Over at By the Lamp Light, Lora shared a beautiful poem about her new Bible. Her post got me thinking about my own well-worn copy of the Word. When I opened it one day last week, I noticed this tell-tale crack in the binding.
Umm...I've already forked over the big bucks to recover this Bible once, and I'm sure Big Red might balk at me recovering it again any time soon. In fact, his response the first time was, "I would have bought you a new Bible."
I don't want a new Bible.
I want this one.
Big Red gave me this NIV Study Bible on our first Christmas as a married couple, which means it will turn 16 this year.
We have a long-term relationship, this particular Bible and I.
It's been been left on the top of our car (twice) and has been returned by kind strangers who found it in the ditch.
DD#2 used it for writing practice during those toddler years when no surface was safe.
The new puppy used it for chewing practice.
Our cat usually just likes to sit on it when I'm studying, but the other day she decided to use it for claw-sharpening.
(Can you tell I leave it lying around open in dangerous places, a habit I should have broken by now?)
Its pages have opened for countless Beth Moore studies.
I've marked it, poured over it, cried over it, pondered it.
The real issue, of course, isn't the relationship I have with this particular Bible.
More accurately, it's the relationship I have with Word itself.
I don't just want to underline it and weep.
I want to sow it deep.
Then, even if this copy and I have to part, our time together will remain fruitful.