Eremos

After starting 2023 with a commitment to avoid buying books for the whole year, I’ve selected something new to give up for each successive month.
Have I lost your attention yet?  Why would I do such a thing?

Maybe giving up things for a month at a time sounds drastic and self-destructive.  Maybe it sounds pointless and overly negative.
Is this just some kind of excessive legalism or ancient asceticism?
Why not focus on doing positive things?

The answer to that is simple – sometimes, good things get crowded out of our lives, and we need to make space for them to regain ground.  That’s why Christian spiritual disciplines involve both stillness and initiative,
as gardening involves both plowing and sowing, both pruning and planting.

Marva J. Dawn, in her book Keeping the Sabbath Wholly, argues from her own personal experience that Sabbath includes activities of ceasing, resting, embracing, and feasting.  And these turn out to work as a sort of process: when one removes certain activities from a day and regains a measure of freedom and energy, he or she is able to take initiative in new areas and enjoy the blessings already present in his or her life.

This is why I have viewed Sabbath as a foundational spiritual discipline – it creates time and space for other spiritual practices to flourish.  These include things that we do on Sundays together in fellowship, as well as things we’ve been waiting all week to do on our own.

And there are other forms of ceasing.  The Bible speaks plenty about fasting from food as a way to focus more, spiritually, or to express earnest desire.  For me, fasting from other life habits on a monthly basis has served as a way to keep certain activities in check, avoiding excess while creating opportunities to replace them with more worthwhile activities.

After doing so with buying books, listening to audiobooks, and drinking coffee, I decided to try cutting the use of my smartphone in the month of April.

To some, this may sound impossible – we’ve become so reliant on what smartphones offer.  To others, this may sound foolish – why make life difficult for myself?  Perhaps others have not yet let smartphones become an integral part of their lives – they may wonder, what’s the big deal?

I didn’t have a cellphone until I was 22, and teaching English in St. Petersburg Russia for a year.  Realizing that my Russian was a little sub-par, I needed a way to contact help when I needed it.  Back then, we texted by repeatedly pushing numbers until they gave you the right letter.  Sometimes, the technology of “predictive texting” expedited the process.

Now, I find my smartphone quite essential to my daily life – it has rendered street maps obsolete, it has replaced the morning newspaper, the sports channel on t.v., visits to the local bank, my calendar, my notepad, my camera – and it has streamlined a lot of communication.  There’s an app for everything.  So what would life be like without my smartphone?  I thought I’d try to find out.

For emailing and messaging, the smartphone had made this available all of the time – even by voice texting (hands-free) in the car.  But confining emails to certain times and places (in front of my computer) created space in my life for other things – to think, to pray, to rest my mind.

For checking news and sports scores, it was similar – while a smartphone makes these available all of the time, I found it a helpful relief to compartmentalize and localize that practice to my computer desk.  I could more easily pick an appropriate time for it, and then walk away when I was finished.

With a smartphone, it’s so easy and tempting to pick it up at any spare moment – and so it is those spare moments that I gained back.

For google maps and google calendar, I actually missed these quite a bit.  While it is possible to plan your route ahead of time, or write appointments in an agenda book, the ability to receive directions in real-time (on the crazy roads of Victoria) and to instantly synchronize your calendar with your wife – these have proven invaluable for me.  Maybe if I still lived in a city whose streets followed a numerical grid (Metro Vancouver), I wouldn’t need Google Maps.  Maybe if I worked a 9-5 desk job or trade, I wouldn’t need google calendar – but I’m thankful for these functions!

I could go on and on – there are other phone functions that can’t easily be replaced – it was hard to see any advantage in ceasing to cash my paycheque online, and without Whatsapp, it would be a lot harder to  keep in touch with distant family.  However, there were certain functions that I quickly saw the value in cutting completely.  As much as I value Twitter/X as a source of breaking news and interesting facts, I greatly benefited from cutting its use from my phone.  While I made exceptions for other things, this was the one discipline I stuck to.

Overall, the great gain from restricting my smartphone use came in the form of spare moments.  By removing this constant distraction of my attention, I was more able to focus on things, and to be present to each and every moment – open to what God may show and tell me.  Without such discipline over our attention, it’s hard to imagine following the advice of this Psalm:

Last month, I started my “year without buying books.” It was in response to one of those inner promptings – when God’s Spirit guides us to take small steps of transformation. Like pruning, this process often involves cutting things out in order to make room, or reserve energy and time, for something better.

So, for 2023, there’d be a clean break from online-impulse buying; there’d be a dam in the stream of new arrivals overflowing my shelves; there’d be a moratorium on any additions to my growing list of un-listened-to audiobooks; there’d be a commitment, before entering a used bookstore, to only browse.

