Christian Trinketshops

Readers who have been following along for sometime may recall my little attempt at bookshop vigilantism, wherein I chucked a copy of a 'devotional on the Tarot' behind a bookshelf rather than have anyone buy it.

Well, the bookshop in question is moving premises, so my shenigans will soon be discovered. I wonder if the book will find a place in the new store, all dusty from its long hibernation. Anything is, sadly, possible.

I took a hobble around it today, as we were in town, on the off-chance that there might be some cut-price Spurgeon paperbacks. There were a number of copies of 'The Gospel according to The Beatles'. Which wasn't a Spurgeon book, in case you're wondering.

There were a number of display cabinets full of sentimental statues and crystal mantelpiece decorations, all set off perfectly with halogen spotlights. Around a third of the entire space was full of CD racks.

There was quite a bit of wall-space given over to displays of angel key-rings, which you could choose depending on your birthstone, and assorted jewellery, ranging from fishes embossed in everything from gold-plate to painted clay to various cloth bracelets with assorted initials.

The section which used to hold the tracts now held a number of psychology based leaflets aimed at helping youngsters 'fit in', and a few little booklets by Creflo Dollar on 'How to Honour your Man of God'.

All in all, what with the greetings cards section, too, books accounted for around a quarter of the entire bookshop.

It's long been my suspicion, but today was a good illustration - Evanjellybeans don't read. They prefer to grow spiritually by interior decoration, the music they listen to, or allow their kids to listen to, at least, and the wearing of jewellery is a witness all of itself.

The store doesn't close for another week, so nothing has yet been removed from the shelves, but as I walked round today, making the deeply difficult decision to refrain from purchasing the cheap, leather-bound copy of 'The purpose-driven life', it felt as empty as if there had been no books in there at all. For all the vacuous content of most of the wafer-thin paperpacks and worldly magazines, there really may as well have been none there.

I am a bibliophile - completely in love with books. The Lord of all chooses to speak to me through the means of a book. I am connected to the faith of my brothers and sisters from all over this planet, and from every age since Christ walked this earth, through the things they have written. I have cherished friends from hundreds of years ago, because of books.

I have rarely left a bookshop feeling terribly numb. But today I did. Can such a Vanity Fair of nothingness really be called a Christian bookshop? Can a shop with barely a quarter of its available floorspace given over to books truly be called a bookshop?

I am comforted that in the town where my church meets, there is still a Christian Bookshop which is genuinely a bookshop. A quarter of that is devoted to bibles and commentaries alone. Yes, it does sell a few other things - cards and wrapping paper mostly - but it is still, emphatically a bookshop.

Can I encourage you, reader of this little pink blog, crack open a real book this week - break into Bunyan or Brooks, read some Irenaeus, peruse a hefty commentary - but most of all, open your bible and use the concordance to find a verse, instead of BlueLetterBible. Above all, be a reader. The preciousness of books, and the ability to read is something we neglect at our great, great peril.