The hospital nurse gave my dad’s Bible to my mom, a ribbon marking the passage he had been reading when his heart gave out. “This must have been special to him,” she said. We were eager to see what Dad had read in the last moments of his life. I don’t remember the passage, but I remember feeling letdown when I read it. It didn’t seem special enough. It took several years for me to appreciate the ordinariness of it. My dad was reading his Bible as he did every day; that day—the day he would see Jesus—the passage just happened to be an obscure passage from an Old Testament history book.

My mom kept his well-worn Bible as a stone of remembrance of her husband’s love of God and the Word.

More recently, friends’ two-year-old daughter, Lydia, picked up her mom’s New Testament and Psalms Bible and announced, “This is the Bible. This is God’s Word. It’s kinda long.” I am still laughing about it.

Long though it may be, Lydia already senses that God’s Word is different from her other picture books about Jesus or Dalmatians.

Then there’s Blake Musick. I don’t know Blake, but he was featured in a recent article in the New York Times by Ruth Graham. Its title caught my attention: “$400 Bibles? Luxurious Scripture Is on the Rise.” Blake collects Bibles and has 70 high-end Bibles in his collections.

In the article, Graham quotes Blake, “‘This is actually God’s word,’ “Mr. Musick, 38, said. “‘If it’s something that important, then why not have a really nice copy of it?’”

The article pointed out that there is “a growing number of Americans buying high-end — and high-priced — copies of the Bible. The growing category of premium Bibles includes a wide array of translations assembled with high-quality materials, like genuine leather covers, and in many cases extras like elaborate color illustrations.” Other Bible publishers, Graham points out, are “sourcing materials like calfskin leather from Italy and paper milled in France.”

Even publishers close to our hearts have “handcrafted” or “heirloom” editions of the Bible. I own one but keep it far out of reach of coffee. I do, in a way, agree with Blake—why not have a really nice copy of it.

On the other end of things, Wil tells me stories of Soviet-era Christians who copied Scripture by hand or risked their lives to print gospel portions in secret makeshift printing presses so they could share these Bible fragments with unbelievers. This book really is something else altogether.

I think my dad had, and little Lydia has, a richer understanding of God’s Word and its beauty, which far exceeds calfskin leather and paper milled in France.

Psalm 19 describes God’s law and rules as beautiful, perfect, pure, true and righteous; to be desired more than fine gold, more than calfskin leather, more than elaborate illustrations. In Psalm 119, it would be more than fair to say the psalmist is consumed by God’s words—in fact, he says it himself in verse 20: “My soul is consumed with longing for your rules at all times.” Why? Because when the psalmist’s soul clings to the dust, he knows that God’s rules and commands bring life itself.

God’s law is not some ancient artifact encased in glass in a museum or part of a theological or high-end collection; it is the Word that “was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we looked upon and have touched with our hands, concerning the word of life” (1 John 1:1)

Yes, sweet Lydia, the Bible is God’s Word, and it is kinda long, but stay with it because its wonderful, beautiful words of life, bring you and us to the Word in whom there is life and light.