The Bible (n.) is a book whose demands can be largely compressed into the imperative: remember!
Bible (n.) tells events rather than ideas, and its singular claim is that those events are where God and man meet.
Bible (n.) is one long story of God hunting for the righteous man while man keeps running away.
Bible (n.) is a great answer to a question we have forgotten how to ask: what does God want of us?
Bible (n.) is not a quiz-show subject but a place to become open to God's presence.
Bible (n.) is indispensable because it asks what God requires of me, and teaches me to answer, Here I am.
Bible (n.) has become a quarry for sermons rather than a power that judges our lives.
Bible (n.) is holiness made of words.
Bible (n.) chronicles not only God's mighty acts but His long wait for ours.
Bible (n.) cares less about cheating death, Gilgamesh's quest, than about making life holy.
The Bible (n.) defies expectation: its insights should have gone to the sages of Egypt or Athens, not to homeless, starving wanderers in Sinai.
The Bible (n.) cares less for being than for creation, less for space than for time.
The Bible (n.) squeezed into tidy doctrines loses its pulse, the way a person you love would on a diagram.
The Bible (n.) is a conversation, carrying man's words to and about God as well as God's word to man.
The Bible (n.) starts from God's concern for man, and its scandal is man's lack of concern for God.
The Bible (n.) shapes our finest intuitions the way a chisel shapes a block of stone, lifting mystery into speech.
The Bible (n.) is a sublime answer to a question we have forgotten: what does God ask of us?
The Bible (n.) is a ceaseless No to humanity, a voice as strong in spirit as our power to destroy.
The Bible (n.) does not record revelation neutrally; its account is already an interpretation, a midrash.
The Bible (n.) is God's hunt for a righteous man and man's flight from Him.