412.

I’ve always loved numbers. When I was a kid, I would borrow the Money section from my dad’s USA Today and add up lines upon lines of stock quotes. I loved played Monopoly, I was great in math class, and the back of baseball cards were better than the front.

Digital clocks were one of my favorites. I had all sorts of games I would play whenever I saw time displayed. One is to “cast out nines,” which is a trick you use when checking division problems. Basically, when all the numbers add up to nine, they cancel each other out. So, 4:50 was an even one, as was 8:01 or 2:34.

I would also count the lines that made up each glowing number, and I knew which times of day had the perfect number of lines to make up perfect 8s with no spaces wasted. 3:18. 8:47. 2:34 (again!).

Now that you know I’m crazy, let’s move on to those glorious times in life when certain numbers gain a special meaning. It may be your birthday — seeing 10 and 31 anywhere makes me smile, because Halloween is when I was born. I’ve always liked 21 (the first day of winter, and the first of summer — and the day my grandmother was born), and 3 and 7 always worked out for me, probably because I was raised reading the Bible.

In high school, 24 became my lifelong favorite number. It was the jersey number of my hero, and the number I wore when I played basketball. I would forever use it for passwords or pins.

But the newest number for me has been 412 (a variation of 24, mind you). This number popped up sometime when I was working a sad job at a sad newspaper. At first, I couldn’t place it, but I was seeing it everywhere.

I was supposed to be at work at 4:00, but I usually rolled in around 4:12 (which, technically, was 4:07 because my clock was five minutes fast). When I went to bed, it was often 4:12, too, the time I finally unwound from a long day at work.

Whenever I saw 412, it gave me hope. It seemed to say that God was there, and that He was keeping track of me, and that even in the mess, there was a sign. It was my snake in the wilderness, my fleece in the dew, my raven by the stream.

The number 412 soon got an unfortunate cousin in the number 146, which was the “tube number” of a very inept coworker of mine. (We used a DOS-based editing system, and each station was assigned a number. Mine was 245. His was 146. When you saw 146 pop up when you tried to get into a story, you groaned. When you saw an article that originated at 146, you groaned. Eventually, when you saw 146 anywhere, you groaned.)

God gave me a lot of 412s at that job, but I also got a lot of 146s. No matter how many time I saw 146, though — often waking up in the middle of the day after my night shift (1:46), there was a 412 when I rolled into work.

For every 146, there’s a 412.

I wrote that on a piece of paper and hung it in my cube, and no one had a clue what it meant but me. I knew, though. I knew every time I saw those numbers, and I knew it when 146 walked over with one of those things he always did and jumbled my day.

For every 146, there’s a 412. It works in math, and it works with God — except, maybe, during the times when God is so amazing that He lets you see 412 more than you see 146, even if there’s an equal amount out there. (I haven’t seen a lot of 146s since I left that job.)

The cool thing about these numbers popping out and surprising you is that it often happens when you aren’t expecting it, and that’s what makes me say it’s from God. I’ll be having a crappy day and will be praying that He’ll show Himself to me, and all of the sudden my savings on a grocery receipt will be $4.12. I’ll be muddling through a day at work, and then I’ll see it’s April 12 (4/12). I don’t go to work at 4:00 anymore, and I don’t go to bed at 4 a.m., but I still see so many 412s.

(I realized later that the place where I probably picked up “412” was from a Switchfoot song called that. And, yep, the words describe my life around the time of 412 perfectly.)

I was working on my checkbook tonight, thanking God for the three-paycheck month yet wondering how I was going to pay my car insurance and my rent and that credit card bill that just keeps getting bigger. I had enough to cover it this time, but the margins keep getting thinner.

Last week in church, my pastor had talked about a tithing challenge. Apparently, some people who weren’t raised in repressive Judeo-Christian households haven’t had the 10% rule drilled into them, and they need to be reminded to give their firstfruits, and a full tenth, to the local church God has placed in their lives. (Just kidding. I’m aware this is a complex topic, but I couldn’t resist.)

I’ve always tithed, although sometimes I didn’t have a local church, or I had to move money around. Recently, though, I’ve been in a pickle. I stopped tithing to my local church for several months this past year because my work schedule changed, and I worked every Sunday. I was also feeling disconnected from the church in many ways, so I had welcomed the schedule change as a way to take a break and reassess. Since I was not actively involved in the church, I did not consider it my local church, and I instead invested my tithe money in some missionaries I already supported otherwise who were dealing with a shortfall on their monthly support.

