Trying to live love well through the power of the Everlasting.
Yesterday I read a blog post by Professor Richard Beck in which he talks about a Bible study he leads at a prison. Beck writes that is occured to him recently how sufficient he was finding scripture to be in the prison. That is, he could just read large portions of the Bible without needing to doctor it or expound upon it. The idea, which I much agree with, is that in our churches we doubt that the congregation would sit still throughout such a long reading of scripture, and so we doctor it up with stories, anecdotes, definitions of words in the original Greek, etc. Beck was surprised to find that the scripture itself was sufficient when reading to prisoners. There was no need for anything else, just reading the words achieved all that Sunday morning programs, so carefully planned and tweaked, hope to achieve and more.
Beck’s says that his “initial hypothesis” is that perhaps the books of the Bible, because of their nature and messages, really only make sense out on the margins, where life is desperate. Now I know at least for me, this idea makes a lot of sense. Because it sounds an awful lot like a theme found in some books I know. The books of the Bible, specifically.
As I pondered Beck’s post and the idea of scripture’s power coming alive and being released “out on the margins,” I realized that there’s a distinct trend in my life, and it follows this pattern. I summed it up in the comment I left in response to Beck’s post. I haven’t altered it at all, so the style, spelling, and grammar may be off, but here it is: