I recently had my Bible rebound.
I’ve had it for well-over a decade and it’s literally traveled tens of thousands of miles with me—physically and spiritually.
It’s pages provided comfort during the long dark winters in Alaska, hope during times of transition when we returned to Colorado, and wisdom for various steps along the way. In the end, I had the wrinkled pages of my Bible pressed, additional blank pages added to the back, five new ribbons, and a genuine leather cover that smells, well, like fresh cow skin.
But in all honesty, what I was really paying for were the things money couldn’t buy: the years of notes, the prayer lists, the underlined and circled passages, the dates where particular scriptures were the most impactful.
Those are the things money can’t buy. Priceless.
The whole process of having a book rebound is counter-intuitive in our fast-paced, highly disposable world. Some have suggested that I should have just ordered a new Bible. From a fiscal perspective, they’re right. Most Bibles are a whole lot less expensive and the process would have been quicker.
But there’s something wonderful about that which is old, tried, and true.
This whole book binding experience has raised the question of what else should I be holding onto?
What else should I try to restore?
Who have I lost touch with who used to be significant in my life?
Which people poured into me years ago who only now are seeing some of the fruits of their labors?
What connections did I have in leadership and ministry that in the busyness of everyday demands have slipped away?
What activities did I used to love that I’ve let go of?
Which relationships are frayed but need to be rebound?
Indeed, rebinding takes many forms.
Sometimes it’s meant for old, leathery Bibles whose pages are falling out. Other times it is meant for people, who need to share the greater story of what God has been doing over the last few (or many) years.