One of the more confusing things for people who actually attempt to read the Bible is its apparent round-about-ness. Many people read the Bible with the assumption that it was written to give answers for their life. After all, didn’t the youth pastor say that it was (B)asic (I)nstructions (B)efore (L)eaving (E)arth? Doesn’t that mean that it is supposed to answer all of my questions about morality as well as cover the other important stuff: the problem of pain and suffering, dating and courtship techniques, how to handle my shrinking 401k, scientific basics about the origins of the world, how to get to heaven, and which toothpaste to buy.
The challenge for the poor soul who happens to be crazy enough to try to open the book without a pastor-expert’s help is to navigate through the vast number of confusing or disturbing passages in the Bible. Even a quick glance at the scriptures will allow you to encounter righteous polygamists, the genocide of entire nations, the proscribed killing of thousands upon thousands of animals in order to please God, odd ways to tell if you have a skin disease, methods to determine if an animal is suitable for eating or not, etc., etc. All of this in order to get to a real gem like, “Love your neighbor.”
Within many Christian settings people put their head in the sand about the complex nature of the Bible. They either treat the Bible as though it is a simple book with lists of timeless moral truths (causing me to ask, “have you read the book?”) or a magic book that you can skip around in to find the words you need for today. - Sort of like shaking a Magic Eight Ball, reading the Horoscope, or using an Ouija Board to get your personalized daily oracle. - Sometimes you need an encouraging word, sometimes it’s a tough word of discipline, or sometimes it’s an insight into what you should do about your rebellious kid. But whatever you need, just shake it up like the Magic Eight Ball and see what it says. (Or better yet, just grab Purpose Driven Life off the shelf next to the Bible – someone else already did the hard work, why bother?)
Still others treat the Bible as though it is a doctrinal word puzzle. – “I know what it ought to say, so now I just need to find some phrases that seem to indicate support for my predetermined conclusions.” Using the Bible this way could mean clipping a phrase from anywhere, even if the context means that the passage is saying the exact opposite of what I want the words to say. But it is ok as long as it appears to make the correct doctrinal statement, right? (Why let a little context get in the way of doctrine?)
As much as it may sound like I’m making light of the approaches to scripture above, I have to admit I have spent time in my life using the Bible in each of those ways. It just became difficult to go on doing so while trying to be intellectually honest. Do you know what I mean?
Here is what I have discovered: Although many don’t talk about it, the Bible is a major stumbling block for many Christians… and, perhaps, for good reason. It’s a lot more complicated than well-meaning pastors and evangelists want to admit. What do we do with this book that is filled with crazy unsanitized stories that would certainly give it an NC-17 rating if it were ever to me made into a movie? Many Christians, truth be told, are either afraid or ashamed of the book (or both).
I find it interesting to listen to pastors preach from stories in the Bible that are horrific by any standard of measurement. Say, for example, Jael pounding a tent stake through Sisera’s head (Judges 4:1-24). What I find amazing is how pastors manage to completely ignore the dreadful horror of the story by “spiritualizing” its meaning. Apparently, like the Gnostics of the second century, these pastors have special insight into the true meaning of these stories (which is nowhere found in the Bible itself). Where do they get this special meaning? I’d like to know, and so would many others who go home and try to read the bible on their own without such “spiritualization” being imposed on the text.
Much of the difficulty of the Bible comes from how a person thinks about the Bible, the person’s expectations. I suggest that the problem comes from the assumptions people bring to their reading of the Bible. “This book was written to / for me,” or “this book is meant to explain the way to heaven” become the lenses through which people approach the text (to name a couple common examples). These lenses end up controlling expectations and sheltering people from what they could experience while reading the Bible.
