Consider the Source

When I was a kid, my dad had this corner bookshelf on which he kept a variety of items. There were some classic novels – several Dickens, and a few others I think; a few different dictionaries and other reference books like Strong’s Concordance and a thesaurus or two; notable pieces of his rock collection: a chunk of amethyst, a couple pieces of quartz, a large segment of petrified wood. I can’t recall exactly everything that was on that shelf, but the ones that were great fun for me as a kid were the full-color identification guides. The astronomy and rocks guides didn’t generate too much enthusiasm; the birds and plants, however, were much more fascinating. My favorite was a small volume with a lavender cover, that contained common wildflowers of the eastern United States. I looked through that one countless times as I was growing up, and when my parents were rearranging books and shelves a few years, I was delighted for that small book to find its way into my house.

Recently when we arrived home after an excursion, I spotted, in the corner of the flower bed, a group of white star-shaped flowers. I’ve seen them before, every spring for the past 7 years, and have always admired their simplicity and beauty. I’ve also wondered, every spring for the past 7 years, just what kind of flower they are, as I didn’t recognize them. This year would be different I determined, so at the earliest opportunity, I sat down and pulled out the much-loved identification guide. Two thorough cover-to-cover perusals later, it was clearly to no avail. Those flowers simply didn’t make an appearance in the book. A quick Google search returned not only the identification – star of Bethlehem – but also the reason for the exclusion: it’s not a wildflower native to the eastern United States. (In hindsight, of course it’s not. It was deliberately planted in a flower bed in Ohio; few and far between are the homeowners who would choose common wildflowers for that purpose.) Sure, there are identification guides that would have contained that flower, just not the one in which I was looking.

There are probably many parallels to this situation in which I found myself, but I’ve found myself returning time and again to the importance of looking in the right place, or going to the proper source, most particularly for wisdom. One can look all one wants for information on world history, but it will never be found in a Clive Cussler novel. Likewise, Nathaniel Philbrick has spilled quite a bit of ink on history, but if you’re looking for a light comedic novel, you’d be best served to look at Wodehouse instead. And when we’re in need of godly wisdom, for instruction and guidance on how to walk in the ways of the Lord, we can check out (and actually read) all the self-help books we can find on the packed library shelves, but we won’t find it there.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with self-help books, and in the right situation, they can be useful. We’d do well to consider the source though, and for what we’re actually searching. This world doesn’t offer the wisdom we need for the deeper choices and dilemmas we face on a daily basis.