In school the only F that I got in English was on an essay about Moby Dick. I itemized some of the generally accepted symbolism.  But then I said, at the time Herman Melville wrote Moby Dick, some people were shop keepers. Some were sailors. Some were butchers. Or bakers. Or candlestick makers.  Herman Melville was a writer.  He didn’t intend any of the symbolism that people read into it.  He wrote Moby Dick to make a living.  When I asked Mrs. Davie why the F – yes, “Mrs.” Davie; “Ms.” had not yet come into being; and a teacher’s first name was never used; at least, not to her face – she said it was because I didn’t really believe what I had written.

When Paul wrote all those Epistles, he believed what he wrote.  But did he think he was just writing letters?

Paul was a Pharisee.  He knew Adam and Eve had talked with Somebody in the garden.  He knew “The Lord said to Cain…”  “The Lord said to Noah…”  Abram.  Moses.  The prophets.  “Thus saith the Lord.”  Eventually God came as a man.  And even spoke in red, so we knew it was He.  People shared their conversations with the Lord.  And eventually the words were written down.

But Paul also knew whose voice he had heard on the road.  And he knew he wouldn’t be the last to hear it.

Paul told Timothy, “All Scripture is God-breathed” (2 Timothy 3:16).  Scripture – graphe in the Greek – is the written record of God.  Who He was and who He is.  What He did and what He’s doing.  Paul did not say “all Scripture was God-breathed.”  Because Paul knew God’s story wasn’t finished.

King James, Thomas Nelson, Zondervan, and the rest may not know your name.  But the story is still being written.  And you’re in it.