Many years ago–I think it was Christmas of 2017 if I’m remembering correctly–my best friend sent me a fun mug for Christmas. It had a bunch of book titles that were censored, and then when you put something hot it in, the black marks vanished and you could read the book titles.

Obviously, I thought this mug was super cool, and I used it enough that the regular paint started wearing off, leaving only the “censored” bits. But even as I received it joyfully, loved it, and used it…I’d also have said, had anyone asked, “I don’t really get the allure of banned books.” I mean, that image of the “revealed” titles above shows you why. The Satanic Verses? Naked Lunch? I don’t even know what that second one is, but nooooo thanks.

And yet there were others on there I love. To Kill a Mockingbird. Uncle Tom’s Cabin. And The Song of Solomon–I mean, seriously, it’s a book of the Bible! (Which, yes, I know has been banned in many places and many times.)

So it’s safe to classify me previously as “torn” when it comes to banned books (pun intended–I mean my puns, thank you very much, LOL). I’ve never been in favor of the practice of banning, but that certainly doesn’t mean that I want to rush out and read every book that’s been banned. Some of them are on my “no, thank you” list.

Then I started researching for The Collector of Burned Books. And I started really thinking about the subject. I read books about the history of book bans and book burnings–and it is a long history, my friends. As long as there have been books, there have been people destroying them to make a statement. And I’ve arrived at a very different place from where I started. That’s not to say I’m now a fan of The Satanic Verses, don’t get me wrong. There are “bad” books that I have no desire to read.

But I no longer would say “I’m not in favor of the practice of banning books.” I would now say, “I am passionately against the practice of banning books.” And I would fight for the rights of even the books I hate, the books I don’t want to read. Let’s talk about why.

What Is a Book Ban?

Maybe that sounds like a silly question, but it’s where we have to start, as became very obvious when the Secretary of the Navy ordered the removal of 381 books from the Naval Academy Library in April 2025 (there’s an update on this below). I posted about it, calling it a ban. And there were quite a few people who argued that it was not a ban, because people could still get the book elsewhere.

So let’s start with the definition, according to Merriam-Webster.

I asked some librarian friends how they defined a “ban,” figuring they’re the experts on the matter, and they said this: A book ban is when an authority comes in from above and orders the removal of a book without first putting it through the usual challenge process.

Cue me being fascinated. Turns out, libraries have their own kind of “justice system,” let’s call it. If someone files a complaint about a book, saying it should be removed from the collection, the book basically goes on trial. A panel of librarians will evaluate the claim, read the book, they’ll debate whether the claim is justified or not. Maybe it just needs to be reshelved–from young adult to adult, perhaps–or maybe it really does cross lines that the library doesn’t want to cross, promoting hate, for instance, or claiming history that has been disproven. Maybe they determine that given their demographic, this book is indeed offensive and not worth keeping on their precious shelf space. In these cases, the book will be removed, and it’s not classified as a ban.

There’s also a natural culling practice, which anyone who’s gone to a library book sale knows. Books get cycled in and out all the time. Sometimes because they’re getting too worn from many reads…and sometimes it’s the opposite, and the books haven’t been checked out in a set period of time, so they’re determined to be not of interest enough to the readership. Again, shelf space is limited, choices have to be made. Libraries regularly replace history or science texts that are out of date, novels that no one’s reading anymore, you name it. Again, not a ban.

But if an authority figure–school board, library board, a government agency–comes in and tells everyone, “Remove these books,” and there’s no conversation, no “trial,” it’s not because of a set process–or even if that process is done by one small group and it goes out as “law” to all the others, whether they agree with the decision or not–then that constitutes a ban.

Who Bans Books?

Everyone. Seriously, I could end this section now. 😉 I especially find it (sadly) amusing how the same book will be banned by different sides of an argument at different periods of history.

Let’s take To Kill a Mockingbird as an example. In 1966, this book was banned from schools in Hanover County, Virginia, because the content was deemed “inappropriate.” First, because there’s mention of rape. Second, because they disapproved of the way racial issues in the south were portrayed. Showing “a flawed justice system,” for example, was said to be “harmful to young readers.” We know that the system was flawed, but they didn’t want it pointed out.

There have been many other times throughout the years that To Kill a Mockingbird was banned too, but a recent example comes from 2017, when it was removed because of the racial slurs (this is the most common complaint). I’ve also read of cases where it’s removed because it shows “a White savior” instead of giving agency to the Black characters.

