When I was in high school, I had a driving instructor who gave me some sound advice. "You think by looking in the rearview mirror you know what is on your left side, but your vision is limited," he said. "Always look over your shoulder before changing lanes. There may be another car in your blind spot." His wise instruction has kept me out of more potential wrecks than I care to think about.
The Bible, God's written Word, changes lives. Its message of salvation makes the most profound change, of course, but Scripture can also change the way we treat others. It can provide a firm foundation for society with its clear teachings on institutions such as marriage, family, and the church.
A number of years ago I was in the library of a prestigious university. As I walked among the bookshelves, I happened to pass by a row of small cubicles set aside for study and spied a student reading a Bugs Bunny comic book. I almost laughed out loud. Here was a young man surrounded by the wisdom of the ages, yet immersed in childish trivia.
Just before Christmas 2003, Lydia came home from work to the sight of flames shooting out of her house. She was devastated by more than the loss of her home—seven of her family members died in the flames. When news about the tragedy spread that morning, a deacon from her church rushed to comfort her. She had some deep questions for him, but he had no answers.
Some Christian families follow the practice of reading through the whole Bible. After evening meals, they read a chapter or two. They read from Genesis to Revelation, skipping nothing. Even the genealogies with their hard-to-pronounce names are read aloud.
The Bible is a remarkable book. Millions of copies are bought each year. It has been the number-one bestseller for decades. But tragically, the Bible is said to be the least-read bestseller of all time.
Their contribution to victory in World War II was enormous, but few people even knew about them. In 1942, the US Army recruited and trained 29 young Navajo Indians and sent them to a base surrounded in secrecy. These people, who were called "windtalkers," had been asked to devise a special code in their native language that the enemy couldn't break. They succeeded, and the code was never broken. It secured and greatly speeded up war communications. For 23 years after the war, that secret code remained classified in case it might be needed again.