Helping ordinary people learn to study the Bible
Gentle Reformation has a stimulating post with “Ten Short Truths About the Shortest Psalm.” The post gives much of the historical and biblical context for this psalm to help us understand it better. Though Psalm 117 has only 2 verses, much of the Bible’s teaching is contained within.
in the last few years, I have developed great joy in listening to the Bible. I listen to portions of it every day. Sometimes I like to listen to it while I follow along with the words. And sometimes I enjoy hearing it on its own. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out I actually spend more time listening to it than actually reading it.
This enjoyment has grown out of the fact that my smart phone makes it easier than ever before to have an audio Bible with me at all times. I subscribe to a podcast that follows a daily lectionary of readings. I have two complete audio Bibles (different translations) in my music app. And I eagerly backed Dwell, a Bible app designed from the ground up, just for listening.
With that background in mind, I’d like to tell you about something that has knocked my socks off: NIV Live: A Bible Experience. Calling NIV Live an audio Bible would be a little like calling the Superbowl a football game; while technically accurate, the label doesn’t quite capture the spectacle of the thing. Which is why, I think, the creators don’t call NIV Live an audio Bible; they call it A Bible Experience.
NIV Live presents an audio recording of the complete text of the NIV Bible. And everything about it attempts to draw you in to the experience.
I listened to the entire Bible in just over a month earlier this year. I couldn’t believe how fun it was to have the Bible not only read but also dramatized, without abridgment or interpretive summarization. If you think it would be too distracting to have the Bible dramatized in such a way, NIV Live might not be for you. But if you’re willing to try something a little different from what you’re used to, NIV Live provides an experience unlike any other.
One technical note: I prefer listening to my Bibles (or any spoken-word audio) at faster-than-normal speed. While NIV Live has a beautiful and fancy app, I can find no way to change the playback speed within the app. It is possible, but annoying to download the complete audio after purchasing it, because you have to download 66 files, one book at a time. But once you do, you can sync it with an audiobook app, which should enable you to change the playback speed.
If we can’t focus on anything, we won’t be able to focus when it’s time to read the Bible. Along those lines, Scott Slayton has a few suggestions well worth considering:
Slayton fleshes out these principles in his blog post. They sound like simple principles, but in his blog post, Slayton presents some challenging applications that are worth considering.
Check it out!
Perhaps you’ve heard of how Moses covered his shining face with a veil so people couldn’t see the blazing glory emanating from it. And perhaps you’ve also heard of the veil that now lies over people’s hearts that prevents them from being able to see Jesus in the Old Testament Scripture. These well-intentioned lessons might feel personal and impactful, but they have little to do with what the text of Scripture says.
Context matters. If we learn to read the Bible for what it is—and not as a collection of independently assembled inspirational stories—we’ll discover that some of our most familiar passages don’t actually mean what we’ve always assumed.
Yu-cheng Hsiao (2009), Creative Commons
To set us straight with Exodus 34, we don’t need the context; we just need to observe more carefully:
As he came down from the mountain, Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God. Aaron and all the people of Israel saw Moses, and behold, the skin of his face shone, and they were afraid to come near him. But Moses called to them, and Aaron and all the leaders of the congregation returned to him, and Moses talked with them. Afterward all the people of Israel came near, and he commanded them all that the Lord had spoken with him in Mount Sinai. And when Moses had finished speaking with them, he put a veil over his face.
Whenever Moses went in before the Lord to speak with him, he would remove the veil, until he came out. And when he came out and told the people of Israel what he was commanded, the people of Israel would see the face of Moses, that the skin of Moses’ face was shining. And Moses would put the veil over his face again, until he went in to speak with him. (Ex 34:29-35)
Perhaps my experience is atypical, but I have often heard people talk about how Moses used the veil to protect people from seeing the glory radiating from his face. But this is not what Exodus says. It says that he allowed them to see the glory when he spoke the words of Yahweh to them. And then he put the veil over his face until the next time he got a recharge from speaking with the Lord within the tent.