So far, I have no regrets. When you notice addictive behaviour, it can be really helpful to completely cut it out – to starve your appetite for it, and force yourself to look elsewhere for something to fill the void. Something life-giving. So, rather than accumulating more, how about adopting the practice of giving away? Or simply enjoying what I have? I do have a lot of books.

Interestingly, ceasing to purchase books resulted in a sudden increase in reading – or, more specifically, listening. After cancelling my Audible membership (to stop purchasing new ones), I realized that the end of January would bring an end to my access to all of the free titles included in my account. And I had a few on the go: Eusebius’s Church History, Sun-Tau’s The Art of War, and Andrew Murray’s Abide in Christ. Knowing that this was my last chance to finish them, I frantically devoured the first two, and half of the third before my time ran out.

Yet, while I’m somewhat proud to have finished a couple more classic works of literature, this frenetic end to the month raises another issue for reflection:
Are audiobooks becoming too big in my life? Are they taking up too much time and attention, and getting in the way of other things? Has the elimination of one addictive behaviour (purchasing books) cast a spotlight on another addictive behaviour (listening to books)?

So, as I entered the month of February, it seemed to me that taking a break from audiobooks would be worth a try. For years, they had accompanied me in the silence of my driving, dishwashing, home renovations, snoozing, and tedious office work. And they had added much richness to my life – insightful perspectives from non-fiction, imaginative escapes in fiction, or simply the efficient completion of an assigned reading.
But were these additions subtracting anything from my life? At times, they divided my attention and distracted me from people and important tasks. At other times, they filled the space that could have been occupied by prayer, pondering, Bible study, or conversation. And why? What was the appeal? Why did I feel the need to press on and finish book after book?

It seems that with books, I face not only the temptation to over-accumulate, but the temptation to strive for accomplishment.

That’s the addiction. Reading books to add to my “completed” list, as a subtle source of pride (see me on Goodreads). Audiobooks have enabled me to read more (albeit less attentively) but what have they caused to become less? Perhaps cutting them for a month would reveal some insight.

So, with audiobooks out of the way, what would fill the void? What else could I listen to?
I tried radio, and heard a lot of chatter, annoying ads, and shallow songs.
I tried podcasts, which challenged by sense of accomplishment (there’s nothing to say I “completed”). While they often thoughtfully engage both sides of a culturally relevant issue (Holy Post, Munk Debates), they also take a lot of time. I’d say they sure beat radio, for someone whose mind is free while they work with their hands, but I still prefer in-person dialogue.
I tried sermons – but find them less informative than books, and more suited for their particular context – better to be there, in person! I could listen to my own sermons – probably a painful but useful discipline that could lead to growth 🙂
I tried videos – which can be informative like books, without the same publishing credentials. Good for washing dishes alone, but few other times.
I tried articles – less time consuming and quite efficient (especially though Twitter), but certainly lacking the depth of books.
And of course, I tried to finish some books in paper – an ongoing, but painfully slow practice that is really irreplaceable for the memory it instills.

Despite the limitations of those options, some new practices also helped fill the void:
Listening to people – My Doctoral research project involves interviewing new believers to hear how they came to faith. And I was blessed to hear ten stories in the space of one month – an experience that was both draining and enriching! It takes energy and focus to listen and draw out a person’s story, but the practice has been quite enlightening. I’m glad to have the time and headspace for it.
Listening to God – this one might seem obvious, but when automatic go-to time fillers are removed, there can be space for prayer: reflection on His word, journaling and conversing with Him about life, and interceding for the needs of others.
Playing soccer – I’ve never played on a soccer team in my life – but after the parents from my son’s team decided to form their own, I’ve found my hockey and football skills transfer fairly well to the role of goalkeeper. So, Sunday afternoon snoozes with audiobooks have given way to exercise and new friendships!
Playing guitar – after taking lessons in high school, my guitar playing was basically dormant for 20 years. There was always someone else who could offer their musical abilities at church, and so, over the years, I’ve taken up other ministry roles. But, as our church has begun to lack instrumentalists lately, I’ve begun to respond to that stress by picking up the guitar again. While that might sound like a stressful endeavour to rescue the music ministry, it’s actually been much more of an inward practice that has produced outward fruit. For the first time, I’ve begun to genuinely enjoy playing for it’s own sake, and to worship God through song outside of a church service. And through that personal development, I’ve gained a capacity to serve in that area.
Playing music – related to that, I’ve begun to realize that songs have certain advantages over books. While books can broaden one’s perspective by adding knowledge, songs can deepen one’s understanding, or the impact of words, by repeating them. Played to music, songs lyrics stick in our mind and can help form our thoughts and actions. In times of stress or busyness, I am thankful when a timely song enters my mind.

