September 24 | Moments Almanac | Bread
What does a brilliant Greek scholar have in common with a Russian monk who could barely read? More than you might imagine.
On September 24, 1934, A. T. Robertson, one of the most influential New Testament scholars of his generation, walked into his classroom at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary for the last time. Earlier that afternoon, he had been studying Matthew 6:11: “Give us this day our daily bread.” Before the day was over, he would be gone.
Four years later, on the same date, Silouan the Athonite died on Mount Athos in Greece. Unlike Robertson, Silouan had little formal education. Yet his life of prayer, humility, and extraordinary love for others left a spiritual legacy that continues to inspire Christians around the world.
One man devoted his life to understanding the words of Jesus. The other devoted his life to embodying the love of Jesus.
In this episode of Moments Almanac, we explore the remarkable lives of these two men and the beautiful truth that knowing God and loving God were never meant to be competing pursuits.
Whether we're surrounded by books or kneeling in prayer, we all come to the Father with the same need: our daily bread.
Scripture: Matthew 6:11
Take heart. Notice the scattered moments. Share the grace.
Welcome to Moments Almanac for September 24th. And on this day in 1934, in an office at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, a 70-year-old professor sat studying his Greek New Testament. His name was A.T. Robertson. He had written 45 books, including a Greek grammar that stretched more than 1400 pages. Generations of preachers had learned to understand Scripture through his scholarship. But on this particular afternoon, Robertson was working through a familiar passage, Matthew six, eleven. Give us this day our daily bread. He marked the text, closed his work, and walked to his classroom. His students were waiting. As they began translating Greek, something was wrong. Robertson was sweating. His face had changed color. He dismissed the class early, something almost unheard of for this devoted teacher. A young professor helped him home, and before the day was over, with his wife Ella beside him, AT Robertson died. His final afternoon he spent doing what he loved, studying the word and teaching others to understand it. Four years later, on september twenty fourth, nineteen thirty eight, another remarkable Christian died. His name was Sirowam. He was a Russian monk who lived on Mount Athos in Greece. Unlike Robertson, Siloan had little formal education. He hadn't written a massive theological volume of any kind or taught in classrooms filled with aspiring ministers. He spent his days working, praying, and seeking the presence of God. He became known for his extraordinary compassion, especially his insistence that Christians must love even their enemies. He prayed for a suffering world as though its sorrows were his own. These two men, one surrounded by books and the other surrounded by the silence of a monastery. One devoted his life to understanding the words of Jesus, and the other devoted his life embodying the love of Jesus, and both remind us of something we sometimes forget. Knowing God and loving God were never meant to be competing pursuits. The scriptures are not merely meant to be words that are examined, they are truth to be received, treasured, and lived. And love, if it is to remain faithful, must be rooted in the truth of the one who first loved us. And that's why I find Robertson's final marked passage so moving. Give us this day our daily bread. After a lifetime of scholarship he was still coming to the Father for bread. And Siluan, after a lifetime of prayer, needed that same daily grace, and so do we. No matter how much we know or how long we follow Jesus, we never outgrow our dependence upon him. So today, open the word and open your heart. Ask God to make what you know become what you live. Because the greatest gift of Scripture isn't simply knowing more about God, it's knowing Him. And tomorrow we'll need our daily bread all over again. This has been Moments Almanac, a part of Scattered Moments. Take heart, notice the scattered moments, and share the grace.