Scripture to Me

I was asked to describe my view of Scripture, so I wrote this short reflection as a depiction of how the Bible has come alive to me in recent years. Scripture is no longer a reflection of myself, but is a summons to know the world of life.

Written by

Randall J. Greene

Published on

Go BackProse, Stories


As the sun rises each morning, so do I. Rays of the sun touch my face and open my eyes, and with the day’s sight my mind awakens.

I lift the covers from my sleep and place my feet on the floor, no longer startled by the wooden, cold welcome. I have learned to embrace the shock of it against my toes and to use it as a tool for waking up. I stretch my arms above my head and yawn aloud as they drop to my side. My knees are stiff, so I shake them until my joints pop.

The room feels like home. It is familiar, warm. It smells like me, looks like me, feels like me. The bed, behind me, bears my imprint in its mattress. The desk before me has been carefully arranged, each notebook, pen, and book in the place I’ve given it. To the left, the dresser stores my wallet, watch, and ring and my selection of clothes. A pane of glass hangs above the dresser. I stand before it, gaze into it.

In the glass, I see my reflection mirroring me. Where I move, it moves. When I blink, it blinks. The hue of my skin is the hue of its and the color of my eyes the color of its. The glass reveals to me my darkest blemishes and my deepest beauties alike. In its surface I test every expression of emotion. Raising my eyebrow makes it skeptical. Furrowing my forehead makes it angry. Widening my eyes makes it surprised. Lowering the corners of my lips makes it sad. When I lean closer into it, it leans closer into me. When I open my arms to it, it opens its arms to me.

I study the glass every morning as the sun rises to learn something new about myself I can carry into each day.


Yesterday I awoke with the sun, like every other day. I set my feet on the cold wooden floor and soaked in the warmth of the morning. The light felt stronger today, more vibrant, more colorful. The room felt like home as it always did but something was different. Above the dresser, the glass had changed. I walked to it and pressed my hand against it. The image in the glass had a depth that was new.

I saw myself, but beyond that a garden outside my walls. Trees and bushes and grass bloomed from the earth as tall as the dawn-painted sky above. I looked down and creatures darted through the leaves. Squirrels chased squirrels from limb to limb and deer loped along paths only they could see. A bird flitted to the glass, mere inches from my face, and settled on the ledge. It sang a song to the heavens, glory to my ears.

Time stopped as I studied the world. The glass had always been a window into my soul but was now a window to all of creation. I dared not shatter it.


Yesterday my heart was filled with wonder. Yesterday I watched the world from my window, yet even in my watching I craved more. Today I venture into that world and explore.