I’m so excited. I got a new Bible.
It feels like the latest book from your favorite author. The one you’ve been waiting months to read.
I’m giddy over new books. Getting an author’s new release of tragedy to triumph in my hands, I don’t want to let go. I resist opening them. I want to just hold them—welcome their title and enjoy their coming. See their cover on my table and relish how they’ll be staying awhile. I dread their final paragraphs because it’ll be like saying goodbye to a dear friend who came all this way to share their story.
Crazy how God’s book is always new. And not just when you replace the old one. It’s new every time you open it—because you don’t open the Bible—it opens you.
Countless scribblers inspire, alter, even revolutionize our thinking, but none has the power to unlock the soul. No other author unstops ears, clothes the naked heart, raises the dead. Men may have held the pen, but the power to wash away sin—like it never happened—cannot be copied. No amount of man’s words can prove how much your worth. Only the Bible has power to do that—because God is no ordinary writer, and the Bible no run-of-the-mill book.
The Bible is Love’s Story.
The Guinness Book of World Records estimates that more than 5 billion copies of the Bible have been printed. There’s not a manuscript on the planet that can say that. Doesn’t matter what books hit the bestseller list—no voice floods the earth like His.
A new way to love.
Starting the Bible over, I’m immersed in Jacob’s dramatic escape from his twin brother, Esau, who plans to murder him as soon as their father, Isaac, is dead, because Rebekah (his mother) compelled Jacob to pose as Esau, tricking their father and stealing the family fortune. (Talk about yer family drama!)
Jacob’s flight from Beersheba to Haran must have been a dangerous one. Likely taking uncommon roads for fear of his vindictive brother. Finding a spot to sleep under the stars, God comes in a dream. I like to think this is when Jacob realized the difference between what his mother taught him about love, and Who love really was. That Jacob woke welcoming a new way to love: sincerely, bravely, generously. The voice of God implanting in his heart—enlightening the value of his life, igniting a desire to love others.
Here we read of shepherds gathering at wells to water their flocks. Water was scarce. For that reason, wells were often sealed and secured with a large stone needing more than one man to move. It was customary to collect all flocks round the well before its cover was lifted in the presence of the owner (or his representative.) After fleeing some 450 miles Jacob comes to a well hoping to find word of his relatives. Rachel arrives. The shepherdess of his uncle Laban’s sheep. Jacob cannot contain himself. Sprinting to the well, he heaves the stone off its mouth single handedly and waters her flock. What Jacob does next takes my breath away. Every. Single. Time. One step further and Jacob seals his parched lips on Rachel’s mouth, and weeps out loud! (This is where romantic tragedies come from ladies and gentlemen.)
A deep well from which truth flows fresh every day.
I relate to Jacob. Often feel like I jive more with the boys in the Bible than the girls. Maybe because boys are written more frequently? (Or It could be boys get into more trouble.)
Jacob was a homebody. Stuck close to his mother. Did what he was told, even when it was deadly. Lied when it served his own purpose. Wrestled with God until left with a permanent limp. But Jacob was tight with God. Despite all his cowardice, he knew Who loved him. He knew Who to trust in trouble. “I am not worthy of the least of all the deeds of steadfast love and all the faithfulness that You have shown to Your servant.” (Gen 32:10)
I can’t help but believe when I “hear” how Jacob told his Uncle Laban all that had happened, the heaviest stone was lifted from his heart.
Like Jacob, I repeatedly find myself at the end of a long, unraveling rope before I bawl and do the brave thing: Admit I was wrong.
I’ve read this story a hundred times and its never exposed me this way—because the bible is a deep well from which truth flows fresh every day.
The wellspring that never runs dry.
Every reading of the Bible is like another birthday.
At first all you can digest is milk, crying to be held, hungry all the time, popping out of your onesie you’re growing so fast. Learning to speak, you’re hardly understandable. First steps bruise your head. Starting to study, your teachers sound stupid—until reaching maturity requires humility.
I am grateful that I cherish the Bible. Thankful for the whisper of Love’s voice.
Father, keep me coming to the Mouth of wisdom—the wellspring that never runs dry.