THE LITTLE RED BIBLE BY CYNTHIA LE MONDS

The Little Red Bible


God doesn’t belong to me.


He belongs to those who can afford Him (and not in the spiritual sense; perhaps souls have monetary worth in Heaven). The price of God is steep. He comes to others in music. Here, there are no instruments, no radio, no power & hearing me sing is torture. He presents Himself in fine dishes. It’s hard to taste God in burnt rice. He shows up in churches & temples, constructed with durable materials, adorned with shiny, gold things.


I walk into a Baptist church barefoot. They send me away. They hand me a parting gift, a little red bible to study. The following Monday, I come home from the fields. My eyes ache and it grows too dark to read without power. Still, I strain over the words my little brain cannot comprehend. So I write my little name on a crisp thin page in the little red bible.


It belongs to me now. But God doesn’t belong to me. He belongs to those who can afford Him.


Do I belong to God? Can He afford me?