Susan LaffertyMy mother tells the story. Her dad was going blind. So every morning she or her sister would stop by the home where he stayed. And read the Bible to him.
One particular day, Mom was in a hurry. On a tight schedule. She rushed in with no time to spare. Out of breath and talking fast. “So, Daddy, which chapter do you want me to read today?”
In his slow Southern drawl, Grandaddy said “Well, how about Psalm 119?”
Words. Wrestling through antiquated phrasing and sentence structure in classic devotional books engages my mind. Pushes me to discern.
New versions come out to simplify the flow for today’s reader.
But I’m drawn back to the original way it was written. How sentences were crafted in that era.
It makes me think about what I’m reading.
“Lord, you are my portion and my cup of blessing; You hold my future. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance” (Psalm 16:5-6).
Beauty? Our first year of living in Karachi, my eyes saw the sand and dirt. Trash along the roads. The walls and buildings that matched the browns of a desert landscape.
Nothing seemed pleasant. Or beautiful.
I decided “pleasant places” must refer to the believer’s spiritual condition. Certainly not physical surroundings. Not this desert megacity, anyway.