This is my dad’s Bible.
The cover is not patterned, as my son first thought, and it’s definitely not pretty. The leather is terribly cracked, and wrinkled, and dry – so much so that the words ‘Holy Bible’ are almost obscured.
I don’t know how long my dad owned this 1957 King James edition, or where he got it from, but I do know that he read it every day, that his hands turned the well-worn pages, that this was the most important book he ever owned.
As a Methodist local preacher, my dad preached every single Sunday, and like a faithful companion, this battered Bible accompanied him. It must have traveled for miles.
Whether lying on the front seat of his car, being carried under his arm as he walked, or riding in the panniers of his bicycle as he rode to his appointments, this book was at his side. It was, for my dad, the only text from which to preach.
As a young girl, I can remember coming downstairs early in the morning to find him sitting at the kitchen table, his head pored over this book.
This is a great text, Glenys. I just need three good points to preach on, he would say.
I don’t know how many pulpits my dad climbed, how many sermons he preached, or how many lives were changed because of his words, but I know mine was.
I found his bookmark, tucked, appropriately, in Romans 8:28, towards the end of the New Testament. My four-year old grandson, when he saw it, said, in his wonderful, innocent way,
Oh Grandma, your dad nearly got to the end of his book. You’ll have to finish it for him.
There’s nothing I can do to finish what my dad began. But I can carry it on.
I can continue what he started, what he pursued so passionately in life. I can spread the Gospel – from the pulpit, or the page. I can try to put others before myself, be in love with the splendid world God made, always look for the good in everything, and live like Jesus lives in me. Because that’s what Dad did.
I hope I’ve inherited more from my dad than his Bible.
My dad died as he had lived – quietly, and humbly. He left this world like a whisper, without any fuss, or ceremony, or great reproach.
And it’s really no wonder that the heavens literally opened as we lowered him into the grave.
They were opening to let a great man step in.
Lovely. xo
You do know you’re my top commenter Nat 🙂
Love it! I have a tattered Bible that was my Mom’s Dad’s.
Well treasure it Rebecca, like I do.
So beautifully put. Crying …..
Oh Pauline…I still can’t believe it.
We bought Dad that red letter bible for one of his birthdays, I don’t recall which year though.
Oh…I didn’t remember that Pauline! Well it’s good to know that we managed to get him one gift that he actually kept for himself 🙂
So lovingly beautiful.
Thank you Peggy.
Oh my- such a tender tribute to your dad. Thank you for sharing….
Betsy, I could write a million words in tribute to him and they still wouldn’t be enough…
Precious memories!!! I have my Grandpa’s Bible and my Grandma’s that she received from her Sunday School teacher when she was a child. I also have the family Dutch Bible. When I think about “decluttering”, down-sizing, and in general getting rid of all the things I’ve collected over the years, I still cling to those old Bibles. I even have my childhood Bible. It is true, it’s the lessons one has learned from the person who read that Bible that counts. Still, holding those precious, tattered and well-read books somehow draws me closer to my ancestors and fills me with such gratitude for their faithfulness. Thanks for sharing, Glennys!
Well you are so right to hold on to those Bibles Sandra…they are treasures!
I don’t know whose comments brought the biggest lump to my throat – yours or Xander’s. And he did leave this world like a whisper but he still shouts at me sometimes x
I know Pam..that little innocent comment from Xander was just so precious!
Dear Glenys,
What a beautiful tribute to your Dad. I was so touched by it! Thank you for your thoughts.
Thank you for commenting Susan,and for your kind words.I could write a million words in tribute to my dad and they would never be enough.
What a beautiful tribute to an obviously marvelous man! Indeed you cannot finish what he began … and my thought was that what he began was finished 2,000 years ago … Hmmm … somehow the logic of that fails … nonetheless so great that you have such deep appreciation and understanding of your father and his special book.
Thank you Edward. What a marvelous, mind-boggling thought that is. Yes…if defies logic but is so true!
Amen, Glenys! What you’ve shared here about your father touched my heart and soul. His legacy of loving the Lord certainly shines in you.
Blessings!
Bless you for that Martha!
A beautiful story and reflection about your loving father – what memories you have to keep in your heart 😊
And I’m grateful for every one, Anita.
Glenys, This is lovely. It made me think of my mom – she was a quiet, oh so faithful servant, too. She brought me to Christ by the way she lived her life, more so than with words. The world doesn’t see the efforts of these quiet, holy people, but God knows who they are and exactly how much they have done for His kingdom.
That is so true, Ann. The best disciples are those who use actions, not words. I’m glad you had a lovely mum.