Why We Can't "Just Read" the Bible

This post is part of an ongoing series on reading, interpreting, and studying the Bible. Click here for all the posts in this series.

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“Right now, Miss Di.” If I only had a dollar for every time I heard it. It didn’t take me long after moving into the large home bustling with children to realize our understanding of the term “right now” was drastically different. To them it meant something akin to our American phrase “Just give me a minute.” I would hilariously emphasize my words to communicate my desire for them to hurry. “No, now. Now now” it would come out, my pointer finger jabbing in emphasis. 

I didn’t realize how much I’d adopted the phrase until I said it to pacify my little cousin on one of my trips back to the States. He quipped, “You don’t mean ‘right now.’ Why did you say that?” And so the cultural confusion continued.

The issue was more than simply language and phrases. The issue was cultural. I’m American. I like things to be speedy. I judge “timing” by a clock. Central American culture has a different perspective. 

I had to take time to understand. To understand the language. To understand the culture. Then I could interpret correctly what they were saying. It was not complex. It was not beyond my ability to comprehend. But it did require recognizing that I had to pay attention to both the words used and the cultural background behind them.

Why Can’t I “Just Read It”?

Reading the Bible is similar to my experience in Central America. It is an inherently cross-cultural experience and asks us to pay attention as we read it.

The Bible is God’s Word to us, and it is applicable and true to people in all times and places. It reveals to us who God is and the way He has and is working in the world. It tells us the story of Redemption, and it teaches the way we are to live in light of it. 

But because God chose to reveal Himself through the means of human language, embedded in history, the Bible requires careful study to interpret it well. He used dozens of authors, from different languages and continents, over the span of at least 1500 years to tell the story of His work in the world. We read the Bible’s words today in a different language, a different millennium, a different continent, a different culture. 

This does not mean the Bible is only understandable if you’re an expert or if you can read the original biblical languages. It does not mean there is a secret and hidden meaning to Scripture that can only be grasped by the elite and intellectual. 

It does mean we should be aware and careful as we read, interpret, and apply the Bible. We pay attention to the possibility of linguistic and cultural dynamics we might not see on a first read through. We are careful not to assume the Bible was written from a Western, post-Enlightenment perspective. 

Treating the Bible with the care it deserves as God’s Word invites us to go beyond “just reading it.” We are invited to study it. 

First, It Was His Word to Them

We easily forget when we read the Bible that we’re already interpreting it. The translation you choose involves many interpretive decisions already made for you. Reading (or any kind of communication) itself is an interpretive practice, as you derive meanings from groupings of words, illustrations, logical progressions, etc. Then add the cultural understandings of words, images, and values as a lens through which you understand everything...

Interpretation is happening. The key is to set ourselves up for a good interpretation.

The first step in a good interpretation of a Bible passage is this: Start with what God’s word was to the original audience, in the original context. Remember, it was His Word to them first, so we must consider what they would have understood then and there. This isn’t just the first step with tricky passages of the Bible. It’s always the first step.

In technical-speak we call this first step—exploring the Bible in its original intended meaning—exegesis. While the input of “experts” is helpful—and sometimes necessary—there are some basic principles and practices that can help us all to read the Bible better. This is what we’ll be talking about here in our Tools & Resources posts over the next several weeks.

Just a Few Notes Until Next Time…

1. The Bible is fully true and authoritative. We must remember that we—and our favorite Bible teachers—are not. This does not mean the Bible is unknowable and its truth beyond our reach. It does mean we should approach the Bible with humility as we seek to understand.
   

2. We do not worship a book. We worship the Author of the book. Our Trinity is not “Father, Son, and Holy Scripture.” It is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We need the Holy Spirit to open our eyes to the truth. We need Him to make our hearts pliable to obey it. We are transformed not by Bible study but by the Holy Spirit dwelling in us and making us new.

