Ah, the weekly trip to the library. The stuff of happiness, for this kid. Me, I mean – I LOVE the library. I love to read. I love books. The kind you hold in your hands, paper and ink and words, lots and lots of words.
Especially the ones by familiar authors, much anticipated new releases – you know, the ones you want to start reading before you’re even out the library door.
[Oops, I should have given the ‘nerd alert’ before I started this post. Too late.]
The ones that capture your attention so completely that all other senses are rendered incompetent … and you are swept away into the story.
Oh, you called me for dinner? Didn’t hear you. What, something’s burning? Didn’t notice. Bedtime? Already??
The ones you want to stay up and finish, even though it’s hours past time to sleep.
What if.
What if I read this …
… the same way.
I would like to say I do, but it’s not true. Yet THESE words, they are the very words of God. They give life, and light, and meaning. They reveal mysteries, clear up confusion, point the way to the unfailing truth.
The greatest love story ever written. And it’s written to me.
What if I read it like a love letter, eagerly awaiting the next sentence, the next paragraph, soaking it all in, reading it over and over until I have it memorized?
What if I sacrificed sleep, and food, and distractions of various types, to envelop myself in this treasure trove?
I know what if.
The story would change me. The words would penetrate my very being, and I would never be the same.
This book, it changes lives. Because it’s written by the God who breathed life into its pages, just as He breathed life into you and me.
Shall we? Read it like it’s a best seller, hot off the presses? Read it over, and over, and over again, like it’s a letter from the love of our lives?
Could we be so hungry for it that we can’t get out of bed fast enough?
Setting my alarm,
Angie
Be First to Comment