Helping ordinary people learn to study the Bible
Jenny Marcelene shared with her kids some of her own insights from studying Revelation. And in this piece she also shares them with us. Revelation is such an important book to be studying when times are tough. Here are four teachings from the book to help our children in the days to come:
When was the last time you studied the book of Nahum? What about 3 John? Have you read Ezekiel or Revelation carefully this year?
If you haven’t studied any of these four books recently, you’re probably not alone! I searched in vain for data on this question, but years in the church have convinced me that there are some portions of the Bible we rarely read, let alone study.
Let’s think a bit about our selective Bible reading.
What parts of the Bible do Christians most often read, study, and discuss? What do our preachers most often take as their texts?
In my experience, we spend a lot of time in the Gospels, Acts, and (many of) the New Testament epistles. We are fans of Old Testament narratives like Genesis, Exodus, and—to a lesser degree—the books of Joshua through Esther. We dip into Psalms and Proverbs for inspiration and wisdom, and we might read the beginning and ending of Job. The only prophetic books we tend to know are Jonah and the first half of Daniel, because these chapters have strong narrative components.
In general, we like narratives, inspiration, and New Testament instruction. We shy away from the rest. Why is that?
There isn’t a single reason, and answers will vary by person, church, and circumstance. But here are my best guesses.
We skip Leviticus through Deuteronomy because we find them boring. There are too many laws, too many lists, and we find the books irrelevant.
We skip the middle of Job because it is lengthy and circular. We don’t really understand why it’s there. We skip Ecclesiastes because it is depressing and Song of Songs because it makes us uncomfortable. We skip Lamentations because it is so darn sad.
We skip the major prophets (Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel) because they are dense and difficult. We think of these books as long and repetitive. We skip most of the minor prophets because they are obscure and challenging, and probably no one expects us to read them carefully.
We skip 2 John, 3 John, Philemon, and Jude because they are short. What could an epistle of only one chapter teach us?
Finally, we skip Revelation because it is confusing and controversial. We have heard of or seen people use this book incorrectly, and we’re not sure we’re smart enough to understand.
Functionally, we think spending time on these often-skipped books of the Bible is not essential to our Christian lives. We imagine we’re not missing anything crucial in our neglect.
The gospel of Jesus Christ affirms that reading those books of the Bible is not essential to being a Christian. When we come to Jesus, he commands us to repent and believe. No act of obedience or love is necessary to keep us in his family. He will not let us go!
However, Jesus also said that all of the Scriptures point to him (Luke 24:44–48). So, if we want a full picture of who Jesus is, what he has done, what he is doing, and what he will do, we must look to the whole counsel of God.
That is, we should read (and study) the entire Bible.
This argument requires a small caveat. Not every book of the Bible is the best choice for every person or at every time. I would more likely point a new Christian to John than to Jeremiah, and I’d offer different counsel to a recent widow than a missions-bound twenty-something. Wise friends, counselors, and church elders can help us know where to turn in God’s Word.
But much of the church has quietly developed a category of books of the Bible that need not be read or studied. These books rarely even come up in discussion.
While we cannot read and study all of the Bible at once, we should not ignore or neglect any part of it. There are riches on every page, as much in Leviticus as in Luke.
Ryan recently encouraged us to read across the chapter breaks in the book of Nehemiah. Those chapter divisions are not original to the text. Sometimes they helpfully follow the literary divisions, but sometimes they do not.
Here is another example from the New Testament, in 2 Timothy. Reading across the chapter break helps us to avoid speculative (and thereby incorrect) interpretation.
In 2 Tim 2:20, Paul introduces the metaphor of a great house with a variety of vessels: some for honorable use, some for dishonorable. Much could be said about the metaphor, its role in Paul’s argument, and its connection to Numbers 16, which Paul alludes to right before in 2 Tim 2:19. For now, I would like to highlight only that the metaphor involves a contrast between honorable vessels and dishonorable ones. A contrast between those that are useless and those who are ready for “every good work” (2 Tim 2:21).
The next paragraph describes what Timothy ought to cleanse himself from, in order for his conduct to be honorable and useful to his master. And though the chapter ends there, the thought continues right into chapter 3, where useless and dishonorable influencers are described. Paul then returns to the topic of Timothy’s usefulness as a minister (“complete, equipped for every good work” – 2 Tim 3:17).
So the metaphor introduced in 2 Tim 2:20-21 governs this entire section of the letter.
If I were leading a small group or teaching the passage, I might still separate 2 Tim 3:10-17 as a unit. But I would be sure to keep all of 2 Tim 2:20-3:9 together lest we lose the explicit contrast Paul develops.
Please make good use of the chapter divisions in your Bible. Often they are quite useful! But be alert that times of difficulty will come, when those chapter division will hinder your understanding rather than help it. The solution is to observe well and make sure you follow the author’s train of thought. Sensitivity to literary markers and transitions will serve you well.
