Bibles, books, & apps

There was a day when my Bible sat by my chair. In those days, when I went to church, my Bible went with me. 

Then, there was a day when I had a much smaller Bible or two that I could easily slip into my purse. 

After that, there was an app. And that became my norm. 

I always have it with me, and it takes up such little space. It’s perfect. 

But it’s not. 

It’s cold. It’s functional, but impersonal on so many levels.

When I engage with my app, I can quickly find a passage, I can take notes. The words are accurate. I have multiple versions at my fingertips. It’s perfect. 

It’s not. There is something substantial missing. Something that I may not quite be able to put my finger on. Something that comes when holding a Bible in my hands. 

Well, not just any Bible. This Bible. The one I’ve used for years. The one in which I chronicled my spiritual journey. The one with dried flowers and bookmarks from the kids. The one with notes and highlights and tears. The one I opened to prepare for Sunday School lessons, read with the family at holidays, and studied when I wrote for Lifeway or taught Bible at school

Today, I realize that the story it tells is incomplete. The story it could tell of questions and growth, pain and understand was interrupted by the lure of convenience. The convenience of an app. And the sad thought that convenience would mean I would read more often, more places. 

This convenience comes with a price. Interruptions, sounds, glares. My thoughts hidden in its neatness, its compactness. Just a click away, but still hidden. My thoughts virtually lost in the digital universe. 

And sadder still, I didn’t read more. I read less. Always with me, along with all the other apps. The competition for my attention is fierce. 

There are physical memories that come with a book that are completely missed with an app. Where I was, who was with me. I can hear Mark Corts speaking. The feel, the weight, the light, the room. The experience revisited. 

Flipping pages. Finding the passage. Midway, near the top, right hand page. Ahhh, there it is! These things are true of any book. They seem more important for a cherished one. 

That app is part of my life now, but today, its role will be smaller.