For many years, I’ve had a love-hate relationship with the “seven deadly sins”—which I guess is the whole point of the matter. If they weren’t sins I wouldn’t hate being captured by them but if they weren’t so much a part of who I am I wouldn’t love them so much!

I return to some books frequently. Each favorite book is a filing cabinet full of quotes, stories, memories, and marginal interactions with the author and with myself. Most of the books I return to are old—sometimes very old. But an exception has been a 2006 book titled Into the Silent Land by Martin Laird.[1] I love this book. I’ve got underlines and notes on almost every page. I take it with me when I travel. It’s always nearby. This is not a book my heirs will be able to sell on the Internet as “very good.” This one will be marked “poor” because of all the pencil and ink.

Books are like pastors to me. They teach me, they encourage me, sometimes they convict me, mostly they companion me on my journey. My way of coping with the proliferation of good books out there is to trust that a good book finds me.  At just the right time.

David Benner’s book Soulful Spirituality found me this winter. Dr. Benner became my pastor as I slowly absorbed his book. I was reminded that we often describe ourselves as “human beings on a spiritual journey,” but it is “equally true that we are spiritual beings on a human journey.” Yes. I am at my core a spiritual being, currently experiencing my spiritual nature as a human being. Benner’s book spoke to me about the interconnectedness of my human being and my spiritual being.

Editor’s Note: Welcome to May. As students leave school and that twinkle in your eye is the anticipation of summer vacations, we decided to ask our contributors a question that might bulk up your summer book list a little: What are you reading that’s forming your soul?

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When people ask, “Have you read _____?” I’m hopelessly out of it.  About 20 years ago, I began replying, “I read mostly dead folks.”  I’m not trying to be a snob.  I really like Madame Guyon, Bernard of Clairvaux and Julian of Norwich.

My daughter, Krystal, and I had a delightful theological conversation the other night. We talked about human freedom in light of Dostoevsky’s “The Grand Inquisitor.”

The Grand Inquisitor is a story about Christ’s return to Earth—to Seville—during the Inquisition. Not to be confused with the glorious Second Coming at the end of time, this was a momentary visit in which Jesus chose to appear “where the fires were crackling under the heretics.” He came quietly, as he had 15 centuries before. Yet the people recognized him at once.

One evening over this past holiday season, my kids and I were trying to decide which movie to go see.  I had been to everything I had wanted to see and so had they.  Since they have no problem seeing movies over and over they went to the closet for an old favorite. “Oh, no,” I groaned. How many times do I have to sit through “Dumber and Dumber”?

I can’t believe I’m blogging. I haven’t been a fan of the sport. In fact, I’ve enjoyed quoting Mark Twain who once described journalism as “literature in a hurry;” and then quickly adding my belief that “blogging is journalism in a jiffy.” But, as was the case with my take on email, texting, and on-line learning, I was wrong.

It actually can be very cool to have a reason to visit the Conversations web site on a daily basis, to “join a daily conversation,” reading and then responding. So, because this provides the chance to hear from you, and so many of our other fiends, I’m in.

The topic for our first month of blogging is the theme of our most recent issue, “Contemplation and Action.” With that anchor point, here we go.

With the incredible popularity of the book (and now the movie) Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, many would-be prayer dropouts are seeking an experience of God. In their dialogue in the most recent issue of Conversations, Dr. David Benner and Dr. Gary Moon offer a conversation around Benner’s book “Opening to God” that would have saved Elizabeth Gilbert time, money and the flood of inoculations that are required for traveling to India and Indonesia.

Benner is transparent when he states, “My experience of that openness is far from constant… the moments when I have known this openness are rarer than I’d like, but they leave a taste I can never forget.”

Elizabeth Gilbert ate her way through Italy and ended up buying larger jeans to accommodate her ravenous appetite for all things Italian. In Benner’s dialogue on the impact of the feeling of alignment with God the wholeness and the sense of belonging he declares, “Like any taste of God, it leaves me hungering for more.” I read eagerly yet meditatively, being reminded of my own moments of sheer delight in God and God’s presence.