It was just an old Bible

My wife picked up an old Bible at the thrift store today. The leather was worn, the corners frayed, and the binding loose — but the pages were full of life. Notes in the margins. Dates beside certain verses. Short thoughts recorded in fading ink. Someone had walked closely with God through this book. His name was written inside the front cover. I didn’t know him, but I could tell he was devoted to God’s Word.

I sat with that Bible in my hands and just stared at it for a while. It made me wonder, how many hours did he spend reading those pages? Did he teach Bible studies? Did he preach? How many souls did he lead to Christ? Did he sit at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a pen, asking the Lord to open his understanding? I’d like to believe he did. By the look of it, this Bible was precious to him — like mine is to me. It was worn from use, not neglect.

As I held it, I closed my eyes and could almost see it: Old, worn hands folded gently over that Bible, maybe after a long day, maybe after a whispered prayer. Hands that had clung to God’s Word through life’s battles.

And yet here it was, sitting on a shelf at a thrift store, priced like a worn-out novel or a tattered pair of jeans. I couldn’t help but wonder what happened. Did his family not know what this book meant to him? Did they not understand? Or maybe, somehow, they didn’t care. Maybe to them, it was just an old Bible. But to the man who carried it, it was a lifeline. A treasure. A constant companion in a world full of noise.

To a godly man, a Bible becomes almost sacred. It’s not just a book. It’s a meeting place. A lifeline. A history of conversations with God. It holds the marks of battles fought and lessons learned. That’s why it hit me so hard, that something so valuable to him could be passed along as if it were nothing.

I don’t know the story behind that Bible. Maybe the family didn’t mean any disrespect. Maybe they were overwhelmed, unsure of what to keep or let go. But whatever the reason, that Bible — so full of life and devotion — was left behind like an old coat that had served its time.

And it stirred something in me. I couldn’t help but ask myself, “What will happen to my Bible when I’m gone?” I’ve written in the margins. I’ve underlined verses that spoke to me in quiet moments. I’ve sat with it open on my lap when I didn’t have words — when all I could do was wait for the Lord to speak.

To me, my Bible isn’t just a book. It’s part of my story. It’s where God meets me. It’s where I wrestled with doubt, asked hard questions, found answers, and grew. It holds the ink of joy and sorrow, of conviction and peace. It’s been open in the early morning and late at night, when no one else saw but Him.

“But his delight is in the Law of the Lord, and on His Law he meditates day and night.” (Psalm 1:2)

This man’s heart was clearly buried in the Word. I saw that in the smudges and scribbles. I felt it in the way the pages fell open to worn places. And I hope, truly, that even though his Bible was given away, his legacy wasn’t.

Because the Word of God doesn’t get passed on through pages, it gets passed on through lives. And maybe someone, someday, will pick up my Bible and see what I saw in this one. Maybe my old
Bible will stir something in them, the way this Bible stirred something in me. 

“Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will not pass away.” (Matthew 24:35)

One day, I’ll leave this life behind. And I won’t need my Bible anymore, because I’ll be in the presence of the author Himself. But until that day, I’ll keep wearing it out. I’ll keep marking it up. I’ll keep reading it like it’s the most important book in the world, because it is.

And maybe, just maybe, when I’m gone, someone will hold my Bible in their hands and feel what I felt holding his.
Not just a book, but a life poured out.

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21)

To contact Butler or share your own thoughts, email hopeinchrist2024@yahoo.com.