The Special Book

**Not about Valentines,but it IS about LOVE.

A week ago today, a certain Golden Child wanted to take a special book with him to AWANA. His mother tried to dissuade him she feared he would lose it. The book in question is a rather large children’s Bible story book that I had given him a few years ago. Notice I said she tried to dissuade him; he can be very persistent when he really wants something. I’m sure he insisted pleeeeeze a dozen times or more, and probably promised a few things too. You guessed it. He took the book to church that night.

The way I understand it, he got home before he remembered the book. At that point, his Mom was supposed to get back in the car, go back across town, find someone to open the church, and get his Bible. Since this was not a practical solution, she suggested that he could get his Bible on Sunday.

Apparently he was not satisfied with her reply. He promptly sat down and wrote a note. He asked for an envelope, stamp, and some help with the address. Neither of his parents read the note, but one of them helped with the street name, city, and zip. He must have folded that note a half-dozen times before stuffing it in the envelope and sealing it up.

I wish you could have seen my face light up when my husband brought in the mail. He said, “Looks like your nephew has sent you a letter.” Aunt Carla was scrawled almost all the way across the top of the envelope. The house number was in a large font also. To one side was written: FEB. 7 and near the bottom 8:57. For the first time in a long time I was impressed with the postal service. They actually took the extra time to hand sort it and deliver it. Golden’s charm must have caught them as they handled his request. The note read: Aunt Carla, I left my Bible you gave me at church.

Long story short, Sunday morning he found his treasured book, the Bible Aunt Carla gave him. With his description of it, you can see part of the book’s value comes from its giver. If you could hear him talk about the stories in the book, you would see that the contents are also important to him. I’m proud that he has two reasons to read and share his great big Children’s Bible story book.

The Bible is a special book. Certainly its contents are without rival. We must have the scriptures to teach us righteous living. But more importantly, we must know the Giver of the Book, the One who enables us to live by its words.

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path. The entrance of thy words giveth light; it giveth understanding unto the simple. Psalms 119: 105, 130 KJV

By the way, my Papaw, Golden’s great-grandfather calls Golden, his little preacher man. I never knew my Papaw to be a prophet, but maybe he is on to something. :)--PT2006 from Timeless Text Messages.

Thy Word Have I Hid in My Heart--

Was thinking of Jeremiah. About how he was thrown in the dungeon. In the mire. And how he was brought out of the pit with rotten rags. And about how he let God use him through this experience to prophesy (minister, if you will) to others during this time. The song, "If it Takes a Valley" comes to mind as well.

I get to feeling sorry for myself sometimes...like what a rotten place I've found myself "thrown into." Like how unfair it seems. How sometimes it's hard to catch a break. How everything seems to come the hard way for us. Yes, it's a hard road sometimes. It's a valley. And sometimes the word valley is a euphemism for it when it's actually a dungeon full of muck and mire. A disgusting mess.

I can tell you, I talk big in the blogosphere. Here, I'm Superwoman. Invincible. Unflappable. But stop for a moment. And look past the screen--I'm human. Cut me, I bleed. Tempt me, I cave. Anger me, I push back. I know what it means to be in the mire, weighted down by daily cares, by sins that so easily beset us, by apathy -- by depression. And I have to remind myself daily that I am not alone in this life--maybe even not alone in the dungeon. Some of you have been there too, I know. I've read your blogs.

What keeps me going, what keeps me sane, what keeps me alive is knowing that it's temporary. Knowing that it's for a season. That I am not forsaken. That there is no valley or dungeon low enough that God can't reach. When I feel like a failure, when I feel unworthy, when I feel inferior -- HE IS THERE.

This afternoon I was looking for my long-forgotten stamp collection. It's here somewhere. Probably the attic. What I found in the process was every Bible I have had since about the age of 8. All of them worn, the pages coming unglued, underlined, dated, dog-eared. The journey of my life is underlined and dated in these. Someone else might not be able to see it in the margins, but I know it's there. Time and time again I've turned to His word for comfort, for guidance, for peace -- and for correction. What in the world would I do if I found myself in a dungeon and had no Word hid in my heart, no foundation to keep me stable, no landmarks set for me by my parents and grandparents and most of all Christ to follow?

I close my eyes and I remember sitting in church next to my Granny. I would play tic-tac-toe or doodle and listen to her sing. I would watch her mark the text in her well-worn Word. I hear her praying. I found my little Prim dress in the cedar chest, my Honor Star cape, and a handkerchief from my wedding. I found a crocheted shawl Granny made that I wore in a church Christmas play. And I found that first Bible. And in that Bible, just like my current Bible, the words remain --32 years later: Jeremiah 31:33" I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts; and will be their God, and they will be my people."
His Word will stand forever. Though our circumstances change, and we find ourselves in difficult places, HIS WORD REMAINS. He is faithful. His mercy endureth forever. And his love is everlasting. Amen and Amen.