A new acquaintance asked me once what my hobbies were. I told him I read. “Read?” he replied. “That’s something pastors do for their job. I mean, what do you do for recreation?”
Not all my reading is recreational, of course-commentaries and biblical references are not high on my leisure reading list. But most of my reading is, in fact, done for pleasure.
A number of professional baseball players play golf in the off season. At first glance, it seems odd that baseball players would find swinging a club at a little white ball relaxing. But they do, because they play baseball and golf with different intents. Baseball is work-work they might enjoy, but work nonetheless. Golf is play.
For me, reading is often play. I read to enlighten my soul, brighten my spirit, and tickle my mind.
And, by the way, such reading usually enlivens my preaching. I don’t consciously think of books as compendiums of illustrations. When I read to relax, I relax-without note paper at hand. Nonetheless, as I prepare sermons, I find, time and again, illustrations come to mind from my recreational reading.
Here are some of the books, authors, and genres that have given me pleasure in my leisure and ideas for Sunday. (I’ve also included the most recent publication date and publisher for each book.)
Books That Offer New Ideas
One day while browsing through new nonfiction titles at the local library, one title, They Went That-a-Way: How the Famous, Infamous, and Great Died (Simon and Schuster, 1988), by the late Malcolm Forbes caught my fancy. In it Forbes, then editor of Forbes magazine, tells stories (one hundred and fifty, in all) of how the rich and famous died. He summarizes their lives in a couple of pithy paragraphs and then describes what brought their deaths.
Many are ironic, some depressing, others rib ticklers. Alexander the Great, the mighty conqueror of the world, died after chugging six quarts of wine in a drinking contest. About a modern music idol, Forbes says, “The only thing remarkable about the death of Elvis Presley is that it didn’t seem to slow up his career.”
He quotes Lenny Bruce’s philosophy of life: “Look, you only have 65 years to live. Before you’re 20, you can’t enjoy anything because you don’t know what’s going on. After you’re 50, you can’t enjoy it either, because you don’t have the physical energies. So you only have around twenty-five years to swing. In those twenty-five years, I’m going to swing.” Then Forbes adds, “He died of an overdose of morphine at age 40. … Twenty-five years of swinging was more than his 40-year-old body could take.”
The Book of Heroic Failure (Ballantine, 1986) by Stephen Pile kept me laughing from beginning to end. Pile tells the stories of some of the most glaring failures of our day; it’s a kind a spoof on the Guinness Book of World Records. In our day, when the gods of success are held in regal awe, these anecdotes are good antidotes.
Two of the more memorable failures he describes were “The Least Successful Animal Rescue” (after rescuing a cat, the rescuers drove over the cat and killed it) and “The Man Who Almost Invented the Vacuum Cleaner” (his invention blew dust off the rug into the air). He also reports on “The Least Accurate Newspaper Report,” “The Least Successful Bank Robber,” and “The Worst Hijackers.”
“The Worst Phrasebook” is about an English-Portuguese phrasebook written by a man unfamiliar with English. So, he used a French-English dictionary to translate some of our dearest idioms. “A dog’s bark is worse than his bite” became “The dog than bark not bite.” “A bird in hand is worth two in the bush” became “A take is better than two you shall have.”
I used “The Greatest Mathematical Error” in a sermon about choosing Christ:
The Mariner I space probe was launched from Cape Canaveral on 28 July 1962 toward Venus. After 13 minutes’ flight a booster engine would give acceleration up to 25,820 mph; after 44 minutes, 9,800 solar cells would unfold; after 80 days a computer would calculate the final course corrections, and after 100 days the craft would circle the unknown planet, scanning the mysterious cloud in which it is bathed. However, with an efficiency that is truly heartening, Mariner I plunged into the Atlantic Ocean only four minutes after take-off. Inquiries later revealed that a minus sign had been omitted from the instructions fed into the computer. “It was human error, a launch spokesman said. The minus sign cost 4,280,000 pounds [nearly twelve million American dollars at the time].
The Portable Curmudgeon, compiled and edited by Jon Winokur (New American Library, 1987), is described on the dust jacket as “More than 1,000 outrageously irreverent quotations, anecdotes, and interviews on a vast array of subjects, from an illustrious list of world-class grouches.” Winokur defines curmudgeon as “anyone who hates hypocrisy and pretense and has the temerity to say so; anyone with the habit of pointing out unpleasant facts in an engaging and humorous manner.”
Most of Winokur’s curmudgeons are not Christians. In fact, some he quotes, like Voltaire, poke fun at things dear to us: “A clergyman is one who feels himself called upon to live without working at the expense of the rascals who work to live.” Yet, for the most part, the book is filled with potent and pithy sayings that preachers could use about hypocrisy around us.
