The book of Job tells about a man who loses everything — his money, his health, even his children. His friends conclude that God is punishing him, but Job insists he hasn’t done anything to deserve such suffering. Then he speaks my all-time favorite words in Scripture (Job 19:25): “I know that my redeemer lives.” In my darkest times, I’ve repeated that verse over and over. I might not understand why I, or someone I love, is suffering. Yet I am certain that God is with us, and that’s enough to go on.
The favorite verse of most Evangelical Christians is John 3:16. You see it on sheets, hanging from the stands at televised ball games. The painters hope you’ll look up and recall that, “God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten son …” No scolding people for their sins, just a gentle invitation. Pope Francis would approve.
Because sharing the Good News with non-believers can feel awkward. I find it’s best to keep it personal, like the man in John 9:25. He testifies, “I once was blind, but now I see.” We don’t need to be theologians to proclaim Christ. We can just tell how we experience Jesus in our own life.
In my childhood church, we often recited Psalms 95 (“Come let us sing unto the Lord”) and 100 (“Oh be joyful in the Lord”). Today, I say them when I’m glad and when I want to be glad. I seldom reach the end without my spirits lifting. The Gloria from Sunday Mass has the same power. It’s hard not to sing it.
As a teen, I learned to sing the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55). I love that Luke begins his gospel with two pregnancies. I see there a promise that I may someday enjoy an intimacy with Christ as close as that between a mother and her unborn child.
The most honest verse I’ve memorized is Mark 9:24. A father begs for his son’s healing, and Jesus says that requires faith. The father responds, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” I know that half-trusting, half-doubting state well. I rejoice that even such a timid faith can unleash miracles.
Not all my memorized passages are sweet. When I judge others, the Holy Spirit rebukes me with, “Judge not lest you be judged” (Matthew 7:1) and “Who are you to judge someone else’s servant?” (Romans 14:4). Pope Francis paraphrased that quote from Romans when asked about homosexuals.
We say of any memory work that we’ve “learned it by heart.” That’s especially true with Scripture. When Christ cried out, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” he was quoting Psalm 22. It moves me to know that Jesus also leaned on memory verses. He didn’t say the rest out loud, but I believe he was remembering the end of the psalm: “The generation to come will be told of the Lord, that they may proclaim to a people yet unborn the deliverance you have brought.” Even in agony, Christ trusted his father.
When I inherited my great-grandmother’s Bible, I saw that she had tucked a list of verses inside. They were matched to common emotions, like “when joyful” and “when grieving.” I imagine her memorizing the same verses that I treasure, and I glimpse the communion of saints at work.
When we learn Scripture by heart and keep it fresh through repetition, the words sink deeper and deeper into our souls. Like the mysteries of the rosary, memorized Scripture verses unfold their meaning as they live in us. By God’s grace and through Christ’s sacrifice, we, in turn, will live the truth of these words eternally.
Kathleen welcomes comments. Send them to Kathleen Choi, 1706 Waianuenue Ave., Hilo, HI 96720, or e-mail: kathchoi@hawaii.rr.com.