Living and Active

The Christian claim about Scripture goes further than "reliable." Reliable is the floor. The ceiling is what the writer of Hebrews says next: the Word of God is alive. Not alive in a sentimental way. Alive in a surgical way. The author chooses his words carefully — sharper than a two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, joints and marrow, discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. He is not describing a textbook. He is describing a scalpel. The Bible cuts. It opens you up. It exposes what you were hiding from yourself. Most adults in the West — including most professing Christians — have never let the Bible do that work in them. Sixty-eight percent of Americans read the Bible less than once a year. The most consequential book in human history is sitting closed on our nightstands while we scroll through our phones and wonder why our inner lives feel thin. C.S. Lewis once said that if Christianity is true, it is of infinite importance, and if it is false, it is of no importance, but the one thing it cannot be is *moderately* important. The same is true of its book. The Bible is either the living word of God — in which case you cannot afford to leave it closed — or it is a relic, in which case you can put it down without regret. There is no middle category. The week you have just walked through has given you no honest excuse to land in the middle. So this weekend, make one decision. Pick a book. Pick a chapter. Open it Monday morning. Read it before you read your phone. Do not wait until you feel like it — habits beat motivation every time. The book is alive. It can take your questions, your distractions, your half-attention. What it cannot do is read you while it stays closed. Open it. Read it. Let it cut.