Other curmudgeons quoted by Winokur include:
G. K. Chesterton: “The Bible tells us to love our neighbors, and also to love our enemies; probably because they are generally the same people.”
Woody Allen: “It’s not that I’m afraid to die, I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”
Channing Pollock: “A critic is a legless man who teaches running.”
H. L. Mencken: “A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin.”
Mark Twain: “It takes your enemy and your friend, working together, to hurt you: the one to slander you, and the other to bring the news to you.”
The quotes are arranged alphabetically by subject for easy reference. I generally don’t read quote books during leisure or work, but with Winokur I make an exception.
Another exception is Facts on File Encyclopedia of Word and Phrase Origins (Facts on File, 1987) edited by Robert Hendrickson. Unfortunately, this fascinating volume has a title that intimidates most people. But Hendrickson’s explanations of the origins of common phrases are pregnant with meaning and fun to read. And, yes, many will emerge as sermon illustrations. Take this explanation of a common expression:
Fly off the handle: Axes in American pioneer days were frequently handmade, frontiersmen whittling their own handles and attaching axe-heads shipped from back East. Because they were often crudely fitted to the helve, these axe-heads often flew off the handle while woodsmen were chopping down trees or preparing firewood, sometimes injuring the axeman or people nearby. The sudden flying of the head off the axe, and the trouble this caused, naturally suggested a sudden wild outburst of anger, the loss of self-control, or the losing of one’s head that the expression fly off the handle describes.
Authors Who Tickle My Imagination
In addition to certain books, I also find certain authors consistently rewarding. Here are three.
Andy Rooney. An author who questions modern mores in a light and entertaining way is newspaper and television commentator Andy Rooney. He writes about the common things around us, taking them apart and looking at them from different angles.
His article “Fences” (A Few Minutes with Andy Rooney, Warner, 1982) helped me explain once the barrier between God and man due to sin. He also has given me ideas for Christmas sermons in articles such as “A Guide to Christmas Shopping,” “Beware of Children Bearing Gifts,” and “Christmas Trees” (Pieces of My Mind, Avon, 1985; And More by Andy Rooney, Warner, 1983; and Word for Word, Berkley, 1987; respectively).
One of his articles inspired me to preach a sermon comparing Leah’s ugliness (with pale eyes and a name that meant “Wild Cow”) and Jesus’ ugliness as described in Isaiah 53. Listen to Rooney in his essay “Ugly” (A Few Minutes with Andy Rooney):
One of the things that seems to be true about ugly is that it is often associated with deterioration. Anything that doesn’t look as good as it used to is on the way to becoming ugly. It is probably because anything that doesn’t look as good as it used to is growing older and reminds us of ourselves and of death.
This idea, if it’s true at all, doesn’t account for everything ugly, though, because that factor is not always present. It is possible to make brand-new junk that is ugly. Not only that, but a lot of things which look good in their own place become ugly looking someplace else. The object, itself unchanged, is changed by your reaction to it.
A woman’s hair can be a thing of great beauty, one of her most attractive physical attributes. … Now envision a well-set dinner table, with silverware, and candlelight. The soup is served. And this is the strange thing about ugly . . . take just one of the beautiful hairs from the woman’s head and put it in the soup and both the hair and the soup are repulsive. …
A smile is attractive and white teeth in a good mouth are beautiful. Take the teeth out of their natural setting and they are not beautiful, they are ugly . . . even when they’re smiling. Teeth in a glass have about them several of the attributes we associate with ugly.
Frederick Buechner. Converted after writing his first novel, Frederick Buechner then went on to seminary and ordination in the Presbyterian church. Although his theology doesn’t always please me, he never fails to challenge me. He has a way of making common things uncommon, and of seeing the eternal in the finite.
He has written four novels about an unforgettable evangelist named Leo Bebb. These four (Lion Country, Open Heart, Love Feast, and Treasure Hunt) are collected together in The Book of Bebb (Macmillan, 1979).
Of his two autobiographies, The Sacred Journey (Harper & Row, 1982) and Now and Then (Harper & Row, 1983), the first is better. It is about his childhood, teenage years, conversion, and call to the ministry. I have often borrowed for sermons his notion of the journey, especially the idea that our journeys are every bit as sacred as Abraham’s, if only we could see God’s hand in the little areas of our lives.
I first became acquainted with Buechner when I happened to pick up a copy of Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC (Harper & Row, 1973). In it, Buechner discusses familiar theological terms (like love, children, Bible, eternal life) in ordinary and delightful language. He explains words I often use but don’t think about, and revitalizes them. Here are his insights on anger:
Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back-in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.
