I am not a huge fan of devotional books. Often, they are shallow, boring, and threaten to replace the simple and holy reading of Scripture.
That said, I do enjoy reading some books in a devotional sort of way. What do I mean? Most days, my time in God’s Word is simple:
- Pick up from where I left off the day before and read a Psalm in a prayerful, worshipful manner
- Turn to the book in the Bible that I am reading through (and possibly studying)
In addition to these two devotional practices, I enjoy having another book that I can read an excerpt from. Over the past year, it has been Thomas à Kempis’s The Imitation of Christ. It is divided into short chapters, making it easy to read one chapter in the morning alongside Scripture.
Before I share the words that convicted me yesterday, let me first say a bit more about who he was, especially considering that he was not a Protestant. Thomas à Kempis was a 15th-century Christian writer best known for The Imitation of Christ, one of the most widely read devotional books in church history. Written in short, focused chapters, the book emphasizes humility, self-denial, and a life centered on following Christ. Its simple, direct style has made it a lasting work for Christians seeking a more serious and practical devotional life. In my experience, few books pack so much punch into a few words. Time and time again, I find that one phrase or line warrants a pause and focused meditation.
In Chapter 43 titled “Against Vain and Secular Knowledge,” Kempis writes what is presented as God speaking in the first-person: “Attend well to my words, for they inflame the heart, and enlighten the mind; they cause compunction, and they supply abundant variety of consolation. Never read the Word in order to appear more learned to more wise.” The part in bold made me stop.
While I love to read, study, write, and teach, I am often guilty of reading only to prepare. In other words, I can easily slip into a mode where I am not reading to learn and grow personally. In that mode, I find myself reading mainly to get smarter, know more, and become a better teacher. But there’s something ironic about this: the more I read only to become a better teacher, the less of a teacher I actually become. Reading to teach (or to prepare a sermon, or anything else) can lead to a lack of internalization—I’m not really reading to learn, to grow, to be changed, or to more faithfully follow Jesus.
I find that I am just reading to, in the words of Thomas à Kempis, become “more learned” or “more wise.” When that happens, I may be adding a few items to my intellectual pantry, but I am not allowing them to actually shape me. Over time, this leads to dryness—I burn out, and I begin to lose my passion for teaching altogether.
Kempis reminds us that we must first and foremost read God’s words in Scripture in a personal (not private), existential manner.
Let them speak to us.
Let them shape up.
Let them direct us.
Let them inflame us! This might be the most important for the simple reason that remaining passionate about God in the midst of the daily grind is one of the most challenging tasks in the Christian faith.
May we read for the right reasons.
God helps us.

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