Best Resources for Bible Study

When people find out I’ve been to seminary, I get one of three reactions. Some people assume that a seminary degree means I suddenly have all of the answers about the Bible and faith. As much as this sentiment may flatter my pride, it is far from the truth. This is not true of me and, I would argue, is not true of even the best of biblical scholars.

Others shrug their shoulders at this information, as if asking “so what?” They are skeptical of scholarship and question what a seminary education could offer that they can’t find in their own Bible reading. They doubt that understanding more about the culture or language that gave birth to the Bible—and to our Savior—could offer any further insight into what the Bible teaches us.

I find both of these reactions to be problematic, but we can save that discussion for another time. To be brief, as we think about studying theology or the Bible, we must chart a way between these two extremes. We must learn to read and study for ourselves—prayerfully, thoughtfully, and habitually reading the whole of the Bible, not merely listening to whomever we have deemed our approved expert. You do not need to go to seminary to learn to study the Bible well for yourself. But, as we are always reading the Bible in translation and across cultures, we benefit from additional resources that help us understand things like word plays we may miss, cultural asides and assumptions that would have been understood by the Bible’s first readers (or, rather, hearers), or people and places foreign to us.

This is why I appreciate the third reaction I receive. These people don’t assume I have all the answers, but they do assume I may have something to bring to the table here and there based on my additional study. They know their own life experience and personal study are important as they seek to understand and apply God’s Word—but they are open to additional insight that may add to, clarify, or enhance it.

As is the case with most training and schooling, I left seminary not with all the answers but equipped with better resources to know where to look for answers. Today I want to share with you some of my favorite resources and tools for studying the Bible. They will help us walk in this balance between learning from the Bible itself—and receiving help from those who have been doing it much longer and more in-depth than we have. I personally find them to be well-grounded and balanced when it comes to most theological issues, and I believe them to be fairly accessible and helpful regardless of your level of biblical and theological study.

Pen & Paper

I start here because I can’t imagine doing any sort of study without pen and paper by my side. Write down your questions, the things that stand out to you, the connections you find between different passages. Keep track of the ways you sense God speaking to you in the Scriptures or of what you’ve learned new. In the moment, it’ll be a helpful way to keep track of your thoughts, and in the future it will offer a reminder of the things you once knew but forgot and of how God has been at work in your study of His Word.

Study Bible

A good study Bible is a great foundation for Bible study. It should provide basic information on each book of the Bible (historical context, major themes, an outline, etc.) as well as footnotes throughout with tidbits about translation, culture, related passages, and more. I would recommend choosing a study Bible that is compiled by a panel of scholars and pastors, not one by merely one person.

Another helpful feature of a study Bible (though some standard Bibles also have this) is a cross reference list. You’ll see this running in parallel as you read the Bible. It’s usually a smaller-text column with Bible references. (The cross reference list in my study Bible is placed in the crease of the center binding of each page.) This list is an excellent way to find other passages of the Bible that relate to the one you’re studying. Seeing how the Bible refers to itself and is in conversation with itself will give you a fuller understanding as you study.

Zondervan Illustrated Bible Dictionary

This hefty book contains maps, color photos, and vivid descriptions of people, places, and cultural practices during biblical times. A Bible dictionary is an important basic tool for personal study, and there are other Bible dictionaries available that you may want to explore. (I know buying this one new may be a little investment.) But I have the Zondervan Illustrated Bible Dictionary for my own study, and I’ve found it to be a wonderful resource.

Hard Sayings of the Bible

Have you ever read a passage in the Bible that leaves you scratching your head? The logic turns you around, perhaps? Or you hear differing interpretations and don’t know what to think? Or perhaps it’s a hard-to-grasp passage about God’s wrath or justice or knowledge? Hard Sayings of the Bible is a great resource to turn to. The authors offer thoughtful yet easy to read explanations for these “hard sayings,” putting them into biblical, historical, and pastoral context. This is one I come back to again and again when I hit challenging passages.

