Believe / Know
You shake your head at me and say, “What kind of a minister are you? Don’t you believe the Bible?” And I look back at you, just as puzzled. “Believe the Bible?” What does that even mean? I say it over and over to myself. “Believe the Bible. Believe the Bible. Believe the Bible. Believe the Bible.” Eventually the word “believe” starts to sound like something you do with your hands. Like punching something or pushing a vacuum cleaner around. Like you could believe the Bible all over the house and then out into the front yard, where you could believe it around in little circles while waving to the neighbors. Then you could believe the Bible back into your house and store it in the closet, where you keep it until you feel like believing it out in public again. Do I believe the Bible? I’m trying to know the Bible. And by knowing, I mean the way that Adam knew Eve, and the way that the Creator knows us. I mean the kind of knowing that is like falling in love. I’m trying to love/know the Bible. And I will always struggle with how I can love/know the scriptures when some parts are so hard and mean and awful that you feel bad for even reading them. And then some parts are so beautiful that you can’t stop crying when they whisper little hints of truth and mystery to you. read more from Real Live Preacher.
Believe or know? Believe and know? Believe then know?
I would probably agree that ‘believe the Bible’ is an odd statement. One doesn’t believe an object — belief refers to an object’s attribute. You might believe Antarctica exists. You might believe your mother is telling the truth. You might believe medicine is good for you.
But what if you knew these things? Knew them through and through, fully and completely? The cold, the breadth, the wind, the construct of Antarctica. The motives, the love, the character of your mother. The pathology of illness, the intricacies of the human body, the science and art of medicine.
What if you knew the Bible?
