Dear Bible,
You and I haven’t been hanging out as much recently.
I see you there in the corner, but too often I seem to leave you there, like a neglected house plant or a job that I need to get round to.
It’s not that I don’t like you. Quite the opposite. I could wax lyrical about how great you are. I talk about you to friends, I talk about you at church, I even write about you on my blog. I know you’re great… but too often I talk about you more than I actually read you. Too often you seem to be left in the corner.
Here’s the thing: I know that by reading you I will hear the voice of the living God… but sometimes your voice seems so small compared to the clamour of Buzzfeed.
I understand that what you speak will refresh my soul… but Pinterest escapism is easier.
I get that you’re alive and active… but Instagram waves wildly for my attention.
You’re the source of all wisdom and knowledge… but what will I discover if I just refresh my Facebook newsfeed?
You’ll tell me God’s perspective on life, the universe and everything… but I don’t want to miss out on the latest views on Twitter.
I know that life existed before smart phones and social media, but I just can’t remember what it was like! What did I do in those moments where I feel awkward in a social setting; where I have a few minutes to spare while waiting for a train; when I got frustrated, upset or angry? Did I pray or read you? Did I talk to other people? Did I spend time thoughtfully processing? I can’t recollect it.
Bible, I have a confession to make. It’s the children’s fault! Really it is. It’s because of them that I can’t get consistent sleep, consistent waking up times, consistent quiet times. It’s because of them that when I get five minutes alone I just need to scroll. They drive me to social media for a moment of adult connection.
Dear Bible, I can think of so many reasons why we don’t spend much time together anymore, and I’m not sure if we can go back to how it used to be. How can I possibly wean myself off this addiction? How can I possibly find you attractive again when you have to compete to the sparkly entertainment of my phone? Is there any hope?
To read you sounds like so much work, but I know that’s illogical. Because life without you and the wonderful God you point me to is far too much work – life is meaningless without the good news that you tell me. It just doesn’t make sense.
So here’s why I’m writing. Can you teach me how to spend time with you again? Can the Spirit of the one you point me to help me please? Because I surely need it.
Yours sincerely,
A struggling parent.
Dear beloved parent,
Come and read me. In my pages are all the connection, refreshing and satisfaction that you need. Quiet yourself for a moment with me, and see how I will deliver more than your bright-displayed, vibrating, pinging, notification giving smart phone. You don’t need distraction. You need me.
Put down your phone. On silent. In another room. And shut the door.
And when you read me, you’ll hear the gentle whisper of the living God.
And next time, it will be a bit easier.
And the time after that, a bit easier still.
Until reading me becomes a delight to you once again.
It will be a habit of grace, and it will deeply nourish your soul.
Don’t give up on me. I haven’t given up on you.
I’m committed to changing you, restoring you and comforting you. I’m the living word of the one who died for you. He’s committed to seeing you transformed. Give me a go.
And if you stumble, then don’t run away from me, or despair. I’ll be here waiting for you to pick me up again. And again. And again. (And I promise, I’ll help take away that sense of shame you might be tempted to feel, not add to it!).
Just give me the chance, and I promise you won’t regret it.
With deep affection,
Your Bible