desecrated

On the night of Good Friday, there’s a documentary on TV trying to piece together the 18 years of Jesus’ life that were not documented in the Bible. On Holy Saturday, there’s another documentary discussing about who wrote the Bible. Perhaps I ask myself why I am watching it, but there’s a part of me which realises that I need to in order to understand the desecration before us.

I find myself so emotionally and spiritually drained just hearing people refer to the Bible as a ‘history book’, or Christianity as a ‘religion’ or a ‘cult’. What has been documented in certain books of the Bible match the history books we have, so why do we still doubt its contents if it contains the tangible evidence we search for? They say that Moses could not have written the first five books of the Bible, so the real question is not about who wrote the bible, but who edited it? Edited? The audacity of man astounds me. You can’t edit the Bible like you do a primary school essay. In Matthew 5:18, Jesus himself said, “I tell you the truth, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished.” Moses may have penned the words, but God was the author. Could Moses have known about the beginning of Creation if God had not spoken to him?

The human nature is that of an argumentative one. We have been at war with God, ourselves and every other thing on earth since the day we were here. Put a group of five men together to write a book and there will be disagreement in no time. But the Bible, though having been ‘written’ by so many people, finds no contradiction in itself. Try finding a human explanation for that.

Jesus may have been tortured by the Roman soldiers, but perhaps the blows that we deal to him today are much worse. I remember the story of a young girl who died at the hands of her persecutors for refusing to spit on the Bible. In a small way, I can understand her pain. Seeing how others try to diminish the glory of God, by containing it in a jar and manufacturing it like a can of baked beans, is like a dagger through the heart, over and over again.

When will the day finally come when we look at our blood-stained hands and realise what we’ve done? It was only after Jesus took his last breath and the earth shook that the Roman soldier finally exclaimed ‘Surely this man was the Son of God!’ I pray that we will not wait until we find ourselves before the judgement seat before we say the same…