A story was told of a man who loved old books. He met an acquaintance who had just thrown away a Bible that had been stored in the attic of his ancestral home for generations. “I couldn’t read it,” the friend explained. “Somebody named Guten-something had printed it.” “Not Gutenberg!” the book lover exclaimed in horror. “That Bible was one of the first books ever printed. Why, a copy just sold for over two million dollars!” His friend was unimpressed. “Mine wouldn’t have brought a dollar. Some fellow named Martin Luther had scribbled all over it in German.”

1 Thessalonians 2:13 And we also [especially] thank God continually for this, that when you received the message of God [which you heard] from us, you welcomed it not as the word of [mere] men, but as it truly is, the Word of God, which is effectually at work in you who believe [exercising its superhuman power in those who adhere to and trust in and rely on it].

What do you value? What do you truly prize? How do you know what you truly value? A value isn’t a value unless it costs you something. Shane Snow, in an online article entitled, “Here’s How to Know if Your “Values” Are Really Values,” commented that, “Giving up our money is one ouch! we’ll endure to get something we care about. Or we might give up our time, our prerogatives — even our ego. Regardless of what we say, it’s what we sacrifice that reveals what our values truly are. To find out what you really value, ask yourself: What cost am I willing to pay for this?” We can say we value something but if it’s not part of our lifestyle then we really don’t value you it. If it’s something that sounds good to others and leaves a good impression, but my lifestyle – what I sacrifice my time for, what I invest in extravagantly, what I eat, sleep, drink, and wake up thinking about – is the opposite; then it’s not a value it’s an ideal.

Focus On the Family shares the following story: I was ministering in Vietnam in 1971, and one of my interpreters was Hien Pham, an energetic young Christian. He had worked as a translator with the American forces, and was of immense help both to them and to missionaries such as myself. Hien and I traveled the length of the country and became very close friends before I returned home. We did not know if our paths would ever cross again. Seventeen years later, I received a telephone call. “Brother Ravi?” the man asked. Immediately I recognized Hien’s voice, and he soon told me his story.  Shortly after Vietnam fell, Hien was imprisoned on accusations of helping the Americans. His jailers tried to indoctrinate him against democratic ideals and the Christian faith. He was restricted to communist propaganda in French or Vietnamese, and the daily deluge of Marx and Engels began to take its toll. “Maybe,” he thought, “I have been lied to. Maybe God does not exist. Maybe the West has deceived me.” So Hien determined that when he awakened the next day, he would not pray anymore or think of his faith. The next morning, he was assigned the dreaded chore of cleaning the prison latrines. As he cleaned out a tin can overflowing with toilet paper, his eye caught what seemed to be English printed on one piece of paper. He hurriedly grabbed it, washed it, and after his roommates had retired that night, he retrieved the paper and read the words, “Romans, Chapter 8.” Trembling, he began to read, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him….for I am convinced that nothing shall be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Hien wept. He knew his Bible, and knew that there was not a more relevant passage for one on the verge of surrender. He cried out to God, asking forgiveness, for this was to have been the first day that he would not pray. Evidently God had other plans. What his tormentors were using for refuse—the Scriptures—could not be more treasured to Hien. After finding the Scripture, Hien asked the commander if he could clean the latrines regularly, because he discovered that some official was using a Bible as toilet paper. Each day Hien picked up a portion of Scripture, cleaned it off, and added it to his collection of nightly reading.

What do you value? Do you treasure preaching, teaching, and the Word of God as if the words were from God Himself? Or is it just more rubbish to be tossed to one side, or stuffed in a bin of waste? Years ago, contemporary Christian artist Steve Camp wrote a song, titled, “Playing Marbles With Diamonds.” An excerpt from the chorus line drives home the point: Ah, there’s a whole lot more than preaching to the choir, Kneeling at the altar, or paying our tithe, we’ve been treating God like He’s happiness for hire, we’ve been playing marbles with diamonds…”