What relevance does a 2000 year old book have on my life today?
Wednesday, 30 Oct 2024, 09:24
Visible to anyone in the world
Edited by Jim McCrory, Wednesday, 30 Oct 2024, 11:25
"But there is a God in heaven who reveals secrets..."
Danial 2:28, (BSB).
Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot
Yesterday morning, a fellow writer asked me a question that echoed through my mind long after he had gone: “How can a book that was written 2,000 years ago have any relevance today?” It’s a question, I imagine, that many people are asking, especially in a world where change is constant, where technology propels us forward at breakneck speed, and where the wisdom of ages past can seem, at first glance, like an echo too distant to hear clearly. But this question made me pause, not because I doubt the answer, but because it’s something I’ve reflected on countless times myself. In fact, so much of my own journey—my writing, my very outlook—has been shaped by the quiet, steadfast wisdom of the Bible.
It strikes me that the Bible, if one takes the time to sit with it, isn’t merely a book of rules or history or moral directives; it’s a living, breathing conversation about life’s deepest mysteries. Written by people who, like us, struggled, doubted, hoped, and loved, it speaks to the universal questions of the human heart: Why are we here? What does it mean to be truly human? What does God, in all His vastness, expect of us? These are questions that transcend time, and it’s in the Bible that I find not only answers but a path to walk and a companion to walk with.
If I could condense the essence of the Bible’s wisdom into a single heartbeat, it would be love—an all-encompassing, all-reaching love. “You must love God with your whole heart, mind, and strength,” we are told. To me, this is the call to a life of devotion, not out of a sense of duty, but out of a desire to know the One who created us, the source of our being. This love isn’t confined to feelings or words; it’s about embracing God with all that we are—our thoughts, our dreams, our will. And this call to love God is bound together with a second command: to love our neighbour as ourselves. It sounds so simple, doesn’t it? Yet, in this directive lies a challenge that reaches into every aspect of our lives, asking us to become selfless, compassionate, and wholly engaged with others.
When I look around, I see how these paradigms play out in daily life, far removed from the world of the ancient Near East but still as relevant as the air we breathe. Loving God with everything we have can mean different things depending on where we are in life—it might mean forgiveness, or it might mean trusting when we can’t see the outcome. It might mean courage in the face of loss, or humility when pride beckons. But no matter what, it requires that we let go of our self-centeredness and see the world as His, as a place infused with His presence and purpose.
Loving our neighbour as ourselves—that’s the part that meets us on the street corners of our lives, in the eyes of strangers, in the stories of people we might otherwise pass by. This is the challenge that asks us to give up bitterness, to see past divisions, and to act with kindness even when it feels inconvenient. And as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to realize that the Bible’s words on loving others aren’t a plea or a suggestion—they’re a defining trait of what it means to be human, to be truly alive. Because when we love others, when we allow ourselves to see each person as valuable, as someone who, like us, is wrestling with life’s uncertainties, we reflect a little of God’s own love back into the world. It’s here that we come closest to the essence of life, to becoming the kind of person whom God considers worthy of the life He promises. Some would say these principles are ideals, too lofty for a world as complicated as ours, where love often seems a fragile thing, battered by selfishness and fear. But that’s why I believe the Bible remains as relevant as ever—it’s not calling us to be perfect in a world that isn’t; it’s calling us to be faithful. It recognizes our imperfections, meets us in our weaknesses, and offers us a way to live that transcends our flaws. To me, that’s the Bible’s enduring gift: it offers a vision of humanity that goes beyond what we are, pointing to what we can become.
In my own life, I’ve found that these ancient words are not only guidance but also solace and strength. They don’t tell me what the future holds in detail, but they assure me that it’s in God’s hands, that our lives are part of a story much larger than our own. The Bible is a book for seekers, for the broken-hearted, for those who long for answers but are willing to live with mystery. It’s a book that, despite its age, has the remarkable ability to speak to the most contemporary of questions and offer wisdom as fresh as the morning.
So, as I reflect on that question, “How can a book that was written 2,000 years ago have any relevance today?” I find myself grateful. I am grateful for the wisdom of those who came before me, who wrestled with God, who wrestled with themselves, and whose words still echo in my own life. I am grateful for the reminders to love God fully and to love others generously. In a world that feels increasingly fractured and uncertain, this love isn’t just relevant; it’s revolutionary. It reminds me that, no matter the passage of time, the most essential truths remain timeless.
