While I was in Israel, Susie & Paul conspired on the nicest Father's Day gift I could imagine -- converting Paul's old bedroom into a home office for me. They found bargains on a great desk, lateral file, inn table, and matching artwork! The only inadequacy in the entire arrangement was the small amount of shelving for books. I accused Susie of doing that on purpose, but she won't admit to anything.Of course, I think there is never enough room for books. Those who don't read a lot--and even some that do--have difficulty understanding this perspective. That's why I was pleased to run across an article by retired pastor Gordon MacDonald yesterday. Allow me to share part of what he wrote: I dread the town fair because … well, perhaps you'll understand why if I tell you what my wife, Gail, said to me a few days ago: "Next week I want us to donate 500 books from our library to the used-book sale at the fair. So you might want to go through your books and pick out what you don't think you'll need anymore."
If you love your books as much as I do, you understand how impossible it is to imagine any book in your library that you'll not need anymore. Even lending a book to a friend is a personal crisis for me. It tests my Christian generosity. I want to encase a loaned book in something similar to what the banks use when they surrender money to a bank robber--something that explodes with indelible ink if the book is not returned in a week.
Gail raises this book-donation idea about this time every year, and she always increases the culling number. It started at 25 books a decade ago, and now has reached 500. I don't know if this number is thoughtfully calculated, or it simply comes off the top of her head. But it always increases. It never, like John the Baptist, decreases.
I usually protest, but Gail is experienced in the discipline of downsizing. All she has to say is, "Okay, I'll do it." The thought of Gail choosing which of my books are going one-way to the fair is really not thinkable.
Some of you will understand when I say that each of my books is precious to me. When I am among them, I feel as if I'm wrapped in a warm blanket. Like a protective shepherd, I know my sheep (or books) by name. I know where almost every book is located on the shelves. The logic of their placement may defy you. But I know my books!
Gail used to tell our children when they were small, "Books are our friends." I remind her of this when she sets the annual downsizing quota. I say, "Have you become so calloused that you're ready to throw our 'friends' away?"
My question never dissuades her.
The minute I donate even one of my books to the town fair, I find that, within two weeks, I need something from it: a quote, for example, or a story. I may have not cracked that particular book once in ten years. But be assured that I will need that book within two weeks of its sacrifice.
Once or twice I've parted company with a book and then had to re-purchase another copy of that book online a few months later. Once I saw a former book of mine on the used-book table and felt so badly that I bought it back. But I never told Gail that I did this.
(The entire article can be found at http://www.christianitytoday.co/le/currenttrendscolumns/leadershipweekly/ditchingfriendsathefair.html.)
Believe it or not, everything that MacDonald said here made perfect sense to me. However, I made a decision a long time ago that my books--like the rest of my possessions--belong to God, so if you ever want to borrow one or more, don't hesitate. The only thing I ask is that you "check it out" by writing down the name and author of the book, your name, and the date you borrow it. And, if you forget to return it, you will know that you stole it from God!
Incidentally, "bibliophiles" are "lovers of books." About the only people who know that are bibliophiles!
