Book of the Month: Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson

It’s going to take a bit of discipline on my part, but I’m going to try to read a new book every month and throw out a few thoughts on it.  We’ll start with a bestselling biography for the most obvious of reasons:  it was given to me as a gift, and didn’t require a trip to the bookstore or library!  Here’s some thoughts on Walter Isaacson’s authorized biography Steve Jobs:

The good:  Steve Jobs, of course, was one of the original founders of Apple and one of the driving forces behind its rise to become the most valuable company in the world.  I’ve never known a world without Apple products (the Apple II computer was released the year I was born, although only a handful of people ever owned or used one).  To someone who grew up alongside the personal computer, this book was a fascinating history of the technology behind an invention that all of us now take for granted.  I now know that many of the things I keep on my desk—from my phone to my ipod to my laptop did not suddenly appear out of thin air—they were the result of incredibly creative people working incredibly hard for an incredibly long period of time.  My own work ethic was significantly challenged by Apple’s determination to work hard to make excellent and innovative products.

The salty:  If  you happen to be one of the remaining three people on earth that haven’t read it, be warned:  there is some pretty rough language and a few vulgar comments scattered throughout the book.  Most of the offensive comments are direct quotations from Jobs himself, who prided himself on his brutal (and at times sadistic) honesty toward his friends and enemies.

The sad:  One verse haunted me as I read about Job’s life:  “What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul.”  (Matthew 16:26).  Steve Jobs was arguably one of the most successful entrepreneurs of the last 50 years.  He built an enduring company that made innovative and useful products and he became very wealthy doing it, but Steve Jobs never found peace.  Early in the book, we see a young Jobs challenging the existence of God and staging a dramatic exit from his childhood church.  The book closes decades later on the eve of his death as Jobs ruminated on the odds of there being an afterlife.  I find it terribly sad that someone who led such a remarkable life never knew the hope of a salvation that outlasted this temporary life.   

The slightly creepy:  The Apple II was originally sold for $666.66, a price set by Steve Jobs himself.  Also, Steve Wozniak admitted a fascination with repeating the number 6 and chose a phone number ending in 666.  With a proliferation of outlandish guesses as to who the antichrist is, why hasn’t a pastor or television preacher ever suggested one of the founders of Apple Computers?  My guess is none of them want to give up their iPhones.

 The challenging:  The book mentions several people and companies who were offered incredible opportunities to get in on the ground floor with Apple (one poor guy signed on as a part owner, and then backed out.  He could have been a billionaire, but now lives on Social Security).  Most of these individuals shied away from the chance because they were afraid.  Computers, at that time, were for hobbyists and geeks—no one knew if there would be a broad market for them.  No one wanted to take the risk of losing money or quitting their job on a bet like that.  Even Steve Wozniak, the engineer behind the first Apples tried to play it safe, keeping his day job at Hewlitt Packard and making Apple a side hobby.  Eventually, it became clear that this was too big to be a hobby—he would have to commit wholeheartedly or step aside and let more willing engineers push forward.  He chose to take a risk, and is still reaping the rewards for that choice.  Perhaps it is a bit of a leap, but I began to examine my own faith.  Am I willing to take risks for Christ or am I content to play it safe with my faith?  Following Jesus cannot be a side hobby where I still keep my day job.  He requires laying everything else aside.  It’s a risky business, to be sure.  I could lose everything I have here on earth, but the eternal dividends are greater than any stock option Apple could ever offer.

Innocence And Andrew Peterson's (Awesome) New Album

Last fall, I watched an inmate at a maximum security prison weep.  He was a murderer, twenty years into a forty year sentence.  The reason for this uncharacteristic vulnerability—this rare show of tears—was a crayon drawing.  A six year old girl had heard that I was going to the prison to do some ministry and she had drawn pictures for the prisoners—stick figures with oversized smiles standing under sunny skies with rainbows and bouquets of flowers surrounding them.  For this particular man, the picture was devastating.  He had lived so long in a place where hopelessness, fear, and violence reigned supreme, that he had forgotten that there was such things as innocence, beauty, and joy.  The picture was, to him, both a tragic memento of what he had a lost, and a hopeful reminder that good things still exist.  He carefully folded it up as though it were an ancient treasure map, and slipped it into his pocket.

Last week, I watched as my youngest daughter celebrated her fifth birthday.  She spent the day dressed in a princess outfit, playing with dolls, singing spontaneous songs with an unashamed abandon.  She was the epitome of wide eyed innocence and untainted joy.  At one point, I began to weep, not like the inmate in memory of what he had lost, but like a father in anticipation of what my daughter would one day lose.  I knew that the day was quickly approaching when she would stop wearing princess dresses because she would fear the ridicule and mockery of her peers.  I knew that the day was coming when she would no longer play with dolls because she would be too busy worrying about how to pay the bills.  The innocence of childhood is shattered, the curse of living in a fallen world exacts its toll, and all of us-- murderers, fathers, and baby girls alike—grieve what we have lost.  There is hope, however.  There is a light for the little lost child who wanders through the darkness looking for their missing innocence.   

Andrew Peterson explores both this grief and this hope in his new album “Light For the Lost Boy.”  The album is a concept album, with most of the songs tracing the metaphor of a little boy lost in the woods looking for his way back home.  Sometimes the child is Peterson himself looking for the lost innocence of childhood, sometimes it is Peterson’s son or daughter trying to find their difficult way into adulthood, sometimes it is a literary character such as Jody Baxter, the young boy who loses his beloved childhood pet in Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings book, “The Yearling.”  In all cases, the heartache of loss is embraced fully without ever losing sight of hope and beauty.

The album starts off with “Come Back Soon,” a haunting dirge which mourns the effects of The Fall on our world and begs for the redemption that God promised.  In “The Voice of Jesus” Peterson offers comfort by assuring that Jesus walks with us as we wander in the dark woods of this world.  “Day By Day” cleverly blends Scripture with the story of a visit to Kensington Gardens (where Peter Pan was written) to remind us that perhaps the key to joy is not returning to the innocence of childhood, but pushing forward to maturity in Christ.  All the loose ends are tied up beautifully with the album closer “Don’t You Want to Thank Someone” which zeroes in on the grace of God, and offers us some serious fodder for thought:  “maybe it’s a better thing . . . to be more than merely innocent/but to be broken and redeemed by love.”   It is good and right for us to grieve our exile from Eden, but Eden was never the goal for God.  He had a better plan, a plan to make us not only perfect creations, but perfected sons and daughters.  And, yes, I do want to thank someone for that.