Fast asleep, my lifeless face had completely conked out on the book. Even though my elementary book report was due tomorrow, I failed to read past the first few pages until the last possible day. Not to worry—I would eventually wake up in the middle of the night and remember the wretched reading I still had to do. I’m pretty sure this happened more than once.

I knew reading was important. I was supposed to enjoy it. And I liked the idea of books. But reading for fun—for me—seemed impossible

While the rest of my friends spent their childhood with The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew and The Mysterious Benedict Society, I was more interested in music, sports and Lego. I wasn’t necessarily bad at reading; I might even check out a book on dinosaurs or animals from time to time because I liked the material. But I never just read for fun.

As a teen, I never finished a secular book outside of school. Sure, I enjoyed English class, and I read for school projects. But I still couldn’t bring myself to read for fun. Going into college, I bought big, important books, visited the library regularly, and even joined a book club. But all efforts were in vain.

Maybe you can relate. Of course, you know how to read (unless this is being read to you), and you might even be good at it for school purposes. You’re aware of the importance of reading. But if you have difficulty reading for the sheer pleasure of it, you are not alone.

Something has changed, however, since my elementary book report days. You see, I’ve learned to love reading for fun. And you can too.

1. Find a reading mentor.

It was the start of another year at college. As new incoming students started arriving on campus, one in particular caught my attention—for two reasons.

First was his awesome personal library—the largest I had ever seen from a student. This was no common hodgepodge of feel-good, self-help books. Rather, he carried a treasure trove of literature: everything from modern scientific treatises to stories written before the Roman Empire existed.

But what impressed me even more was his way of thinking. He was able to provide excellent analysis on any subject. He also knew how the mind worked, which made him an extraordinary student. If anything, he was an incredible conversationalist.

Clearly, if I wanted to think like him, I’d have to learn to read like him. So I talked to him often about his books. He showed me several reading lists, shared how he took notes on his reading, and taught me the value of a good translation. Most importantly, he infected me with his love of reading.

Looking back, we often had lots of differing opinions about what we read. My library ended up looking pretty different from his. But to this day, he still provides me with phenomenal reading advice.

If you can, find a “reading mentor.” It could be a teacher, an adult in your congregation, or even a parent; but for me, it was one of my own peers! Simply find someone who 1) loves reading and 2) thinks deeply. Then, get infected by their love of reading.

2. Don’t be a sophomore.

One of the first books my reading mentor told me about was How to Read a Book, by Mortimer Adler and Charles van Doren. He said he wished he read it before anything else he read. That was enough to convince me.

Only four paragraphs in, I came across this: “We do not have to know everything about something in order to understand it; too many facts are often as much of an obstacle to understanding as too few.”

Wait a minute.

This whole time, I had been reading simply to learn more things. But Adler was challenging that notion: Reading was about more than just facts—it was about growing into a deeper thinker.

“It is true, of course, that you should be able to remember what the author said as well as know what he meant. Being informed is a prerequisite to being enlightened. The point, however, is not to stop at being informed” (ibid.).

The ancient Greeks had a word to describe those who read many books in a wrong way: “sophomore,” literally meaning a “wise moron.” Up to this point, I was a sophomore—only reading to accumulate more information. Perhaps this is why I never cared for reading.

But now, reading had a whole different meaning.

This can be hard to break if you’re only used to reading for school. But the point of reading isn’t to get through every last page, memorize all the facts, and remember every last detail of the story. It’s about letting the author’s message change you.

As Solomon said: “[O]f making many books there is no end” (Ecclesiastes 12:12). If you’ve gotten all you can out of a book, don’t be afraid to put it away and start another. The point isn’t to read every page. The point is to grow.

By the way, if you want my number one book recommendation, get How to Read a Book. Then when it comes in the mail, let it change you.

3. Lift heavier weights.

“You will not improve as a reader,” Adler wrote, “if all you read are books that are well within your capacity. You must tackle books that are beyond you or, as we have said, books that are over your head.”

