Before I became the lead pastor of my church, I stumbled onto an idea that quietly reshaped my approach to ministry. It came from two very different voices: Bill Gates and Michael Reeves.

Gates, the tech giant, famously takes one or two weeks a year to retreat to his secluded cabin on a lake and read as much as possible — no phone, no meetings, no distractions, just a towering stack of books.

Reeves, the theologian, once shared his rhythm of deep reading: one hour a week, one day a month, one week a year. Both men, in their own fields, had seen the fruit of setting aside time for slow, undistracted, focused reading.

That vision stuck with me.

So now, as a pastor, I take what I cautiously call “reading dayz” each year — usually two to three weeks in the summer. It’s not a formal sabbatical, and I try to communicate that clearly to both my family and my church. But it is carved out, protected time to read deeply, think theologically and let the Lord recalibrate my heart through uninterrupted, aggressive study.

The Shape of the Days

Each year, I choose one doctrine or theological theme — justification, the Holy Spirit, Lloyd-Jones’ sermons on Ephesians, etc. — and build a reading plan three to six months in advance. My days typically follow a rhythm: intermediate-level material in the morning, heavier or more intensive works over lunch into the afternoon and conclude the day with beginner-level material.

During those reading days, I cancel or delegate my usual pastoral responsibilities, including counseling, sermon prep, formal and informal meetings, adult Sunday school and even preaching. Trusted men from within our church step into the pulpit. I still lead the liturgical elements of the service, but I’m not carrying the sermon. I work 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., either in my office or in a quiet space at a friend’s house. Evenings are reserved for family, journaling, the gym or phone calls with friends.

Thanks to the generosity of a friend, my family and I usually schedule a one- to three-day retreat in the middle of my overall reading days period. We’ll stay at someone’s home, where I keep reading during the day while the rest of the family rests and plays. In the evenings, we regroup for dinner, do bedtime with the kids and enjoy late-night gospel conversations with friends. It’s both restful and rich.

The Fruit It Bears

These reading days sharpen me, but more than that, they shape our church. Hopefully, over time, the congregation will see that the study of theology isn’t just for the pastor’s time in seminary or for the professor in an ivory tower. It’s for both pastors and the church today. It’s certainly helpful for preaching. But it’s also for life, like in sports, where athletes devote weeks of intense practice, drills and workouts before entering the stretch of a long season.

Reading days remind our members that a pastor should be theologically sharp, biblically astute and spiritually renewed. It creates space for other men to teach and grow as they preach. It gives me a break from preaching — but not from ministry. If anything, it deepens my commitment to it.

Most importantly, it fills me with gratitude — grateful to the God I’m reading about, and grateful for the people I’m reading for. I’m thankful for a church that values study and depth, my elders who champion and defend the time, and a wife who believes it’s good. I’m thankful for a rhythm that keeps me from running on fumes. And I’m grateful for a God who forms pastors not only through preaching, but also in the quiet corners of a study.

What It’s Not

These aren’t vacation days. I gently remind my wife (and myself) that when I hole up with Edwards or Kuyper or Smeaton, I’m not “off.” Our church has entrusted me with time to work differently — but still diligently.

And I don’t read for anyone but my church. I’m not building a platform, prepping for publishing or expanding my ministry. I get to read as a pastor of my local church — for the people I know, love and shepherd week after week. 

Final Word

You don’t need an official policy to start dedicated reading days. Just start small. Block out a few days. Or a week. Or even one afternoon. If there’s no one else yet in your church to take the pulpit, swap with a like-minded brother across town. Find a space. Make a plan. And open the books.

Deep reading isn’t a detour from ministry — it serves to sustain it. Reading days may not be flashy, but they are fruitful. They can be a hidden yet profound way God uses to make your calling more thoughtful and joyful.

“Give yourself unto reading. … You need to read.”
— Charles Spurgeon, Lectures to My Students, “The Minister’s Self-Watch”