“Effeminacy” is an old-fashioned word. It was once commonly used. Then it was banished from polite discourse. Recently, the word has enjoyed something of a comeback in evangelical debates over human sexuality and anthropology. Online, it is frequently chosen as a way to toe the line between acceptable apologetics and abusive rhetoric. Some people use the word to be tough. Some use it to be bad.

But “effeminacy,” understood rightly, is also a biblical word and concept, appearing in a text so relevant to modern debates that some detractors have dubbed it a “clobber passage.” The Presbyterian Church in America seems to have recognized just how loaded the word is. The denomination requested a study of 1 Corinthians 6:9 as a part of an Ad Interim Study Committee on Human Sexuality. But surprisingly, the committee relegated this aspect of their commission to a single footnote. They were, perhaps, not quite ready to talk about effeminacy.

But like it or not, people are talking about effeminacy. And like it or not, the word appears in the Christian tradition. So, we would do well to understand it — what it is, what it means for sexual ethics, and whether Christians should use this term today.

Effeminacy in the New Testament

The word “effeminacy” appears in older English translations of 1 Corinthians 6:9. The underlying Greek is malakoi, the plural of malakos. In its immediate context, Paul appears to apply effeminacy to men who engage in homosexual practices. The word is preceded by “adulterers” and then followed by an odd term, perhaps coined by Paul, once translated “abusers of themselves with mankind” but now usually translated as simply “homosexuals” (arsenokoitai).

Commonly, interpreters argue that the two terms (malakoi and arsenokoitai) refer to the passive and active partners of homosexual activity. So, for example, the ESV translates both terms together with the phrase “men who practice homosexuality.” The case for translating 1 Corinthians 6:9 in this way is strong, but it has the obvious weakness of reducing two distinct concepts to one.

It also removes a rhetorical subtlety present in the original. Malakos sometimes did refer to the passive partner in a homosexual relationship, but it did so as a figure of speech. The literal meaning of malakos is “soft.” Thus, when applied to those engaging in certain behavior, this was something of an epithet, analogous to calling someone a “Nancy boy.” Choosing the narrow, and presumably narrowly accurate, option loses this aspect of the way the word functioned. It was not a specific or technical term but rather a broad one that was used precisely to bring to mind a range of other, mostly unfavorable, connotations.

Malakos appears two other times in Scripture, in parallel passages where Jesus is describing the difference between John the Baptist and rich men. Rich men wear “soft [malakois] clothing,” Jesus says in Matthew 11:8. In Luke 7:25, this line is repeated, but an additional description is added: “Behold, they which are gorgeously apparelled, and live delicately, are in kings’ courts” (KJV). Soft clothes, then, are luxurious clothes, gorgeous and delicate. Here malakos is also used figuratively. Yes, the clothes are literally soft, but their softness indicates their relationship to luxury. They are fine clothes, expensive clothes. The reason John the Baptist doesn’t wear them is not because he inherently dislikes silk. He doesn’t wear them because he is an ascetic. John does not live a soft life of luxury but rather a hard life of self-denial and self-mastery.

A closely related word in Luke 7:25 is tryphē. Translated there as “luxury,” it also appears in 2 Peter 2:13: “They count it pleasure to revel [tryphēn] in the daytime.” This usage is trickier. The context has to do with pleasure but also with a lack of shame. The sin is committed openly or flagrantly. In his commentary on 2 Peter, John Calvin offers this translation: “luxuriating in their errors.” Tryphē, then, carries connotations of a lack of discipline or constraint. Both malakos and tryphē also could be translated as “effeminate” or “effeminacy.”

Does ‘Effeminate’ Mean Feminine?

Neither malakos nor tryphē carries the linguistic association with the female sex that the English word “effeminacy” does. This might be considered a strength in that it allows contemporary Christians to discuss the moral issue without being immediately pulled into a discussion of the sexes. But the New Testament does use a word that stands opposite of malakos, and this word does carry an association with one’s sex.

