My Grandmother like most had a Bible that recorded births, marriages and deaths. It was intended to be passed down from one generation to the next documenting our lineage. As I mature in my relationship with Christ, I think about my own Bible. The margins containing recorded thoughts, tiny prayers, underscores of meaningful scripture that spoke to me during difficult times, names of love ones next to promises for their lives, highlighted revelations of God’s Word, praises of victories, tear stains, maybe even a few drips of coffee spilled from my excitement pouring over a particular passage or if I’m being honest – a slight moment of carelessness, tiny hearts in response to God’s love letter to me.

Some will disagree that the holy sacred Word of God should be marked up, that your Bible should remain pristine and in tact. However, I disagree. Jesus came and tore the veil to give us unlimited, direct and intimate access to God. During His time as God in flesh on the earth, He acknowledged those whose faith was bold enough to reach out and touch Him, as opposed to those that waited for Him from afar.

My markings don’t mean I don’t reverence God’s word as holy. It means I believe it, I’ve questioned it, I’ve been thankful for it, I sometimes fall short, I practiced it, I love it, I cherish it, I’ve prayed it, that it’s my resource – my source of truth, the owners manual for my life, the encyclopedia of faith, pages of promises, a love letter written with me in mind….it is my lineage, it is my life, it is my hope, it is my delight. It reflects intimacy with my Father, a relationship with the Author.

When my grandchildren someday pour over the pages of my Bible, they can reflect on our rich heritage, a history of answered prayers, moments of doubt and questions, praises of victory – they are reminded of what God has done for us and encouraged as they leave a legacy of faith for their own children.

“Let each generation tell its children of your mighty acts; let them proclaim your power.”

Psalms 145:4 NLT