But some will argue that 2 Cor 3 says that Moses used the veil to hide the glory. And that that’s where we get the idea that the veil is a metaphor for people who can’t see Jesus in the Old Testament. A few verses seem to imply these things:
Now if the ministry of death, carved in letters on stone, came with such glory that the Israelites could not gaze at Moses’ face because of its glory… (2 Cor 3:7)
But their minds were hardened. For to this day, when they read the old covenant, that same veil remains unlifted, because only through Christ is it taken away. Yes, to this day whenever Moses is read a veil lies over their hearts. But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. (2 Cor 3:14-16)
Here is where we need help from the context.
First, notice the next clause in verse 7: “the Israelites could not gaze at Moses’ face because of its glory, which was being brought to an end.” Now this could mean that they could not gaze at the glory, and the glory was coming to an end—two separate thoughts. But look at where he goes next.
Second, notice the nature of the old/new contrasts. Old = condemnation; new = righteousness (2 Cor 3:9). Old = glory that became no glory; new = surpassing glory (2 Cor 3:10). Old = glory of what was being brought to an end; new = glory for what is permanent (2 Cor 3:11). These contrasts are getting at the superior glory of the new covenant. But that glory is superior primarily because it has no end. It is permanent. It will not fade.
Third, notice Paul’s clarification of what the Israelites saw. His point is not that they saw only a veil and not the glorious face of Moses. His point is that they “might not gaze at the outcome of what was being brought to an end” (2 Cor 3:13). In other words, Moses’ veil was never about hiding the glory from the people. It was all about hiding the fact that the glory was fading.
And by contrast, what we have in the new covenant is something permanent. Something unsurpassed. Something that will never fade, but will instead transform its subjects “from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor 3:18).
I covered this in my Bible study of Exodus 34:29-35, but the train of thought is worth repeating here.
Paul uses this episode from Exodus to make a profound point about the glory of the New Covenant in Christ (2 Cor 3:1-4:18). If we assume that Moses’ veil was covering the glory itself (when it was actually concealing the fact that the glory was fading), we miss Paul’s point. Paul’s argument:
The veil conceals the fact that the glory of the old covenant is, and always has been, fading. Only by gazing on the unfading—no, the ever-increasing—glory of Jesus Christ through his Spirit, can the veil be lifted and people finally see the old covenant for what it is (fading).
Context matters.
For more examples of why context matters, click here.
Writing for the blog of Southern Seminary, Joseph C. Harrod describes one common approach to Bible reading plans: reading one chapter at a time from different parts of the Bible. One famous reading plan does one chapter a day from Genesis, one from Ezra, one from Matthew, and one from Acts—then moving on from there each day through the Bible.
I have followed such a reading plan from a lectionary, for many years. I use this in addition to my annual read-through, as well as ongoing voluminous reading of whatever book I’m studying at the time (currently Isaiah). One benefit of the “various chapters” reading plan is that it keeps the whole of Scripture in the forefront.
But I’ve also seen a drawback to such reading plans: They train you to think only in chapter-long chunks, where you can easily miss the context of whole books. And Harrod identifies another drawback I hadn’t thought of: Such plans train you to think it takes a very long time to read through books. So, for example, Genesis takes almost 2 months (50 days) to get through, when, in fact, if you read only Genesis, you could finish it in 3.5 hours.
Harrod shows how even the longest books of the Bible can be read in about the same amount of time we’d take to watch an epic film or a sporting event. It’s worth devouring these books in one or two sittings. Harrod has some helpful insights in this first article on the problem with most Bible reading plans, and in a second article, he shows how you can read half the Bible in 30 minutes!
Perhaps you’ve heard Christian leaders refer to themselves as the “chief of sinners.” Perhaps you’ve even said this about yourself. You might know the phrase comes from 1 Tim 1:15 KJV. Modern translations typically use “foremost” (1 Tim 1:15 ESV, 1 Tim 1:15 NASB) or “worst” (1 Tim 1:15 NIV, 1 Tim 1:15 CSB) instead of “chief.” I have no concern with the exact translation, but I often wonder if those using the phrase have taken heed of its context.