That word is andrizomai in 1 Corinthians 16:13. It was once translated as “quit ye like men” (KJV) but is now often rendered “be courageous” (NIV, NLT, NET). Once again, the privileging of a narrow sort of clarity obscures the literal word and its rhetorical force. In context, andrizomai does indicate courage, but it does so after the manner of the contemporary expression “man up.” The word invokes the concept of a man in order to symbolize strength. Interestingly, the next moral duty listed in verse 13 is “be strong.” “Quit ye like men” captures the fact that andrizomai indicates manliness.

Malakos and andreios (the adjectival form of andrizomai) can be seen, then, as opposites — and as corresponding to effeminacy and manliness, respectively. Effeminacy is a soft and indulgent character trait. Manliness is a courage that holds strong under pressure.

Importantly, both of these terms can be applied to both men and women. After all, Paul is writing to a group that includes both men and women when he calls them to “act like men.” One place where this interesting rhetorical convention has been preserved is in the Book of Common Prayer’s baptismal service. After the person, man or woman, is baptized, the minister makes the sign of the cross on his (or her) forehead and says, “[We] do sign him [or her] with the sign of the cross, in token that hereafter he [or she] shall not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, and manfully to fight under his banner against sin, the world, and the devil.” Female as well as male Anglicans are called to manfully fight. Andrizomai works the same way. Both men and women are called to “man up.”

Can women be warned against effeminacy, then? That sounds strange to modern ears. Understanding the full range of effeminacy, however, will show that the answer is yes. To be clear, effeminacy is not the same as femininity. And if a woman commits the sin of effeminacy, it is not because she is being overly feminine. Rather, she is abusing or distorting femininity in a way that creates vice. This claim will take some further explaining, and to make it easier to understand, we need to look at what effeminacy has meant in the broader tradition.

Effeminacy, Decadence, and Deviancy

Malakos and other language related to the concept of effeminacy appear widely in ancient literature. Philo of Alexandria and Josephus both use them, as do Plato, Aristotle, and Plutarch. As a moral concept, ancient effeminacy could mean physical weakness, mental weakness, cowardice, a failure to live up to one’s duty, luxury, or sexual immorality. In this last meaning, the immorality could appear when the man assumed the role of a woman, and it could also appear when a man prioritized his lust for women over his duties and the pursuit of virtue. A few examples can demonstrate these meanings.

ARISTOTLE

Aristotle defines malakos as “luxury” in his Nicomachean Ethics (7.1.4). By “luxury,” he means indulgence or the lack of self-restraint. He states that the luxurious man is intemperate and beholden to his own passions. He gives in to his desires and violates what he knows to be right. This sort of “softness” can manifest itself in exceeding the bounds of propriety as well as in shrinking away from duty out of fear. Aristotle even applies this vice of softness to those who are not steadfast in their opinions but too quickly abandon them.

PLUTARCH

Plutarch was a Greek philosopher and historian who lived in the first-century Roman empire. Though not a Christian, Plutarch would have been a contemporary of the first generation of Christians, and so his cultural outlook is instructive for the literary and intellectual world of the New Testament. In one of his moral treatises, a character denounces the love of pleasure as “a soft [malakos] life” (The Dialogue on Love, lines 750–51). This soft life involves spending time “in the bosoms and beds of women.” It is criticized for being “devoid of manliness and friendship and inspiration.”

The character speaking these lines is not one of Plutarch’s examples of wisdom, but his words do help to explain what “softness” meant in the first-century Roman empire. It indicated sensuality or pleasure-seeking as its own end. A few lines later, another character states that men who allow themselves to be sexually abused by other men are guilty of “weakness and effeminacy [malakos].” The language used is quite crude, and it clearly has to do with the subordinate member of a male homosexual act.

And so, in Plutarch, effeminacy has to do with sexual profligacy (which is a sort of luxury) and the passive homosexual partner. The notion common to both meanings is that of decadence and forsaking duty. This sort of softness is a pursuit of pleasure that leads to prodigal living and even disgrace.

