Sapiens: The Book that Sparked an Existential Crisis

Venturing into the heart of Indonesia, a vibrant nation pulsating with Islamic devotion, as a Christian missionary, was a high-stakes undertaking. I plunged headlong into this life-altering journey, a mere four days post high school graduation.

Contrary to expectation, our focus as Christian missionaries in a predominantly Muslim country didn't rest on converting Muslims, but Christians of other denominations. Interestingly, proselytizers in Indonesia couldn't initiate a religious conversation; the law dictated that only the person we were conversing with could broach the topic. Breaking this rule meant breaking the law. So, how does one fulfill spiritual duties under such restrictive conditions?

Find refuge in bookstores.

I spent countless hours in Gramedia, an Indonesian cross between Barnes and Noble and Dick's Sporting Goods. The air-conditioned respite from the searing heat was a bonus. More importantly, it was a fertile ground for contact in the religious book section.

We’d linger among the Alkitab (Bibles), awaiting someone to strike up a conversation with. Once someone started perusing the Bible, we'd subtly approach them with seemingly innocent comments like, “Oh, you like to read the Bible too?” or “No way, I’m also Christian. What church do you go to?” In retrospect, our approach felt contrived, and despite the best of intentions, it was often fruitless.

In an effort to mask our recurring tactics from both the employees and the customers—and perhaps also to regroup from our futile efforts—we'd routinely take a brief stroll around the store, feigning interest in other books. This way, at least we gave the impression of casual bookstore browsers. Once, as I wandered aimlessly in the non-fiction section, a book titled, "Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind" drew me in.

Despite my minimal reading history, something about this book sparked my curiosity. It wasn't merely the contrasting reviews by the likes of Bill Gates, Barack Obama, and Mark Zuckerberg that drew me in, but the prospect of a 'provocative' journey. The air of intellectual freedom the book promised seemed like a lifeline, an unexpected escape from the restrictive missionary life I had been leading in Indonesia. Paradoxically, my intense missionary restrictions left me yearning for unrestricted knowledge, a desire that, over time, led to a shift in my faith.

A dream nudged me to read 'Sapiens', and it became a Christmas wish, and upon my return to the U.S., a fulfilled desire, thanks to my dad.

The author, Yuval Noah Harari, proposed a daring exploration into humanity's history, tracing our roots back two million years. As a devout member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I had grown up with the belief that human existence commenced with Adam and Eve in Jackson County, Missouri, a mere few thousand years ago. Harari's perspective on human existence clashed directly with this notion, spanning an incomprehensible timeline that eclipsed my faith's narrative by hundreds of thousands of generations.

This startling discrepancy ignited an internal struggle, an existential crisis that was both disconcerting and illuminating. Harari wasn't just challenging societal norms; he was questioning the very bedrock of my faith.

As I delved into 'Sapiens,' I found myself in an intense duel with my own beliefs, grappling with a chronicle of humanity that bore little resemblance to the stories I had heard in Sunday school. This wasn't just an intellectual exercise; it was a confrontation with the fundamental tenets I had held dear.

The journey I embarked on while reading "Sapiens" fundamentally reshaped my perspective on faith, humanity, and my place in the world. It was a profound transformation, one that stemmed from a curiosity nurtured in an Indonesian bookstore.

"Sapiens," in essence, is more than just a book—it's an invitation, a challenge to reevaluate your worldview and your understanding of human history. It's a journey that, like my mission in Indonesia, might just change the course of your life. It certainly changed mine.