Those of you who know me, who have at least had multiple face-to-face conversations with me, would probably know of my utter dislike for self-help books. I have spoken against them on a number of occasions and have perhaps been impolitic at times.

If asked why I have this dislike for resources that people obviously find helpful, I have often simply said that it is impossible for a stranger, here the author(s) of the book, to know the reader’s problems well enough to give advice to all the readers. At least not advice that would actually be helpful in the long run.

I do agree with that claim. It is impossible for a stranger to know my circumstances well enough to suggest advice that is pertinent to my situation. Unless, of course, they give as vague advice as the horoscopes, which, due to the inherent ambiguity contained with them, could apply to countless scenarios, making one feel as though they were accurate. It is simply not possible for specific advice to be relevant in multiple situations.

However, I have always been nagged with the feeling that there was something deeper – much deeper – than what my simply stated objection would seem to indicate.

During the past few weeks, I have, on quite a few occasions, been asked about my views regarding self-help resources. Thinking back on this, it is either a remarkable coincidence or perhaps there was need for me to have a good hard look at my position concerning these resources. And so over the past few days I have given this matter some thought.

What really is a self-help book doing? The author provides what she or he thinks is sound advice for situations that might more commonly be experienced. I do not doubt the authors genuine intention to help. But the reader picks up the book and goes to read it in private. No one really is aware of what is transacting. The author does not even know who has purchased the book, let alone what the person’s specific situation might be.

But in the privacy of his or her room, the reader begins to draw parallels between what is on the page and what his or her life experiences might be. There may be very helpful lessons to be drawn. And a discerning reader may even be able to make links that would enhance the healing process.

However, what the book lacks, indeed what a book refuses to permit, is a face-to-face encounter with another live and living human being before whom the reader can show their brokenness. The author may have written in the best conversational style. But she or he is just not there to provide the presence of another broken human being. And when one reads a book, one does not have to be vulnerable to anyone. One can simply take the advice in it. The advice may cut to the reader’s core for sure in some cases. But there is never a live sharing of vulnerability with another broken person.

In other words, self-help books silence vulnerability, not allowing the broken reader the opportunity of baring his or her weaknesses in the presence of another human who might understand, empathize, and redeem. And since forgiveness and redemption are relational, self-help books ironically remove the opportunity for full healing by silencing vulnerability.