When I returned to the church this spring, I started tithing again — but not 10% to the church. I didn’t really know what to do, in fact. I wasn’t going to cut back on the missionaries; I had prayed and asked God to keep providing enough that I could give them this extra amount. But I also couldn’t afford to tithe 10% to my church, because the amount I was giving to the missionaries was already about that much of my salary.

If I tithed and kept my promise, I would be giving away 20% of what I earn, right off the bat. And I’m in a living situation where my rent is about 60% of what I earn. I would prefer to still be able to buy food.

But then the pastor got up and talked about tithing, and the challenge, and I knew what was right. It’s just money. I don’t need new clothes, and I haven’t spent anything on myself in forever (and I don’t really intend to, if it’s between spending on me or God). This means no more eating out for lunch, or not letting my car break down, or skipping some things I would like. But it’s just money. And, as the great C.S. Lewis says, you’re not really giving if it doesn’t hurt in some way.

So tonight, thanking God for my three-paycheck month, which took care of the old car insurance, I added in this week’s deposit and went to write my check for my church. I totaled up how much I made and cut off the last digit. I wrote the check for what is a very big chunk of change for me.

And then, as I ripped off the boring, cheapest-you-can-buy check, I saw the number: 412.

Of course my step of faith would be written on the 412th check I had ever written from this account. Of course it would be when I was asking God whether He would really hold me together through this. Of course He would open the door for me to give a 412 when there wasn’t a 146 in sight.

I once used my 412/146 thought in a song I wrote, the theme of which was grace. The main line to that song, in which I tried to capture the incredible feeling I had one night when I realized something God had done just for me, was, “I didn’t need it but You gave it anyway. I need to remember that.”

I have trouble remembering sometimes. But that’s why God made clocks, and numbers like 412.

Biblio Recommendo

Which is better: Reading only the Bible, or reading other Christian books in conjunction with Bible study?

I have swung sharply to both sides at different points in my life. At Bible college, right after high school, I decided I wanted to read nothing but the Bible so I could form my own unadulterated opinions from it. I was reading extensively for school anyway, and my tack had its desired effect: I soon found myself linking parts of the Bible I had never pulled together before and felt parts of Scripture coming alive for the first time.

In recent years, though, I have gone back to reading Christian books at my Bible-reading time. Sometimes I even enjoy those books so much that I don't read the Bible at great length (which I would not ever recommend; I'll call it laziness). This I have found very refreshing, in that passages that I had long taken to mean one thing can suddenly mean much more, being expanded by people with deeper knowledge of Scripture, or who have found ways to link verses, concepts, and principles in much the way I did during my first deep dive in Bible school.

Now, in both of these examples, I must note that while at some point I excluded Christian books, at no time did I exclude church, sermons, special messages, seminars, or hours upon hours of talking with friends about the things of God. So, the question is not whether we should read the Bible aside from all other sources of insight or knowledge. If we are practicing Christians, we should be constantly surrounded by those. The question is whether Christian books are an aid or a hindrance.

My thought for several years was that Christian books are indeed a hindrance, but I know now that this was mostly based on the type of Christian books being shoveled toward me. Unimaginative, cliched, or application-heavy texts are prone to discourage or disgust a person seeking God.

Just because rubbish is filled with words that can also be found in the Bible does not mean that rubbish is good or helpful. And I think a good deal of Christian books make it to print despite having nothing to say (or in trying very hard to explain things that can't be said), thus tainting the field for those books that can actually help.

But, after casting all of those books aside (to each person his own, for what may help some could just frustrate others), I now want to advocate for using solid Christian texts along with Bible study.

C.S. Lewis, Tim Keller, Paul Miller, and Rob Bell are the latest fellas to bring me around, and I think their work exemplifies the best of Christian writing: practical thoughts and grand ideas spawned off the greater concepts and concrete truths of the Bible.

Bell works with principles and proverbs long taken to mean one thing and nudges his readers to see them a different way. Keller strings age-old truths into modernity, buttressing his ideas with ties to literature and reason. Miller weaves the humble walking of daily life with Bible truths many have imagined but few have lived. And Lewis, well, Lewis can in paragraphs describe entire Christian doctrines, in sentences give you a perfect example of a hard-to-live principle, and in words compel you to see both the beauty and fact of truths ever-much-more living.

Those four are my favorites right now, and they have done for me what I could have never done through Bible study alone. They deconstruct the verses I have known all my life and help me see real, living examples of how those words should shape my life. They help link together the broader themes of Scripture and show how individual directives fit into them. They make stories and commandments come alive.

The backlog of Bible learning I've compiled my whole life gets made into moving pictures when I read these Christian authors, and I am better equipped to go back to Scripture and continue studying on my own.