What people agree on is that the difficult racial subjects are what gets it on the banned list. Harper Lee did something pretty remarkable, though, by angering both sides with her portrayal.

It does go to show, however, that book banning isn’t relegated to one set of people. Bans are demanded from both sides of any aisle.

Don’t We Have the Right to Say What Books Are in our Libraries?

And this is where we get onto shaky ground, and what the most heated of those arguing on my post about the USNA bans of April came back to–that the SecNav had every right to remove whatever he wanted from a military library.

Just like parents have every right to demand the removal of offensive books from schools.

Like stores have the right not to carry something.

Like libraries have the right not to stock a title or get rid of it.

And this is both true…and limited.

First, let’s admit the truth: no one can carry every book. No library, no bookstore. There are simply too many. Choices are constantly made, first about what to acquire and then about what to keep. This is reality, and it’s universal. These institutions have to make decisions, and like any decision, sometimes they also change their minds. This is within their purview.

Similarly, no one’s telling you, as an adult, what you have to read or can’t read. We do not have government-level Verboten texts that will get you arrested…though your choices could certainly be presented as evidence against you, in some cases. 😉 You always, always have the right to say, “No, I’m not going to read that” or “No, I don’t want this in my house.”

The difficulty comes in when you try to sell someone else that they can’t read something or have it in their collection, so when we move to removing things from libraries or schools… Yeah. It gets tricky.

Let me also say I 100% agree that we need to guard what our kids read. I readily admit that I “censored” Genesis when I read it to my primary schoolers, because I just didn’t want to have to explain quite yet what incest was and why Lot’s daughters shouldn’t have gotten their dad drunk and seduced him. Just…nope. Not a conversation I wanted to have with 7-year-olds. But it is a conversation I was ready to have with 12-year-olds, as we talked about what God-given sexuality is and how we should understand it and respect it and treat it as holy. Similarly, I don’t want agendas (of any kind) pushed down my kids’ throats. I didn’t want the liberal agenda, but I also didn’t want the conservative one presented as fact, even though I am conservative–especially in subjects like science. What I wanted was for my kids to learn how to think, to ask questions, and to thoughtfully consider subjects, rather than just being told the “right” stance to take.

So when we do encounter questionable content? We talk about it. We use it as a springboard for discussing the history of things, the purpose, what the author was trying to do, what we think about it. We have our own stances and opinions, and there are certainly times we decide we don’t want to read more of something. That’s our right.

What is not our right is to say other people can’t. We can certainly explain why we don’t recommend it. And we can absolutely recommend something we think handles a subject better. But that is very, very different from saying, “This book does not belong in our public or school libraries.”

Because here’s the thing. Even when it’s a stance I absolutely disagree with, I never, never have the right to say my way is the only way. Not in a country founded on freedom. Freedom that is not extended to the opposite point of view is no freedom at all. So yeah, I can argue that things are inappropriate for certain age groups, and I can certainly make my case for why something else is better…but that doesn’t mean that book should be removed entirely from a place, should be banned, should be labeled as garbage. By all means, recommend parental permission. And then you know what I think we should do?

What SHOULD We Do about Good Books with Questionable Content?

Talk about it. Those N-words in Huck Finn and To Kill a Mockingbird? The F-bomb in Catcher in the Rye? Yeah, they make us uncomfortable. They’re supposed to. Talk about it. Talk about why. Talk about how common it used to be (in the first example), and how far we’ve come. When I read something aloud to my kids and didn’t want to actually say the word in question (because I’m absolutely a stickler who won’t say any curse words out loud, ever, LOL), we first discussed the word used, and I showed it to them, and I explained why it’s not a word I want to say but why it was included. It became a lesson.

The non-binary character in the Rick Riordan book? Talk about it. The two dads in Renegade by Marisa Meyer? Talk about it. The way Christians are portrayed in The Handmaid’s Tale? Talk about it.

Because these are important conversations to have, and books present us with a safe place to have those conversations. Instead of getting angry with the books for what they include or a perspective they show, think about why you react as you do. Contemplate the author’s purpose, and whether you agree or don’t and why, and then have a conversation.

You know what will happen? Your kids will start thinking about things. They’ll develop their own lines and guidelines and won’t feel the need to rebel against yours. And as adults? We’ll be able to learn from things, whether we agree with them or not. We’ll begin seeing people who are different from us as people, people worthy of love and respect, and we’ll better know how to pray for them.

Don’t ban the book. Talk about it.

