Occasionally, not nearly as often as I’d like to be honest, I read an article or headline that claims some treasure trove of mystical delight has been discovered in a forgotten room of an old house. My. Usually it includes things like angel skeletons, keys to trunks full of silent movie playbills, Mozart’s last unfinished work, or other equally implausible items.
While all that is interesting and amusing and speculative, the thing I wonder about the most is the “forgotten room of an old house”. Who forgets a room? Like how big is this house? I’ve never forgotten about ANY room in my house. I frequently forget in which room I might have stored the binoculars or why I came into a particular room. But to just forget about a room?
Puzzling.
We don’t forget the everyday or the familiar. Where we are present. I do find however, that I rediscover or discover things in my house. (Still don’t know where the binoculars are though.)
The same is true for Scripture. Now matter how many times I have read a passage or a chapter or a book, while it is not a “forgotten room”, I still am surprised to discover something I overlooked or missed before.
Once is not enough.
Just Sayin' 