Inspired by Leigh McLeroy's book Treasured: Knowing God by the Things He Keeps, I'm asking: What tangible pieces of my spiritual history would I place carefully in my own cigar box for safekeeping? What stories have shaped my journey with this ever-faithful, treasure-keeping God? Below is part three of the "Treasures" series.
III. A pastel index card
That best friend of mine who’d invited me to church camp? She surrendered to Jesus that night of the “walk to the water,” too. And I’m certain that it was her friendship, her encouragement and support, that made the difference once we got home and settled back into “real life.” It would have been so easy for us both to slip into old habits and patterns, to let that joy fade into an album of camp snapshots, closed and shelved. But in His generous mercy He had claimed us both simultaneously, and so Julie and I tuned our radios to YES FM and dug into the Bible together.
We were eager to grow and learn, adorably naïve (and arrogant) in our new passion for God. As we began to read Scripture for ourselves, we exchanged index cards every day. I’d write a verse reference for her at the top of a candy-colored 3x5 card, and she’d give me a white lined card with a blue ballpoint verse written across the top in her neat cursive hand.
Every day Julie and I would exchange cards, and each night before bed as I settled in with my journal and Bible, I’d eagerly look up the Scripture that Julie had chosen for me, copying it onto the card. Then I'd flip through my Bible, searching for a really great verse to share with her the next day.
Were we ignorantly ripping random verses waaaaay out of context? Did our methods leave much to be desired? Oh yes. But I feel quite sure God smiled on our immature zeal for His Word. I had owned a Bible for as long as I could remember, but this process of actually reading it, eating it up, and finding the words powerful, meaningful, personal--this was totally new. And I couldn’t get enough.
A broken piece of cornerstone
A sharp pebble