How to Lead an Inductive Bible Study

I remember sitting at the large folding tables covered with papers and writing implements. It was hot, I'm sure, though I don't remember it. I was in the midst of training for my first summer as a camp counselor, not yet fully aware of the joy, exhaustion, and hilarity I had signed myself up for. We were preparing for the Bible studies we would lead with several weeks worth of campers. We did these OIAs (observation-interpretation-application) for hours, punctuated by breaks and meals and team building exercises - and, eventually, sleep. We were learning to mine the depths of Scripture. And I was learning to do inductive Bible study.

What is an Inductive Bible Study?

Inductive Bible Study is a Bible study tool that uses three steps, Observation, Interpretation, and Application, to study a Scripture passage. Special attention is paid to observing the basic facts of the passage, noting and exploring questions you might have, and paying careful attention to what the passage teaches in context. These observation and interpretation points bring you to an application that springs from the passage.

This process can be used for personal Bible study or as a method for small group Bible study. It can also be used, as we did at camp, as the method of background research to construct a more traditional Bible study or Bible lesson.

Why is it helpful?

The inductive Bible study format guards against several potential Bible study ills.

• Keeps the conversation first on Scripture, not just on “what it means to me”

• Prevents peripheral and derailing topics or applications and keeps the application grounded in the passage itself

• Guards against leader-driven small group Bible studies, in which only one person teaches and answers questions

• Invites the group to dive deep into Scripture rather than remain at a cursory level

• Allows the entire group to participate, regardless of knowledge or experience

• Invites questions of things individuals might not understand

• Provides a context to learn from each other and hear unique insights and perspectives

• It uses a Scripture study model that can be used for group and personal Bible study.

How do I do it?

Inductive Bible studies are run through a series of questions. If you’re leading one with a small group, you can choose questions—or add your own—based on what seems relevant to the passage. 

Resist the urge to only use leading questions to drive people to what your point from the study is. If possible, use questions that could have multiple answers or that will invite the other participants to go back to the passage. Open-ended questions become even more important during the Interpretation and Application stages.

Before you lead a group through an inductive Bible study, I recommend going through the process on your own. If there are any more challenging questions that arise that require more research, seek out possible answers to have on hand if that same question comes up in the group.

Observation - What does it say?

Read the passage out loud at least once. Don't get ahead of yourself (or let the group get ahead). Stick with these very basic observation questions. It's really easy to slip into interpretation. Resist this urge.

• What are your initial observations? What stands out at you from a first read through?

• What questions are you left with?

Then move to questions such as…

• What is the situation and atmosphere?

• Who is here? What happened? When? Where?

• What are the relationships between characters?

• What literary form is used? (Narrative, Poetry, Prophecy, etc.)

• Who is the author? Where is he? Who is he writing to?

• What are key words or repeated words and phrases?

• What symbols, comparisons, and imagery is used?

Interpretation - What does it mean?

Read the passage again out loud. Then answer the questions that arose from your Observation time. As much as possible, have the group answer their own questions through looking at the text and comparing to other parts of Scripture. A Bible dictionary could be handy. Only as a last resort, offer your thoughts on more challenging questions you unearthed during your preparations.

Then move to questions such as…

• How does this passage fit in with what came before and what comes after (in the chapter, the book, the entire Bible)?

• What other Scriptures relate?

• What is the main purpose of this passage?

• What central truth is this passage teaching?

• What would the original hearers have understood? What is he saying to them?

Application - How does it apply?

Stay focused on application points that actually arise from your passage. It's always tempting to jump directly to application, but you must first make sure you've completed the Observation and Interpretation steps thoroughly. Your answers and discussion from them should guide the answers to your application questions.

• What is one way this passage applies to my life?

• What will I do differently because of what I’ve learned?

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Have you ever used the inductive Bible study method? What was your experience like?

My True Self?

“I love that I can be my true self at home” was the remark. Upon further prodding an example: “You know, I don’t have to be so concerned about being polite and patient all the time. I can just be myself.” I’ve been stewing over this one for several weeks now.