How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth

How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth will help you pay attention to biblical genres. How do we read, study, and interpret historical books as opposed to poetic ones? What should we be aware of when we read epistles, like Paul’s letters in the New Testament? Are the Gospels biographies in the sense we read now? The authors walk through each literary genre in the Bible and give specific examples of how paying attention to genre should guide our interpretation of biblical texts. And they do it in a way that’s easy to understand, even if you don’t consider yourself to be a scholar of literature or of the Bible.

A follow-up book, How to Read the Bible Book by Book, continues this approach, but through brief entries for each book of the Bible, which include some simple guidelines and suggestions for how to read, study, and interpret it well.

CASKET EMPTY Timeline and Study Guide

The CASKET EMPTY resources will help you put each biblical book in the context of the whole story of the Bible. Not sure how the prophets compare to stories about Abraham? Not sure how the New Testament letters fit into a historic timeline? How do the various parts of the Bible fit together? CASKET EMPTY answers these questions and more with its colorful and beautifully designed timelines for the Old and New Testaments and the accompanying study guides. This resource adds the depth of biblical context to your study by keeping you grounded within the grand story of the Bible.

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These are some of my top-shelf resources for Bible study. Do you have any you would add to the list?

When Stress has Roots in My Heart

The weather here is finally crisp enough to hint at winter, and the mornings grow more frequent when I open my windows to see a glittering haze of frost on the yard. I pause as I walk past the vents in our house, eager for the warmth on my toes. By the time evening comes, I’m ready for a warm blanket, a fire, and a cup of steaming tea between my hands.

At least in my part of the world, as the weather grows colder, we begin to think about the holidays. Our family has already started the coordinating of plans, and as I am accosted by sales and advertisements accompanied by jingling bells, I’m feeling the pressure to begin our own quests for thoughtful gifts for loved ones. The season from now until the end of the year is a marathon of preparations, feasts, and family activities as the holidays follow each other in close succession. It’s delightful. But it can also be stressful.

It’s such a shame, really, that a season that should be filled with joy and warmth can be tainted by stress and busyness. It’s a shame that it’s all too easy to lose sight of the invitation to give thanks, to remember the coming of Christ to our world, to reflect on the past year. So as our toes are just beginning to dip into this season, I’ve been thinking about what within my heart, mind, and schedule can be altered to reduce that stress and focus on the right things.

In this timely season, I’ve been reading Richella Parham’s new book Mythical Me: Finding Freedom from Constant Comparison. One phrase has especially stuck with me as I’ve thought about the holiday season (and hospitality as a whole). The words struck a nerve as I read them and are now copied on a notecard and taped in my kitchen. They summarize a lesson I’ve been in the process of learning and relearning for years: You were made to bless, not to impress.

You see, some of the holiday craze is related to overloaded schedules and overcommitment, but some of it has to do with my heart. What if all of my actions were motivated by a desire to “bless and not impress”? What if I can shake off the motivation of comparing myself? Or the nagging thought of other people doing that comparison for me?

I clean my house, yes, and make it a warm and welcoming place, but not because of a concern of what people will think but rather as a means to bless them. I take time to thoughtfully select and purchase gifts, yes, as a means of blessing and (hopefully) delight, but I let go of the fears of projected judgments of what they’ll think of me, the gift-giver. I make food—my jobs during the holidays are cinnamon rolls (for Christmas morning) and apple pies (as much as possible)—but instead of worrying about whether it’s award-winning, I’m focused on the fruits of my oven as a means of sharing with those I love. Do you see the difference?

I know that not all of you are like this (at least I hope not), but also I know that so many of us can fall into the comparison trap. We spend so much time worrying about what other people think of us, worried if we’ll measure up. This anxiety is fueled by an unrealistic projection of what “perfection” might be (and an assumption that everyone else is holding us to that standard and a fear that if they see we fall short they’ll somehow love or value us less). In my experience, this adds fuel to my stress, not because it puts more on my plate (though sometimes it does) but because it adds mental and emotional pressure to the things already on my plate. It’s a vicious cycle. And it’s rooted in far too much navel-gazing.

So, as we enter this season of the year, a season in which there are so many opportunities to be a blessing—through giving, through feeding, through hosting family and friends—let this be the attitude of all of our hearts: You were made to bless, not to impress. And may we all find freedom in this truth.