JOHN CHRYSOSTOM

The early Christian bishop and theologian John Chrysostom uses the term “effeminacy” in largely the same way Plutarch does. Chrysostom applies the word to luxury and describes offenses like “delicate cookery” and “vulgar ostentation.” Under the first class, he includes “making sauces,” and under the second, “superfluous” art — that is, artwork, design, or fashion that exceeds the bounds of necessity and function.

Throughout his argument, Chrysostom twice alludes to men imitating or behaving like women as cases of effeminate luxury. By this, he does not mean that they are presenting themselves as women per se. He is not talking about actual cases of androgyny. Instead, these men were wearing the kind of expensive and luxurious clothing typically associated with women. Chrysostom writes, “When it perverts men to the gestures of women, and causes them by their sandals to grow wanton and delicate, we will set it amidst the things hurtful and superfluous” (Homily 49 on Matthew, section 5).

In this same section, Chrysostom points out that women also should avoid luxurious clothing. Alluding to 1 Timothy 2:9, he says, “In spite of Paul’s prohibiting the married woman to have costly clothing, you extend this effeminacy even to your shoes.” As strange as it sounds, women too could be guilty of effeminacy. Typically, this rhetoric was used against men; men dressed decadently were wearing clothing and jewelry meant for women. But Chrysostom was actually asserting a distinctive ethic for women too. They also were called to reject luxury, to reject effeminacy. Indeed, both men and women should “quit ye like men” and maintain a decorum of moderation and humility.

AUGUSTINE

Another piece of evidence in late antiquity is found in Augustine’s City of God. In book 7, Augustine describes a group of people he calls “the effeminates consecrated to the Great Mother.” These men have “pomaded hair and powdered faces,” and they “glid[e] along with womanish languor” (City of God 7.26). This “Great Mother” is the goddess “Cybele” or “Kybelis.”

Augustine goes on to say that Cybele turns her devotees into eunuchs. This was a real historical phenomenon. The Roman poet Catullus has a work where he describes Attis as being possessed by the spirit of Cybele and castrating himself. These “effeminates,” then, are described as such precisely because of the sexual element in the vice. They have been turned, as it were, into women. They then devote their lives to the service of this goddess and assume a female presentation.

We can see that ancient effeminacy combined elements of luxury or wantonness with sexual deviancy. The sexual deviancy could be effeminate in two ways. First, it could be an indulgence wherein the man “wasted” his strength and virtue. Second, it could be a case where the man took on the role of the woman, usually in an overly elaborate or decadent way. This androgyny was either uniquely cultic or a form of pleasure-seeking and indulgence within male social groups.

THOMAS AQUINAS

The medieval theologian Thomas Aquinas discusses effeminacy in his landmark Summa Theologiae. There he interacts with both Aristotle and 1 Corinthians 6 before concluding that the core problem with effeminacy is “withdraw[ing] from good on account of sorrow caused by lack of pleasure, yielding as it were to a weak motion” (ST II-II, q. 138). Thomas states that the opposite of effeminacy is perseverance.

In one of his replies, he also mentions the element of sexual deviancy, but he says that the term “effeminacy” is applied to deviancy by way of custom because the effeminate man has grown soft. Interestingly, Thomas believes this softness is primarily mental and volitional. The man in that case has “yielded” to a “weak motion.” He has not persevered in his duty and calling to be a man but has rather abandoned it for the pursuit of fleshly pleasure.

This understanding of effeminacy brings the two seemingly distinct meanings together. A passive or dominated man and a lecherous or libidinous man form two sides of the same coin. Both are failing in their pursuit of the good. They quit their duty and abandon themselves to vice. They do this, not merely out of ordinary fear, but because they sense a “lack of pleasure” in the ethical struggle.

On a similar note, “manliness” meant a strong and persistent battle against sin. Commenting on the use of andrizomai in 1 Corinthians 16:13, John Calvin summarizes it as “fortitude.” Matthew Henry’s commentary explains it this way: “Show yourselves men in Christ, by your steadiness, by your sound judgment and firm resolution.” If effeminacy is the tendency to fall away in the absence of pleasure, manliness is courageous perseverance through challenging struggle.