His second volume along these lines, Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who’s Who (Harper & Row, 1979), gives short, fresh biographies of biblical characters. Another volume, Whistling in the Dark: An ABC Theologized (Harper & Row, 1988), attempts to breathe theological life into everyday words (e.g., comedy, darkness, jobs, joke, x-rated). Preachers are called to give a theological focus to issues that fill the lives of our parishioners. Buechner helps me sharpen that skill.
Soren Kierkegaard. I’ve lost count of how many times Kierkegaard has been recommended to me. I’ve tried, but I cannot read Kierkegaard for long. But one day I discovered a book by him I could handle:
Parables of Kierkegaard, edited by Thomas C. Oden (Princeton University Press, 1978). Oden picked out eighty-six of Kierkegaard’s parables and put them in one handy volume. Kierkegaard is reputed to be one of the best modern story tellers, and this book sustains that reputation.
It includes his famous “God Is the Audience” parable as well as others less familiar, yet also stimulating. Kierkegaard originally told the stories to illustrate his particular philosophical point, but many of them have universal applications. Consider “The Parable of the New Shoes”:
It is related of a peasant who came [barefooted] to the Capital, and had made so much money that he could buy himself a pair of shoes and stockings and still have enough left over to get drunk on-it is related that as he was trying in his drunken state to find his way home, he lay down in the middle of the highway and fell asleep. Then along came a wagon, and the driver shouted to him to move or he would run over his legs. Then the drunken peasant awoke, looked at his legs, and since by reason of the shoes and stockings he didn’t recognize them, he said to the driver, “Drive on, they are not my legs.”
Two Genres I Like to Explore
I’ve discovered a couple of genres of literature that I didn’t realize I would enjoy as much as I do.
Light Verse. I can’t relax while reading poetry; it usually requires too much concentration. But recently I discovered light verse-poetry with a humorous or satirical bent. In particular, I’ve discovered Ogden Nash and Shel Silverstein.
Ogden Nash (1902-1971) wrote poetry for the New Yorker and other magazines from the 1930s to the 1960s, and published a number of poetry books. With humor and punch, he stretches the English language to its limits. I love to use humor once in a while, and many of Nash’s poems fit perfectly. I used “The Outcome of Mr. MacLeod’s Gratitude” in a Thanksgiving message.
When Thanksgiving came twice, who walked proud
As that grateful optimist, Mr. MacLeod?
Things you and I would deeply deplore
MacLeod found ways to be grateful for,
And this was his conscientious attitude:
Double thanksgiving, double gratitude.
Whatever happened, no matter how hateful,
Macleod found excuses for being grateful.
To be grateful, he really strained his wits.
Had he hiccups?
He was grateful it wasn’t fits.
Had he hives?
He was grateful it wasn’t measles.
Had he mice?
He was grateful it wasn’t weasels.
Had he roaches?
He was glad it wasn’t tarantulas.
Did his wife go to San Francisco?
He was glad it wasn’t Los Angeles.
Mrs. MacLeod, on the other hand,
Was always complaining to beat the band.
If she had the mumps she found it no tonic
To be told to be grateful it wasn’t bubonic.
If the cook walked out she would scream like a mink
Instead of being grateful she still had a sink.
So she tired of her husband’s cheery note
And she stuffed a tea tray down his throat.
He remarked from the floor where they found him reclining,
“I’m just a MacLeod with a silver lining.”
Shel Silverstein writes children’s books. His artwork is as creative as his poetry, and both these skills have kept him on the bestseller list for years. His A Light in the Attic (Harper & Row, 1981) and Where the Sidewalk Ends (Harper & Row, 1974) are popular with both teachers and students. While he is clever and often funny, I glance ahead before reading them to my kids. A few of his poems take liberties I don’t want to take with my grade-school children. Still, the bulk of his material is worth pursuing. I used the following poem, “Never,” in a sermon about serving Christ.
I’ve never roped a Brahma bull,
I’ve never fought a duel,
I’ve never crossed the desert
On a lop-eared, swayback mule,
I’ve never climbed an idol’s nose
To steal a cursed jewel.
I’ve never gone down with my ship
Into the bubblin’ brine,
I’ve never saved a lion’s life
And then had him save mine,
Or screamed Ahoooo while swingin, through
The jungle on a vine.
I’ve never dealt draw poker
In a rowdy lumber camp,
Or got up at the count of nine
To beat the world’s champ,
I’ve never had my picture on
A six-cent postage stamp.
I’ve never scored a touchdown
On a ninety-nine-yard run,
I’ve never winged six Daltons
With my dying brother’s gun . . .
Or kissed Miz Jane, and rode my hoss
Into the setting sun.
