My father’s Bible sits on a shelf in my office and reminds me daily who I am.
Even though he has been dead for thirty years, he is a silent witness to me. Inside that old, worn KJV Bible, you would find underlined passages and notes from several of his sermons.
When I open it before me on my desk, it is as if he is leaning over my shoulder, breathing into my ear,
“Darrell, keep studying the Bible it will show you how to live.”