Effeminacy Today

This historical understanding of effeminacy can assist contemporary promoters of a renewed masculinity, but it also challenges certain assumptions. The Christian critique of effeminacy does promote strength and perseverance in the face of struggle, but it does not simply criticize perceived “girly men.” A man of slight build with a nasally voice might be effeminate, but those characteristics would not necessarily be what made him so. On the other hand, if a man of that physiognomy overcame his obstacles and achieved virtue, all the while embodying Christian faith, hope, and love, he could prove himself manly. Seeing the whole picture isn’t always easy.

We must always be on guard against simple prejudice. There’s nothing intrinsically effeminate about a man who sings, cooks, plays the piano, or pursues “indoor” vocations. In fact, all of those activities have historically attracted various elite men. Similarly, a woman pursuing intellectual rigor is not violating her femininity, as the example of Mary proves (Luke 10:39).

But terms like “effeminacy” and “manliness” do retain concepts that many today have largely rejected. In order to avoid effeminacy, you must have functioning concepts of cowardice, luxury, virtue, perseverance, struggle, and victory. You must also believe that people and endeavors have godly ends or points of completion that define their nature, value, and success. These terms can then be applied to men and women in more sex-specific forms, but they would do so by defining a manly man as one who acts in accordance with his created nature, in pursuit of godly purpose, persevering in the face of opposition and distraction — from the world, his own flesh, and the devil. He then does so in a masculine mode, or “as a man,” and continues in them.

Additionally, Christian manhood requires other characteristics like meekness, moderation, sobriety, and gravity. A godly man avoids “sinful anger, hatred, envy, desire of revenge; all excessive passions, distracting cares; immoderate use of meat, drink, labor, and recreations” (Westminster Larger Catechism 136). Health and fitness are good things, but they are good things in relationship to other goals. They must enable one to achieve godly ends, including protection, provision, and service. A flashy or excessively “manly” notion of masculinity is actually an artifice standing in place of the real thing. Insofar as these artificial versions of manhood give in to vice by way of the soft motions of indulgence or intemperance, they become “effeminate.”

Retaining the vocabulary of “effeminacy” and “manfulness” in our theological ethics is worth the hard work. While both terms need to be used with care, they capture specific biblical concepts that have held a stable place in ancient and Christian history but are in shorter supply today. Wrestling with their unfamiliar or unconformable associations, especially in the areas of sexuality, can help us appropriately criticize older errors as well as newer ones. It can expand our understanding of the ways the Bible retains features of the ancient world and the ways it transforms them. Finally, understanding these words can help men and women achieve their respective virtuous ends in the body of Christ.

“Men cannot do the one thing most necessary and most miraculous in our existence . . .”

It’s an arresting claim, and warranted. And all of us, women and men, congregants and pastors, mothers and fathers, will do well to take note. So, what is this most necessary and miraculous ability?

The author, pastor Kevin DeYoung, continues,

Men . . . will not nurture life in the womb; they will not give birth to the propagation of the species; they will not nurse an infant from their own flesh.

Women have wombs. Men do not. And it’s no isolated feature, but one of the most stubborn, obvious manifestations of the glorious God-designed differences between men and women that run from head to toe, from physiology to psychology. First, God had his design and plan, then he built men and women accordingly. That is, with their shared and complementary callings in view, God constructed the first man and later his wife. And his design and building of men and women is not limited to their bodies, but extends, fittingly, to their psyches, or souls.

With the bodily ability to gestate, give birth to, and nourish new human life comes natural domestic proclivities and graces. With men’s taller, stronger, faster, womb-less bodies comes a kind of steadiness. Men do not experience in their own bodies the glorious interruptions of periods and pregnancy and childbirth and nursing. God designed men to venture out first from the home, to shoulder the greater risks, to bear the heavier burdens of protection and provision, and when necessary to engage in combat. Technology might give us guns to equalize women’s bodies against men, but technology cannot alter the God-fixed capacities of the soul, whether for war or for being mom.

God built women, not men, to be mothers. And God built men, not women, to be pastors. And this line of work — unlike athletics, farming, and war — puts the emphasis especially on the soul.

