From Atmosphere to Atmosphere

It was a blazing summer day. 100-plus, the forecast claimed. Two days earlier, my sister got married. I was returning the various objects my family had rented for the occasion: Lanterns, linens, ladders, and the like. "I'm glad it wasn't this hot for the wedding," I thought to myself as I tuned the radio in my car to a Classical station. I rolled down the window to the sounds of a busy midday street. I decided otherwise, returned the window to its original position, and opted for air conditioning, to my great disdain. The fake air-ness of the cool air was better than the overt disturbance caused by racing cars. The fresh air had to wait for an evening drive. I increased the volume on the radio, imbibing the rich, deep art that is Classical music. The smooth waves of violin strings flowed through the speakers into my ears. Deep cellos strums shot their way out, too, bouncing off the corners of my car's interior. The occasional line of piccolo notes contrasted and accented the smooth strings, penetrating to the depths of my mind. 

"Why," I thought to myself, "does this music sound even purer than it had before?" I was suddenly distracted by a scene common to my hometown: a man, hunched over a round container wielding a torn rectangle of cardboard that read, "Need Money, God Bless." The energy the music's beauty had accumulated was replaced with the ring of pensive silence. My intrinsic philosophical mind found had found its way to the surface: reality. 

This experience, which took place a few days ago, is much like reading. We find a book that captivates our very being. It influences every thought. It becomes our reality. Its literary depth washes over us, blinding us to the reality that engulfs us. 

Some live for such an altered state as this. The most devout readers find themselves living their reality as if their dream is around the corner. Authors become hermits, martyrs for their personal prose. They're searching for a false reality, a getaway to their circumstances. I have found myself in such a position, my writing was the deep body of water in which my person stood. My head remained above the surface, surveying the surroundings. They displeased me. They made me want to hide. 

May the beauty of the words not be hidden by the blindness of the worker. 

Favorite Authors

We all have favorite books. Sometimes those books fall into the same genre. Sometimes they're books in a series. But sometimes, we spend $15 on a book just because of the author's name. I've found myself doing this recently, but not in vain.

As I mentioned in my first "Words" post, I'm a fan of theological works. I don't limit my interest to modern works. I've read Jonathan Edwards, John Calvin, Martin Luther, St. Augustine and even G.K. Chesterton, just to name a few. But, despite the brilliance and innovation found in these works, I find myself resorting to another—R.C. Sproul.

Sproul has been writing since my parents were in college. He's a world-renowned theologian, author, academic, editor, philosopher, teacher, preacher, et cetera. He's editor in chief of a magazine. He's written over 60 books. He heads a worldwide ministry and he's a minister. 

Achievements and qualifications aside, Dr. Sproul knows the truth that is found only in the Bible. He fears it. He loves it. And his books, despite their many topics, seem to always boil down to its inerrancy, infallibility and activity today. 

What's more, Dr. Sproul acknowledges God's nature in its entirety. I had never encountered a modern theologian's works that so revered the whole nature of the holy God. Granted, I'm only 19, and I'm not a seminary student, so my study in theology dates back about six years. Nevertheless, I've never been pushed, transformed, informed and challenged by any works (save the Bible, of course) like I have Sproul's. 

He's a man called by God to accurately portray God. He's bringing truth to a mistaken evangelical landscape in America. He's taken stands on the scandals in the Presbyterian denomination. 

I'm currently reading Sproul's The Mystery of the Holy Spirit. It's taught me more about the the Spirit of God than I had learned in years of Christian schooling, youth group and small group Bible studies. 

I have three more of his works on my summer reading list (it's grown since the two days I blogged about it, by the way). I'm about to start posting it as a blog itself.

Summer Reading

I'm currently on summer break. I'm also in my home town, Yakima, Washington. Now, for those of you who know me well, you know I'm not exactly proud of Yakima. Yakima's like a friend that friend with whom you can only spend a limited amount of time. For me, at least.

Needless to say, to keep myself from going absolutely raving mad, I have to divert my attention from the repugnant city-town-community in which I live. Many Yakimaniacs choose to do so with drugs, alcohol, et cetera. I choose Jesus and books. Sometimes, I mix the two, in fact!

I've comprised a legitimate summer reading list each of the last four or five summers, but this year's has to be the best so far. I've read four books and I'm on my fifth, with four more on the docket. I've read more in summers past. I've even read more "interesting." But I've never learned more from my summer reading than I have this year. 

The reason? Content, content, content. 

Since I learned the word theology, I've been interested. I've dabbled in theological works since I was about fourteen. But the last three years, I've taken it upon myself to imbibe the information in my reading and implant it in the depths of my mind. In short, I'm not going to forget what I'm reading. Why? It's interesting stuff, that's why.

My Amazon.com wish list is growing. It's multiple pages—six, in fact—for the first time in a long time. For my eighteenth birthday, I told my mom I wanted to spend the money she would use on an iPod (or something else that has become a customary gift in this country) on books instead. Two hours and a chunk of change later, I had thousands of pages of fantastic literature at my fingertips. 

Now, I'm going to be twenty soon. And while I appreciate the classics that my mom bought me a year ago, I think I'll ask her for book shopping spree number two. Maybe a book for every year of life? 

Anyway, for my fellow geeks that prefer prose over parties, build a summer reading list. Learn. Live. Grow. TCU :) 

http://www.tcu.edu/