I would argue that what these Christian writers are doing is much what a good pastor or community group would do. We are all spreading the Bible's truth to each other, encouraging each other with it and trying to use the wisdom God has given us to help others see it better. The unique nature of alone time with God in Bible study does not mean this has to stop. We can continue to tap into what God has shown others, just in the quiet of reading.

If we read just the Bible, our understanding of it is laid only against what we already have in our heads. No matter how great our Christian background, our knowledge is incomplete. And many of us were raised by Sunday School teachers who meant well but told us stuff that's just not true.

Most of us also are constantly working through the pain, guilt, or bitterness that comes into life through sin. Our experiences color our education, and whether we see it or not, the world as we've come to see it will shape how we study the Bible. Outside sources help us fight this and instead continue to see truth for what it is, and God for Who He really is.

On top of that, we are all madly selfish creatives, and especially in modernity, quite engrossed in what is orbiting around us. Self is king no matter how many times we slay it, and the only antidote is truth. God, Christ, the Holy Spirit help us see outside of ourselves, and fellow Christians are part of that ministry.

Finally, learning from others is part of our constant journey to true understanding and seeing the world how God sees it. Bible study, the "renewal" of our minds (Romans 12:1-2), the reframing, is nothing if not God replacing eyes that look in sin with minds that understand through His view. He shows us the way as we study, and to different people He shows different illuminations of His truth. We'd be crazy not to tap into that.

This is an incomplete discussion that could use much more reasoning and better examples. I still support time just spent in the Word, and I certainly fight for prayer alone and time alone with God. But when it comes to the time set aside for just Bible study or reading, I also suggest a solid Christian book, even if it be a page or paragraph a day.

If repetition, guilt, cynicism, hopelessness, or depression have ever been part or your walk with God, it's likely you were too far inside yourself to see Him. A different snapshot of God can make all the difference in starting a walk toward full truth.

March book reviews, part 3

Another installment in the book reviews about my current reading.

Today: Surprised by Joy by C.S. Lewis.

I am always enthralled by my latest good book, but I am sure this is by far my favorite.

After a rash of sports books, I hardly know how to review a regular book—especially one as good as this.

In a mix of autobiography and a case on how he came to his Christian faith, C.S. Lewis shows some of his best writing in Surprised by Joy. He tells a good story, making us really see what it was like to grow up in his shoes (or, as he so vividly describes, his pants that buttoned at the knee, leaving him with red marks on his leg every night). Better yet, he helps us see the Joy that surprised him so well.

Lewis's technique starts with giving a basic telling of his life, which goes from his childhood through his schooling to the war through his time in academia. In the midst, he gives humorous accounts of different situations he faced, such as poor teachers or the discovery of a great new book, and insights into regular parts of growing up, such as understanding his father.

But Lewis also uses the simple telling of his life story to set up a platform for what he sees as the reason for his life: the discovery of God. In the first chapter, he introduces "Joy," that state where he gets a glimpse of God through something on this earth, although he doesn't know quite what he's feeling or where it's pointing him to.

Lewis carries this theme throughout the book as God uses friendships, literature, aesthetic settings, and other experiences to challenge Lewis's thinking and give him more glimpses of Joy. Eventually, it all clicks for Lewis. Titling one of his chapters "checkmate," Lewis is clear on how God methodically cleaned out his pawns, bishop, and queen until Lewis recognized the King.

The path there is a beautiful one, and Lewis does a great job capturing the human existence as he explains his journey. The reader sees how Lewis's views were shaped by customs and events similar to ones we all face, and the reader can identify with many parts of Lewis's story.

All the way, Lewis weaves the story around the theme that is Joy, providing a compelling centerpiece that all who can understand will see their narratives circle around as well. His passages on Joy, although few, are exhilarating, and you can find yourself excitedly anticipating the next mention, to see how Lewis will tie it in with the human experience we all have.

Lewis not only tells a good story in an interesting way but also clearly explains his philosophical path to God in an understandable way. You don't have to get deep concepts to see his different views throughout the book, and he connects them and shows the progression without boring the reader. Yet he also gives enough of a glimpse of the rabbit holes he ran through that readers can venture further if they wish.

Lewis is a great writer, and he always gives a good explanation. The book is good throughout, with passages of sheer brilliance. For even those who are not Lewis fans, there's a nice story, spots that encourage thought, and a tantalizing description of that feeling we all have but can't quite pin down until we're surprised by God.

His story, albeit about a dowdy Englishman, is funny, well-written, deep, resolving, and uplifting.