If you have a Bible term with me to Genesis chapter one, and I suppose that I should say happy New Year or happy almost New Year.

Thank you for the one person who wished it in return.

Some of you have two days left to learn French or to kick that coffee habit that you said you were going to kick or whatever it may be.

At the beginning of the year I sat down to form some resolutions.

And because I'm a raging idealist, I didn't form one or two resolutions.

I formed 22 resolutions. I won't tell you which ones I actually got to.

But one of those resolutions was to read more books.

And because at the end of last year I had just finished up grad school and had basically committed six years of my life to reading nothing but theology.

I knew I needed a little bit more fiction in my diet, just a little bit of like a breather from the things that I had been reading.

So I started where all sophisticated literary minds do with Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's song.

And guys, these books were a breath of fresh air, a balm to my weary, theological soul.

I tore through these books just with ecstatic joy.

I was swept up in the world of wizards and muggles, of Hogwarts and quidditch of Gryffindor's and Slytherin's.

The whole thing, I was just enamored.

Even still at this point, I've read the first six books and I have procrastinated on starting the seventh because I know that when I finish the seventh I'm going to be devastated.

Like it's just going to wreck me.

So I'm just kind of putting off that disappointment for later.

But I have to wonder, why am I so enthralled by these stories?

Aside from them just being really good books, why am I having dreams about quidditch?

And about flying on a broom.

And why am I not alone?

Why is it that there have been 500 million copies of Harry Potter that have been sold?

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