Sometimes I get so depressed
Bout what I haven’t done.
Biographies. Like novels, biographies allow me to escape present circumstances and explore another era or culture through the eyes of someone else. They are not only one of my favorite forms of diversion, they shed light on my life.
In addition, biographies are superb sources of human anecdotes, which can become part of one’s sermon arsenal. I read biographies of both Christians and non-Christians. Both can be inspiring; both hold great examples for us to emulate or avoid. And few things capture the imagination of our listeners as a well-told story that happened to a historical figure.
Warren Wiersbe, radio preacher and prolific writer, has written a number of books that summarize famous Christians’ lives in several pages. Three I’ve found helpful are Victorious Christians You Should Know (Baker, 1984), Walking with the Giants (Baker, 1976), and Listening to the Giants (Baker, 1979). The first is about famous Christians from history and includes preachers, missionaries, and hymn writers. The last two tell the stories of famous preachers, particularly those from the last half of the nineteenth century (C. H. Spurgeon, Henry Drummond, C. E. Jefferson, and Phillips Brooks).
Ruth A. Tucker also does a masterful job at short biographies of Christians. Her highly acclaimed From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya (Zondervan, 1986) retells the history of missions by means of biography, using individual missionaries to illustrate broad historical trends in missions. Many of the missionaries’ stories are heartbreaking, and all are challenging. They provide many stories worth retelling to my congregation.
Another approach to Christian biography is James and Marti Hefley’s By Their Blood: Christian Martyrs of the Twentieth Century (Baker, 1979). If the purges of Stalin, the Boxer Rebellion, and the Khmer Rouge are considered, millions of Christians have perished in the twentieth century at the hands of violence. The Hefleys admit the task of telling these martyrs’ stories is frustrating because there are so many. But they managed to awaken me to the plight of recent Christians around the world.
For vignettes about secular thinkers, Paul Johnson’s Intellectuals (Harper & Row, 1989) is excellent. He investigates the lives of modern intellectuals such as Rousseau, Marx, Tolstoy, Hemingway, and Sartre, among others, and shows how they failed to live up to their own philosophies. Unfortunately, Johnson assumes the reader already is conversant with the philosophy of the subject. Yet, despite this flaw, the book is hard to put down.
Consider his characterization of Marx: Marx advocated the proletariat rising up against the bourgeois. Yet Marx himself was bourgeois; he despised labor leaders; he never once is reported to have entered a factory. He riddled the capitalistic system about interest, yet borrowed money his entire life, and most of the time was deeply in debt. He argued that his system was based upon the scientific method; in fact, it was a philosophy in search of evidence. Such reading opens one’s eyes to many accepted beliefs of our culture.
Another excellent author of short biography is Michael Grant, an English historian who has written extensively, and in popular idiom, about the Greek and Roman eras. His handling of the biblical material is sometimes suspect, but he does a superb job of helping the reader understand the general historical sweep of the biblical and post-biblical period.
His The Twelve Caesars (out of print, but available in libraries), an updating of Suetonius’s famous book (Penguin, 1957) discusses, in ten to thirty pages each, the Caesars from Julius to Domitian. Suetonius is scandalous and fun to read, but hardly current with modern scholarship. So, I would read both together. Their coverage of Nero prompted a Passion Week sermon contrasting the last moments of Nero’s life, when he knew he would die, with Jesus’ dignity in the garden as Judas approached him.
Grant’s From Alexander to Cleopatra: The Hellenistic World (out of print, but available in libraries) nicely compliments F. F. Bruce’s traditional New Testament History. Grant’s is broader in scope and, in my view, the more interesting.
One other historical writer of biographies is Alan Moorehead, an Australian journalist who covered the North Africa campaign during World War II. His classic works on the discovery of the sources of the White and Blue Niles rivers (The White Nile and The Blue Nile, both Random House, 1983) are still read by students of Africa and the Middle East. His description of the slave trade helped me understand the background of the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts and Jeremiah’s Ethiopian friend, Eben-Melech. In addition, his portrayal of David Livingstone is moving, as are his stories of other explorers.
I enjoy all of Moorehead’s works, but especially Cooper’s Creek: The Opening of Australia (Atlantic Monthly Press, 1987), a telling account of the race to cross the Australian continent first. Before reading this book, I knew nothing about Australian history, but his wonderful descriptions of the people and geography made up for lost time. In addition, I used illustrations from this book for sermons for several months.
Ecclesiastes says, “Of the making of many books there is no end, and much study is weariness of the flesh.” As an indictment on human pride, I couldn’t agree more. But of those many books, God has used a few to renew my spirit and inform my people. Of those books, may there be no end.
Copyright © 1990 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
