A couple of weeks ago, a friend asked me if the Bible was the only holy book I read.
It is, but how do you answer that question?
I didn’t answer at first, but I did think about it.
He asked me a second time.
When I was in college, and searching for some truth, (notice the word “some”) I did read writings from all types of religious and philosophical beliefs.
Honestly, though, it wasn’t like I was on some grand quest to find truth. (Thanks, Wendy, for helping me with that word, “quest.”
You complete me.
Like, we share one brain.) I just figured, my parents couldn’t possibly be right with all the stuff I had heard all my life. I wanted some new information. But, again, I wasn’t all that diligent in my search.
But, when I turned 26, had a few years of marriage behind me, a kid, a life of our own. The things that I had thought in my college days would satisfy me, didn’t.
I was still open to spiritual suggestions, but, truthfully, I really wasn’t driven that way. Somebody needed to come up to me and say, “Here’s what you need to do.”
So, one day, I was particularly down in the “slough of despond” and all I knew to do was to cry out (silently, of course) to the God my parents had believed in. “WHY?”
He answered. A light switched on.
The answer included the one holy book, the Bible.
It proved to answer every cry of my heart, every cry of despair, every cry of boredom with life.
The more I read it, the more clearly I saw my world explained, corrected.
Truth appeared, and has continued to expand through the years, the more I read that one book.
I stopped searching for the truth, because I found Him.
My new search began.
Getting to know Him.
Learning the joy of finding His pleasure.
I realized that there was a Creator of Infinite Wisdom and Truth receiving me into His very own family.
There were others, too, that I began to meet, who were a part of this new family. We shared something that I had never known before. They understood my search, and my discovery.
I really like this family.