Touch Not the Scroll That Gloweth: On the Spiritual Dangers of Electronic Bibles

Touch Not the Scroll That Gloweth: On the Spiritual Dangers of Electronic Bibles

By Elder Rev. Dr. Percival Thaddeus Grone

Beloved Saints and Those Yet Unplugged,

I have read with a mixture of gratitude and grave concern the recent ministerial report from Charlotte, in which Presiding Evangelist Gerald E. Weston raises a cautious hand regarding the use of electronic Bibles from the pulpit. While I commend Brother Weston—long respected for his efforts to preserve what remains of order in the Church—for identifying a potential spiritual compromise, I must note that his language bears the soft edges of a newer dialect, one more common among the cautious pragmatists than the prophetic remnant.

He speaks of “rare and legitimate exceptions.” He acknowledges the usefulness of digital tools. And thus begins the descent.

It saddens me, truly, to see even formerly unmoving pillars begin to lean—ever so slightly—toward the flickering glow of cultural accommodation. What begins as allowance soon becomes adoption; what is tolerated from the pulpit today is translated into doctrine tomorrow. Brother Weston speaks of “unintended consequences.” I speak of incipient digital abomination.

Let us be clear: this is not a matter of screen vs. page. This is a matter of scroll vs. sorcery.

Of Tablets and Temptations

It was upon stone tablets that the original Commandments were delivered. Stone, beloved. Not plastic. Not lithium. And certainly not something requiring a USB-C to receive divine power. To hold a glowing rectangle aloft in the pulpit is not merely poor optics—it is optical delusion. The flickering glow of an e-reader is no match for the weight of vellum and ink. A Bible app may contain the words of Scripture, but it is not the Word. It is a replica of righteousness, a simulacrum of sanctity, a backlit blasphemy.

Does the serpent not also illuminate? “For Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light” (2 Corinthians 11:14). And yet we bring forth light from our laps and call it holy?

Swiping Away the Sword

In the glory days, a man knew his Bible. He turned its pages, and the rustling of onion-skin parchment was as the sound of the Spirit moving over the face of the waters. Today, the page is replaced by the swipe—an action nowhere endorsed by apostolic hand. With each swipe, we lose our grip. The sword of the Spirit becomes not a double-edged blade, but a blinking cursor.

Shall we not consider how swiftly heresy spreads when transmission requires no ink? When a false gospel may be downloaded in milliseconds? When the red-letter words of Christ are displayed in Comic Sans, beneath a notification from TikTok?

Indeed, I recently witnessed a young minister attempt to quote Habakkuk, only to be interrupted by a push alert from something called “Fantasy Football.” I ask you: what is fantasy, if not doctrine divorced from discernment?

The Scroll as Covenant

Brethren, the book—the physical, printed book—is not a convenience. It is a covenantal object. When a man opens the leather-bound Word, he is not merely reading; he is entering into a tactile pact. He feels the covenant. The crackling of the spine, the marginalia of his forebears, the faint scent of mildew and sanctification—all these things testify that the Word of God is not a thing to be streamed.

No revival has ever broken out over a Kindle.

The Rise of the Digital Beast

Let us now speak plainly: this is not just a technological transition. It is the soft preamble to the Beast System. When the Man of Sin arrives, he shall not wield a scroll. He shall brandish a device. And many shall say unto him, “Siri, open to Matthew chapter 24,” and it shall be opened—but it shall not be understood.

Revelation warns of a mark without which no man can buy or sell. Might we also imagine a future in which no man can preach or teach without first logging in?

Already I have heard whispers of algorithmic translations—Scripture adjusted in real time to suit the emotional needs of the reader. This is not exegesis. This is exe-gnosis—the hidden, digital heresy of those who seek to code the cross.

Prescriptions for the Elect

To those who are tempted by the convenience of glowing Bibles, I offer these apostolic remedies:

• Preach only from a hard copy, preferably one bound in animal hide, not neoprene.
• Never trust a verse that comes with a hyperlink.
• Refrain from charging your Bible. The Word of God requires no adapter.
• If your Bible requires a software update, throw it into the sea (Revelation 18:21).

If you must use an electronic Bible due to failing eyesight or weak lighting, cover the device with organic sackcloth when not in use, and make daily intercession for discernment lest you be led astray by the “scrolls of silicon.”

Final Exhortation

Brother Weston’s concern is not misplaced, only mismeasured. We cannot afford to manage this issue with administrative restraint when apostolic urgency is required. We must not settle for policies when the times demand prophecy.

Let the remnant remain watchful. Let us not trade ink for interface. Let us not exchange the scroll for the screen. For the Word was made flesh—not firmware.

Stand firm. Turn pages. Resist the swipe. And remember, “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet”—not a blue light unto my face.

Steadfast in print,

Percival Thaddeus Grone

Elder Rev. Dr. Percival Thaddeus Grone

Senior Lecturer in Scrollology and Prophetic Interface Studies.
Dean Emeritus of the Portable Tabernacle Technology Advisory Board
Still Watching Since 1844