I Don't Want To Read the Bible Anymore

Stack of Bibles

It started with a small complaint.

A small complaint in a big parking lot with a heavy push-broom and puddles of gravel and dust.

It didn’t seem fair that He was invisible. They said that He was the most important of all, but He had the nerve to stay hidden behind mystery and space. How am I supposed to have a relationship with somebody who insists on remaining invisible?

I wasn’t pleased with this decision at all, and I told Him so as I pushed that heavy broom over empty parking spaces.

As complaints often do, they grew. With each pass of the broom across gravel and pavement, I muttered my displeasure under my breath.

People say that Christianity is supposed to the best relationship, but it didn’t feel like that at all and I was doing everything right. It wasn’t fair. I was praying every day, and the words I said were bouncing off the ceiling and falling to the floor unheard and worthless. Why would He command me to pray but then not show me the courtesy of listening?

I was doing all the work here and He wasn’t keeping His end of the deal. How was I supposed to be best friends with an invisible person who refused to speak?

Sure, He’d given us a Book. But that was all. An old Book full of old confusing words. And He told us to spend time with Him, but that just meant reading the old Book full of old words. And I was tired of it.

Who would want to be best friends with a Book?

[ keep reading @ Deeper Story ] 

I Don't Want To Read the Bible Anymore

May 28, 2013 | 2 minute read

Stack of Bibles

It started with a small complaint.

A small complaint in a big parking lot with a heavy push-broom and puddles of gravel and dust.

It didn’t seem fair that He was invisible. They said that He was the most important of all, but He had the nerve to stay hidden behind mystery and space. How am I supposed to have a relationship with somebody who insists on remaining invisible?

I wasn’t pleased with this decision at all, and I told Him so as I pushed that heavy broom over empty parking spaces.

As complaints often do, they grew. With each pass of the broom across gravel and pavement, I muttered my displeasure under my breath.

People say that Christianity is supposed to the best relationship, but it didn’t feel like that at all and I was doing everything right. It wasn’t fair. I was praying every day, and the words I said were bouncing off the ceiling and falling to the floor unheard and worthless. Why would He command me to pray but then not show me the courtesy of listening?

I was doing all the work here and He wasn’t keeping His end of the deal. How was I supposed to be best friends with an invisible person who refused to speak?

Sure, He’d given us a Book. But that was all. An old Book full of old confusing words. And He told us to spend time with Him, but that just meant reading the old Book full of old words. And I was tired of it.

Who would want to be best friends with a Book?

[ keep reading @ Deeper Story ] 

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