Daydreams and Prayers

The other day I wrote a post about how we tend to let garbage into our hearts and minds, convincing ourselves that we won't be impacted by it all that much. I challenged that thinking by suggesting that everything we allow ourselves to ingest will impact us in one way or another. . .

In case you weren't thoroughly convinced I would like to give you a quick example of how this has played out in my own life.

I like to read. I go through phases where I read constantly, and then periods of drought when I hardly pick up a book. Sometimes I read suspense, sometimes sci-fi, sometimes romance. . . It all just depends on my mood when I'm at the library.

Usually I try to find a book by a Christian author. There have just been too many times when I've thought a book looked really good and then been horrified by the content within. . . I figure, its always safe to read Christian fiction, right?

Hmm. Maybe not.

You see, the word garbage might be too exclusive sounding when it comes to what we feed ourselves. Sometimes the things we ingest are meant for our good, but turn out to take us the wrong direction. Sometimes it isn't garbage at all, but "God-honoring" things that end up creating idols in our lives.

Still confused?

This is where my little analogy comes in (I L-O-V-E analogies. . . ). I'm going to describe two different books that I have read over the last year, and then share the overt influence they each had on my life.

Book 1: I read this book because of my mother. Seriously. She recommended it, and she actually lent me her copy. Honestly, I probably wouldn't have picked it out on my own. It seemed a little cheesy to me. It was about a prayer circle; a group of woman whose lives intersected over their faith. A large portion of the book was just recording the prayers they prayed when they were together. Halfway through I still thought it was a little cheesy. . . but you know, it was kind funny. . . I couldn't put it down.

Book 2: I picked this one out myself. It was set back at the turn of the 19th century, and it involved a young woman and the man she was forced to marry. Of course, as always happens in these books, they ended up falling in love. . . But it took quite a few twists and turns to arrive at their happy ending. I was addicted. I think I read it 23 hours. While somehow managing to also take care of my children. . . mostly.

Now, both of those books are by Christian authors. Neither of them contain any specific content that denies Jesus or goes against the life He has called us to live. Both of them provide some great examples for us to follow as we try to walk in faith.

How did they impact me?

Well, I'm glad you asked. One of them left me daydreaming constantly. Of course, as any girl does, I was inserting myself into the story and imagining it all playing out with myself as the lead character (am I not supposed to admit that at age 31? I may be old - but some things never change). After reading the other book I found myself praying. All the time. It was weird; like I was suddenly constantly aware of God's presence all around me. . . And it was an obvious (yet totally unconscious) response to the book I had read.

Now, I'm guessing that I don't have to tell you which book left me with which result. It should be obvious. And I'm not suggesting that reading romantic novels is evil and sinful. I think it does border on sinful for me, because I want ALL of my daydreams to be centered around the ONE man who has captured my heart and who will hold it forever: my husband. Its kinda hard to picture him as a lumberjack in the early 1900's living in Oregon, though. . . so that makes things tricky. . .

My conclusion? I don't care for the thoughts that tend to swirl around my brain when I read those books.

If I'm going to ingest something, and I know it is going to have an impact on my thoughts, words, and actions. . . well, then I'd like it to be something that encourages the kinds of thoughts, words and actions that I actually want to be living out. I think its pretty cool that a piece of fiction actually caused me to pray more.

Maybe that's a silly example. But I think it perfectly demonstrates the reality of this simple truth: what goes in, must come out.

And it leaves me with the same, simple question for you, dear friends.

What is it that you want coming out of you?