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I’d recommend Richella’s book, Mythical Me, to any of you who struggle with comparison. I found it to be encouraging—and she offers some practical steps to take to break free from it. You can find it wherever books are sold.

Thanking God for the Fleas

There’s a famous episode in Corrie ten Boom’s book The Hiding Place that has been on my mind this week as I’ve been thinking about thankfulness.

Corrie and her sister Betsie have just been transferred to the Nazi concentration camp Ravensbrück. They find themselves in horrific living conditions, trying to sleep in overcrowded bunks lined with rotting, flea-infested straw.

Betsie prods Corrie to reread their Scripture passage from the morning. It was 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18: “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

“‘That’s it, Corrie! That’s His answer. “Give thanks in all circumstances!” That’s what we can do. We can start right now to thank God for every single thing about this new barracks!’ I stared at her; then around me at the dark, foul-aired room.

“‘Such as?’ I said.

“‘Such as being assigned here together.’

“I bit my lip. ‘Oh yes, Lord Jesus!’

“‘Such as what you’re holding in your hands.’ I looked down at the Bible.

“‘Yes! Thank You, dear Lord, that there was no inspection when we entered here! Thank You for all these women, here in this room, who will meet You in these pages.’

“‘Yes,’ said Betsie, ‘Thank You for the very crowding here. Since we’re packed so close, that many more will hear!’

She looked at me expectantly. ‘Corrie!’ she prodded.

“‘Oh, all right. Thank You for the jammed, crammed, stuffed, packed suffocating crowds.’

“‘Thank You,’ Betsie went on serenely, ‘for the fleas and for–’

“The fleas! This was too much. ‘Betsie, there’s no way even God can make me grateful for a flea.’

“‘Give thanks in all circumstances,’ she quoted. It doesn’t say, ‘in pleasant circumstances.’ Fleas are part of this place where God has put us.

“And so we stood between tiers of bunks and gave thanks for fleas. But this time I was sure Betsie was wrong.”

I have to admit, I’m with Corrie on this one. Giving thanks for fleas? I can thank God for being present in spite of the fleas, but thanks for the fleas themselves - you’ve got to be crazy.

Perhaps I recoil because I’ve seen this spiritual approach abused. It swoops in when others are broken open by life’s tragedies and cheerily insists “Give thanks.” Give thanks for this cancer. Give thanks that your husband died. Give thanks that your heart has shattered, your life is in ruins, your dreams have been ground to dust.

And yet I have Betsie ten Boom’s sweet voice in my head: “Thank you for the fleas.”

I do not have the audacity to tell others to do this. If I’m honest, I don’t have the audacity to do this myself most of the time.

I can thank God for his presence and faithfulness in the midst of my suffering. I can thank him for his character, which reaches above my own circumstances. I can thank him for the strength to endure, for the gracious gift of faith. I can thank him that his nature is to be at work even in the darkest moments, that he is the One who redeems and restores.

But thanking him for the source of that pain makes me pause. Can I thank him for that too? Thank him as an audacious act of faith that even this pain can be become something meaningful in his hands?

I’m not there yet. But when I see again and again God’s ability to redeem pain in ways that defy logic and comprehension, I wonder if I should be. I see it in my life, in the lives of those I love. I see it in a story like Corrie and Betsie ten Boom, two sisters in Christ who suffered far more than I ever have.

As Corrie and Betsie settled into their live at Ravensbrück, they held worship services in the barracks. They were shocked to find no interference from the guards. It was the one place they were not under oppressive supervision. So many women packed in around where they stood under a dim light bulb that they had to add a second “service” after the evening roll call. They marveled over the freedom they had to read the Bible and pray in this way in such a place.

I’ll let Corrie finish the story:

“One evening I got back to the barracks late from a wood-gathering foray outside the walls. A light snow lay on the ground and it was hard to find the sticks and twigs with which a small stove was kept going in each room. Betsie was waiting for me, as always, so that we could wait through the food line together. Her eyes were twinkling.

“‘You’re looking extraordinarily pleased with yourself,’ I told her.

“‘You know, we’ve never understood why we had so much freedom in the big room,’ she said. ‘Well–I’ve found out.’

