My gift Bible finds its way home
When I was 17, my parents gave me a black, leather-bound Bible for Christmas. My name, LYNDA S. BECKERT, was embossed in gold letters on the cover. Although I didn’t read it, I proudly ported it to Sunday school and church.After I married, I often lent my Bibles to girls in the Pioneer Girls club at Greendale (B.C.) MB Church. Then, some time in 1975, my special Bible went missing. I did a thorough search. After exhausting every possibility, I gave it up for lost, though I prayed that I would find it.
In 1978, we moved to Fort St. John, B.C. Now and then I thought about my lost Bible. Sometimes I still prayed God would return it to me. But it seemed impossible now. Plus my married name was Stobbe.
In 1997, my mother went to be with the Lord. My dad’s health was very poor and we feared he might also pass away. The thought suddenly came to me that if Dad died, the hopes of having my Bible returned were slim, because he was the only Beckert in the Chilliwack phone book. After more than 20 years, I felt I had to pray more fervently than ever that I would again hold my gift Bible in my hands.
Now I knew
Why did I feel such a passion about this Bible? Was I just so enamored with my name in gold letters? Was it just the memory of my parents’ love? No, I wanted to read it now, even though it was the King James Version. I had discovered what reading the Bible could do for me, having read through The Living Bible, and then the New International Version. It inspired and challenged me, changed my thought patterns, gave me hope, and soothed my soul. I had come to know the truth of Psalm 119:105, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.”
One day, as I poured out my heart to God, I said it was the last time I would ask for my Bible. I had to let it go.
A few months later, when my father called one day, he said, “I had the strangest phone call the other day. Did you ever lose a Bible?” I could hardly breathe.
Soon, I learned the rest of the story. One afternoon as Babs Snelgrove waited for her husband George to finish his custodial duties at Columbia Bible Camp (now Stillwood) for the day, she browsed through the hymnals, Bibles, and books on some dusty shelves at the back of a meeting room. She came across a Bible with Lynda S. Beckert stamped on the cover.
A push
Opening it, she saw handwritten words from Lynda’s parents. “Surely,” she thought, “Lynda would want this Bible returned to her. She must have forgotten it at camp.” She felt a nudge – a push, really – of the Holy Spirit to somehow return this Bible to its owner. She looked up Beckert in the phone book and called the one person with that name. Mr. Beckert’s caregiver said, yes, he had a daughter Lynda, living in Fort St. John. Babs wrapped up the Bible and sent it on its way.
When the parcel arrived, I clutched it to my heart. I dropped to my knees to give God thanks.
Why would God do such a special thing for me? Because he loves me. Because he wants to show me who he is, and how powerful he is.
And yes, I read every word of my precious Bible, slowly, over seven years, studying it, marking it, memorizing some chapters, letting tears fall on it, enjoying being with my forever friend Jesus.
—Lynda Stobbe
