“My Bible and I, my Bible, what a wonderful treasure, the gift of God without measure, we are travelling together, my Bible and I!”
I remember the first time my Sunday school teacher taught me this song. I never really understood the meaning behind it but I really loved it. Even though going to church was something, I never really loved but as a child, I had to abide by the rules at home. When I moved from my grandmother to live with my mother and younger brother, going to church became an option and during that time I hardly stepped a foot in church.
The funny part is I loved praying and reading the Bible. I remember at school we were supposed to have a memory verse every morning to share at the school assembly and it got to a point where teachers had to say, ‘Is there anyone else besides Shalom to share a verse this morning?’ Even so, I never stopped reading and preparing. I guess that was the reason why I was chose to conduct the assembly during Grade 7.
I loved Hebrews 12:2-3 “Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecta of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and set down at the right hand of the throne of God.3 Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” I remember my mother asking me if I understood what the scripture means, even though I did not get what it meant I said yes I do. I also loved the book of Proverbs, so my memory verses came mostly from these two scriptures.
I placed so much faith in the Bible that every time I went to bed, I would put it under my pillow and if ever I forgot to do so I would have nightmares and would wake up in the middle of the night to search for my Bible, well my grandmother’s Bible. When I told my mother about this, she said that I should first read the Bible then pray before I go to sleep. Even though she never really understood the whole idea of putting the Bible under my pillow, she never stopped me.
When I was in grade seven, my grandmother was diagnosed with cervical cancer. That was the time I read the Bible with understanding because I believed by His stripes we are healed, Isaiah 53:5. Two weeks before my grandmother died, she called me and said, “Go take my Bible, the one you have made your own,” we laughed as I went to take the Bible. She asked me to open to the book of Joshua 1:1-9 but her emphasis was in verse 5-8. She told that I should always remember these words. I asked her to explain, she told me I would understand some day.
Therefore, the Bible is indeed something special to me.