My Bible is falling apart. And no wonder; I received it at Sunday
school on September 29, 1957.
With colorful plates, maps, a concordance
and student dictionary complete with illustrations from ark through Zion, it
was perfect for a child.
Of course, I’m no longer a kid. Over the
years the inexpensive leatherette cover has broken off along the edges. The
gold leaf gilding on the title rubbed off years ago and “Holy Bible” has become
a dull gray shadow. In fact, the entire front cover sloughed off a couple of
months ago, taking the first forty nine chapters of Genesis with it. I stuck it
back with cellophane tape, but even that has loosened, so I keep my Bible
together with a rubber band. My shabby Scriptures.
They should look a lot worse. For the
first thirty years I owned this Bible, I thumbed through it only casually,
mostly at Sunday school. Then a dear friend introduced me to daily devotional reading—just
as I was going through a divorce with four small children to care for. Bible
reading became part of my early morning routine. Over the next fifteen years I
underlined and highlighted my favorite passages, all the verses that really
made a difference to me. Now I wouldn’t trade that Bible for a more handsome or
sturdier edition. It’s my constant companion, my never failing guide through
life. No matter what struggles I’m going through, I can always turn to it for
the help
I need.
Yes, my Bible may be falling apart, but
thanks to the wisdom in its pages, I’m not!
Dear Lord, thank You for Your Word hidden
in my heart.
—Gail Thorell Schilling
The Sunday, November 20, 2005 entry by Gail Thorell Schilling included in the “Daily Guideposts 2005” is reproduced with permission from Guideposts, Guideposts.org. Copyright © 2004 Guideposts. All rights reserved.
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