I got my first real Bible during Christmas of 1984. It's a New King James classic and is nothing visually to write home about. Many of the Bibles I've owned since, I've actually given away to others doing street ministry. And truth be told, I now use biblegateway.com as my working Bible about 90% of the time now. But my history is found in this unremarkable book. It's not leather, it doesn't have bells and whistles and I don't actually remember getting it. But I do remember the wars we went through together.
I remember trying to read it as a kid. I remember enjoying the old English even though NKJ was once pretty cutting edge. I remember opening it late at night after ignoring the tales told by others, looking for God to come alive for ME. I also remember the years where I shut it, for what I assumed would be permanently, calling the writings fairy tales. I couldn't find evidence of it playing out around me so deductive reasoning would point towards it's contents being empty promises.
"David, may God's blessing be upon you this day and always"
It worked. His blessing was on me then and it still is today. In the first few years of walking with Jesus, I returned to my first Bible. I scribbled and documented the early days of adult faith excitedly as the old old stories became living entities, burning holes through doubts and laying groundwork for the rest of my life.
Many important names... words... encouragements.... admonishments... people... teachings... found their way into the first three blank pages surrounding the declaration of blessing that I still hold to.