Context matters. If we learn to read the Bible for what it is—and not as a collection of independently assembled proverbial sayings—we’ll discover that some of our most familiar passages say something slightly different from what we’ve always assumed.
When people self-apply the label “chief of sinners,” they are not doing gross violence to this verse. Paul introduces the statement with, “The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance” (1 Tim 1:15). This suggests that the phrase was a common saying that people had spoken or heard, and it suggests that Paul was endorsing the truth of it.
Now it’s possible that the “trustworthy saying” was just the first part (“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners”), and that Paul appended his own comment (“of whom I am the foremost”) to it. Or the entire statement could be the “trustworthy saying.” We’re not sure, because ancient Greek manuscripts didn’t have quotation marks to signal which part Paul was quoting, and which part was his own reflection.
But we can still confidently say that when Christians use the “chief of sinners/foremost sinner” language, they are honoring Paul’s wishes that this statement is “deserving of full acceptance.” This could be an appropriate view for children of God to take of themselves, as they become increasingly aware of the depth of their indwelling sin, and as long as it’s not merely false humility.
But let’s also notice that Paul is making a rhetorical point.
There is a problem in Ephesus with false teachers, teaching “different doctrine” (1 Tim 1:3), speculating on mysteries in the Torah (1 Tim 1:4), and failing to understand the assertions they make so confidently about the law (1 Tim 1:7). They have missed the point of the law: love issuing from a pure heart, a good conscience, and a sincere faith (1 Tim 1:5).
The law, you see, is a very good thing when you use it lawfully. It’s not for the good guys but the bad guys. It addresses whatever is contrary to sound doctrine, and it does so in perfect harmony with the gospel of the glory of the blessed God (1 Tim 1:8-11).
Case in point: Paul’s own testimony. He can think of no example more severe. He thought he was a good guy in God’s world, but in truth he was a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent (1 Tim 1:12-13a). The law judged him as such, but the grace of our Lord overflowed for him in Christ Jesus (1 Tim 1:13b-14).
Therefore, the saying is trustworthy…Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I [Paul] am the foremost.
But Paul received mercy for one primary reason: so Jesus Christ could display his perfect patience in the chief of sinners. Why would he do this? To make Paul an example to those who were to believe in Jesus for eternal life (1 Tim 1:16). This King of the ages, the only God, deserves all honor and glory forever and ever (1 Tim 1:17).
Paul never says his readers should think of themselves as the foremost sinners. He clearly says that he himself is the foremost of sinners (“in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example” – 1 Tim 1:16).
The point is that, in context, Paul is saying he occupies a unique place in redemptive history. He’s not using “chief of sinners” language to model self-effacing humility. He’s using it because he is truly hard-pressed to find any worse sinner than he was. Of course it’s a terrible thing to be a tyrannical oppressor and attacker of innocent people. But it’s even more terrible to do so in God’s name, believing yourself to be doing out of obedience to him.
And if King Jesus can rescue a guy like that, applying the law to his sin, and demonstrating perfect patience through the faith and love—he can rescue anybody. Even you. Even me.
By this charge, Timothy, and Christian leaders today, may wage the good warfare (1 Tim 1:18).
Context matters.
Mike Leake has some important thoughts about how and when to reconsider the way we use our proof texts. As a young believer, Leake often used Phil 1:6 (“he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion”) to support the doctrine of eternal security. While he hasn’t rejected that doctrine, he has reconsidered his use of Phil 1:6 to support it.
Why? Simply because the context of Philippians 1 strongly suggests this verse is not speaking to that topic.
And why ought we to be willing to do this: to back down from using some of our favorite verses to support our favorite teaching?
First, it matters because truth matters. We cannot be loose with the truth. If we teach a right doctrine but do it the wrong way with the wrong text we are training ourselves and our people that truth is fluid and that the end justifies the means. That will not only have an impact on the way we do theology, it’ll even have an impact on the way we live our lives.