“That afternoon, she said, there’d been confusion in her knitting group about sock sizes and they’d asked the supervisor to come and settle it.

“But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t step through the door and neither would the guards. And you know why?”

“Betsie could not keep the triumph from her voice: ‘Because of the fleas! That’s what she said, “That place is crawling with fleas!’”

“My mind rushed back to our first hour in this place. I remembered Betsie’s bowed head, remembered her thanks to God for creatures I could see no use for.”

I’m still learning this one. I’m still learning what it means to “give thanks in all circumstances,” what it means to give thanks in pain, what it means to give thanks, perhaps, even for my pain. But I’m pulled towards thanksgiving by a God who is always faithful, who does not cease to work in the valley of the shadow, by a God whose own pain burst open into our greatest hope.

How Books Can Change Your Life

This post originally appeared at the Mudroom, as "The Books that Helps Us Story Well."

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“You see these spots?” my dad would ask, pointing at my nose. “They aren’t freckles. They’re print that’s rubbed off from having your nose stuck in a book.”

He wasn’t far from the truth. I read voraciously as a child. I took a book along with me everywhere—just in case. Just in case I got bored, just in case I wanted to slip away and retreat back into its pages.

“You need to socialize,” my parents would say, forcing me to put down my latest book and talk to people. But I was deeply engrossed in another world, and it was hard to pull myself away. The characters became my friends, and their stories fueled my imagination. Worlds and times otherwise inaccessible to me became my mind’s playground.

As I got older, the books became thicker, the stories more complex. I learned to be less of a social recluse, but I sometimes read late into the night, “just one more chapter” stretching into five or ten.

Now, my eyes scan the names of titles and authors emblazoned on the spines stacked and standing on my shelves. I remember the worlds they beckoned me into, the lessons they taught.

The golden-haired scrawny girl I was learned something along the way, in between the creases and typescript: I did not want to use books to retreat from my own story. Vicarious escape and distraction at the expense of the plot and characters in my own life was a false promise. My own story was an adventure and worth fully inhabiting.

I held onto the delight of getting lost in a story—but learned not to stay there indefinitely. I learned to come back to my own story with more vigor and insight. I returned from my imaginative escapades with pictures of love and courage, sorrow and redemption. Instead of escape, I found the stories shaping me.

I remember the time I first came to Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov. I was a sophomore in my undergrad English program, and we were studying a segment of Russian literature. I wish I remembered more of the class, the professor, my classmates. Instead what I remember is a story.

One of the Karamazov brothers, Ivan, tells the story of the Grand Inquisitor. It has haunted me from the first time I read it. In it, Jesus returns during the time of the Inquisition. He is arrested by order of the Grand Inquisitor who visits him in secret.  The Inquisitor tells Jesus to leave, for the church doesn’t need him anymore. He claims Jesus got things wrong; clearly he didn’t know what the people wanted. They didn’t want freedom—freedom is too much for them. They preferred ignorance; they preferred being told what to do. The Church had fixed Jesus’ mistake, though, and Jesus must leave before he spoils her work.

Because of this tale, I think often of what we would tell Christ if he returned. Would we repeat the words of the Grand Inquisitor? Would we claim Jesus got things wrong and we need to correct him? Would we say the freedom he offers is too much? Do we say this implicitly through our actions?

This story shaped me. It shaped my thinking and my vision, influencing the way I see the world, my faith, the church.  It offers a warning to the tendency I see in my own heart to turn freedom and grace into rule and law. It gives me the language to grasp and explain my world.

All the best stories, I think, do this. They put a slice of our humanity on the page, reflecting our human condition in the broken beauty of the world. They are powerful not because they are factual but because they are true to the human experience.  We see characters not so different from us at heart, and say, “Ah yes, me too.”

For good or ill, the stories I absorb affect the story I’m living. The best stories invite me in, only to release me back to the real-life story I find myself in. The power of these books isn’t in overt morals or in heartwarming endings. The power is in the story—for the story itself shapes us.

These are the stories I’ll keep reading, and the ones my grandchildren will find someday on my dusty bookshelves. These will be the books that have changed my life.