So, this month, I sought freedom not only from the accumulation of books, but from the need to accomplish through reading them. And, surprisingly, that freedom from accomplishment has created space for new accomplishments to emerge. While there is a time and place to disengage from the world and broaden knowledge, this month has afforded me time to engage in the world more deeply and fruitfully.

For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation.

Psalm 62:1

I did it. I cancelled my Audible membership – at least for a year.

Since early 2020, Audible has been a steady companion of mine during home renovations, long walks, yard work, driving, and washing dishes. Its books have offered valuable insight for life, material for discussion in book clubs, and imaginative escapes during stressful seasons. 

I can remember many times when I eagerly awaited the end of the month – for the moment when my new credit would be made available, when I could finally download the next instalment in Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series, that classic title on my bucket list, a textbook for class, or a new release recommended by a friend.

It’s been a great ride – so, why would I cancel such a good thing?

I have sometimes noticed what appears to be materialism in others – buying expensive things that seem to be unnecessary – repeatedly making purchases out of a feeling of emptiness that never seems to be filled. Yet, I’ve also come to see that I am materialistic in my own way – I never seem to have enough plants, rocks, and books! Others have teased me for collecting the first two, as they don’t seem to hold much practical utility. But, plants offer beauty, illustrate wisdom, and can improve their value over time. Rocks tell stories from the past – each of them unique, like people – not to mention that when polished, and placed in relish jars, they make great gifts or decorations on a bookshelf! And then books…well, as Solomon said, “Of making many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body” (Ecclesiastes 12:12). 

Over the years I have constantly accumulated books. Shelf after shelf have been filled in my office, in my living room, in my bedroom. Many are given to me and given away to others. Some are purchased, and some are never read. Digitally, through Audible and Christianaudio, I have also accumulated gigabytes of audiobooks. My list of “Not Yet Started” titles has grown nearly as fast as my Wish List.  
And the problem with such accumulation is that after a while, it begins to weigh on you. Your house becomes cluttered, and you worry about storage. Your items are valuable, and you worry about their security. And there’s that sinking feeling that you may never use the thing that you’ve purchased.
The more you have, the more you have to worry about – it’s true for cars and houses and jewelry and books.

As I’ve begun study and preach through the book of Nehemiah this year, I’ve noticed how clearly it models a process of change that believers go through. Looking at each chapter, one could identify steps of transformation:
They begin with repentance – admitting their problem, and then proceed to revision a more hopeful future. Next, they get to work rebuilding, and then need to come internal and external resistance. Finally, as they make progress, they begin to reflect and reevaluate before taking time to remember, rejoice, and produce ongoing reforms. 

While I’m not preaching on this book to lead the church through a building program, I do hope that reading Nehemiah can offer us space to reflect on our lives – to evaluate what we are building in this year ahead. Though I am not calling for New Year’s Resolutions (it’s too late for that), I am personally embarking on a journey of transformation in which I will seek to live without something in each successive month.

Why would I do that? Is this needless self-sacrifice? Outdated asceticism? 
No, I’d describe it as pruning. Making space in my life for new growth. Trimming some dead weight, or things that are actually harming me.
Years ago, I kicked what felt like an unhealthy addiction to TV by cutting it out for a month. Ever since then, it’s never been a big part of my life.

Lately, I’ve had a growing sense that I need to stop buying books for a year – for similar reasons. It has become an unhealthy habit – like impulse shopping, giving a temporary high. That means no more books for my personal studies, for study groups, or for simple pleasure. That also means cancelling my subscription to Audible. While other subscriptions were easier to cancel – Amazon Prime, TSN, and Christianaudio are just seasonal treats, receiving that monthly Audible credit had become quite a routine. In fact, it had begun to create anxiety – what book will I add, this month, to my ever-growing list of unread books?

And so, it has begun. A month without purchasing books. A month to begin enjoying what I already have – a practice that is integral to the intent of Sabbath – to cease from work, production and accumulation – to take pleasure what we’ve already been given. Perfect for my seventh year at Parkdale, my Sabbatical year. And already, there have been nice surprises this month. For one thing, I’ve started a study group using a free book, Multiply. And, wouldn’t you know it, I received a new book for my birthday this month too! (see below)

Though making cuts always hurts, we know that deep down, it’s for the best. Death leads to new life. Surrender leads to rest. Repentance to hope. I look forward to discovering how God will fill the space that this year’s disciplines will create!

²³ Then he said to them all: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. ²⁴ For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it. ²⁵ What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit their very self?

Jesus, Luke 9