What relevance does a 2000 year old book have on my life today?
"But there is a God in heaven who reveals secrets..."
Danial 2:28, (BSB).
Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot
Yesterday morning, a fellow writer asked me a question that echoed through my mind long after he had gone: “How can a book that was written 2,000 years ago have any relevance today?” It’s a question, I imagine, that many people are asking, especially in a world where change is constant, where technology propels us forward at breakneck speed, and where the wisdom of ages past can seem, at first glance, like an echo too distant to hear clearly. But this question made me pause, not because I doubt the answer, but because it’s something I’ve reflected on countless times myself. In fact, so much of my own journey—my writing, my very outlook—has been shaped by the quiet, steadfast wisdom of the Bible.
It strikes me that the Bible, if one takes the time to sit with it, isn’t merely a book of rules or history or moral directives; it’s a living, breathing conversation about life’s deepest mysteries. Written by people who, like us, struggled, doubted, hoped, and loved, it speaks to the universal questions of the human heart: Why are we here? What does it mean to be truly human? What does God, in all His vastness, expect of us? These are questions that transcend time, and it’s in the Bible that I find not only answers but a path to walk and a companion to walk with.
If I could condense the essence of the Bible’s wisdom into a single heartbeat, it would be love—an all-encompassing, all-reaching love. “You must love God with your whole heart, mind, and strength,” we are told. To me, this is the call to a life of devotion, not out of a sense of duty, but out of a desire to know the One who created us, the source of our being. This love isn’t confined to feelings or words; it’s about embracing God with all that we are—our thoughts, our dreams, our will. And this call to love God is bound together with a second command: to love our neighbour as ourselves. It sounds so simple, doesn’t it? Yet, in this directive lies a challenge that reaches into every aspect of our lives, asking us to become selfless, compassionate, and wholly engaged with others.
When I look around, I see how these paradigms play out in daily life, far removed from the world of the ancient Near East but still as relevant as the air we breathe. Loving God with everything we have can mean different things depending on where we are in life—it might mean forgiveness, or it might mean trusting when we can’t see the outcome. It might mean courage in the face of loss, or humility when pride beckons. But no matter what, it requires that we let go of our self-centeredness and see the world as His, as a place infused with His presence and purpose.
Loving our neighbour as ourselves—that’s the part that meets us on the street corners of our lives, in the eyes of strangers, in the stories of people we might otherwise pass by. This is the challenge that asks us to give up bitterness, to see past divisions, and to act with kindness even when it feels inconvenient. And as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to realize that the Bible’s words on loving others aren’t a plea or a suggestion—they’re a defining trait of what it means to be human, to be truly alive. Because when we love others, when we allow ourselves to see each person as valuable, as someone who, like us, is wrestling with life’s uncertainties, we reflect a little of God’s own love back into the world. It’s here that we come closest to the essence of life, to becoming the kind of person whom God considers worthy of the life He promises. Some would say these principles are ideals, too lofty for a world as complicated as ours, where love often seems a fragile thing, battered by selfishness and fear. But that’s why I believe the Bible remains as relevant as ever—it’s not calling us to be perfect in a world that isn’t; it’s calling us to be faithful. It recognizes our imperfections, meets us in our weaknesses, and offers us a way to live that transcends our flaws. To me, that’s the Bible’s enduring gift: it offers a vision of humanity that goes beyond what we are, pointing to what we can become.
In my own life, I’ve found that these ancient words are not only guidance but also solace and strength. They don’t tell me what the future holds in detail, but they assure me that it’s in God’s hands, that our lives are part of a story much larger than our own. The Bible is a book for seekers, for the broken-hearted, for those who long for answers but are willing to live with mystery. It’s a book that, despite its age, has the remarkable ability to speak to the most contemporary of questions and offer wisdom as fresh as the morning.
So, as I reflect on that question, “How can a book that was written 2,000 years ago have any relevance today?” I find myself grateful. I am grateful for the wisdom of those who came before me, who wrestled with God, who wrestled with themselves, and whose words still echo in my own life. I am grateful for the reminders to love God fully and to love others generously. In a world that feels increasingly fractured and uncertain, this love isn’t just relevant; it’s revolutionary. It reminds me that, no matter the passage of time, the most essential truths remain timeless.