Souls of Grown Men

Fitted to the man’s calling, God built men’s souls with particular capacities to rise to external challenges, address community-wide obstacles, make personal sacrifices for the good of the whole family and society, draw other men into the mission, and think for, care for, provide for, and protect the whole for the long haul. God made the souls of men to rise to the severest of threats, endure the sharpest of criticisms, and bear up, sometimes for painfully long seasons, under great duress. And to raise a hand, or sword, against a foe, not for sport but for the safety of family and friends.

If someone responds, “Well, I know all sorts of men whose inner person does not seem to be rugged and resilient; I know men who are manifestly more weak-souled than their wives,” my answer would be, Of course, I know of them as well. But men who are immature and ill-formed, due to sin, are not examples of divine design (or models to follow). The fact remains: God made men with the particular capacity to rise to this calling. Not all women yet have enough maturity of their female psyche to be worthy mothers, but that doesn’t mean that a mature man should try to be mom. Nor that mature women should try to be pastors.

In saying “the particular capacity to rise to this calling,” we note the plasticity of men’s souls (that is, their minds, emotions, and wills) to grow and develop over time, and in doing so become more masculine, and fit to their calling. God made men for this, but they don’t come turnkey. As the body needs growth and conditioning, so too the inner man needs forming.

Glimpses of a Manly Soul

Paul’s speech to the Ephesian elders in Acts 20 serves as a remarkable window — from one mature man, and apostle, to a team of mature men, and local church elders — into how God built men to be pastors. Consider six such glimpses of the mature man’s inner man in Paul’s charge to the pastors.

1. Self-Sacrifice for the Whole Flock

We see Paul’s own self-sacrifice in his willingness, even eagerness, to risk his life “to testify to the gospel of the grace of God” (Acts 20:24), as well as in his expending his own time, energy, and strength in “working hard” to “help the weak” (Acts 20:35). Paul gives of himself; he pours out his own life to give life to others. He expects the same of the elders.

“Good mothers sacrifice themselves for their children; good men sacrifice themselves for women and children, and other men.”

Now, mothers do this too, for their children. It is not self-sacrifice that is uniquely masculine but self-sacrifice for the whole, or as Paul says in verse 28 for “all the flock.” God designed an order to the self-sacrifice that gives and sustains life among his people. We rightly do not expect women to sacrifice themselves for men. Good mothers sacrifice themselves for their children; good men sacrifice themselves for women and children, and for other men. And the self-sacrifice of men for the whole flock, according to nature, empowers women to self-sacrifice for their children.

2. Public Teaching of the Whole Flock

Today we often focus on the glory of public teaching, on the platform, in the moment, but overlook the immediate and long-term costs to the faithful public preaching and teaching of God’s word.

Again, that important phrase “all the flock” is in view. We are not talking here about all teaching. In some sense, all Christians teach (Colossians 3:16; Hebrews 5:12). And mature women teach — specifically, younger women to their children, and older women to the younger women (Titus 2:3–5), as well as men in private settings (Acts 18:26). But the public teaching of “all the flock” — including women, children, and fellow men — God expects of men. And he designed their souls specifically with the capacity to grow into this mantle, and take the criticisms that come with it, and endure in it, even thrive in it, not for a moment or spurts but over time. Which relates to the next glimpse.

3. Declare Hard Words and Call for Repentance

Such public teaching of God’s word, while appearing to be mainly privilege to some eyes, can be a heavy burden and responsibility — that is, when preaching “the whole counsel of God” (Acts 20:27) and not just the parts that go down easy in this generation. Twice in Acts 20 (verses 20–21 and 27) Paul testifies to “not shrinking from declaring” because he felt a real temptation to shrink back. How many pastors today, tragically, do shrink from declaring God’s “whole counsel”?

But God built the souls of men to be able to rise to such a burden, and gladly bear the weight of publicly, courageously, and carefully declaring hard words (Acts 20:20) — and calling for repentance (Acts 20:21). Elsewhere Paul refers to such exhorting and charging as fatherly, rather than motherly. In 1 Thessalonians 2:8, Paul speaks of his motherly heart for the church and eagerness to give his own self to nurse it. Then just two sentences later, he mentions his words of challenge as fatherly: “like a father with his children, we exhorted each one of you and encouraged you and charged you to walk in a manner worthy of God” (1 Thessalonians 2:11–12).

