Catching Idle Butterflies

The condition of my Bible

I purchased my first Bible at the age of seventeen. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. It was hardcover, so I could carry it around everywhere and not worry about it falling apart anytime soon. I also loved the wide margins, so I had lots of room to write down my thoughts and references to other scripture.

I still use it even today, as it has a terrific concordance. But as I was looking at it a few months ago, I thought it looked kind of used and ratty. I was actually embarrassed to carry it around lest others would notice how badly I took care of it.

So I purchased a new one. I like this one a lot as it's a study Bible with tons of information included at the bottom of each page describing what certain verses mean and how to apply the scripture to my own life.

But I have yet to pencil in a comment or highlight a verse. I made the conscious decision to leave this Bible in the best condition possible.

That is until my pastor, Kermit, told this story a few Sundays ago:

When I first graduated Seminary, I was sent to a small church with maybe fifty members. My Bible was falling apart. I had notes written all over it, bent and torn pages, and highlighting all over it. The cover had also torn and I fixed it with duct tape.

After the service, and with my ratty Bible in hand, I began to greet all the parishioners. One of the first to greet me was a little old lady.

Before I had a chance to say anything she asked, “Can I look at your Bible?”

I thought this was a very strange question, but I gave it to her.

She then went and sat back down in her pew and leafed through my Bible. As I continued to greet everyone else, I watched her. She then did something very strange. She took out a pen and wrote something inside the front cover of my Bible.

I thought that was stranger still. Who writes in other people’s Bibles?

She returned it to me and said, “Thank you.”

I waited until everyone had gone before I read what she had written. It said. “If this book is falling apart, it means the person to whom it belongs probably is not.”

Isn’t that great?

I’d say so. So now I won’t hold back when I feel a need to highlight a scripture, dog-ear a page or two, or write my thoughts and feelings in the margins when I read something that touches me. How else am I supposed to find those things that change me, and how they changed me if I don't make note of them?