Tommy Keene exaggerates only slightly: “Everything I need to know about Revelation I learned in the first eight verses.”
Different types of literature work in different ways. So as Bible students, we ought to have some idea of what we’re looking for when we begin to observe a text. And since epistles are logical literature, clearly presenting arguments, with premises and conclusions, we should look for such things. The conclusions are the main ideas of which the author wishes to persuade his audience. They can come in a variety of flavors.
Sometimes, conclusions come in the form of thesis statements that summarize the main argument of an entire letter.
For example, Eph 4:1 summarizes the letter’s entire argument in two parts: “I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to [Part 2] walk in a manner worthy of [Part 1] the calling to which you have been called.”
Another example is Hebrews 1:1-3, which states the letter’s thesis up front: “…God…has spoken to us by his Son…who sat down…”
John does the same thing in his first epistle: “I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, that you may know that you have eternal life” (1 John 5:13).
Alternatively, thesis statements can come at the beginning of a section, to introduce the topic of the next division.
Hebrews does this all through the letter, weaving the topic statement of each new portion into the transitional paragraphs between sections. For example, see Heb 2:17: “Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.” This conclusion to the first section introduce the next section, which explains how Jesus is both a faithful high priest (Heb 3:1-4:14) and a merciful high priest (Heb 4:15-5:10).
Another example is 2 Timothy 2:1-2: “You then, my child, be strengthened by the grace that is in Christ Jesus, and what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men, who will be able to teach others also.” This thesis introduces the section, which expands on the how to entrust the message to faithful men (2 Tim 2:3-7) before also expanding on how to be strengthened by grace (2 Tim 2:8-13).
One more example: 1 Peter 2:11-12 is the thesis for the entire section that goes from 1 Peter 2:11 to 1 Peter 4:11. Everything contained in the thesis statement gets expanded on throughout the section: abstaining from passions (1 Pet 4:1-6), honorable conduct among Gentiles (1 Pet 2:13-3:7), being spoken against (1 Pet 3:8-22), and glorifying God (1 Pet 4:7-11).
Sometimes, the thesis comes at the end of a section, summing up the argument in that part of the letter.
For example, Romans 3:19-20 condenses the argument of Rom 1:18-3:20. 1 Cor 14:39-40 states the argument of that chapter (though that argument was also introduced in 1 Cor 14:1). Philippians 4:1 states the thesis of Paul’s argument that he presented all the way from Phil 1:12 to that point.
Whether you are studying a lengthy or brief amount of text, don’t forget that the authors of epistles generally wanted to persuade their readers to believe or do something. They knew as well as writers do today, that one key to persuasion is to explicitly inform your audience what it is you would like to persuade them of. Therefore—here is my thesis statement at the end—we ought to look for thesis statements in the Bible’s logical literature, especially epistles.
Westminster bookstore just launched a new website, called WTS Kids, designed to help parents, caregivers, churches, and schools find great Christian books for their children. You can browse for storybook Bibles, theological introductions, topics, or church history. You can find recommendations based on age. You can also subscribe to their blog to get regular articles about teaching the Bible to children.
They have done a great job curating excellent resources, and their prices are usually better than Amazon’s.
Westminster links are affiliate links. If you click them, this blog will receive a small commission. Thank you for helping us continue to find and recommend good resources!
I fear I have become too reliant on the chapter breaks in the Bible. I know these are not inspired and that they do not always produce the optimal portions of Scripture to study. But they are so convenient!
Also, sometimes the chapter breaks are helpful markers. I’ve been studying Ezra and Nehemiah in my small group over the past year, and the chapter breaks in Ezra are great. They occur at logical transitions in the text, and we moved a chapter at a time through Ezra without any issues.
The same has not been true in Nehemiah.
There is rarely a single “right” way to divide a book of the Bible into sections for small group study. We might choose to take larger or smaller pieces at a time, and when these divisions resonate with the structure of the book, everything is smooth. When we choose a section that doesn’t match the author’s logical argument, we’re cutting the wood against the grain.
My group studied the first chapter of Nehemiah during one meeting and the second chapter during the next. When I was preparing the third chapter for the following meeting, I realized I’d made a mistake.
Nehemiah 2:1–20 describes how Nehemiah asked the king of Persia for permission to go rebuild Jerusalem. The king granted his request, and this was evidence of God’s work (Neh 2:8).
Nehemiah arrived in Jerusalem and inspected the damaged walls and gates by night. He formed a plan and spoke persuasively to the Israelites in the city.
Then I said to them, “You see the trouble we are in, how Jerusalem lies in ruins with its gates burned. Come, let us build the wall of Jerusalem, that we may no longer suffer derision.” And I told them of the hand of my God that had been upon me for good, and also of the words that the king had spoken to me. And they said, “Let us rise up and build.” So they strengthened their hands for the good work. (Neh 2:17, 18)
Nehemiah 3:1–32 is a list of the successful efforts to rebuild the walls and gates of city. We read of specific people, specific locations, and specific work. It is impressive.