Lest we fall into narrow stereotypes, both the beginning and end of Paul’s speech (Acts 20:18–19, 36–28) are not ruggedly masculine (in caricature) but express virtues that many might think of as more feminine. He mentions serving “with tears” while among them, and kneels to pray with them, weeps with them, and receives their embraces and kisses — and then, in a more manifestly masculine act, the pastors accompany their dearly loved brother to the ship to send him off to the certain conflict and suffering that await.

Christianity is a teaching movement, requiring its pastors and elders to say clearly what it is and is not, what it espouses and does not, what are its ethics and not. That requires the cutting of distinct, sharp lines on the issues that are most offensive and embattled in every age. The setting of such boundaries is masculine work — not that women are unable to do it, but God built the souls of men to rise to this, and thrive in this, over the long haul.

4. Persist in Daily Vigilance

Acts 20 is one place, among others (2 Timothy 4:2, 5), where the apostles call for particular alertness, daily vigilance, and “not ceasing night or day” in the formal leaders of the church. “Be alert,” Paul says in Acts 20:31, “remembering that for three years I did not cease night or day to admonish every one with tears.” While calling all the flock to readiness for his return, Christ himself acknowledged the challenges to being “always ready” that come with the glorious dynamics of childbearing (“Alas for women who are pregnant and for those who are nursing infants in those days!” Matthew 24:19; Mark 13:17; Luke 21:23).

God chose to couple glorious dynamics of body and soul with the rhythms of pregnancy, birth, and nursing. And in complement to these dynamics, God designed men’s bodies and souls for steady-state, less dynamic persistence. We might even say, “the far more boring” bodies and souls of men — leading to a fifth glimpse.

5. Combat Wolves Without and Within

God built men with bodies and souls primed to be conditioned for combat. Note well: training is required. Just because a man is grown doesn’t mean he is ready for battle. Strength, skill, and stamina need development. Combat makes requirements of the body and psyche. And men need to learn when to attack (and not), and whom to combat (and not), and how to attack (and not), as well as ready themselves for the emotional toll of war.

Paul warned the Ephesian pastors that wolves were coming for their flock — from without and from within. “I know that after my departure fierce wolves will come in among you, not sparing the flock; and from among your own selves will arise men speaking twisted things, to draw away the disciples after them” (Acts 20:29–30). God made the souls of men in particular to rise to the unpleasant and essential work of protecting the flock from wolves, with its emotional and physical costs.

Now, professing Christians and churches who do not believe in the existence of wolves — or in divine judgment and eternal hell and total depravity — will not find “combating wolves” to be a compelling reason for the calling of men to the office of pastor-elder. But Paul believed in wolves. Jesus believed in wolves (Matthew 7:15; Luke 10:3). If we take the Scriptures seriously, we too might see that the threat of false teaching, and the necessity of pastors protecting the sheep from wolves, perhaps shows plainest of all God’s building of men for the pastorate. God made men to be conditioned for this calling.

6. Embrace the Most Threatening Risks

In places where Christianity is not outlawed, and its leaders do not face immediate risks to persecution and death, we might soon forget that the church’s formal leaders are typically its first martyrs. To be an officer in the early church was less a privilege to enjoy and more a risk to embrace. The pastor-elders were marked men when persecution arose. And so it is today in some places in the world.

God made men to put themselves forward as enemy targets, to be the ones who take not only the lash of criticism but also the first literal lashes of persecution when they come.

We glimpse such holy masculinity in the apostle when he declares, “Now, behold, I am going to Jerusalem, constrained by the Spirit, not knowing what will happen to me there, except that the Holy Spirit testifies to me in every city that imprisonment and afflictions await me” (Acts 20:22–23). Many valiant Christian women have risen to, and would rise to, embrace persecution for the name of Christ. And God built men, and pastors in particular, to put themselves forward for the first attacks.

