Reading From The Holy Bible Novels & Stories

Caleb and Elias sat on the floor near the low table where the Bibles were stacked. Rachel guided me to an empty spot on the carpet between her and Caleb. I sank down, the scarf still wrapped tightly across my chest, and kept my eyes on the floor. Aunt Clara cleared her throat. “We begin with thanksgiving,” she said. “For the child, for the family, for the purity we protect in this house.” Everyone bowed their heads. Voices rose in the familiar rhythm of prayer. I kept mine low, the words automatic, while my body still hummed from Jordan’s fingers.

“Translated as ‘the four holy letters’.” Tohya tore his eyes away from the photograph at last, and studied the two siblings before him. “Do either one of you read the bible?” he asked curtly. Selina and Sunny both blinked at this sudden question, and Sunny shook his head. “Not really,” he admitted, and Selina nodded. “I’m not really that religious.”

I decided to take a seat as I read through the first topic. "Let not your heart be troubled," I read the first line aloud, it was apparently a verse from the bible. Strangely enough I felt a sense of peace and was urged to read on. I read through the page and I don't know how but I found myself weeping. I picked up my phone and downloaded the bible app. I hadn't opened this in so long, I couldn't even remember the last time I went to church, except for a wedding. Crazy huh? "Babe?" I heard Damien's voice from the bedroom and quickly wiped my eyes clean of any trace of tears.

It was such a wonderful story that comforted him. He opened the Bible and placed it upon his thighs. A verse on the second page - Jeremiah 11:19 - was highlighted in bold. He read it out aloud not daring the silence around him. But I was like a lamb or an ox that is brought to the slaughter; and I knew not that they had devised devices against me, saying, let us destroy the tree with the fruit thereof, and let us cut him off from the land of the living, that his name may be

Oh shoot. It didn't matter how stoned I was, there was one thing I had to do before I met up with sleep. Reaching over to the nightstand, I retrieved my old, tattered bible and opened to where it was bookmarked. With the weight of sleep anchoring down my lids, the words on the page blurred, but I strained nonetheless and repeated the highlighted words of Proverbs; words I'd been reading every night for the past six years: Oh God, I beg two favors from you; let me have them before I die.

Where you find some Bible words with their meanings and immediately I went to the letter H. And there it was in bold letters. Homosexuality. My breath is shaky. My fingers danced around the page unsteadily. My throat closed up suddenly and the urge to cry hit me hard, tears threatening to slip. To ruin my Holy Bible. Do I read or not read? The only question nagging at the back of my mind but I needed to be certain that what happened earlier wasn't in any way close to that sin because it was one if not the greatest sin that God hates and I didn't want to go to hell either.

I stepped beside him just as he was crumpling the paper in a clenched fist. “Neo.” He turned to me, smiled, and threw the crumpled note away. “Nothing important.” My brows furrowed. “What do you mean nothing important?” I bent to pick up the paper, unfolding it carefully as he walked past me inside. It was truly a Bible. And it read; Leviticus 18:22 ‘You shall not lie with a man as with a woman; it is an abomination.’ Chills spread through my body. The second one read.

"Don't forget to pack your stuffs properly. We will ask Osinala when we get to Umuise tomorrow to ask some men to help you carry your luggages. Good night James." "Good night Paul," James said. He got up and went to the room Paul Okeke had prepared for him. His clothes, bible and some books were scattered around. He arranged the bamboo bed properly and closed the window gently then he grabbed his bible. It was king James Version, the holy book first published in 1611 under the auspices of a great king of England, King James the first. The book was dark and had the Holy Bible written on the top of it. He opened it and stopped, then he flicked through the pages using the palm oil lamp that was

But before attending to the matters awaiting on the table, he went once more to his knees — this time upon the rug before the carved wooden stand that bore the sacred scrolls of the Scriptures. He opened them gently, reverently, and his hand lingered on the page before he began to read. And then he prayed — not briefly, not hastily, but deeply and wholly, as a man unburdening the weight of not just a kingdom, but his own bleeding heart. “Your Word is light to my path, O Lord, and a balm to my thoughts. Speak, and I shall listen. I am nothing but clay molded by Your hand—without Your Spirit, I am undone.”

"Um, Psalms maybe." "Let's try Revelation. You read, and I'll listen." For hours we sit reading the Book of Revelation. It's hard for me to grasp, but as long as he was listening, I kept reading. Just before dawn, I finished. I only lifted my eyes towards him, and he was intensely watching. "Shall I read more?" I ask. "What did we learn?" Shrugged, I answer, "I guess that's why Pastor Chauffee is needed."