Many Christians are so zealous to protect the Bible’s uniqueness amongst religious texts claiming “truth” that they don’t listen to what the book says about itself. It often seems that people claim expectations for the text of scripture that it never claims for itself. Sometimes people are so eager to make the Bible appear “relevant” for our world today that they pretend like it is a book of analogies, metaphors and fables with pithy little morals at the end of each story. What I find equally amazing is when I discover a group that talks a big game about the Bible’s authority, relevance and precision, but if you look closely, they only read and teach from about one fifth of its contents because so much of it doesn’t fit into their program or agenda so well. It seems like a lot of the rhetoric around the Bible springs from insecurity. - Maybe if we yell louder about the Bible’s inerrancy or its relevance to our world nobody will notice the embarrassing stuff we don’t talk about.
Is it because we are afraid of complexity that we are tempted to make the Bible into something it clearly is not?
What if we could read the book as it actually is? – No manipulating it, no sugarcoating it, no spiritualizing it. What if we could allow ourselves to be horrified by the violence that occurs throughout the Old Testament, bewildered by stories that seem incredibly odd, and intrigued by cultural practices that came and went in the history of the people of God? What if we were able to see that humanity (over the millennia) has morally developed (albeit slowly and incompletely – perhaps with guiding hand of the Spirit) so that most of humanity doesn’t need to be told not to have sex with an animal or with one’s mother. And is it ok to recognize that most humans don’t need to be told not to offer their children to be burned alive to appease an angry, superstitious deity. How would it change our reading if we could recognize that while God (in identity and character) is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow, humanity isn’t? Isn’t it just plain honest (based on reading scripture) to say that God doesn’t necessarily relate to humanity in the exact same way yesterday, today and tomorrow?
Underlying my questions above is the idea that perhaps we could read the Bible without it being all about ourselves. Maybe the form of the Bible is in part purposeful – in order to devastate our self-centered impulses. I have read the Bible through multiple times now and I haven’t found my name and my exact circumstances in there anywhere. This is beginning to convince me that perhaps the Bible isn’t all about me. That means that it probably doesn’t directly answer the questions that are burning on my mind right now like, “should I pick up a second job in order to make it through this economic downturn?” If I go to the Bible with that sort of question, I am either going to manipulate the text and treat it like a Magic Eight Ball or find myself disappointed by its lack of insight into my particular circumstances.
So, if the purpose of the Bible isn’t to give me answers for my problems today, what is it? A number of Biblical scholars (who believe in the unique authority of scripture) suggest that the primary purpose of the Bible in the form that it is in is to tell a story. The story, as it stumbles along over the course of several thousand years, enlightens the reader about God’s intentions for His creation project and humanity’s devastating diversion from those intentions. The story includes God’s means of redeeming, reconciling and restoring His shattered creation project, and the hope for where this whole story of planet earth (along with the rest of the cosmos) will end up. But the Bible tells the story in a unique, complex, and roundabout way. It combines fascinating and sometimes obscure cultural details and all sorts of bits and pieces that I never asked about in its telling of the grand story. It intertwines stories of dark and evil characters with those of fragile but good characters. It includes wisdom collections (Proverbs, Ecclesiastes), songs (Psalms), poetry (John 1), vivid apocalyptic imagery (Revelation), fierce criticism of God (Book of Job), and angry journal entries asking God to do horrible things to the writer’s enemies (Psalm 137).
For many readers the story appears to become much more understandable or relatable when it finally gets to Jesus and the rest of the New Testament (and thus the temptation to ignore the Old Testament). But all of the New Testament is just as wrapped up in historical, cultural, and literary clothes as the Old Testament is (examples of this fill every page of the New Testament). And, to make matters more complicated, Jesus and the New Testament are completely incomprehensible without the rest of the story before it. After all, Jesus is the climax of that story.
One of the early heresies that a few people in the church tried on in the 2nd century A.D. was this idea of trying to strip the Jewishness of the New Testament away. These peoples’ ideas were promptly (and rightly) tossed out by discerning individuals who saw that Jesus’ entire identity and meaning (and the rise of the church) is found in the midst of the story of Israel as told through the pages of Old Testament. Jesus’ teaching, life, death and resurrection all come as part of the story. Outside of the story they fall flat; they make no sense. After all, the authors of the New Testament and the early church considered the Old Testament to be their scriptures. To truly understand the meaning of Jesus and the story of the New Testament church we must seek to read the whole story and understand it in its historical, cultural, literary clothes.