Bans Backfire

And we can’t ignore this very…key…point. Bans do not work–ever. They backfire. And the reason is simple.

Humans are rebels. We love to do what we’ve been forbidden to do. We buck against authority. And even if we’re not rebellious, we’re still curious. The minute I hear a book has been banned, you know my first thought, if I’m not already familiar with it? “Huh, I wonder why? I should read it and find out.”

When we make something forbidden, we make it alluring.

So if you really think a book is harmful? Ignore it. Let it die a natural death. Recommend something that addresses the same needs but better. Instead of taking away, add. Give the positive example.

When that list of 381 books removed from the USNA came out, I pored over it. I readily admit that few sounded “good” to me. Sure, I immediately ordered I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings and The Hate U Give (both on the list), but that left 379 that I didn’t rush out to buy, though I intend to grab a few more as budget permits. But as my daughter (almost 20 at this point) and I were talking about the books on the list, I said something like this: “I admit that the books on transgender subjects don’t interest me, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be accessible. Honestly, I just don’t understand the issue that well, so I don’t feel equipped to discuss it. So…maybe I should read a few books on it after all. How else am I ever going to understand?”

And until I understand, how can I explain my own stance on the subject? Until I understand, what hope do I ever have of talking about it in a convincing way? Until I undertand, how do I know how to pray for the people who are dealing with these issues?

A Quick Update on the USNA Ban

In late May, the USNA bans were quietly adjusted. Most of the books removed were returned, after the department took a more careful look at the list, the keywords that had been used to do the initial search, and the actual subject matter and how said subjects were dealt with. The final removal list was only in the 20s.

On the one hand, that’s a victory. Because as I said at the time, these university students ought to be trusted to deal with any subject, and having those ~360 books returned is a big step in the right direction.

But that still leaves more than 20 books removed–something unprecedented in military academy history. Each administration absolutely has the right to alter curriculum and they routinely provide a “recommended reading list” large enough to pretty much guarantee no one has time for the not recommended books until they’re upperclassmen. But never before have they removed books that a military library had deemed relevant enough to purchase and add to a collection. The fact that the number is smaller now does not negate that point.

What are they afraid of? What is so powerful about those books that they are deemed “dangerous”? And if they are…? Then maybe we NEED to be talking about them, evaluating them, and discussing why and how they’re dangerous–because they clearly represent part of our society. Ignoring it, labeling it, and banning it does not solve it, if we deem it a problem. All it does is give us permission to silence the voices. And friends, silencing voices does not end well.

In Conclusion: What’s With the Banned Book Craze?

Simply this: every single book ban is an attempt to curtail freedom of thought, freedom of speech, and freedom of the press. Every…single…one. You do not have to like a book. You do not have to read it. You have every right to not put it on your own shelves.

But when you try to keep it out of other people’s hands, then you are saying, “You do not deserve the freedom I want.” And that is dangerous. Not to mention that when the power shifts–because it will–what will then keep them from removing your books? If you ban books that promote transgender issues or LGBTQ+ issues, for instance, then what happens when, in a few years, a new administration wants to ban anything Christians, because Christians, they might argue, promote hate for those people groups, as evidenced by the previous bans?

If I want freedom, I have to champion it for EVERYONE. The books I love AND the books I hate.

Because while we each have the right to make our own decisions, we do NOT have the right to make anyone else’s. You want to convince people that your way is best?

Then prove it. Prove it through love and thoughtful conversations. Prove it through defending people whether you approve of their every choice or not. Prove it by treating each person with the dignity that comes of being made in God’s image. Prove it by standing up for their right to read whatever they want, even when you find it “disgusting” or “hateful.”

I stand with the banned. Not because I love each banned book, but because I love the freedom to write, publish, read, buy, and check out whatever I want. Because I can learn from those books, whether I agree with them or not. And because we need to read the things that offend us…otherwise, we’re bound to keep repeating mistakes, falling into hatred and division, and abusing power.

What’s with the banned book craze?

A lot. You should check it out. There’s so much to learn in those pages.

In the coming weeks, I’m going to be talking a lot about the themes in The Collector of Burned Books. That’s gonna cover the obvious (book bans and burnings), but we’re going to go deeper than just that. And I wanted to start today with a question I received in a blog interview I answered a couple weeks ago, and which came up again in a video podcast interview I recorded with Tricia Goyer. A question that, in fact, is what led to this book being published by Tyndale House after I was with Bethany House for a decade.

