To be honest, I am unsettled by the opening question of the Heidelberg Catechism. It looks at the whole of life and death, unflinching, and tells me there is only one comfort available to me. I will find no true and lasting comfort in human love or presence, in accomplishment or praise, in material possessions or a good reputation, in the best of art or entertainment. My only comfort is that I am not my own.

You may be familiar with this opening question of the Heidelberg. You probably know that the initial not-so-great-sounding “not my own” moves quickly into a fuller answer that is beautiful and indeed rich in comfort: to paraphrase, I belong with body and soul, both in life and in death, to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ. My heavenly Father is preserving me, and the Holy Spirit is assuring me of eternal life as he works in my heart. My sins are forgiven, and my salvation is secure.

That’s a lot about “me,” but that’s how the Catechism speaks: its authors—theology professors and church leaders in 1500s Heidelberg—wrote in personal, pastoral language. When they thought of life and death, of the sweep of redemptive history, they thought of individuals in churches who want to live for God and who need help and encouragement on the way. They thought of you and me.

The Catechism is designed to instruct, and its theology is deep and systematic. It is divided into fifty-two “Lord’s Day” readings to take a congregation through a full year of teaching. Within this format, 129 questions and answers move from the fall to redemption to conversion to the Christian life. Along the way, the Catechism works through the Apostles’ Creed, Ten Commandments, and Lord’s Prayer. Succinct without being terse, it answers questions you encounter in Bible studies (Why did our Savior need to be both God and man?) and questions you worry about in the middle of the night (What is your only comfort in the face of death?).

In that way, the Catechism is also devotional. Its answers bear close attention and consideration. They’re rich with the kind of insight you write out and stick on your wall (I speak from experience!). Although the Q&A format is useful, I wondered how our perceptions of the Catechism might shift if it was written not as a kindly interrogation but as a meditation. I started pulling away the questions and adjusting the answers so they could stand alone. I consulted the supporting Bible texts and included one for each Lord’s Day in order to give Scripture, the Catechism’s foundation, the last word.

I had not thought how my work on the Catechism might work on me. For days and weeks, amid life’s various sorrows and struggles, the Catechism was my steadying, encouraging companion.

If you’ve memorized the Catechism, you’ll find it to be a little different in this edition: I consulted and interwove two 1800s translations, making minor edits for clarity. Stripping away the questions also makes the familiar unfamiliar again. And if you have never settled down with the Catechism, I hope the devotional format and beautiful binding of this new gift edition helps to welcome you into its richness. As you read and ponder the Catechism’s time-tested wisdom, I hope it will encourage your heart with true and lasting comfort.

—Amanda Martin, editor, My Only Comfort