One Old, Good Book

We don’t make enough money to go to fancy restaurants often. Once in a while, though, we manage to either get a good deal or we get invited to a restaurant that’s out of our price range.

When the food comes out, I often look at what’s served and have two thoughts. First: amazing presentation! Second: that’s it for what I just spent? I often feel like I’ll have to stop at McDonalds on the way home to get a bit more food.

But then I begin to eat the meal and realize that it’s on a whole other level than the kind of meal I normally eat. I also discover at the end that I’m satisfied. In fact, I’m more than satisfied. I feel like I don’t want to eat anywhere else because I don’t want to lose the sense of satisfaction that I’ve had from enjoying that quality of cooking.

I feel the same way sometimes when I enjoy an old, good book.

I’m a voracious reader. I often see new books and buy them. I’ve always got a book or two or three on the go.

Occasionally, though, I pick up an old, good book, and it satisfies me more than a hundred mediocre new books. For instance, I recently picked up Iain Murray’s The Life of Martyn Lloyd-Jones. It’s a “re-cast, condensed and, in parts, re-written version of the author’s two volumes” on the life of Lloyd-Jones. I’m only on page 66, but it already feels like it’s been a deeply satisfying feast for the soul.

I find myself thinking the same thing as I read other books: Arnold Dallimore’s biography of Spurgeon, the book that Lloyd-Jones wrote on the Sermon on the Mount, or many of the Puritan works. Some of them — particularly some of the Puritan works — require a little more work. The price tag, in terms of effort, is higher. They’re less flashy than many new books. But the payback is unbelievable. When I read the right older book, I sometimes wonder why I settle for so anything less.

You can find new, good books too, but time has a way of filtering some of the mediocre books that don't measure up.

Of course, most of us can’t survive eating five-star meals every day. There’s a place for ordinary meals. But there’s also a time to put away the everyday fare and enjoy a feast.

I suppose the same is true when it comes to reading. It’s not wrong to read widely. There’s a place for ordinary books that are helpful but not exceptional.

But why wouldn’t we take advantage of the more profound works and make them a regular part of our diet? Why not feast on the best books that the centuries have produced?

Get what you can from social media, blog posts, and books that will come and go, but don’t make them the major part of your diet. Drop them if you must. Find the few old books that don’t have the same flash and sizzle, but that are worth more than a hundred mediocre books put together. Savor them. You can’t live on five-star meals, but you can live on five-star books that have stood the test of time. They will satisfy you in a way that other books won’t, and after you enjoy them for a while, you’ll lose your appetite for anything else.