Sometimes the comments and, perhaps, even the prayer go over my head. Sitting in church, having just sung several songs, my mind is frequently overloaded. I’m often moved by the message in the music, and someone saying words just muddies the waters a bit.
I heard what he said this time. My friend, one of our Elders, opened his Bible and said, “We’re reading from the red print today. If you have your Bibles, you may open them to John 3. We’ll start with verse 16.”
Well, that’s something new. It was to me, anyway. I don’t think I ever thought about it before. I mean, that Jesus Himself spoke those words.
John 3:16 is the first verse I ever committed to memory, decades ago. It is probably the most quoted and well-known verse in the Bible.
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son…”
Red print. It’s how the publishers of Bibles let us know which words Jesus spoke directly.
I chewed on that thought as the pastor came later and spoke the words he had prepared. I know. I should listen more carefully instead of riding a different train of thought. I heard his words—I did—but the initial thought that had come to mind didn’t want to let go.
As I left the auditorium later, I mentioned it to the pastor. He laughed. Then, seeing my confused look, he explained.
As it happens, that was part of what he had researched as he prepared the sermon for Sunday. You see, there is not a consensus among Biblical scholars about whether those words should be printed in red or not.
The original Greek text, lacking punctuation, is not clear if there is a break between the words Jesus is speaking to Nicodemus in the verses before or not. It’s just as likely that John is again narrating the thoughts, as he does throughout the book.
So perhaps—not red print. Or, perhaps—yes.
I’m still riding that train of thought days later.
I know some folks are only interested in the words Jesus spoke during His time on this earth. If he didn’t say it, they don’t trust it.
Not to diminish in any way the importance of the words He spoke, but even they were reported by men. Uneducated men, for the most part, with no credentials except that they had been with the Savior.
That’s the way God’s Word has come to us. It’s the way He made His story known throughout all of time. Except when He used animals—like Balaam’s donkey in the book of Numbers.
Men of old, Peter says. (2 Peter 1:21) Prophets who heard God’s voice and faithfully rendered the words into a written record.
In my head, I hear the words of the Apostle—the one who loved to write letters and, ironically enough, a member of the group about whom he wrote the words.
“All scripture is God-breathed…” (2 Timothy 3:16, NIV)
I wonder if any readers noticed the chapter and verse where those words were written. Not that I believe in omens or signs in that sense, but it seems odd that the words answering the question about whether it matters so much that John 3:16 perhaps shouldn’t be written in red letters are also found in chapter 3 and verse 16 of their book. Perhaps, just a coincidence. Still, it’s interesting to me.
But now, with the mention of breath, my train of thought has moved to another track entirely. You’ve seen the old western movies when the train robbers move a lever near the tracks and shift the whole train to a siding—a rail that leads to nowhere, but serves only to slow or stop the entire conveyance, haven’t you?
Well, that’s not what’s happening here. This train is gathering speed as it careens along the new route.
I know about breathing! I’ve done it for nearly seventy years. It’s one of the reasons I’m here to write my tiring little essays every so often. And maybe, the reason you’re here to read this one.
And, at some periods during those years, I’ve struggled to breathe. Asthma and bronchitis steal the air right out of my lungs and I realize anew how much I enjoy breathing; and how much I need it.
Breathing is good.
But, this is different, isn’t it? God breathes out His Word—His message—to the scribes chosen for the task. And they, in turn, shared it with the world through all these generations.
What a gift to breathe in the Word of God!
And yet, these words are ours to draw in and live on, for all our days if we choose.
I said it was ironic that Paul was one to whom the Word was breathed. As I considered the subject of breathing, the words in the book of Acts came to mind. Ironic doesn’t really describe it.
“Then Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord…” (Acts 9:1, NKJV)
Oh. In that dichotomy, the breathing out of evil earlier in life and then later, breathing in of God’s Word, there is great hope.
Hope for all of us!
We breathe out our hate, our despair—our wretchedness. And, just as He did for Adam in the beginning, God breathes life—and promise—and bright hope.
Still. His breath gives us life.
I remember, decades ago, trips to the mountains covered with evergreens with my family. As we gathered on the banks of a roaring river, alive with whitecaps, my Dad stood drawing the air into his lungs—clean and unsullied with the pollution and smoke of man’s carelessness.
“Ah! That’s good!”
It was.
It is.
Good.
Breathe deep.
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” (from The New Colossus, by Emma Lazarus)
“For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him.” (John 3:16-17, NLT)
© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2024. All Rights Reserved.
