GENEralities

The unfolding of your words gives light, exults the psalmist. (119:130, NRSV). And so it does; literally; when I sit in the early morning darkness, my face bathed with the soft glow of my computer’s display. I need no light source to see the words I am reading because the page itself is my light source.

And when I light a candle to remind me that my Lord, the risen Jesus, light of the world, is present, I am bathed in both the glow of the living and active Word and the golden warmth of a Saviour’s love.

Today I am reading First Chronicles chapter one—names: Adam, Seth, Enosh, and more, some familiar, some not.
I can remember my well meaning father reading such lists to the family at meal times. They seemed to go on for hours. Boring. Is there anything redeeming in these biblical rosters, or do I skim them looking for more fertile reading?

It occurs to me that many biblical names were given for a reason; to make a statement about what God was, or was not, doing in the parents’ lives. Bible software allows me to double tap on a word to see it in its original language, how often it is used, how it is translated and its range of meaning. I double tap on Mahalaleel. It means praise of God. Methuselah means man of the dart. Then in verse 32 the first woman in the list, Keturah, Abraham’s concubine and his wife after Sara died. Her name means incense.

My quietly glowing display reveals the poetry behind what used to be just a boring list of names. I wonder who these people were. Did Methuselah live up to his name? Did Keturah live up to hers? These dry names are getting interesting. Because my computer gives me such easy access to their root system, they are unfolding and coming alive in a way they never have before.

Back into 1 Chronicles 1 and on down to verse 39: and Lotan’s sister was Timna, another woman right out of nowhere! What is she doing there? I double tap on the verse number; cross references pop up on the other side of the screen. Nothing about who this Timna might be. I execute the find command; again, nothing about Lotan’s sister—a mystery woman. I double tap on her name. It means restrained. Did she have to be, I wonder, or did God seem to be at the time, or one of her parents? My digital devotions frees up my reading and meditating on the Word in a delightful way. To use the language of the Mac, one PowerBook helps me with another.

I switch to my word processor and my journal. Who was Timna and why is her name here? What did she do, or not do, to be recorded with all these sons? I am intrigued by these minor characters that pop onto the biblical stage, glow for a moment, and are gone. Some are complete mysteries, like ancient sister Timna; others are a more defined pin point of light; like Simeon and Anna in Luke’s gospel. They come, glow for a moment and go. Like most of us.

My computer and, particularly now-a-days, my little Sony hand-held, are now more than just tools. They are prayer partners. When I am alone with God and my machine in prayer, a new world opens to me. The Scriptures and my journal glow at me from an almost seamless environment in which I can follow the promptings of the Spirit, themes and ideas effortlessly far and wide through God’s text and mine. They hold the texts of my Daily Offices and the names of the people for whom I must pray.

I switch back to my Bible program; the New Testament reading of the day is John’s Gospel; chapter 5. I find another glowing one; John the Baptist. He was a burning and shining lamp, Jesus said, and you were willing to rejoice for a while in his light. I, too, rejoice in the steady light of my display and the way in which it exposes the root system of God’s word for me.

But I am also aware of how easily I could slip into addiction and idolatry using it. There is the dangerous allure of more; more memory, more software, bigger, better, more bells and whistles. The means become the end. Shining John the Baptist came to point to an even greater, brighter, lovelier light. So, too, should my machines.

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