A Few Things I Should Tell You; "The Confessions of Augustine"

There are a few things I should tell you. 

We are heading into my seminary years. 40 books in twenty years. 20% of them, or the next 8 books, will be selected from the books I read during my time studying at Regent College. I took my Masters of Divinity at Regent. This was a three year program that I did do in three years, but we took a year off in the middle and returned to S. Korea to teach English again. I'll tell that story when I get to those books. 

A few things follow from this. 

First, you are going to notice something of a shift in the types of books selected. They are still good books, but some of them are much more geared to my training as a pastor and, therefore, may be of less interest for you to read (the next book in this series will be a great example of that). 

Second, I'm not entirely sure of the ordering of these books. I know, with certainty, which two I have chosen from my second year in S. Korea. The rest, however, have varying degrees of certainty over their ordering. In fact, the only other one I am really sure is in the right place is this book!

Third, many of these books are chosen just as much for the people they represent as for the books themselves. They are, as I've said already, still good books! But when it comes to choosing the books that have had the most influence on me over the years it is inevitable that people will be connected to some of them, and this is even more the case during seminary. This book is a perfect example of that. 

The first year of seminary is filled with introductory level courses, as you would expect. One of those was Christian History 1. My professor was Don Lewis. At the time I knew him as an excellent history professor (for this he was, and is, in full) - gentle and kind with his students, soft spoken, and full of wisdom and understanding. Later, year later, I would come to know Don further as a man with an incredibly deep heart for pastors, for supporting and encouraging them, who regularly goes out of his way to breathe life into us. It is and has been truly a privilege to know this man and I look back on that first semester with fondness largely because of him. 

I had the privilege of signing up, during that class, for an extra seminar on Augustine. Our text? The Confessions. 

This was my first time reading this book, my first time in a small group setting in seminary, and my first time really grappling in depth with a conversion narrative. And what a conversion narrative it is!

This is another thing I should tell you. The Confessions of Augustine are, for the most part, the narrative of his life growing up and coming to know Jesus. The book is 13 "books" long (chapters really) and the first 9 recount Augustine's story. It is a great story, told well, with full disclosure and authenticity. You walk with Augustine in his younger days, full of pride and lust and ambition, as he heads into the ways of the world. You see him as he grapples with various philosophical systems that try to explain life and as he continually thinks of his mother and her prayers. You join him as he looks with heart-opening clarity at his own impulse to sin and, thus, find yourself drawn to look at your own life with that same heart-opening clarity. If you don't know the story of Augustine stealing peaches... well, I won't ruin it for you. The book is, without a doubt, a convicting and fruitful read. 

I should also tell you, however, that the last four books (or chapters) are completely different. In these last sections Augustine wrestles with the workings of our memories, how it is that anyone can come to God, what it means that God is the creator, and various interpretations of Genesis 1 and 2. They all connect, trust me, but they are not for the faint of heart. Still, they are as full of insight and conviction as is his narrative. This time around I found his musings on memory particularly interesting. This line, among others, caught me: "A great marvel rises in me; astonishment seizes me. Men go forth to marvel at the heights of the mountains and the huge waves of the sea, the broad flow of rivers, the vastness of the ocean, the orbits of the stars, and yet they neglect to marvel at themselves. Nor do they wonder how it is that, when I spoke of all these things, I was not looking at them with my eyes - and yet I cold not have spoken about them had it not been that I was actually seeing within, in my memory..." Indeed. How is it that I so easily marvel at God's creation in nature around me, and so rarely bring that same wonder to bear on how I too am fearfully and wonderfully made?  

There is one other thing I should tell you. If you decide to read this book make sure you pick up a modern translation. Once upon a time I owned several copies of this book. I've given all but one away. I kept the one that I liked the look of best on my shelf, with nary a thought to what version it was. Thus I ended up reading the Christian Classics version which includes lines such as: "Let me know thee, O my Knower; let me know thee even as I am known." Yes, thee and thou and all that comes with it. The book has sections that are difficult enough without the older English, so get a modern translation! But do, if you are at all interested, pick up a copy (or find one free online). This is a book you ought to read (and I am not going to be able to say this about all of the books that I will be writing about from my seminary years!). 

Note: This post is part of a series which I began here. To see all the posts in the series click the label at the bottom of this post "20yrs40bks".