Second, it builds trust. If people know I believe a certain doctrine but see that I’m willing to concede a particular point for the sake of the truth, then it ought to build trust for the places where I’m not willing to concede a point.
The point I’ve been making for weeks now, that context matters, is not about looking superior to other people, being argumentative, or splitting hairs. This is about hearing God’s voice and not confusing it with our own. This is a matter not only of what the Scriptures say, but also of how we know what the Scriptures say.
Leake’s post gives a great example of how to think (and re-think) through these things with a particular text. Check it out!
I don’t watch many videos online. I almost always skip them when people link to them. But when blogger Mark Ward says, “This video is fantastic,” I pay attention. Mark shares my love for linguistics and for careful, contextual Bible study, so I respect his recommendations on such things.
So I now share with you Anne Curzan’s TED talk entitled, “What Makes a Word ‘Real’?” And I echo Mark’s evaluation. This video is fantastic. Watching it may be your best-invested 17 minutes all week. I believe you’ll find the video to be quite impactful, and I wish I had some way to incentivize your watching of it.
Curzan explains how language changes over time, and she peels back the curtain on the editing of dictionaries. I appreciate her comment that the dictionary is probably the only book we’re trained never to think critically about. But we should. Below the video, I’ll trace some implications for Bible study.
What does Curzan’s presentation tell us about Bible study?
Words are beautiful things, as long as we notice how they’re used and don’t expect them to carry loads they simply can’t bear. Consider this video your invite to a fruitful understanding of basic linguistics. And please don’t defriend me over it.
At Stand to Reason, Alan Shlemon explains why it matters so much to consider the context of a Bible verse. After giving an example, where a Christian uses Matthew 18:20 to encourage their small group that Jesus is with them, Shlemon draws the following conclusion:
This might seem benign, but it’s dangerous. In this case, the Christian has concluded that the verse tells him Jesus is with them. You might think, What’s the harm in believing that? In this case, the belief is not incorrect—Jesus is with them—but that verse doesn’t support that belief. The believer has ignored the Holy Spirit’s inspired context and then created his own context, thus changing the meaning of Jesus’ teaching. Now Matthew 18:20 isn’t about church discipline but rather about believing Jesus is with you. That’s not Bible reading. That’s not allowing the Holy Spirit to transform you. That’s not listening to God but listening to yourself and baptizing your faulty interpretation with the authority of God’s Word. If a Christian wants a verse that supports the fact that Jesus is present with him, he can always turn to Matthew 28:20.
So we can arrive at true teaching in the wrong way. But that’s not far from using the same methods of Bible reading to reach entirely false teaching. Let’s not ignore the wishes of Holy Spirit, who inspired these sacred writings.
Shlemon is right. Context matters. Let’s continue retraining ourselves and our people to read the Bible for what it is: not a collection of memory verses, but a collection of books.
Perhaps you’ve been told to rejoice in the Lord. And again I will say, rejoice! And maybe you know you shouldn’t be anxious about anything, but should let your requests be made known to God. And you know that the peace of God, which surpasses understanding, will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus. And finally, you know that you should think about whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, and about any excellence or anything worthy of praise.
I’m willing to wager you’ve heard each of these statements, and that each of them is meaningful to you on its own. But could there be anything more to these inspirational statements than that they just happen to exist side-by-side near the end of Paul’s letter to the Philippians?
Context matters. If we learn to read the Bible for what it is—and not as a collection of independently assembled proverbial sayings—we’ll discover that some of our most familiar passages don’t actually mean what we’ve always assumed.
I’m about to propose a way of reading Philippians 4 that I have never heard anywhere else. I’ve never heard a sermon like this. I’ve never seen it in a commentary. I have yet to experience people outside my circles who put these ideas into practice in quite this way.
So perhaps I’m truly on to something, and we all need to remove our blinders on this passage. Or perhaps I’m being foolhardy.
While I believe OIA Bible study is the best method we can use to read the Scriptures, I also firmly believe that outrageously innovative Bible interpretation is not something to aim for. If nobody’s ever seen what I see, I should proceed with great caution. That doesn’t mean I’m wrong (any more than my innovation proves I’m right). But it means I need to tread softly and ensure I’m firmly grounded in studious observation and interpretation of the text, and not in my preconceived notions.
