Telling Stories

I'm way behind on writing the sermon I need to deliver tomorrow morning, so this blog entry will be shorter.

I saw "The Wrestler" recently with a good friend. It's fantastic movie. Best movie I've seen this year. (And no, I don't just mean from January 1. If I meant only since January 1 I would have said "Best movie I've seen this month." I mean "Best movie I've seen in the last 12 months" but that sounds stupidly precise. It may have been the best movie in the last 11 months, or last 13 months. Know what I mean? [That's why I call this blog "Steam of Consciousness" after all.] Anyway...)

I'm finding myself crying a little bit more these days, which I think is probably a good thing. (Sometimes an increase in crying isn't necessarily a good thing, because it just means a lot more crap is happening than usual. I know a lot of truly unhappy people who cry a lot, so crying isn't always a good indicator of a healthy emotional life and general well-being. But I think *never* crying isn't too healthy either, which is how I had been operating for quite some time.)

I cried during "The Wrestler." (Although not so loud that my friend next to me could tell. I'm still a guy, after all.)

Why did I cry, you ask? I think for me the movie was so powerful because the images were so close to home. I can't really say too much here, because these blogs are sort of public, right? But suffice it to say that I KNOW people like this guy.

And to see him struggle, and sometimes win, and sometimes (and mostly) lose, and in the end to... [I won't tell you, in case you still haven't seen it]

It's so real to life. Life can really SUCK sometimes. I mean, really, really, really suck. I just did a memorial service this past week for a person who committed suicide. In case you've never done a service for someone who committed suicide, let me just say: it sucks. ("Suck" probably doesn't do it justice, but I probably shouldn't use the other words that come to mind. Feel free to give me a call and ask me what words best describe my feelings about it.)

So, you probably expect me to end this blog post with something uplifting, right (those of you who don't know me very well.) Nope, let me just end it like that. Go see "The Wrestler."

Bookanizer

Books, books, books.

I love a good book. I enjoy reading. I'm a pastor of a church within a faith very much enthralled with one particular book. Books are great.

There are just too many of them, and so little time.

Maybe you've had this experience: you read a great book; the lights come on inside; it's like you're seeing things as they really are for the first time; understanding has bloomed within you and you'll never be the same. You're in love.

But do you read it again? Probably not. The book goes back on the shelf, or back to the library, and you move on. You find a new, great book. Oprah recommended it. Or the Amazon.com computer says you'll love it. It has a sleek, glossy dust jacket and that new book smell. Ooh-la-la.

And so you pick up a copy, and you read it, and it is also very good. You savor it. And it goes back on the shelf. And so forth.

And pretty soon you have large bookshelves full of books. Most you've read. (Some you ordered because they sounded like books you really should read, but you haven't gotten around to it.)

Sometimes you feel like you've got to get through the book more quickly, so you just scan... gathering the general gist of things. Maybe you only read a few chapters that interest you. (Maybe you buy the Cliff's Notes!)

You tell your friends about your favorite books. And maybe they order a copy. And probably they tell you about the last great book they read, and maybe you order a copy. (And if you're a real wanker you even recommend books that you haven't even read yourself yet.)

And so you have hundreds of books. And you can remember little bits from this one and that one. You have a vague recollection of what that one up on top was about, the one with the picture of the mountains on the cover and the embossed title. But goshdarn, you can't even remember if you've read that one there in the middle, lying on its side. Did you buy that one new, or pick it up used? (Or did you borrow it from someone a year ago and just forget to return it?)

You know what I am? I'm a BOOKANIZER.

A WOMANIZER is "a man who likes many women and has short sexual relationships with them."

A BOOKANIZER is "a person who likes many books and has short mental relationships with them."

Seriously. It's a problem. And maybe you have this problem too. You have an insatiable appetite to consume the next book on your reading list. Once that's done you toss it aside and start on the next one. Your path is scattered with books which have been tossed aside now that they're no longer "needed."

The promiscuity must stop! Now, I'm not advocating for the reading of just ONE book in your lifetime. But I want (and I believe you also want) to have meaningful mental relationships with your books. You want to remember their names and spend some time thinking about them after the reading act. You want to do more than just rip off a few interesting ideas or stories that you can amaze your friends with (or bolster your sermon, if you're a pastor like me).

At the end of your life would you rather have a dozen books that are close to your heart, that you've memorized sections from, that you've cherished and re-read over the years, and understand deeply.... or an enormous bookcase of books which elicit only the faintest memory?