Why did you humanize Nazis?

“We just can’t have a hero in Nazi uniform. It would be best if he isn’t German at all. Can he be French?” That’s what the team at BHP said, and I absolutely understood their stance. We don’t ever, ever want to justify or condone what the Nazi Party did in Europe in the 1930s and 40s. From their stance, it didn’t matter that my hero wasn’t really a Nazi. Didn’t matter that he’d been calling them his enemy long before the rest of the world knew to fear them. All that mattered was that he was in uniform.

It’s a dangerous line. A risky line. I get that.

But it was also 100% necessary to the story, so I refused to budge.

But you know what? It’s more than that. I didn’t just humanize (some) Nazis (and have others be complete villains) because I needed someone inside the library that was Nazi-controlled, though that was the plot reason. I humanized Nazis for one very simple reason: because they were humans. And if we ever forget that, we run a horrible, horrible risk of repeating their mistakes.

In The Collector of Burned Books, I point out first a sad truth. For many people in Germany during that era, if you didn’t join the Party, you risked losing your job, your security, or being outright arrested. My hero, Christian, eventually joined to try to protect someone he loved. It backfired–as it so often did. And he wasn’t silent about it. He spoke out, condemning the Party line on certain subjects…and he was reported to the Gestapo. He’s still not sure why he wasn’t arrested, why he was sent to Paris as the “library protector”…but he suspects it’s because he has an old friend much like him. A friend who had joined the police force before the Nazis came to power, who wanted to protect and serve. But the police became the Gestapo. Because this friend dragged his feet about joining the Party as well, he was relegated to a desk job in the filing department…where he fought back quietly by altering files. Christian’s, to start. But not just his. Whenever he could get away with it, he erased condemning information from the files that passed his desk, so he could continue to protect and serve the people of his city.

People really did this, guys. I’ll tell you one of the historical stories later in the month.

But these people are examples of a lot of people in Germany who were technically members of the Party. They were people who never really believed in it. Who wanted to keep fighting. And who chose to fight from the dubious safety within that Party.

Those, though, are the easy cases. There are more, and they’re represented in this book too. For instance, we have Kraus. He’s nineteen, and he enlisted for his slice of glory…only to be assigned as aid to a librarian. Boring, he thinks. He grew up in the Hitler Youth. He was indoctrinated from a young age into the Nazi ideals.

He’s never been taught otherwise. Never taught to think for himself. Never taught to question and learn and see the other as something deserving of freedom. Does that mean he’s beyond redemption? Not human? Does that mean he can’t learn, can’t come to realize that his “enemies”–people of different races, creeds, or politics–are people too, people who deserve life and freedom and respect?

There were many in Germany living in constant fear, who had to go along or they’d be sent to a concentration camp. There were many who couldn’t fathom that horrors were being committed, because they were unfathomable. Impossible. Couldn’t possibly be. There were plenty more who were bitter and defeated and desperate for a chance to reclaim what Germany had once been. Have you ever read the terms of surrender from the Great War? The German people were stripped of so much. Of course they were bitter. Of course they felt oppressed. Of course they wanted to restore Germany to its former glory. Who wouldn’t? They were people. They were humans. They were a lot like you and me.

But there were the monsters too. The true believers. The people who not only couldn’t believe atrocities were happening or were trying to quietly fight them, people who not only had been educated into the Nazi mindset, but who craved it. Who helped form it. Who were the first to sign up for it. Who really, truly thought this was the way Germany would claim the future it deserved. Who really believed they needed to purify their society (that’s what they called it) and get rid of anything “disgusting.” It included Jews, yes, and other races that were “degenerate,” like Slavs, Romani, and Blacks. It also included homosexuals. People born with deformities. Those with mental illness.

Like you, I look at people who euthanized–MURDERED–children or handicapped or those with illnesses beyond their control, and I am HORRIFIED. My first, gut reaction is to call them what we probably all think they are. “Monsters!”

And by the definition we have in mind, they were. There were people who had embraced evil. Who were letting it cavort through their streets, their schools, their homes, and certainly their government agencies.

But friends, here’s the thing. They were not demons. They, themselves, were not evil. They were people. Human. People who embraced evil, thinking it was good. They were monsters who were also men. They weren’t born without souls. They weren’t something Other, something Else, something we could never be.

They were just…like…us.

