This Book is Unlike Any Other

“But, it’s all touching!”  The woeful complaint came from my friend’s son. Bless his six-year-old heart. From where I sat it looked like his mother had done a good job of segregating the food on Welton’s plate, but I sympathized with the little fellow’s distress. I never could make my parents understand that it was impossible to redeem my fast food hamburger by simply removing a tomato slice, not when juice and seeds from that tomato were left behind.

That was back in the day when my sisters and I considered a balanced meal to be equal helpings of meat and potatoes. And bread, bread was allowed, especially Mama’s hot buttered cornbread. We were allergic to the idea of eating anything that didn’t fall in these sanctioned categories.

These days I enjoy eating cabbage, broccoli, and a host of other things that come in shades of green. My tastes have changed over time, just like Mama said they would. I’ve often heard people use changing taste buds as an analogy for developing a desire for God’s word, claiming that the more of it we read, the more of it we’ll want. I may have even used that line of thinking myself. I honestly don’t remember, but if I did, I’d like to clarify that message. Allow me to explain.

Experience has taught me that a person can read the Bible for years without coming to love and hunger for its holy truth– if it’s read out of compulsion. Why? Because unlike any other book, the Bible is alive. I don’t believe God’s Word opens to the person who reads it because they should. What’s more, with a little persuasion, I could even be convinced that it actively resists the intellectual reader who studies it with no other goal than to try and disprove what they’re reading.

To fall in love with the Truth that is the Holy Scripture, you must come to it for life itself. Come to feast, my friend, and you’ll be fed.

Hugs, Shellie