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I hated reading the Bible
For most of my life, reading the Bible was brutal. I WANTED to read the Bible but whenever I did, I basically forced myself. I read it because “that’s what Christians do.”
I’ve started a “Read the Bible in 365 days” plan so many times, I’ve lost count.
I’ve tried to read it in the morning, “to start my day off right”. I’ve tried to read it at night, “to end my day well”. I’ve set goal after goal after goal to read the entire Bible in 365 days. Never happened.
The book of Genesis and I are good friends. That’s where I generally started because that’s how you read a book right? Exodus, no problem. Leviticus, “I’m out. Maybe next year.”
“Do you really need to read the Old Testament? Really though?”
And then, I prayed, “God, I WANT to spend time with You, I just can’t do it. I need Your help. Open my eyes. Open my heart. What am I missing? Draw me closer Lord. I don’t want anything else.” Day after day after day.
But as I prayed, I read. I didn’t wait for holy inspiration, I just kept going.
This time I started in Luke and I don’t know how it happened exactly, but I became curious. “WHO’S Luke?”, “Wait, why do the Gospels all sound the same?”, “Why is Luke writing about the genealogy of Christ?” I would spend 15 minutes researching what I was reading.
I prayed (and continue to pray) a version of that prayer, EVERY SINGLE DAY. “I want more of You. Draw me closer. Open my eyes. I need You.”
