I was standing in the bible isle of a local Barnes and Noble trying to select a nice purse-sized King James Bible for my future daughter-in-law. A man stood beside me, sighing and scratching his head. Finally, he reached into his pocket and dialed into his cell phone.

“Hon, there are SO MANY bibles to choose from! WHICH one should I get?”

I tried not eavesdropping on his conversation, but he was pacing up and down the isle, hoping his wife would give him some insight. I sorted through the bibles, trying to make up my mind on size and design. Sometimes I would accidentally grab a NKJV, NASB, or a NIV, thinking it was the KJV. It was becoming confusing even for myself!

The man slipped his cell phone back into his pocket, sighing loudly, and glanced at me. I knew what was about to come.

“Ma’am, can you help me please?”

(to make a long story short, and to the point)

I stood up and waved my hand at the entire shelves of bibles.

“Sir, G-d is not the author of confusion!”