Give It Time

We could name other distinctively masculine traits, even in Acts 20, but let’s leave it at six for now, and conclude with just a brief word about ability, which is often a flashpoint in these discussions. Some today are quick to emphasize what some women are able to do, and often better than some men: women can take risks, women can take initiative, women can teach in public, women can say hard things and address error and call for repentance, women can embrace suffering for the name of Christ and good of his church.

“Preaching is not for all men, nor for most men, but this work and calling is for men.”

Such discussions often have a momentary focus: in any given moment, a woman can prep and give a sermon, take on a threat, confront an error. But what’s typically lacking is the broadening of our considerations from what’s possible in a moment to what’s fitting for the long haul. She may well be able to do what’s required of pastors in a day, or for a few weeks or months, perhaps even a few years, but will she really do it ably, and thrive, with joy, for years, for decades, for a lifetime? Is it fitting to her nature as God designed it?

God built the souls of men with the capacities to rise to the calling of the pastor-elders, and even thrive in it, over the long haul. Pastoring is not for all men, nor even for most men, but this work and calling is for men. Long before Christ put it in the mouths of his apostles, he wove it into the fabric of his creation, including our bodies and souls. And if we don’t find nature’s teaching convincing enough, that’s no grounds for overturning Scripture’s.

God built men to be pastors.

Have you seen the recent “colored book” decoration trend? The basic idea is to take books whose covers have the same basic palette and put them together, thereby arranging all your books by color. Some used bookstores are even offering bundles of all-blue, all-green, or all-yellow books that you can buy just for this purpose.

If you’re anything like me, you understand why this trend might be appealing, but at the same time, something in you recoils. To see books thrown together just for the color of their covers, or to see books being sold not for what they say but for what they look like, seems to betray the very idea of a book. Something inside me protests, That’s not what books are for!

A kind of alarm goes off inside us when we see something used far beneath its purpose. And the truth is, this doesn’t happen just with the physical exteriors of books. It happens with what’s inside of them too. Have you ever wondered what it means to read like a Christian? Surely it means more than being a Christian and reading. There are precious realities that shape and season what and how we read. Let me commend five principles that help and challenge me to read like a Christian.

1. Read whimsically, not wastefully.

By whimsically, I mean literally “at whim.” My teacher in this regard has been Alan Jacobs, whose lovely little book The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction makes a compelling case for reading “what gives you delight” (23) rather than what conforms to abstract standards of literary greatness. In other words, Christians do not think of their reading as primarily the fulfillment of a duty, but as an astonishing joy. This doesn’t exclude a place for a Great Books canon. But there is a difference between seeking out a book because others esteem it and may esteem you for reading it (more on that in a moment) and seeking out a book because its greatness promises delight.

“Christians should not think of their reading as primarily the fulfillment of a duty, but as an astonishing joy.”

Whim, however, does not mean waste. There is a way to waste your reading, and the fastest way to do this is to never stretch yourself beyond your natural comfort zone. Many readers who never try anything more demanding than a badly written paperback don’t realize how much more delight they could have by maturing their palate. If reading at whim can protect us from elitism, not reading wastefully is a reminder that good and bad are not wholly in the eye of the beholder. Excellence should delight us. We were made for a beatific vision of pure splendor and perfection. Don’t waste your reading.

2. Read personally, not performatively.

One of my favorite passages in The Screwtape Letters occurs after the demon Wormwood has apparently “lost” his patient to a profound and genuine repentance. Uncle Screwtape furiously berates his nephew for his “blunders.”

You first of all allowed the patient to read a book he really enjoyed, because he enjoyed it and not in order to make clever remarks about it to his new friends. . . . How can you have failed to see that a real pleasure was the last thing you ought to have let him meet? (63–64)

Real delight, Lewis says, belongs to the realm of God. It humbles us, quiets our anxious desires for approval, and reminds us that our soul is real and to be accounted for. Reading personally means reading for something far better than applause. As we read personally, we follow the thread of what Lewis called “the secret signature” of our hearts (The Problem of Pain, 151). Our favorite books reveal something that God put in us. The passages we laugh or cry over, even when no one is watching, can be like soul-mirrors.