When I was in second grade, I got in trouble from my public school administration for reading a fourth-grade level book. This castigation sucked out all my ambition.

Adler was now offering me a second chance. Yes, it would be difficult, maybe even uncomfortable. But I was no longer reading to accumulate information—I was reading to grow. So I was ready for a challenge

Wanting to start with a history book, I picked the History of the Peloponnesian War, by the ancient Greek historian Thucydides. We had briefly learned about it in school, and Adler even talked about it in his book. My “reading mentor,” having read it himself, told me it was one of the more difficult books he had encountered. But I was ready for the challenge.

I picked this book because I was interested in Greek history. You should start with something you’re interestedin (that helps with learning to love reading). But the books you pick should challenge you. Thucydides definitely challenged me.

This history, written in the 400s b.c., told the story of the war between Athens and Sparta. The minutiae of detail regarding naval boats, small islands and internal political debates werehard to follow. But as Adler noted, world leaders have been studying this book for millennia. It has stood the test of time—some scholars even consider it one of the first history books ever. It didn’t matter whether I liked it: This book had already changed the world! The only question was whether I would let it change me.

Don’t be worried if you’re sometimes overwhelmed by a book. Muscles get stronger when they lift heavier weights. When a book challenges us, it’s a sign that we’re growing. And isn’t that what reading is all about?

4.Never read without a pencil.

For my reading mentor, one book recommendation stood above the rest: the Essays of Michel de Montaigne, a 16th-century French writer and philosopher. If you’ve ever written an essay in school, you have him to thank for literally inventing the essay. Montaigne’s works cover a wide range of topics: everything from the education of children to war horses to … books!

His essays contain some incredible points—points I wanted to remember and apply in my life. To make sure I remembered them (or at least, wherethey were), I marked them with a pencil and wrote my thoughts in the margin.

However, I didn’t always agree with him. For example, he said he only liked discussion with competition and debate; unity was boring to him. While I do love thought-provoking discussion, I disagree that unity is “boring.” So I wrote that in the margin of my book, and the pencil in my hand helped me articulate my thoughts.

For a book to change us, we have to think. And we simply cannot think quite like we do when we hold a pencil. Even when I’m not marking something, the pencil is a personal reminder to put everything the author says to the test. Personally, I like to put my markings in the book itself; others prefer a reading journal or commonplace book. These also provide a valuable reference—especially if you ever choose to go back and write an article about how you learned to love reading.

At this point, it didn’t even feellike reading. It felt like discussion, and with one of the Renaissance’s greatest thinkers! Plus, Montaigne would probably appreciate that, in my discussion, I disagreed with him.

5. Read 30 minutes a day.

If you’re still reading this, it means you’ve warmed up to the idea of learning to love to read. So allow me to share one more piece of advice that helped me on my journey: Read 30 minutes a day

This advice comes from writer and public speaker Tim Urban. His reasoning? If you read the average reading speed—250 words a minute—for 30 minutes, you’d read 7,500 words a day. At that rate, in one year, the average person could read War and Peace, Anna Karenina, Moby Dick, all of Shakespeare, Mr. Armstrong’s Autobiography and four more books—2.7 million words a year—no speed-reading required.

Urban’s math checked out. Even with a busy college schedule, I always felt like I had time to read: Thirty minutes wasn’t that big of a commitment.

To be honest, I still have to force myself to read at times. It’s hard to shut everything else out and concentrate on a book for 30 minutes. But once I do, it’s usually harder closing the book.

Since doing this, I’ve caught myself deep in histories of colonial America and ancient Ireland. I’ve been stunned by how easily a mapmaker can lie with a map. I’ve had my mind blown with papers on archaeology and foreign languages. I’ve relished works of poetry and politics, and I probably owe some friendships to a delightful book on body language.

If you don’t like reading, I know exactly how you feel. I was there. But learning to love to read has been one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve had. Put forward the effort, and develop this mind-expanding, enriching new love in your life!