So much of the Bible appears to be information that is not relevant to the immediate details of my life… and it isn’t. I suppose the whole story could have been summarized in a much more concise manner, but it wasn’t. This is where I take issue with well-meaning pastors who try to strip the Bible down to a set of cold naked propositions. If God had wanted to drop a simple and precise book from Heaven about universal human ethics, the way to get to Heaven, the purpose of life, the problem of evil, and how to find the right spouse, He could have done it in a lot simpler and more concise manner than with the book He chose to use. (Which, by the way, did not drop from Heaven). He apparently didn’t want to.
The book we have is providentially the way it is. I, for one, am proud of it. I find it authentic in its complex and often messy portrayal of humanity and God’s relationship with humanity. I find that in diligently reading it as a grand narrative I am magnetically swept up into the story, which with the leading of the Spirit gives me plenty of guidance for how I ought to be living my life. (Sadly, more guidance than I ever seem able to put into practice.) But this whole approach means I have to stop asking the self-centered question, “How does God fit into my life?” In its place I must ask, “How does my life fit into God’s story?” God’s narrative (i.e. the Bible and its ongoing trajectory as seen in the story of the church into our present era) must become my core identity.
Maybe it would do the church a lot of good to stop trying to sanitize and simplify the Bible. Maybe it is time to stop trying to carve out a few “spiritual nuggets” from the Bible and instead challenge and equip people to actually read and study the story with all of its messiness in order to actually understand what the authors of the Bible were really saying. What if we could allow ourselves to be captured by the narrative of what God is up to in our world? Perhaps people would be able to see the implications of what God is about in our world today. Maybe people would be finally free to read the Bible without fear, shame or embarrassment. Perhaps the church would find depth of soul in the midst of a shallow “me-centered” culture. If so, is it possible that Jesus’ followers could experience the presence and power of the Spirit in a way that would allow them to have something besides trite answers and oversimplified principles to offer our world so badly in need of a new guiding narrative?
The challenge for the poor soul who happens to be crazy enough to try to open the book without a pastor-expert’s help is to navigate through the vast number of confusing or disturbing passages in the Bible. Even a quick glance at the scriptures will allow you to encounter righteous polygamists, the genocide of entire nations, the proscribed killing of thousands upon thousands of animals in order to please God, odd ways to tell if you have a skin disease, methods to determine if an animal is suitable for eating or not, etc., etc. All of this in order to get to a real gem like, “Love your neighbor.”
Within many Christian settings people put their head in the sand about the complex nature of the Bible. They either treat the Bible as though it is a simple book with lists of timeless moral truths (causing me to ask, “have you read the book?”) or a magic book that you can skip around in to find the words you need for today. - Sort of like shaking a Magic Eight Ball, reading the Horoscope, or using an Ouija Board to get your personalized daily oracle. - Sometimes you need an encouraging word, sometimes it’s a tough word of discipline, or sometimes it’s an insight into what you should do about your rebellious kid. But whatever you need, just shake it up like the Magic Eight Ball and see what it says. (Or better yet, just grab Purpose Driven Life off the shelf next to the Bible – someone else already did the hard work, why bother?)
Still others treat the Bible as though it is a doctrinal word puzzle. – “I know what it ought to say, so now I just need to find some phrases that seem to indicate support for my predetermined conclusions.” Using the Bible this way could mean clipping a phrase from anywhere, even if the context means that the passage is saying the exact opposite of what I want the words to say. But it is ok as long as it appears to make the correct doctrinal statement, right? (Why let a little context get in the way of doctrine?)
As much as it may sound like I’m making light of the approaches to scripture above, I have to admit I have spent time in my life using the Bible in each of those ways. It just became difficult to go on doing so while trying to be intellectually honest. Do you know what I mean?
