Imagine a world without writing. People simply talk. They make promises. They shake hands. When the matter is really important, they employ rituals to ensure that everyone remembers. In pre-literate England, the sale of real estate included an elaborate ritual: go to town and round up a couple of little boys, then go to the property location and hand over a bit of symbolic dirt. Then commence to whipping the boys. Why? Because if you whip them severely enough, you can be sure the children will remember the sale decades later. Is that crazy or what? (Check out the article footnoted here–[1])
As soon as people began building cities, the complexities of commerce required them to create better records. How do you prove you paid for something? You need a written receipt. How do you prove a marriage? With a written marriage license. How do you prove the terms of a contract? You need a written language that can spell out the exchange of promises. What is each party going to gain? What is each party going to give up? What are the terms of the deal?
Written language led to written records of births, deaths, conquests, new boundaries, ownership—soon every kind of fact imaginable was being written and filed away. After the Hebrews were released from captivity in Babylon, they traveled 900 miles home to Jerusalem and began rebuilding the temple. And they faced opposition. The local governor challenged them: “Who are you to build this temple?” Ezra 5:3. The governor wrote to the Persian King Darius and Darius handed the problem over to his librarians and record keepers.
“And a search was made in the house of the scrolls, where the treasures were laid up in Babylon. And there was found at Achmetha, in the palace that is in the province of the Medes, a scroll, and therein was a record” Ezra 6:1-2.
That record explained that the previous king, King Cyrus, had made a decree authorizing the Hebrews to rebuild “the house of God at Jerusalem” Ezra 6:3.
Once he saw the records, King Darius issued a decree, directing the complaining governor not only to allow the restoration of the temple, but also to pay for the project, both in currency and in livestock, wheat, salt, wine, and oil, and to assist the priests in offering sacrifices “and pray for the life of the king and of his sons” Ezra 6:6-10.
This is the power of the written word. Written records grease the wheels of commerce, and sometimes they protect God’s people. Does the Bible ever seem overly long to you? Do the genealogies or the descriptions of the temple and all its contents seem far too detailed and about as interesting as watching paint dry? If so, perhaps you have never imagined a world without writing, without written records, written genealogies, written surveys and blueprints, written catalogues of wars, battles, soldiers lost, prisoners taken, chariots destroyed.
Our world turns on written details. The Word of God does too.
God, give us patience. Make us patient readers of your word. Give us insight so we can better understand what we are reading. Illuminate our minds with a passion for the written word and excitement that we have your word available. May we never take it for granted!
Dance like no one is watching. Email like it will be read aloud in court.
AΩ.
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