Scripture puts all our reading into perspective

That was the headline of one of the finance-technology subscription emails in my inbox last week. Another newsletter dipping into AI commentary chimed in this way: “The future is always worse than you think it’s going to be.”

If I read nothing but newsletters on finance and AI, I would have a grim view of the future right now. The doom and gloom (coming from various sites, not just the conspiracy leaning) would give me a feeling of powerlessness and despair.

If I read nothing but religious news I would alternate between disgust at abuses and hope in earnest efforts to serve the poor and lonely, hopping so rapidly between the extremes that I don’t know if my heart could handle the tug of war.

If I read nothing but politically charged news bites or watched nothing but short TikTok videos on current events, I would feel the way I feel eating junk food: interested, then unsatisfied and a bit embarrassed.

If I consumed a steady diet of Facebook posts, I would have a despairing view of motherhood. For every encouraging message there seems to be at least 10 sarcastic and deprecating memes about clueless husbands, reckless kids, and the start of school and a bottle of wine as the only reward for a mom’s labour.

To say nothing of social media’s endless ads, photographs of a lifestyle no one actually maintains, and — since the 2023 Canadian Online News Act — no genuine news content. If this was all I consumed, I would feel driven to consumerism, shopping to make my clothing and lifestyle look a certain way, to have the tools to “hack” my way into easy meals and a clean home, and leaving little room for gratitude.

In many ways, you are what you read.

Right now the book on my bedside table is Anne of Green Gables, the classic coming-of-age novel about a red headed orphan with a difficult childhood and colourful imagination moving to Prince Edward Island. It’s sweet and easy to read and since I became a parent I have come to a new appreciation of the older single woman who adopted her by mistake (expecting to adopt a boy as a farm hand) and her ways of raising and loving Anne.

If this book was the only thing I read, I would see life as simple, romantic, difficult but satisfying, and full of wonder. I would go outside and look for the Lakes of Shining Waters and Violet Vales of my own neighborhood and dream about dresses with puffed sleeves and happy endings.

But even that welcome break from the drama around me doesn’t satisfy any more than a slice of cake does.

What’s absolutely vital in all our reading is the perspective and context of Scripture. It is the backbone that reminds us of our purpose and puts the wild predictions and headlines into their places. Read your Bible, often. Listen to the readings and Psalms at Mass eagerly. Memorize verses. Re-read passages you haven’t read in a while.

When all that we read tempts us to despair and powerlessness, we are reminded God wrote the first chapter of this story and knows its ending. When we feel unsatisfied, we hear the invitation to drink of the water of eternal life. When we see everything through rose colored glasses, we are sobered with the reality of sin and the commands Jesus gave to love the poor, the widowed, the orphaned, the imprisoned, the neighbour, and the enemy.

As I take a serious look at the diet of viewpoints I let into my life (and maybe unsubscribe from a few), I enjoy the words of this famous hymn:

In the light of His glory and grace.”