the Bible is the Word of God
the Bible is the Word of God, preserved to the jot and tittle or otherwise.
None of both sides are stupid. "A" and "B" side are just as able to draw up in depth thesis on their stands. Somewhere along the same path they chose to draw up an invisible line which separates them from each other. This line, whether it exist or not, I don't know. Even if it does, I am not sure whether they drew in at the correct spot. Somewhere they chose to diverge. Somewhere, somehow A and B thinks they are different. Vastly different.
I, like A and B, am blinded with the veil of unholiness that can only be torn by death itself, when I should cross over the river. This veil, unlike the one our Lord Jesus Christ has torned, was built up first by Adam and Eve, and later sustained the preserved by our sin, pride, and prejudices. This same veil blinds me (and perhaps even A and B) from knowing whether that dividing line exist or not, or whether it is drawn correctly.
One day, when we shall see each other in Heaven (for neither A or B's doctrine can cancel out faith in the Lord Jesus Christ which saves us from our sins and the depths of hell), our Heavenly Father will let us see the truth. I look forward to that day, that glorious day where all other divisions may be finally proven right or wrong.
Till then, my statement will still be this:
"The Bible is the Word of God".
Be Thou My Vision
Be thou my vision, O LORD of my heart.
Nought be all else to me save that Thou art.
Thou my best thought by day or by night.
Waking or sleeping Thy presence my light.
The Church's One Foundation
The Church’s one foundation
Is Jesus Christ her Lord,
She is His new creation
By water and the Word.
From heaven He came and sought her
To be His holy bride;
With His own blood He bought her
And for her life He died.
She is from every nation,
Yet one o’er all the earth;
Her charter of salvation,
One Lord, one faith, one birth;
One holy Name she blesses,
Partakes one holy food,
And to one hope she presses,
With every grace endued.
Though with a scornful wonder
Men see her sore oppressed,
By schisms rent asunder,
By heresies distressed:
Yet saints their watch are keeping,
Their cry goes up, “How long?”
And soon the night of weeping
Shall be the morn of song!