Only upon completing the writings of the Prophets do I understand at last that there is another whole depth to Bible education. It was revealed to me, gradually, while preparing the indexes and back-stories for each volume. After perusing reams of research, I discovered how the different books of the Bible relate, not only to one another, but how they relate to history as well. I won’t say that these investigations are scholarly on my part, but I do come away knowing more than I could possibly have grasped at the first. I liken the process to peeling away at a sweet Vidalia – an analogy that has been clearly exhausted throughout the eons.

But if you will permit a small digression, you will no doubt understand how my eyes have been opened to the St. Peter’s experience. In my nascent state as a deacon, after having been a long-time member of this church, I uncover the hidden stratum of unlikely bonds that had heretofore eluded me. 

Moving on however: when I have finally finished the copying of The King James Bible, it will fly from my hands and go on to have whatever life it chooses for itself. I shall miss it when it disappears from my desk. On the other hand, I know that it will bequeath to me the convictions and tools to achieve fresher and deeper layers in my kindred and community relationships. In my book, that’s a worthwhile legacy for a manuscript that still unfolds its profound lessons after five hundred years. 

As published in the October 2011 issue of "St. Peter's Press," the monthly newsletter of St. Peter's Presbyterian Church in Spencertown, New York. At the time of publication, Phillip was still in the throes of the Apocrypha.