And that is why I will humanize Nazis. That is why I will write a book with many examples of Germans, some “good” and heroic, some “bad” and villainous. Because WE, you and I, are the same. We have the potential to be heroes or villains. Good or bad.  And we need to be careful, friends. Always, in every generation, every country, every church, every political party. We need to be careful that our pursuit of what we think is best doesn’t lead us into drawing lines that dehumanize.

Because when we say someone is no longer human, that they’re just a monster…that means it doesn’t matter what we do to them. It doesn’t matter if they live or die. That they are beyond redemption. That God does not love them.

Whose lie does that sound like?

The Nazis used that very tactic, and it’s what we hate them for. So…how can we do the same to them and not fall into the same trap?

So yes. I have Nazis in my book. Some are villains…and one is my hero. Many others are somewhere in between. True believers but who will still protect someone they like. Indoctrinated youths who can still learn there’s another way. All of them, even the nasty ones, are people. They are humans.

And I will show that. Because the moment we stop seeing them that way is the moment we become more like them than any of us want to be.

A couple weeks ago, my daughter and I were driving out to meet my parents and grandmother for lunch, and we were talking about what Xoe might want to do after college. She still dreams of writing and illustrating, yes, but she knows it could take a while for that to pay the bills. And, she said, her Bible study group had been talking a lot about making sure what they choose to do matters. That whatever profession they pursue, it’s a service to others.

I smiled to hear her saying this, because it’s something David and I have talked about endlessly over the years. (I didn’t point out that she’s no doubt heard us talking about this approximately a thousand times, LOL. I totally get she has to encounter it for herself, in her own life, in her own way, and make it her own through that encounter.)

As we drove, we talked through how the path she’s considering–linguistics–indeed is (or can be) a huge service, how it can make a difference. How important communication and understanding really is.

That evening, as David and I were driving to a book study at church, I relayed bits of my conversation with Xoe, and he added to it a question he’d just heard on a podcast that day. A question that neither of us had ever thought to ask before about our businesses:

“Where do you see your business being in three hundred years.”

That one got a pause from me, I’ll admit it. I was expecting three years. Maybe even thirty. But three hundred? Wow. That’s a scope I’d never considered. How many businesses even make it that long?

But it’s a question that makes the mind start spinning, isn’t it?

In three hundred years, will we, all our work, be forgotten? Or will we have made a lasting impression on the world? Obviously we aren’t all going to participate in country-shaping events or become national heroes or set records that will still be set then. But are we building legacies that last, doing service that will make a mark?

Honestly, we haven’t yet talked through what that would mean for our company, but given that we work in books, it’s a concept worth exploring. Books can last long beyond the writers go home to be with the Lord. Our words, our thoughts, the stories that have shaped our hearts can continue to shape others. If.

If.

If they’re stories that continue to resonate. If they elucidate a truth that can shine through the darkness for ages to come. If we speak to the unchanging heart of humanity.

Will any of our books outlast us that long? Any of mine? Will our company live on after we do? I don’t know.

But it’s worth working for. Worth writing for. Worth reading for.

I don’t write the books I do so that future generations will read them–honestly, I have no idea if my books will continue to be of interest to people in decades or centuries to come. So many are being published these days, mine are just a few among many. One voice in a multitude. I believe that voice matters, and I will follow the call of the Lord to use it, to keep sharing the stories He gives me.

And I will give them my all. I will make them the best I can. I will strive, always, to share His truth–because that is what lasts decades, centuries, millennia. My deepest prayer is to partake of that, of Him.

The day after those conversations with Xoe and David, we had a power outage in the evening. Two different people that week had mentioned reading and loving The Shadow’s Song, one of my biblicals for Guideposts that came out a couple years ago. I couldn’t honestly remember much of the book–I hadn’t read it since I first turned it in. So, with nothing else I could really do but with a fully-charged laptop battery, I opened up my file and started reading.

This was a book I wrote quickly, as one of many due that year. It’s short. Didn’t take me long to read. But as I read it, I had so many moments where I thought, “Wow, that was really insightful. Whoa, I didn’t even remember that. Hey, this is actually really good.” LOL. Silly, I know, for one of my own books…but important. Important to remind myself that even these quick little stories that I write in the course of a week mean something. They still have my heart in them and, more importantly, seek the Lord’s.

That’s what I have to make sure everything does. All the work of my hands. All the work of my mind. All the work of my soul. Only when it points to Him is it worthy. Only then will it stand the test of time.

Everything we do needs to have that purpose. And that is when we know we’ll leave a legacy behind us.