The vote is in. America recently had a whimsical debate over what is its favorite book of all time. According to a recent Harris poll survey, we are a flummoxed, well-read nation with codex favorites from J.D. Salinger, Ayn Rand, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Richard Bachman… er… Stephen King.
However, all of those literary giants and some that we apparently didn’t care too much about (i.e. Mark Twain, Ernest Hemingway, Ray Bradbury, Descartes, Emerson, you know? The biggies) didn’t make the cut against a few dudes wrapped in finely-knit togas that was literally “ghostwriting”. That’s right. America’s favorite nightstand fixture is The Holy Bible.
What does that tell us? That after more than 2,000 years, those apostles really understood how to pique a reader’s attention? Maybe there is some truth to all the cutsy acronymic sayings and songs about the B.I.B.L.E. being “Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth.” There is a salient reason why libraries are full of people – we are on a quest internally from the day we learn how to read, an insatiable thirst for knowledge that is only quenched when our riddles are answered.
Maybe this recent story will tell us all something – read all 66 chapters of that book. Yeah, even the “Begats“. There is truth within those sacred pages that you can’t find written from Charles Dickens, George Orwell, Graham Greene or yes, even C.S. Lewis. They come from God, who alone inspired those words for our life’s journey. Check it out sometime. I hear you can find them in hotels too.