It’s one of those things that constantly annoy and interrupt a train of thought: a squeaky office chair. Every time it is sat in or swiveled, there is this whiny, shrieking noise that grates teeth and makes the cat sleeping under the desk nervous. So, it must be fixed. Simple, right? Solution: a can of sewing machine oil with a tapered tip to ensure easy drops fall into the right place. Office chair is upended, the swiveling rollers twirling as if the earth’s rotation has permanently affected the motion. Drip, drip! Oil drools on the plastic cowling but not the metal parts. Wipe off, squint under the high overhead light in the study with the shadow of a head covering the target. Drip! Drip! Better aim, work it in and set the chair back on its rollers. Sit, big sigh, job well done. But the squeaks have now changed tempo and tone. Deeper, more insistent, more rasping. Work the seat quickly, firmly, knees bang against the sides of the desk. Squeaks now climb the tonal musical scale. Upend the chair on its head again. Rollers flail wildly. Oil again. Dink! Dink! A long sigh, the chair is probably fixed. Sit down, ready to work. Squeaks are now creaks like an old door. Unsettling, unearthly, scary. The cat makes a break for the door. Only one method now to solve the problem: take the chair apart, bolt by bolt, screw by screw. Oil the metal parts. Re-assemble and sit. Wow, what a difference! Smooth, silent and serene. The Bible is like a squeaky chair. If someone studies it well, there are parts that squeak. Scriptures that don’t quite gel or make sense as they should. Something is squeaking and until it is taken apart and checked thoroughly, it stays in the mind like a distracting canard. But, with the proper tools and an understanding of how the Bible works, the squeaking will stop. And so it is with me.