“I always thought the Bible was more of a salad thing, you know, but it isn't. It's a chocolate thing.” — Donald Miller, "Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality"
The first time I read the quote above, I laughed out loud. Donald Miller put to words my feelings about the Bible.
In the past, I believed the Bible was bland like iceberg lettuce — you’ve had it a hundred times; you know what it has to offer.
Or full of filler, like fiber. You know you should have it to keep things in working order, but you resent it. (I resent fiber. I resent that I need it, and I used to feel the same way about the Bible.)
Or as justification to imbibe in something decadent because you are planning on doing things your way later.
If I bought a pretty case to carry it in from a Christian bookstore (bonus points?), it was nearly as good as consuming it. For some strange reason, that made me feel better about never opening it.
In the past, I have considered the Bible a “salad” thing — devoid of surprises, ancient, boring.
Read it. It’s good for you.
It will help you grow big and strong.
But I have to tell you, when I stopped thinking I knew everything about it, I was pleasantly surprised to learn it was chocolate for the soul.
For my birthday several years ago, my family presented me with a Bible. The scriptures had been translated into a language I can easily consume and digest called “The Message.” It is the translation for which my craving for holiness and my short attention span decided to cooperate with one another.
Thank you, Jesus.
I have found the good book is indulgent, but you have to open the wrapper in order to indulge.
The Bible is a chocolate thing.
Rich and personal, as if someone knew exactly what you would go through at different times in your life and wrote you a letter about it.
We have the privilege of picking it up anytime we like.
Satisfying. I know of nothing else that fills the soul-space, the empty mold I’ve tried filling up with all of the things the world believes will satisfy.
It’s a treat to know what God thinks about me. It’s the sweetest thing to know he loves me decadently. He loves me in a very non-ancient, un-dusty and unpredictable way. Not boring in the least.
I rarely crave salad, but chocolate? All the live-long day.
Go ahead, unwrap it. It will help you grow big and strong — in ways you never imagined.