My family knows intimate parts of who I am—things no one else knows or has walked through with me. They’ve seen me at my best and my worst. They’ve seen me in progress. And none of it has scared them away. In this sense, I can be myself, I can show them myself, because there’s a sense of safety there. They want what’s best for me, and they aren’t put off by the bumps, bruises, and tears that come with that journey. There is a beautiful freedom that comes with this sort of love.

In spite of it, there are times when I am less patient or polite with my family than I would be with a complete stranger. The people I love the most, who have given me the most, who are permanent fixtures in my life are the most likely to be the brunt of my temper, my sharp tongue, my sarcasm, my frustration. This is a reality I will admit. But it is not one I’m proud of. If I love these people so deeply, shouldn’t this phenomenon grieve me?

These were my initial thoughts about her comment, the initial tilting of the head, raising of the eyebrows. But then it went a bit deeper. 

“My true self” she said. “My true self” is that which is impatient and rude. “My true self” is that which is sinful. Or is it?

When we accept Christ, we become a new creation. The old is gone, the new has come (2 Cor. 5:17). We are, in one sense, fully made new, dead to sin, alive in a new realm of Christ-like living. In another sense, we are at the beginning of a life-long journey of becoming like Christ, of finding His presence leave an ever deeper mark on who we are. We are new. We are seeing ourselves be made new. All at the same time.

In this sense, our “true” self is what we’re becoming. Our true self forgives freely because we know how much we’ve been forgiven. It is long-suffering and kind because we know how deeply God’s grace flows. It loves freely, unconditionally, without expecting repayment because we know we can never repay the love of God in Jesus Christ. Our true self is the one that looks like Jesus.

Jesus showed us humanity in its truest form. Communion with God. Unencumbered by sin. Intent on the Father’s pleasure and will. Full of compassion. The perfect fullness of truth and grace, justice and mercy, love and holiness.

Although it is all we know now, our slavishness to sin is abnormal. It gives birth to a false self, one distorted by the deceit of pride and selfishness. It gives us a faulty picture of reality.

Our sinful selves are not our true selves, not the way we are meant to be, and (thank God) not where He is content to let us remain. So we can say, when we see our impatience, our rudeness, our ingratitude, our less-than-love, this is not who I am, and this is not who I am becoming. We can focus our eyes on who God our Father has declared us to be and who He is redeeming us to be, and we can take another tiny step forward toward who we really are. Another step toward holiness. Another step toward mirroring who Christ is. This is our true self.

The Story Behind the Ancient Crockpot

I love a good yard sale. The bargain hunting, the people you meet, the range of junk and treasure you find—it’s an excellent Saturday morning amusement. (And it means I started my Christmas shopping by the end of May.)

We were out one Saturday on a wild goose chase of yard sale signs. The sight of dishes triggered my memory. There was a new, sudden refugee family arrival in only a few days. A flurry of texting later, and we had a list of items we still needed to set up their new apartment as a home.

                                                                                                          r. nial bradshaw on Flickr

We pulled up in front of a small rancher. In my mind’s eye there were awnings and carefully sculpted shrubs but that could be a bit of projection. Two elderly women stood talking in the shade of the lip overhanging the garage door. One was portly, wrapped in a cardigan. The other was petite and skinny. She had a canvas money apron tied to her waist like she was a carnival vendor. Their conversation floated over as we started looking. It was about nurses and medical problems and faith.

The portly woman left, and Scott asked the tiny lady about the fishing lures. She laughed at her ignorance and walked to the door that led into her home and yelled for her husband. The door was open, and the breeze wafted over the distinct smell of nursing homes and sickness. Her husband hobbled out. He had suspenders on over a white T-shirt and a large ball cap, the sort with the mesh—though this could be an image in my memory from a hazy photograph. Thick compression socks braced his calves. 

I paid the woman for the silverware I’d found to add to our preparatory stash, then walked across the road to see the neighbor’s wares. When I returned, the man in the hat had Scott laughing at fishing stories. And the woman came beelining toward me. 

“Your husband tells me you’re collecting things a refugee family. Tell me—what else do you need? What can I give you?”

