Better off than they who write the words

While doing laps in the pool, I was thinking about how much more fortunate I am than Abraham, Jacob/Israel, Moses, Elijah, David, and Solomon — all these. Even they did not have the corrective preaching of Isaiah, Micah, Amos, or Jeremiah. I do.

They and the prophets themselves had only portions of what we now call the Old Testament, and I have also the entire New Testament — the completed Word of God that was ever written. And I have the Holy Spirit who guides me in interpreting and applying God’s Word.

I have the Christ of God living within me with his atoning work accomplished once-for-all. I have the Living Word living his life, to the extent I yield, within me. None of these ever did.

I am more fortunate than Matthew, John Mark, Luke, and John. Despite what the Spirit led them to record, at least Matthew and Luke seem not to have been able to read John’s mature retelling of the story they told well enough.

I am more fortunate than Peter, James, Paul. and Barnabas. They never saw the New Testament collected into a book. None was ever able, as I am, to carry the Bible around and read it whenever and wherever they wished.

They who wrote the New Testament did not have the mature thinking of Clement, Polycarp, Irenaeus, Augustine, or Anselm to reflect on what they wrote. Even these fathers could not learn and grow in their faith by what was yet to be thought and written by Aquinas, Calvin, Luther, or Wesley.

These giants themselves never heard the godly preaching of scores of men and women who followed them. Nor were they able to observe what God’s Word accomplished in these lives.

None of those who wrote the Old Testament ever saw the completed canon. They knew nothing of the New Testament. Those who wrote this never held it in their hands. Yet, this entire book is in the laptop on which I write this now — in the original languages (in ten texts) and ten English versions. Indeed, the whole Book is in my shirt pocket on my iPhone — two versions with room for the rest.

Dare I say more? None of these — not the greatest — has experienced the warm nurturing of my godly parents or the instructive and encouraging fellowship of our wonderful church on Garfield Avenue.

I have so much more than all these. Why, then, is my life yet so much less?

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