My "electric Bible" is a compact ESV Bible that I bought in 2006 when I had the experience of receiving God into my life for good. I brought it with me everywhere I went for more than a year, and bit by bit I waterproofed the thick, leather cover by working melted bits of wax into it. It's worn at the corners and exceedingly soft to the touch, and some of the gold has rubbed off the edges of the pages where I read most. It fits right into my hands and is a little smaller than the span of my hands so that when it rests there, my fingers touch and start to fold together.
This book in particular has always done something special for me, and a few times it has sent surges of energy up my arms as I held it (thus my affectionately naming it "electric"). Generally speaking, though, it does give me these gentle, quiet pulses of energy when I hold it, like little waves lapping against a boat sitting still on a lake. It's such a delight to hold that once I touch it, it's hard to put it down again and leave it alone. It calls to me, almost as though it yearns for me to come and touch and hold and read. It settles me and declares peace over my body no matter what the conditions. It wakes, warms, and energizes me as it calls me to an ever-deepening relationship with its contents.
When we went on
our trip to Bethel, this particular Bible went directly into the small carry-on bag that I held onto at all times and never let out of my reach (along with plane tickets and other vital necessities). When we got to the hotel room, however, I searched the bag and the electric Bible was nowhere to be found. I'd remembered seeing it in the bag at the airport and, though I hadn't recalled having taken it out, it had somehow disappeared. Both my spouse and I searched all our bags and the entire hotel room until I became quite upset, having thought I'd lost it.
The "most probable conclusion" at which I arrived was that, the night before, I had needed to use it after I was finished packing, so surely I left it out, had imagined seeing it at the airport, and would find it upon our return. The "most probable conclusion" at which my spouse arrived was that someone had stolen it during the trip and that we'd never see it again.
I soon took courage in the thought that perhaps it would bring joy to whomever it ended up with, and also that perhaps it was time for me to go buy another one, so I did. The one I bought was a different translation (NASB), different size, and different feel, but still I like it quite a lot. It took the place of the old one in my always-at-hand carry-on bag, and it went with me everywhere during the trip: I read and prayed with it at the prayer house and brought it to services with me.
The night we got home from the trip, however, was a very weird night for a few different reasons. I had gotten into a worked-up, shaky state in which I could feel my pulse pounding at what was probably about 110 bpm, my left arm ached, I was having trouble breathing, and there were small chest pains. Wanting not to wake and alarm my spouse, I just kept an eye out for any "crushing" sensation in the chest that would signal a definite heart attack, but none came.
Still shaky, achy, and wired, though, I started to get very upset again about the loss of the electric Bible; I started to be truly grieved about it and became a little obsessive about the matter. I scoured the place three or four times looking for where I might have left it and neglected to pack it. Giving up looking, I prayed fervently and almost frantically asking the Lord that it be restored to me. I knew that He knew how much it had meant to me.
I knew He had heard me, so I ended with a prayer of thanks and headed upstairs to the bedroom. A feeling of peace descended over me, even though my body was still shaking and hurting in ways that made me a little nervous. I still wondered whether I was going to have a cardiac event that night, but now there was a new peace in having lifted up my prayer, so I lay down in bed to try to sleep. I thought, "well, if it's my time now, life sure just got a whole lot easier, as I'm being called home before more of the really hard times could come." I decided that if it was His will that I go, I'd like to be holding the two things I treasure most in the world, so I put one arm around my spouse and held that new Bible in my other hand. I fell asleep asking that no matter what else, His will might be done.
Somewhat surprised to wake the following morning, I noticed that all the nervousness and the physical symptoms that had me worried were gone, though I felt a little drained. I went downstairs to get a morning-type beverage and, on the way back up, my mind caught sight of that small carry-on travel bag. I heard a small voice suggest, "
unpack that one now," so I did, thinking it was a voice of reason primarily for the sake of entropy control, as the bedroom had gone beyond messy to "disaster area." Putting things away, I had unpacked the bag about halfway when my hand found a familiar shape and pulled it forth in disbelief: there it was. The electric Bible had been restored to me.
When my spouse woke up, I hid it behind my back and started, "just in case there was any doubt in your mind as to whether His hand is at work in our lives..." and pulled out the Bible. I received back one very surprised expression.
"Where'd you find it?"
"In the same bag, under the little shelf thingy that lines the bottom. I thought I'd looked there before, but I didn't find it."
"I felt around in that space too, when we were searching the hotel room, and it wasn't there."
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