As Joel was cleaning out his closet yesterday he ran across two of my old bibles. He gave them to me asking me to put them somewhere else. As I looked through them this morning I realized what precious treasures they are to me.
These two bibles represent the only two bibles my parents ever bought me: the first one given to me at Christmas when I was just six years old. The traditional King James Version, with the traditional black faux leather cover, without a mark in it other than the "presented to" page, speaks in so many ways of what those early years of my Christian training were like. The worn, yellowed pages and the beat-up cover testify to much use, even if the inner markings are absent. (I wouldn't dare write in my bible back then!)
They gave the second bible to me six years later on my birthday. A green, hard-covered Living Bible doesn't contain the traditional "presented to" page, but there is an inscription on the inside cover written and signed by my mother:
Though my mom has lived out her faith before me through her actions all my life, these words represent the beat of her heart--as well as her deepest desire for me: that I would live my life for Christ.
My dad signed his name: Carl Handke. That is so like him! Ever uncertain of how to relate to others' hearts, he opts for the safety of a signature. But even that is okay. I have grown to love and respect my dad for who he is instead of who I may have wanted him to be. (All glory to God for that!)
The Living Bible tells another part of the story. A story of a less traditional Christian training during the turbulent and awkward 70's when our culture was going through it's own adolescence. This bible has more markings in it: passages underlined, verse references listed in the back with "Fantastic Verses..." written alongside them in red ink. There are instructions on how to study the bible and quaint quotes from various sources that spoke to my young heart in those fragile adolescent years. All these are seeds of a godly heritage sown in me through my parents' faithfulness to and love for God, as well as their hopes and desires for me. You see, they knew something way back then that I was only beginning to glimpse: the Word of God is life to us; it is what will get us through the trials and losses and disappointments and fears of this life. And it is what makes the joys all the more richer.
As I hold these two bibles in my hands, it is almost like holding that heritage, for certainly these are the tangible evidences of godly parents who passed on their faith to their child. How grateful I am for these evidences and for the parents who loved God and me enough to equip me with the tools I would need to not only survive this life, but to succeed in the truest sense of the word: by living my life for Jesus Christ, my Savior and Lord.
Not only is that heritage continuing in the lives of their children, but in their grandchildren and their great-grandchildren as well. Lives that have been transformed by faith in God that have likewise been poured out in the lives of countless others. What a godly heritage indeed.
Thanks, Mama and Daddy, for loving Jesus, and for passing that love on to me. I thank God for you!