The Bible is a living book. What it is to us depends on what we are to it.
If we approach it with unbelief and sneers, it shudders like a wounded
thing and closes up its heart, and we gaze only on a cold and gross
exterior. We behold the form of its words, but discern not the treasures
hidden in them. It appears cold and lifeless and repellent, and we go away
depressed and unbelieving.
If we approach it reverently, trustfully, and confidently, it opens up to
us its hidden depths. It shows to us its wonders. We may see in it
unequaled beauties, unfading glories, magnificent vistas of thought; we
may hear its voice of love, tender beyond words; we may feel the warmth of
its affection, be uplifted by its hopefulness, and thrilled with the tones
of its joy-bells.
If we open to it our heart’s door and pour out our treasures of affection,
it in turn opens to us a great storehouse, and we may eat and be
satisfied, and drink and thirst not. We may revel in its rich perfume, the
rhythmic cadences of its music, the splendor of its heavenly light, and to
us there is no question whether it is the living truth.
The Bible is to the Christian what the forest is to him who delights in
nature. He who walks through the forest laughing, talking, and singing,
hears not the sweet notes of the songster nor sees the wild things. He who
would see and hear the things that delight the nature-lover must steal
softly and silently along, watching his footsteps, hiding in the shadows,
and thus he may see nature as she is. Likewise he who comes to the Bible
full of self-importance with mind and heart self-centered sees not the
natural beauty of the Bible. We must come to it effacing self, seeking not
our own but the things of Christ, and we shall find it a mine of spiritual
gold, a fountain of living water, a balm for every sorrow, a light in
every dark hour—the one and only book that meets and satisfies the needs
of the human soul.