However, at the end of the day, it is undeniably … a list. Lists are challenging to study. It is hard to find the author’s main point in a list.
It became clear to me that our group should have studied chapter 3 with chapter 2. After all, the work in chapter 3 is recorded as evidence to support Nehemiah 2:18 — “And they said, “Let us rise up and build.” So they strengthened their hands for the good work.”
It’s not that there is nothing fruitful to gain from studying Nehemiah 3. But the purpose of chapter 3 is to illustrate the work of God in chapter 2, so putting a dividing line between the two was not the wisest choice. In fact, I suspect the main point of chapter 2 would have landed with more force had we studied the two sections together.
This was another reminder to me of the importance of each book’s structure in the Bible. In preparing for my small group, I want to refer back to my book overview and an outline of the book when selecting the next portion of Scripture to study. This will help align my group’s focus with the logical units in which the original author of the book wrote.
Last week, I cautioned care when we debate doctrines that cannot be found as the main points of particular passages of Scripture. To be clear, I am not saying that such doctrines are false; they very well may be true and worth believing! My point is simply that we ought to spend most of our time debating the main points, lest we lose sight of those main points in favor of issues, however true they may be, of lesser importance (Matt 23:1-36, especially Matt 23:23-24). In other words, the focus of our debates ought to be the focus of the Scriptures themselves.
Perhaps you might agree in theory, but what would this look like in practice? This principle can feel quite threatening when it gets personal.
For example, is there any passage whose main point is the timing of a rapture? Is there any passage whose main point is to spell out a specific millennial view?
While the book of Galatians and the latter half of Romans 3 clearly teach the doctrine of justification by faith alone as a main point, the particular mechanism for how that justification takes place is not given the same level of attention. For example, is the primary mechanism for justification the righteousness of Christ being credited to believers (imputation), or is it the attachment of believers to Christ through union with him (incorporation)? Perhaps there are other options as well, but such finer points occupy much theological debate.
What about the various denominational positions on baptism or the Lord’s Supper? Church membership? Styles of worship? Church government?
Again, I am not saying that such things don’t matter. Nor that we can’t or shouldn’t hold positions on them (and discuss or debate said positions). All I am saying is: Does the gravity and emphasis of such debates correspond to the gravity and emphasis of such matters in the Scriptures themselves?
To highlight the problem: If you can argue for predestination from Ephesians 1, or you can present a case regarding gender roles from Ephesians 5, but you cannot articulate the main idea of the letter of Ephesians (God uniting all things together in Christ) or explain how chapters 1 and 5 advance that argument—you may be spending too much time on matters of lesser importance.
Systematic theology has much importance. But if the majority of your theological reflection or debate involves systematic doctrines with proof texts, perhaps some shifting of attention is in order.
A crucial presupposition we must make when studying the Bible is that, while it was written for believers in all ages (1 Cor 10:11), it was not written directly to us. We are reading someone else’s mail.
That means that we must be aware of and alert for idioms. Those turns of phrase that have a unique meaning in a particular culture but would make no sense when translated to another language. For example, if I describe my child’s theater performance as having “knocked it out of the park,” people in another time and place might presume something got broken or that the play was performed in an outdoor venue.
With the Bible, this issue works in both directions. Ancient authors used idioms, for which word studies will be no help. (Imagine looking up “knocked” and “park” up in a dictionary.) And at the same time, we cannot read modern day idioms back into the text, even if the words are the same.
For example, Alan Shlemon explains the fact that when Jesus told Lazarus to “Come out” (John 11:43), he was not inviting him to publicly identify as gay. This may be self-evident to some, but such basic principles bear repeating. We must seek to understand the Bible the way the original audience would have understood it. Only then can we draw legitimate applications in our day.
Shlemon’s piece skillfully draws out this principle with respect to some of the ways people read the text today.
I’ve written before that the truths of the Bible that are most worth fighting for are the main points. This does not mean that we can’t or shouldn’t fight for secondary or implied points. It means only that we ought to reserve greatest vehemence—and the greatest market share of air space—to the main points.
The next time you enter a theological disagreement or debate, I dare you to consider: Can I identify a single passage (not merely a verse) of Scripture that has as its main point the thing I’m arguing for? Please note: I am not asking if you can proof text your perspective. I am asking whether a living and breathing author of Scripture (as they will be once again in the resurrection) would concur that the conclusion you wish to fight for was, in fact, a main point of a particular passage in one of his books.
If the answer is “no,” I am not saying you shouldn’t fight for it. I am only asking, are you fighting for that conclusion without conceding the fight for the actual main points of Scripture? If you are not sure what this might look like in actual dialogue in the 21st century, have no fear. I expect to take up this matter further in the coming weeks. And you might want to consider my argument for why this matters.
