There is nothing quite like the smell of old books. Their pages, holding not only the words arranged upon them, tell the story of time. Month after month, and year after year, books their own tales whether they be about the selves they have sat on, the collections they have been apart of, or the people that have read them.

I was reminded of this while wandering through a large university library last weekend. Row after row of books sat neatly upon the shelves that extended from the floor up to the ceiling. I walked aimlessly down the main corridor before choosing a random row to walk down. That row happened to hold books pertaining to church history, the life of Christ, and Christian theology (scout’s honor, it was completely random). Amazed by the coincidence of it all, I began to read over different titles. My reading list grew by a factor of ten in roughly three minutes. But how could it not, with intriguing books like True Sabbath, The Story of Liturgy, The Last of the Beatitudes, and Gender and Christianity in Modern Europe? Toward the end of the long row of shelves, a small book with a grey spine caught my eye:

Sacra Privata

On either side of this small volume stood giant tomes, German Hymns and Great Hymns of the 18th Century. The tiny book seemed out of place and special. I pulled it off of the shelf and found a quite chair near a bright window. I quickly realized that the volume was so old, it had been placed in a protective case that looked like a book itself. Carefully unfolding the case, I discovered a small and well-worn book with a black leather cover. A plain, gold script spelled out the title across the top of the cover: Sacra Privata. The next forty-five minutes were filled with reading through the book. It’s author, Reverend Wilson, had collected and written his daily meditations and prayers along with general exhortations for daily Christian life. I was mesmerized.

The first words of Wilson’s writing were striking:

True devotion consist in having our hearts always devoted to God, as the sole Fountain of all happiness.

The rest of the book was just as clear, direct, and simple as its opening lines. Each section of the book bounced back and forth between general instruction and written prayers. By this, Wilson presented an approachable model to prayer, worship, devotion, and repentance. His prayers were moving. Their honesty, coupled with a multitude of references to scripture, nearly brought me to tears.

As I placed the small volume back in its protective case, I realized how important it is that we document our journey with the Lord. Not only do journals and writings give us an avenue to intentionally pursue the Lord, but they also serve as a platform for future encounter. Wilson followed the outline of prayer in Sacra Privata for years. Had he never written out his prayers, it is possible that he would not have maintained such consistency and discipline in prayer. Moreover, Wilson’s writings offered inspiration for my heart. Reading through its pages, my heart was stirred to seek the Lord with consistency and zeal in prayer. Encouragement like that is invaluable.  An old, shabby library card at the front of the book suggests that I’m not the only one to have benefited from Wilson’s writings. Several people had borrowed Sacra Private over the years. With a publication date of 1882, I imagine that many people have read the book as well.

Wilson’s devotion and documentation serve as a touchstone for inspiration in the faith. Following his example, we too should be diligent in pursuing the Lord and recording our history with Him. After all, it may just serve as vital encouragement for a believer one hundred and thirty years from now. So, Dear Saints, if you don’t already have some way of recording your history with the Lord, I encourage you to find one. Whether it be journaling, painting, songwriting, or animation, find a way to take account of your encounters with the Lord. Keep and save them intentionally so that you and those who come after you can read through them for encouragement, inspiration, and instruction.