There has been plenty of Bible in my life. I'm the girl who always won a brand new zipper Bible, King James, at Vacation Bible School by memorizing the most verses. When I was older, I wrote a short essay about the book of Job and won a white New Testament. It was first prize. That is the reason that, no matter what translation you are reading to me, my mind is busy converting the verses into the language of my childhood memorization. I studied Early English Literature in college and for many years (until the powers-that-be revised the pronunciation that I had learned) I read King James 1611 aloud almost every day, loving the sound of it. I also studied Religion 101, Bible as Literature, and Biblical History. That was a long time ago. Yet, even today, if I get into a conversation that intrigues me it all comes crashing back into my memory.
At five years old, I attended Catholic School. I left abruptly one day, shaking my head and telling Mother Superior, "Your religion confuses me." I had been going to the Methodist Church with Grandmother. Waiting, Sunday after Sunday, for the Holy Spirit to appear. I never saw Him, so....
...when we moved into our own home, I was raised a Southern Baptist. As a teen, I used to visit all the churches in Wilmington (NC) and I loved it. I went to the Methodist Church one evening every week because they were allowed to dance. My friend played oboe at the Presbyterian Church and I started going there for the music. My first boyfriend was Episcopalian. I fit perfectly on the Three Legged Stool.
When I moved to Jacksonville (FL) I worked downtown for fifteen years just a few blocks from St. Johns Cathedral. I had joined the Riverside Park Methodist Church but I rarely missed the lunchtime Wednesday Eucharist at St. Johns. I joined their book club for business women (1960's) which met at the YWCA across the street from my office. But I never had time for a Bible Study. For some reason, I always believed that I needed to study the Bible with a group - to gain perspective, I guess.
My second husband was no more of a church-goer than my first one had been. We were "nonparticipating" Episcopalians who often visited my brother-in-law's Catholic Church. Corey went to Episcopal High. Sometimes we visited St. Paul's and St. Paul's-by-the-Sea. We visited St. Johns and St. Andrews - however intermittently.
I dreamed of a Bible Study Class.
When I retired to Tallahassee, I visited all churches regardless of denomination. I wanted to feel it and when I finally did, I landed at ( Episcopal, again) Holy Comforter. I made some friends, of course, and three of them attended a Bible Study every Wednesday morning. A large study. People all over the world studying the book of Isaiah at the very same time. For one year. Yes!
Of course I enrolled. Me among the Fundamentalists. But I had read an interesting article and had watched a compelling History Channel program and was excited to go! They asked everyone to go around the circle telling their name and why they had chosen to come. I answered when my turn came around.
How can the answer to "What brings you here today," be wrong? I was quiet the rest of the hour until it was my turn to critique the time we had spent in study. There had been no mention in the discussion that the idea of Law had begun right there in Isaiah and one of the most beautiful verses of the Old Testament (to me) had been omitted in the reading. I brought that up. No, no, no. A topic for the speaker in the next half hour. Not for me.
Needless to say, I found myself to be something other than a Fundamentalist (quoting the Bible out of context) that morning last summer. I never went back. But I've found another class. More to my taste, but still...the question was asked. "What brings you here today?"
We were in groups. I explained what brought me. "I want to study the Bible in fresh, modern translations along with a group of other people to see if either the new approach to the reading or the ideas of the others involved will give me a new perspective, a message I had heretofore missed, perhaps... enhance understanding." How can that answer be the wrong one? But the looks on the faces of my group said otherwise. Not good.
There was no lesson the second week. Week three, I appeared at the morning class instead of the evening one. "Sweet Jesus, let me fit in somewhere." I reverted...took my revised King James, determined to listen to the others without being distracted by the less than beautiful language of the newer translations. I believe that the King James Bible is some of the most wonderful literature ever written. Why spoil that? Why miss it? We understand. The English Language hasn't dumbed down that far that fast. You know it's true.
I don't want to second-guess God. Why He did, how He did, whether or not He did are not my concern. Maybe Bible Study is not for me. It's not that I feel that I should teach the class. I could never get my philosophy, my understanding across to the students. Maybe that's the thing. Whatever Bible Study means to this group just doesn't fit my needs...if I have needs....They are more like curiosity and a burning to know how we got to this place, at this time, in relationship to the Bible itself.
