Because, against all odds, I love this book. I am a queer woman, and I won’t deny the words of Scripture have been used as a weapon against me and people like me and people I love. But I have a copy, tattered almost to shreds, that I carried back and forth to college with me, that I kept at my desk at a dead-end job and pored over in the fluorescent light of the lunch room, that helped me hope and hold on when I wasn’t sure I could get through the day. I am as surprised as anyone.
Because those old, obscure words have cast light on my life, the most unlikely verses coming alive when read for the fifth or the sixth time. Because wrestling with shocking, upsetting passages over and over, over many years, has sometimes yielded a glimpse of the Holy. Because, incredibly, I know that all Scripture can reflect the breath of God.
Because “Is the Bible true?” is, to me, a deeply flawed question. I believe that science, human reason, historical facts are deeply important, that they hold many truths that can and should guide our lives. But they can only guide us so far. Love is more than chemicals in our brains; life is more than making sure our genes, or even our ideas, live on. The biggest truths, deeper than facts, we understand with our hearts, and though the Bible, God has guided my heart and keeps it awake to new truths.
Because I believe the truths the Bible tells us gain something when we tell them ourselves. The books called Matthew, Mark, and Luke tell the story of Jesus three times, and in many ways it is the same story. But I treasure the differences in their portraits of Jesus and would never want to trade one away. In the same way, I believe the different ways in which we sincerely seek to understand, retell, and live the love and truth found in the Bible are priceless, and each of our small truths completes and complements the biggest Truth of all.
Because a few precious times in my life, I have heard the voice of God. God spoke to me in words I already knew, had read and reread and savored like wine. God’s message of sublime love came to me as a patchwork quilt of verse upon verse.
Because to me, the Bible is not a book of rules. It’s not a bunch of biographies of heroes. It’s not a dusty irrelevant document. It is not an object. It is a living thing. It is a reflection of the cruelest parts of humanity and an echo of the purity of the Divine. It’s not just a story. It’s the Story, and it’s my story.
Because the Bible can be used to hurt. It’s sharper than a double-edged sword. But that same blade can cut to the heart like a surgeon’s knife, slice away everything that chokes off breath and life, and save us. My own heart knows this, and responds.