When I was in one of the last political science classes I needed to finish my minor, my professor walked in to class one day, sat down, looked me straight in the eye, and said, "'The time has come,' the Walrus said, / 'To talk of many things'" . . . and waited expectantly.
"'Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax,'" I stammered, "'Of cabbages — and kings — / And why the sea is boiling hot — / And whether pigs have wings'. . . . ?"
"Yes! And the name of the poem?" he asked.
"'The Walrus and the Carpenter.'"
"AND WHAT DO CARPENTERS USE?!"
"Um . . . tools?"
"TOOLS!" he cried.
Tools in a certain political theory was our topic for the day, but since he knew I was the only English major in the upper-level political science class, the professor thought he'd have a little fun getting there. He had a certain expectation that anyone working on a degree in literature would know a certain poem ("The Walrus and the Carpenter") from a certain book (Through the Looking-Glass).
As Christians, we're expected to know a certain book as well -- one that has nothing to do with Wonderland or Alice. We should know our Bibles from cover to cover, reading them and studying them each and every day. We do it first because it contains the words of eternal life (John 4:39-40, 6:68), but we also search the Scriptures because we need to be able to tell others about Jesus. We must always stand ready to give a defense of our faith, and that means explaining the Bible to those who may not understand it yet.
And you never know when someone is going to sit down in front of you and give you a pop quiz.