My Closest Friend

When I was eight, I betrayed my closest friend and lied about it for a week. I’ll never forget walking into my mom’s room feeling like I’d kicked a kitten. But ever since that confession, I’ve tried to be loyal and my friend has been my steadfast companion.

At eight, my friend spoke truth as I journaled my confessions. When I cried at night, wondering how God could love me, my friend embraced me.

When I felt like I could conquer the world, my friend sang beside me and lit the right path. When I lay in bed too sick to be with my friend, my friend’s words remained, ushering the peace of eternity. When I was scared or depressed, my friend’s words were the only ones that were truly encouraging because I knew they were true and not just optimistic.

My friend inhabits my memories and my life. She was there when I sat homesick on a rock in a Costa Rican river admiring the beauty; when I sat on a roof in China looking at the ice cream scoop mountains; when I had my honeymoon in tropical paradise; and she’s there when I ride the train to my new job.

In fact, my friend is with me every morning, like coffee. Its just as easy to notice lack of time with my friend as it is to notice lack of coffee. I’m a crank without it.

I couldn’t look Mom in the eyes. I vaguely remember her sitting in bed, but mostly I remember how terrible I felt. I can’t remember telling a lie before that, and I don’t know that I’ve so blatantly lied since. I’d been compromised. I betrayed my parents and my closest friend all at once.

“You know how I said I read the Bible this morning?” I’m not sure if Mom responded. “Well I didn’t. I didn’t read it at all this week.”

I felt like crying. Mom didn’t really do much. Ever since then I’ve loved the Bible. No one thing has been so influential in shaping my mind and heart. The Bible’s the one thing I can always trust. The one thing I’m the least likely to misinterpret.

And it is a friend. The lady wisdom lives within it. My friend, brother, and savior penned it. It’s the word of God.

There’s nothing so powerful. Nothing so able to reach in and mend my heart. Nothing so perfect and pure. Sure I’m not on cloud nine every morning when I read it, but I pretty quickly feel like I’m under a rain cloud if I don’t.

The Bible is a part of all of my best memories. Not just a part, but the shaper of them. The Bible redefines what cloud nine is. It opens my eyes to heaven.

It’s more than my favorite book. It’s my anti-psychotic.

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