Their value consists as much in excluding books as including them.
It is not possible to read widely while still selecting only books that are completely free of error and even less possible to read only books whose authors are free of error either morally or in their other works. Many babies of truth can be lost when there is an overzealous attempt to throw out every drop of erroneous bathwater. Sometimes the benefit of a book is in being a bit challenging to our existing way of thinking. The attempt to read only what is consistent with one’s current understanding can result in a dry self-resonating narrowness. Wide reading tends to be self correcting. The mistakes of one author are corrected by another.