Here is what I have discovered: Although many don’t talk about it, the Bible is a major stumbling block for many Christians… and, perhaps, for good reason. It’s a lot more complicated than well-meaning pastors and evangelists want to admit. What do we do with this book that is filled with crazy unsanitized stories that would certainly give it an NC-17 rating if it were ever to me made into a movie? Many Christians, truth be told, are either afraid or ashamed of the book (or both).
I find it interesting to listen to pastors preach from stories in the Bible that are horrific by any standard of measurement. Say, for example, Jael pounding a tent stake through Sisera’s head (Judges 4:1-24). What I find amazing is how pastors manage to completely ignore the dreadful horror of the story by “spiritualizing” its meaning. Apparently, like the Gnostics of the second century, these pastors have special insight into the true meaning of these stories (which is nowhere found in the Bible itself). Where do they get this special meaning? I’d like to know, and so would many others who go home and try to read the bible on their own without such “spiritualization” being imposed on the text.
Much of the difficulty of the Bible comes from how a person thinks about the Bible, the person’s expectations. I suggest that the problem comes from the assumptions people bring to their reading of the Bible. “This book was written to / for me,” or “this book is meant to explain the way to heaven” become the lenses through which people approach the text (to name a couple common examples). These lenses end up controlling expectations and sheltering people from what they could experience while reading the Bible.
Many Christians are so zealous to protect the Bible’s uniqueness amongst religious texts claiming “truth” that they don’t listen to what the book says about itself. It often seems that people claim expectations for the text of scripture that it never claims for itself. Sometimes people are so eager to make the Bible appear “relevant” for our world today that they pretend like it is a book of analogies, metaphors and fables with pithy little morals at the end of each story. What I find equally amazing is when I discover a group that talks a big game about the Bible’s authority, relevance and precision, but if you look closely, they only read and teach from about one fifth of its contents because so much of it doesn’t fit into their program or agenda so well. It seems like a lot of the rhetoric around the Bible springs from insecurity. - Maybe if we yell louder about the Bible’s inerrancy or its relevance to our world nobody will notice the embarrassing stuff we don’t talk about.
Is it because we are afraid of complexity that we are tempted to make the Bible into something it clearly is not?
What if we could read the book as it actually is? – No manipulating it, no sugarcoating it, no spiritualizing it. What if we could allow ourselves to be horrified by the violence that occurs throughout the Old Testament, bewildered by stories that seem incredibly odd, and intrigued by cultural practices that came and went in the history of the people of God? What if we were able to see that humanity (over the millennia) has morally developed (albeit slowly and incompletely – perhaps with guiding hand of the Spirit) so that most of humanity doesn’t need to be told not to have sex with an animal or with one’s mother. And is it ok to recognize that most humans don’t need to be told not to offer their children to be burned alive to appease an angry, superstitious deity. How would it change our reading if we could recognize that while God (in identity and character) is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow, humanity isn’t? Isn’t it just plain honest (based on reading scripture) to say that God doesn’t necessarily relate to humanity in the exact same way yesterday, today and tomorrow?
Underlying my questions above is the idea that perhaps we could read the Bible without it being all about ourselves. Maybe the form of the Bible is in part purposeful – in order to devastate our self-centered impulses. I have read the Bible through multiple times now and I haven’t found my name and my exact circumstances in there anywhere. This is beginning to convince me that perhaps the Bible isn’t all about me. That means that it probably doesn’t directly answer the questions that are burning on my mind right now like, “should I pick up a second job in order to make it through this economic downturn?” If I go to the Bible with that sort of question, I am either going to manipulate the text and treat it like a Magic Eight Ball or find myself disappointed by its lack of insight into my particular circumstances.
