The big book sat hidden.

At the bottom of the drawer with the delicate lace garments, the white cover was protected and always dust free. The stiff pages sat between stiffer binding. The heirloom left untouched, smelt like years of mothballs.

I knew where it was hidden. Occasionally I broke open the drawer. When I felt hidden enough, the leather cover felt cold to the touch. The pages almost sounded like they were cracking as I peeked inside.

A holler from the next room had me slamming drawers and straightening my dress upon standing. I would feel as if I had broken some sort of sacred barrier in my curiosity.

Years later a simliar book sat before me. Shaking in trepidation, I looked over the pulpit into the staring faces.

You can read this, you cannot read that.

The priest directed me as I cracked open similar pages between a similar binding. A cracking sound ensued as if the book was only open upon the scared vows of marriage or at the passing of a loved one.

Forbidden to read the words she would have longed to hear, Psalms was closed off to me and I was directed to the words of tradition, the catch-all scripture of weddings and funerals. No Psalms of joy or lament, and no words from Jesus. Only the words allowed by clergy for the public to read.

I shuttered at the eyes watching me. I tensed at the priest waiting upon me. As a meek, mournful being, I read, slammed the book shut, and shrinked into the pew. As I sat there, I thought upon all that should have been said before she left us, and how that book should have been placed upon the table instead of hidden away.

Psalm 119:105 ESV

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.

If she only broke away from the tradition of her faith and looked for God’s Word on her own she would have had something to hold on to in her dark days. If she had hidden scripture in her heart, maybe they would have penetrated through Alzheimer’s and gave her hope through her fear. The words would have been a light in the corners she found herself hiding in her mind.

Where that book found itself I do not know. I hope that it is well-loved and worn down. I hope that it is ear-marked, high lighted, creased, and written in. I pray that it is known.

Romans 15:4

For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.

Don’t let your days go to waste and allow for your Bibles to gather dust on a shelf or get lost in your deepest drawer. Hide its words in your heart and keep the love that it pours out on the forefront of your lives. It is meant as an instruction manual and not as a speech at the bookends of life.

Find all posts from the series 31 Days of Biblical Truths here.