This morning, while sitting in my little garden, I opened my Bible for my usual quiet time. The birds were chirping, the breeze was gentle, and everything looked perfect for meditation — until a few mischievous drops of rain were blown onto my open pages.

I jumped up, hastily closing the Book, frowning at the damp spots. “Oh no,” I muttered, “this Bible is too precious to be spoiled.”

I decided, right there, that next time I’d bring another copy — a cheaper, plainer version, one that could take the wear and tear of rain and mud. This one was my treasure. Its pages were soft with years of turning, entire sections underlined, scribbled with dates, notes, and exclamation marks.

Each marking was a memory of a moment when a verse leapt at me, when I needed comfort or clarity or courage.

Do read the interview of the author by Christianity Today, America’s most widely read Christian mag, with a circulation of over 2.2 million:  https://www.christianitytoday.com/2025/09/india-columnist-robert-clements-christian-writing/ 

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And then, as I sat there, I felt — no, I heard — a gentle voice whisper:
“Bob, I’d prefer you have a worn-out, marked Bible, that’s tasted your life with you, than one that sits untouched on a shelf, pristine and perfect and meant only for the rain.”

I froze. The thought hit me harder than the rain. Tasted my life with me. That’s what the whisper seemed to say. The Word of God, my Bible, wasn’t meant to be a museum piece. It was meant to live with me, to be splashed on, wept over, scribbled in, carried through storms and sunshine alike. God didn’t mind the rain on His precious Word — as long as those words had been read and digested by me, chewed over, absorbed, and lived out.

So, slowly, I opened my Bible again. The damp spots spread, wrinkling the paper. Some pages felt fragile, ready to fall out. But each one spoke louder than ever. These were not just verses; they were milestones. They had held me through nights of loneliness, through days of sadness, through seasons of hardship. And now, as I stood on the other side — a little stronger, a little wiser — the same verses smiled back at me, as though saying, “We’ve travelled together Bob.”

A friend once told me proudly while pointing to his Bible on the bookshop, “Family Bible Bob, as good as new, not a single page bent.” I smiled but said nothing. I now realize a Bible “as good as new” might not be such a compliment. The Living Word is meant to be lived with — dog-eared, underlined, rained on, and yes, cried upon.

I run my fingers across my wrinkled pages and feel an odd joy. This Book isn’t just telling me about life. It is walking through life with me. It has been my companion in defeat and my cheerleader in victory. It is, quite literally, alive.

So next time it rains, I’m not bringing a cheaper copy. This battered, soaked, marked Bible will come with me.

Because if His Word has walked my pain, He won’t mind the drops of rain…!

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