To enjoy something because we find it lovely points us in the opposite spiritual direction of performing for others. In the latter case, what we are actually enjoying is ourselves. In the age of social media, this is a gaping pitfall. It is so easy to post pictures of our “current reads” simply for the purpose of gaining admiration. In some cases, we have no desire or even intention of finishing the books in our photos. Lewis warns us against this temptation, and so does our Lord: “How can you believe, when you receive glory from one another and do not seek the glory that comes from the only God?” (John 5:44). Let’s not deaden the purifying effects of real delight by being addicts of human glory.

3. Read with generosity, not grievance.

Here’s a diagnostic question for all of us that read and (especially) review books: Do we practice the Golden Rule? Do we read others the way we would want to be read?

Imagine the following scenario. You are reading a book by a Christian writer who is somewhat outside your normal theological tribe. You come across a sentence that strikes you as odd. It’s not clearly false, but it’s not what you would have said, either. At this point, you have a choice: You can read with generosity, meaning you note the ambiguous wording but do not accuse the writer of saying something he is not. Or you can give the words their worst possible meaning, and perhaps even label the author a false teacher.

“The Bible is the book that gives every other good book its power.”

Which of these options reflects the biblical command to “be not wise in your own eyes” (Proverbs 3:7), to “[believe] all things” (1 Corinthians 13:7), and to not render a verdict hastily (Proverbs 25:8)? Christians read with generosity, not because we are too timid to call out error, but because we believe truth is precious enough to pursue with patience.

These biblical warnings should sober us against the temptation to read something solely for the purpose of disagreeing with it. There will be times and occasions when we must read something we know is wrong. But the polemical muscle does not need to be flexed often. Be wary of reading with grievance.

4. Read with wonder, not weariness.

I am discouraged when I find a “What are you reading?” interview with a prominent pastor or Christian leader, and the interviewee remarks that he doesn’t read fiction. Great literature is a treasure of wonder. The best stories seem to turn the light on in our own hearts; in heroes and villains we can see the range of human nature, and in journeys and transformations we can be reminded of how much we don’t know. I sometimes wonder how much we evangelicals read simply for the purpose of accumulating more data, rather than reading so that we can move a little bit closer to the image of Jesus.

The Preacher remarks, “Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh” (Ecclesiastes 12:12). If reading has become wearisome to you, consider taking an inventory. Does your reading captivate you? Does it make you forget yourself? Does it open your eyes and soften your heart? Or is it just more information to absorb? Consider the metaphors and parables of God’s Word. You and I are created to wonder at God the poet.

5. Read for eternity, not for ephemera.

We live in a noisy world. There is no end to the novelty. And the vast majority of it is meaningless: thousands of tweets, articles, and even books that will be almost immediately obsolete, millions of hours of video and audio that will hardly make sense in a week. We don’t have a choice whether we will live and read in such a world. But we can choose how we live and read in it.

The books, stories, poems, and essays that will stay with us the longest, perhaps even for a lifetime, will be the ones that make eternity come alive in some way. A theological work illuminates just how much we can trust Christ. A classic novel makes virtue feel worth the suffering. A poem’s beauty hits on our hearts like sunlight on a starved leaf. An essay makes ultimate reality just a little bit clearer. These are hours of reading that we never truly leave; the words leave an imprint on us. These are treasures that can make the noise we often consume feel as fleeting as it is.

As I read the Bible, I’m continually amazed by how its freshness grows with each passing year. The Scriptures are more than our first reading priority each morning, or the only inerrant words we can read (though they are that). The Bible is the book that gives every other good book its power. It is the epicenter of beauty, the metanarrative of meaning — every story that reverberates in our hearts comes, ultimately, from God’s Story.

As you read — books, essays, poems, plays, and more besides — look for eternity. Look for the Bible’s residual presence. Look for the aroma of transcendent truth. And with gratitude to the one who is himself the Word made flesh, let this kind of reading do its good work in you.