I didn’t expect to learn so much while carrying boxes down the street.

It was moving day — one of packing, lifting, and walking. My office was relocating, a transition I did not plan or find pleasure in. Making multiple trips, my arms loaded with books. Boxes of books.

Some books were new and shiny, others worn with years of use. As I walked, the weight of those books felt familiar. Not just the physical weight, but the stories they contained — the words, the lessons, the lives poured onto pages.

With the books still in boxes, not yet placed in my new office in an old building, not yet on their shelves, I hit reverse. I thought back to the countless hours spent within those pages. Stories from distant lands, theological reflections, poems that pressed on the soul, and the sacred words of Scripture.

I remembered the magazines — their articles shaping thoughts, sharpening ideas, and stretching perspectives. Each box I carried wasn’t just filled with paper and ink; it was filled with voices. With wisdom. With reminders of who I am and who I am becoming. With reminiscence of where I was and where I am going.

And yet, for me, seasons of my reading and writing were not simple tasks. Seeing the boxes of books reminded me of boxing matches in my brain, of working through weaknesses, of refusing to give up when I want to through those books far, far away.

Years ago, after surviving encephalitis, my brain was left bruised and broken. I had to learn again how to read, how to write, how to speak. The words I once took for granted became strangers. I sat through speech therapy sessions, relearning the basics. Simple sentences, once they began to make some sense again, became victories. Pages that I once flew by now required hours of work.

I felt slow. I felt weak. I felt defeated. But somewhere in that slowness, in that weakness, I began to see the power of persistence. And the power of words. Though my brain felt crammed into a box that would never open, personal endurance and encouragement from friends and guidance from a speech therapist assisted me in slowly finding ways to rip the box open.

Those lessons stayed with me. As I carried those books to my new office, I realized I had spent much of my life not just reading books — but being read by them. Being formed by them. Being reshaped by them. Such thoughts inspired me or challenged me or convinced me somehow to write my next book about books. About the words that shaped me. About words I want to pass on to others.

The Call to Keep Learning

 I often wonder if we, as pastors and leaders, forget the necessity of being lifelong learners. We preach sermons. We lead meetings. We counsel others. But how often do we sit in the posture of a student — humble, curious, and willing to learn? How can we shift our role from leader to learner?

It’s easy to let the pressures of ministry crowd out our hunger for wisdom. Busy schedules become an excuse. Our own weariness becomes a barrier. For some, like me, physical or cognitive challenges make reading difficult. But we cannot afford to stop learning. We cannot afford to stop listening to other voices.

The Book of Proverbs reminds us, “Let the wise listen and add to their learning” (Proverbs 1:5). The apostle Paul, nearing the end of his life, still craved the words and study. From a prison cell, he wrote to Timothy, “Bring … my scrolls, especially the parchments” (2 Timothy 4:13). Even in chains, Paul wanted to learn. Even in weakness, he knew the power of words.

If Paul, with all his knowledge and revelation, still needed books, how much more do we?

Words That Shape Us

Learning isn’t the finish line. It’s the starting point. The real challenge is not merely to read more — but to live more fully from what we’ve read.

I think back to those days in speech therapy — how words slowly began to return. The Bible became my anchor, its truth settling into the broken places of my brain. But other words helped too. Stories and poems and essays. Songs and prayers and my own poorly written journal entrees. Each piece built a bridge, allowing me to cross into a life of learning and developing and growing again.

That’s the power of words. They shape us when we let them. They stretch our minds and stir our hearts. For leaders and pastors, this is not optional. It is essential.

We need books that challenge us to think beyond our assumptions. We need poetry that revives our imagination when ministry feels dry. We need voices — old and new, ancient and modern, bruised and fresh, nearby and distant — to teach us, correct us, and expand our vision. We need the living and active Word of God to cut through our busyness and take us back to the heart of our calling.

Conversations Among the Stacks

Not long after settling into my new office, a group of college students visited. Friends had helped put the books in their proper places. Alphabetical order based on authors’ last names. One section for the books I’ve written. One section for the books which are my favorites. One section for Bibles of various translations. One section for books about writing.

The students looked around, eyes wide, taking in the floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books.

A student asked, “Have you read all of these?”

 I smiled. “Most of them,” I replied. “Each one has contributed to my journey.”

 Another student picked up a worn volume. “How do you find time to read so much?”

 “It’s not about having time,” I said. “It’s about making time. Prioritizing learning, even when life is busy.”

 We spent the next hour discussing the importance of reading, of letting diverse voices speak into our lives. I encouraged them to start small — pick a book, setting aside a few minutes each day, and letting the habit grow. Their enthusiasm reminded me of the joy that comes from discovering new ideas and perspectives.

Exercising the Mind

 Reading is more than a hobby; it’s a workout for the brain. Neuroscientific research shows that engaging with texts can enhance neuroplasticity — the brain’s ability to adapt and reorganize itself. This means that, regardless of age or cognitive challenges, our brains can develop new pathways and strengthen existing ones through the discipline of reading.

After my encephalitis, I experienced this firsthand. Each sentence I struggled through was like lifting a weight, building mental resilience. Over time, the effort rewired my brain, improving not just my reading skills but also my overall cognitive function.

A Decline in Reading

Despite the profound benefits of reading, recent statistics reveal a concerning trend. According to a 2022 survey by the National Endowment for the Arts, only 48.5 percent of adults reported reading at least one book in the past year, a decline from previous years.

Additionally, data from Statista indicates that in 2022, American adults spent an average of just 15 minutes per day reading. This decline in reading habits suggests a growing disengagement from the transformative power of literature.

Living What We Learn

But learning isn’t the finish line. It’s the starting point. The real challenge is not merely to read more — but to live more fully from what we’ve read.

It’s one thing to underline a profound quote in a book. It’s another to let that truth reshape how we treat people, how we lead meetings, how we love our families. Jesus didn’t call us to be collectors of information — He called us to be doers of the Word (James 1:22).

I still keep learning, even when it’s hard. Even when the words on a page blur together after a long day. Because I know what’s at stake. My leadership, my preaching, my pastoring, my Christlikeness are only as strong as my willingness to stay a student. And not just any student, one shaped by the eternal truth of God’s Word.

So, as I settle into my new office, surrounded by those familiar books, I carry more than just their weight. I carry their lessons. Their stories. And the ongoing call to never stop learning, never stop reading, and never stop living what I’ve received.

May we, as leaders, do the same. May we walk with words — not just carrying them but letting them carry us.