I smiled appreciatively and tried to shrug off her offer. In spite of my polite protests, she began to make a circuit through the piles of her possessions, holding items up as she came to them. Her flitting movements were a plea: Please let me help you. Please let me give you these artifacts of my life so they can make someone else a home.

I couldn’t refuse her. A few careful yeses and firm nos later (she would have given me everything if I'd let her), I had four paper sacks filled with kitchen items and woven blankets at my feet.

With every addition, I thanked her profusely. With every thank-you, she would repeat, “Oh, honey, it’s not me. It’s from above.” Here, she gestured with both hands to heaven. “Thank you for helping these people. I’m just glad to know these things are going to someone who needs them.” 

When that family walks into their kitchen and sees that massive metal strainer or the 70s-era crockpot still in perfect working order, when they make bread or cake in those pans, when they curl up under the warmth of one of those blankets, they will never know that they came from the hands of a sweet woman in a tiny rancher in our small New Hampshire town. They will never know her generosity or the earnestness of her love in wanting to make them welcome here. But I do. And I thank God for her—even though I don’t know her name.

Grace in Weed Removal

I knelt in the dirt, gripping the weeds low to the ground, pulling firmly until I felt the slip of roots and found one loose in my hands. We’d been at it for nearly two hours. The garden had been sorely neglected, and we had a great deal of catching up to do. I had a routine by this point: hack at the hardened earth with the garden hoe to loosen the clods which anchored our intruders, then bend close and work them out of the soil, toss the green carcases into the rusting handcart, and repeat. Slowly, we were regaining order. Slowly, our vegetables were being given tidy prominence. 

For the first thirty minutes, it was fun. My hands were in the dirt. The air was cool. It was good to be outside in the summer air. Then it gradually became a bit more like work. I was determined to see it finished, but my back was aching and I was leery of blisters on my bare hands.

I was in amongst our friend’s celery stalks, and I was thinking of the garden metaphors of the Bible. I was thinking of how difficult and dirty the weeding and the pruning really is. I was thinking of the pain when things are ripped up by the roots from your heart, no matter how necessary or beneficial. 

And then my mind was slipping away to another garden, years ago. 

I was standing proudly, admiring my work. A large hump of limestone protruded from the middle of the bed, sprawling through the mulch like a sleeping animal bewitched and turned to stone. Creeping phlox stretched its thick floral carpet from one corner. The flowers bloomed in shifts here. First the peonies. Tiny ants would crawl over the unopened blooms, skittering along the tightly wound knots of petals unborn, until they burst open in dark pink clumps. Then came the delicate Shasta daisies and the purple coneflowers, with their rough protruding centers. By mid-summer, the black-eyed Susans took on the color of the sun in a child’s drawing. A holly bush held its ground on the far side, dropping its crisp brown leaves in wait of my perpetually summer-bare feet.

I don’t remember why I’d signed myself up for the project. Maybe I was bored and set my mind on an ambitious project. More likely, I was trying to earn some money for the annual summer trip with the youth group. 

I looked forward to those trips. I remember we had to give our testimony to the church. I remember thinking mine was boring and dreadfully short. I was raised in the church as a part of a Christian family. I’d never left. Somewhere along the way, the faith had become my own, but I hadn’t crossed through a tumultuous season of rebellion or doubt. I had simply grown up into a knowledge of who Christ was for me—and I chose to continue to follow Him. Short. Sweet. Uninteresting.

The flowerbed I was now admiring had been overrun by weeds and shriveling dead blooms a few hours before, and now order had been restored. The weeds pulled and thrown into the overgrow wooded area behind the house, the flowers trimmed and dead-headed for another round of colorful blossoms. 

My dad stood beside me. I was commenting on how nice it looked, how much better it was in contrast to how it had been before. 

“Yes, it looks nice,” he said, “but would it be any less beautiful if it hadn’t gotten overrun in the first place?”

There is grace in weed pulling, in the restoration and transformation. There is also grace in the staying power that keeps weeds from sprouting up and forming a stranglehold. An unseen, unacknowledged grace.