One of the oldest criticisms of Catholics is that we don’t read the Bible. This is both true and false. It’s false because we listen to several readings of the Bible every time we’re in Mass. It’s true because most Catholics do not actually pick up a Bible and read the physical tome.
The Bible I was given during my Confirmation preparation had, in the back of it, a Read The Bible In a Year schedule. Every day it had three or four readings to read from different parts of Scripture. I hated it. I tried countless times in the 20 years since I was given that Bible to make it through. I never made it through the February schedule no matter what time of year I started.
My failures frustrated me and filled me with shame. What kind of a Christ follower could I really be if I never read God’s word? Imagine your spouse giving you letter after letter and you couldn’t be bothered to read past the third word. How damaged would your relationship become? If not damaged, it could never be as fulfilling and intense as it was meant to be.
Then one night, I picked up the Bible. I flipped pages randomly and landed on one. I went to the beginning of that book and started reading. I made it a few chapters in before I was too drowsy to continue. I put it down and slept like a baby.
For months I had been struggling with insomnia and anxiety. I tossed and turned and no matter how tired I was, I couldn’t sleep. When I did sleep I was plagued with nightmares to the point that I didn’t want to go to sleep at night for fear of what awaited me in my dreams. To say I was under some serious stress at that point in my life would be an understatement.
I picked up the Bible that first night out of desperation. I flipped randomly while I asked God to show me something. Give me some glimmer somewhere in this dark tunnel in which I was trapped. When I was able to sleep and woke up without having dreams, I thanked God for the night of relief.
The next night, I opened the Bible again. Again, I found rest. Night after night I turned to God’s word and night after night He gave me peace. Nights that I didn’t want to bother were nights that my inner demons returned.
As that painful period started drawing to a close, I still found the greatest nightly peace on days when I turned to the Word.
But as I began to turn to the Good Book out of habit instead of need, I felt shame because some nights I could barely make it a chapter before I couldn’t keep my eyes open. “How are you ever going to finish this thing?” I berated myself. You who back in college read all 700+ pages of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows in 28 straight hours. Who can even now devour an entire Outlander book in a week, but can’t even make it two pages in the Bible. Seriously? What would God think?
But something occurred to me as I was beating myself up: The Bible is not meant to be accomplished. It’s not a bucket list item. It’s not something to check off our to-do list. It was not given to us to be a one and done thing. This is supposed to be the book of our lifetime. We’re never supposed to be “done” reading the Bible.
That realization has given me greater appreciation and patience with myself as I read. I’m not reading to find out who-dunnit. I have no deadline or due date. I’m not going to be fined if I don’t finish it before it’s due back to the library. Read. Listen. Hear. For a lifetime. For eternity.