I love books. Language and the ability to read are two of the great gifts of God to humanity. I know people who have e-books. I don’t own any, and I can see the advantage of them, but they are not the same as actual paper and ink.
Not only do I love to read books, I like to collect them. I have books which are nearly 200 years old. My oldest is by the French philosopher Denis Diderot. I have first editions by Baptist preacher Charles Spurgeon and American evangelist DL Moody.
Every book is a tale of someone’s life. Someone spent months or years of his life placing his thoughts as a living history of thoughts and experiences upon pages in a book.
Each book also has a personal life. The condition and color of the cover, the feel of the paper, the stiffness of the binding, a peculiar scent. A history of ownership. A tale of use.
People are a lot like books. Some are best sellers, while others sit on shelves and go ignored without a second look. Some are dog-eared and beloved, while others are tattered and become fragile from use or abuse. Some are funny, some serious, some informational, some full of pictures. But every book has a story if we take the time to read it; don’t judge it merely by it’s cover.