If I fail to do that, please feel free to call it out. And if you can point me to anyone else who has explained Phil 4 in this way, I would be delighted to hear of it.
Paul nears the end of his letter to the Philippians. He’s worked through the glorious truths of when and how to build unity, and when not to build unity. He’s painted a compelling picture of the humility and exaltation of Christ, and of how our Christ compels us to follow him in humiliation so we can share in his exaltation.
But at the end, Paul hits on some highly practical matters.
First, there is an explosive conflict between two prominent women in the church (Phil 4:2). It’s so big that Paul’s gotten wind of it and he recruits a friend, his “true companion” to help resolve it (Phil 4:3).
Then we get a set of seemingly random but beautifully memorable memory verses (Phil 4:4-9).
Then Paul moves on to his closing thanksgiving for their financial support of his ministry (Phil 4:10-20).
Finally, he concludes his letter in his usual way (Phil 4:21-23).
So what are we to make of the instructions in Phil 4:4-9?
Normally, people read these verses as a series of scattershot principles to keep in mind about the Christian life. And this could be the case. Paul does this very thing in other epistles (Rom 16:16-20, 1 Cor 16:1-18, etc.). And other letter writers appear to do a similar thing (Hebrews 13, portions of James).
Also, one foundation of this approach is the assumption that “peace” in Phil 4:7 and Phil 4:9 is a psychological state. The “peace of God” which guards your heart and mind is something similar to contentment or security in one’s faith. This certainly fits with where Paul goes in Phil 4:10-20. And the word “peace” demonstrably has this meaning in other letters of Paul’s (Rom 14:17, Rom 15:13, possibly 1 Cor 1:3, 2 Cor 1:2, Gal 6:16, etc.).
And frankly, each verse in Phil 4:4-9 stands very well on its own. Each one makes perfect sense as a discrete instruction, listed in a series of reminders.
But what if that conflict between Euodia and Syntyche was so explosive that nobody knew what to do about it? I’m sure Paul was not the first person to try to help them. Neither of them are accused of selfish self-interest in preaching the gospel (Phil 1:15). Neither of them is named an evildoer, a mutilator of the flesh (Phil 3:2), an enemy of the cross of Christ (Phil 3:18), or one who ought to be looked out for, avoided, or destroyed by God.
No, they are “fellow workers.” Their names are in the book of life. They have labored side by side with Paul in the ministry of the gospel. They’ve been a part of the team. Perhaps they’ve even been leaders of teams themselves. They just have so completely misunderstood and miscommunicated with one another that they can no longer agree in the Lord (Phil 4:2-3).
Perhaps you’ve seen conflict this explosive. So strong and confusing that nobody knows what to do. There is no clear right side or wrong side, and yet the church is still being ripped apart. Both sides have a true perspective, but the perspectives just keep missing each other. And everybody suffers as a result.
Martin Pettitt (2008), Creative Commons
Now imagine that you are Paul’s “true companion,” whom he asks to help resolve this thing. How would you feel about that? Perhaps you’d be glad he didn’t name you so you could slink under the pew and pretend to be home sick that day! What would you do?
We can have hope that these things will work because Paul has modeled these very principles all throughout the letter (Phil 4:9). Just go back to his description of his opponents in chapter 1. How kind and gracious he is, refusing to attack or label them as hostiles! He is willing to focus on their godly motives, even while they’re causing him tremendous pain through their rivalry. At least “Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice” (Phil 1:18). Such is the attitude of one who has been brought under the reign of the God of peace (Phil 4:9).
Perhaps these verses are independently composed proverbial sayings. Perhaps.
But should it surprise us that we have such a hard time resolving conflicts between Christians if, perhaps, we have failed to recognize when the Lord provides for us a manual for peace?
Context matters.
For further explanation of this contextual flow of thought in Phil 4:2-9, see this post I wrote for the Gospel Coalition.