So, if the purpose of the Bible isn’t to give me answers for my problems today, what is it? A number of Biblical scholars (who believe in the unique authority of scripture) suggest that the primary purpose of the Bible in the form that it is in is to tell a story. The story, as it stumbles along over the course of several thousand years, enlightens the reader about God’s intentions for His creation project and humanity’s devastating diversion from those intentions. The story includes God’s means of redeeming, reconciling and restoring His shattered creation project, and the hope for where this whole story of planet earth (along with the rest of the cosmos) will end up. But the Bible tells the story in a unique, complex, and roundabout way. It combines fascinating and sometimes obscure cultural details and all sorts of bits and pieces that I never asked about in its telling of the grand story. It intertwines stories of dark and evil characters with those of fragile but good characters. It includes wisdom collections (Proverbs, Ecclesiastes), songs (Psalms), poetry (John 1), vivid apocalyptic imagery (Revelation), fierce criticism of God (Book of Job), and angry journal entries asking God to do horrible things to the writer’s enemies (Psalm 137).
For many readers the story appears to become much more understandable or relatable when it finally gets to Jesus and the rest of the New Testament (and thus the temptation to ignore the Old Testament). But all of the New Testament is just as wrapped up in historical, cultural, and literary clothes as the Old Testament is (examples of this fill every page of the New Testament). And, to make matters more complicated, Jesus and the New Testament are completely incomprehensible without the rest of the story before it. After all, Jesus is the climax of that story.
One of the early heresies that a few people in the church tried on in the 2nd century A.D. was this idea of trying to strip the Jewishness of the New Testament away. These peoples’ ideas were promptly (and rightly) tossed out by discerning individuals who saw that Jesus’ entire identity and meaning (and the rise of the church) is found in the midst of the story of Israel as told through the pages of Old Testament. Jesus’ teaching, life, death and resurrection all come as part of the story. Outside of the story they fall flat; they make no sense. After all, the authors of the New Testament and the early church considered the Old Testament to be their scriptures. To truly understand the meaning of Jesus and the story of the New Testament church we must seek to read the whole story and understand it in its historical, cultural, literary clothes.
So much of the Bible appears to be information that is not relevant to the immediate details of my life… and it isn’t. I suppose the whole story could have been summarized in a much more concise manner, but it wasn’t. This is where I take issue with well-meaning pastors who try to strip the Bible down to a set of cold naked propositions. If God had wanted to drop a simple and precise book from Heaven about universal human ethics, the way to get to Heaven, the purpose of life, the problem of evil, and how to find the right spouse, He could have done it in a lot simpler and more concise manner than with the book He chose to use. (Which, by the way, did not drop from Heaven). He apparently didn’t want to.
The book we have is providentially the way it is. I, for one, am proud of it. I find it authentic in its complex and often messy portrayal of humanity and God’s relationship with humanity. I find that in diligently reading it as a grand narrative I am magnetically swept up into the story, which with the leading of the Spirit gives me plenty of guidance for how I ought to be living my life. (Sadly, more guidance than I ever seem able to put into practice.) But this whole approach means I have to stop asking the self-centered question, “How does God fit into my life?” In its place I must ask, “How does my life fit into God’s story?” God’s narrative (i.e. the Bible and its ongoing trajectory as seen in the story of the church into our present era) must become my core identity.
Maybe it would do the church a lot of good to stop trying to sanitize and simplify the Bible. Maybe it is time to stop trying to carve out a few “spiritual nuggets” from the Bible and instead challenge and equip people to actually read and study the story with all of its messiness in order to actually understand what the authors of the Bible were really saying. What if we could allow ourselves to be captured by the narrative of what God is up to in our world? Perhaps people would be able to see the implications of what God is about in our world today. Maybe people would be finally free to read the Bible without fear, shame or embarrassment. Perhaps the church would find depth of soul in the midst of a shallow “me-centered” culture. If so, is it possible that Jesus’ followers could experience the presence and power of the Spirit in a way that would allow them to have something besides trite answers and oversimplified principles to offer our world so badly in need of a new guiding narrative?

