[I wonder what people will think after they read this post. I wonder if I am alone.]
I wonder how it's possible to love a Lord so deep, and for so long, but not love His words. Saying it that plainly sounds so terrible, but isn't it true? The Word isn't my favorite book to pick up, it isn't where my mind wonders to, and it isn't what comes out of my mouth most. It isn't were I spend most my time.
I don't deserve the shelf of translations [and colors] I own. I love it less than those who don't even have the luxury of having their own.
Honestly, I do love Him---serve Him---obey Him---need Him desperately all day for more days than I can remember. But I live on the Him I've been served, read once, or retold about in a book [about Him].
I can't help but wonder what great adventure lies behind the wardrobe closet. It must be so fantastic that he---the one whose native tongue is lies---convinces me day in and day out to avoid. I can't help, but wonder the endless magic that would ignite my dull day if I read Him daily.
After all, He is The Word. It's not technically possible to say I love Him, and not love The Word. I am enthralled by it's wisdom, beautiful redemption, and daring faith. But something about this other side of the closet makes it all seem so...so...so...unappealing at times.
I can only conclude that it is not because it actually is, but because it's the exact opposite. Where the greatest resistance is felt to stay away---is the very thing I should run the hardest after.
The Word. His words.
I don't want to wonder if falling in love with The Word would change my life [and my world], I want to know---it did.