Reading the Word

I do not remember when I received it and neither do I remember the occasion that it came to me.  It was more like one day I did not have it and the next day I remember carrying it with me to the Hebardville Methodist Church.  I must have been every bit of eight or nine years old when that first Bible came to me.  It was a King James Version with colorful pictures of significant Biblical moments and all the words of Jesus in red letters.  Even today in my late seventies I can remember reading those exciting stories of Abraham, Moses, David, and of course, Jesus.    

I sometimes wish I could go back to those days and read it all again for the first time.  Back then I was not bothered by some of the things taught in seminary which suggested that maybe not all the books were written by the person whose name appears at the beginning, or how history and geography interacted with the Scripture. Back then there was no challenge to what was being read on the page.  It was just the story of God and His people.  

Despite all my learning, I still read the Bible.  I have worn out more than a few.  It is not that I have worn them out by reading so much, but things just get worn out by the years and I have had quite a few years.  I am thankful, too, for this Word which has given both a foundation and direction to my life.  As far as I am concerned, it is the inspired written word of God.  Such is what it is, such is what it always has been, and such is what it will always be.