Helping ordinary people learn to study the Bible
Bible Study Magazine has interviewed quite a few Bible teachers over the years, and this post collects some of the most pointed pieces of advice they’ve accumulated. I especially appreciate numbers 7 and 8, regarding doing our study together in communities and families, but all of them are worth considering.
Check it out!
I love Mike Leake’s reflection on what people really want when they ask for a deeper Bible study. Perhaps you’ve experienced the dynamic, where a folks express a holy dissatisfaction with superficial Bible study. They ask for more. You labor to deliver it to them. And then…
One of two things seems to happen. What often happens is that nobody shows up for our super deep Bible study. Or they show up and they get bored and they drop out. And so we conclude that they didn’t actually want deeper Bible study. Or, secondly, people do show up, they devour the Bible study, they really learn their Bibles, they get deeply educated but something is still missing. Sometimes it seems as if knowledge isn’t translating into lifestyle. But more often than not, what is happening is that these folks who are devouring the word studies are still asking for something deeper.
This is because when people say they want deeper Bible study they do not mean they want to go deeper into the Word but what they are really desiring (and what I believe the Spirit of God is prompting) is for the Word to go deeper into them. This is what they mean when they say that but we’ve often heard this request the wrong way.
Leake then shows how Hebrews 4:12 expects exactly this sort of “deeper” Bible study. His post is well worth a few minutes of your time.
Christians pray for friends and loved ones who are ill. We ask for protection when we are traveling. We thank God for the food he provides, and we teach our children to pray before bed.
But many Christians take a more cavalier approach to prayer when it comes to the Bible. And our prayerlessness is telling.
Our actions reveal our hearts, and a resistance to (or forgetfulness about) praying before studying God’s word exposes at least three false beliefs about the Bible.
In much of the global west, we have an abundance of access to the Bible—multiple translations, cheap physical copies, and free digital versions. As a result, many of us regard the Bible like any other paperback lying around the house.
Instead of a supernatural encounter with the God of the universe, we treat reading the Bible as ho-hum and ordinary. Bible reading becomes one of many daily tasks, like making our bed or drying the dishes.
If we consistently take up the Bible without prayer, we believe it is nothing special.
The essential truths of the Scriptures are plain, but we often treat the Bible as a grade school grammar book. We give it ten minutes of our attention and try to harvest a lesson for the day.
If this book really is God’s word, and if we really have an invitation to the depths of God’s work and his desires for his people, then we cannot understand it on our own. Our minds are too finite, our hearts too fallen. We need God’s Spirit to teach us (John 14:26).
When we neglect prayer before we study the Bible, we believe God’s word—and maybe God himself—is easy, obvious, and elementary.
We who are Christians have already been changed through God’s word. To paraphrase Paul in Galatians, how could we think we would grow in some other way (Gal 3:1–3)?
We treat the Bible lightly—or don’t pick it up at all—and we wonder why we continue in the same selfish patterns year after year. We shrug at the long, Bible-lite plateau in our Christian growth and think, “Huh, that’s weird.”
God’s word is at work within believers (1 Thess 2:13). But casual, erratic encounters with the Bible—instead of regular, strengthening spiritual workouts—are like turning an exercise bike into a clothes hanger. We’re neglecting a powerful resource.
If we don’t pray when we open God’s word, we don’t believe God can use it to change us.
Because God is a loving father, he doesn’t withhold good things from us, even when we screw up. Occasionally forgetting to pray before reading the Bible is no reason for despair.
But if we consistently come to Scripture without talking to God, we are in dangerous territory. It may be pride or unbelief that is driving our silence.
God is generous and kind. He loves to forgive us and turn us around. We can—we must—bring even our prayerlessness to him.
Tommy Keene has another terrific post on the Bible’s original languages. This time he’s aiming to persuade you that you almost never need to refer to the original Hebrew or Greek in order to make a point. In the process, he refers to a Greek phrase; but he didn’t have to. And he shows you why he didn’t have to.
Near the end, he gives a series of steps to teach you how to argue your case from the context instead of from an obscure reference to original languages. His advice here is priceless.
My favorite lines in the article come when Keene paints the picture of a person who knows Hebrew/Greek making an argument with someone who doesn’t. The only real reason the Hebrew/Greek person would reference the Hebrew/Greek is to play a trump card that can’t be questioned. This fundamentally bases the argument on the authority of the person who knows Hebrew/Greek and not that of the text itself. By choosing to leave the Hebrew/Greek out of the argument, you are doing a more to actually make disciples. Thus he concludes:
You are not only telling them what the text means, you are showing them how to arrive at that conclusion themselves. You are making yourself redundant. Go ahead. That’s the way Jesus wanted it anyway.
I highly commend Keene’s post to you. The only thing I might add is that there is one place I have found it particularly helpful and important to reference the original languages, and that is when there is a pun or repetition that the translation has glossed over. Of course, it’s not always necessary to do this, but if observing the repetition bears interpretive weight, that is part of the context required to understand the text. And that context might not be apparent in English. (Incidentally, this is why Robert Alter has a rule for translators along the lines of “Thou shalt not employ a variety of English words when the Hebrew repeats the same word.”)
Last week I observed a few things and asked a few questions about whether the parable of the ten minas (Luke 19:11-27) might have a different point than the parable of the talents (Matt 25:14-30). I’ve already discussed how Matthew’s parable fits into the context of the author’s larger argument. This week, I’ll walk through Luke’s train of thought to show how different his point is from Matthew’s.
I’ve already written on the main point of Luke’s gospel as a whole and on how to navigate its middle chapters (Luke 9:51-19:27). To save space here, I won’t repeat what I wrote there, but will assume you have caught up on that background.
The first thing I’ll point out is that the parable of the ten minas is the very last thing in Luke’s travel narrative. The very next episode has Jesus going up into Jerusalem on the back of a colt. So this parable concludes not only the fourth sub-section, which focuses on the timing of the kingdom—when will these things regarding the kingdom take place? It also concludes the entire travelogue. This parable is the capstone and climax of Luke’s meandering description of life in Jesus’ new kingdom.
In this fourth division of the travel narrative, the presenting question is “When will the kingdom of God come?” (Luke 17:20). And Jesus clearly responded that it “is in the midst of you” (Luke 17:21). I understand that the translation of that last phrase is hotly debated, but regardless of the variety of options, all suggest that the kingdom is here and now. It is tangible and present. Jesus goes on to suggest that, if you can’t see it now, you will not be able to see it in the future either (Luke 17:22). Though there are signs and suggestions for then (Luke 17:23-24), make absolutely sure you don’t miss the significance of what is taking place now (Luke 17:25).
So Jesus tells them how to prepare for it (Luke 18:1-8). He executes the admission and dismissal of its citizens (Luke 18:9-17). He paints a picture of the current behaviors of those who look ahead to eternal life (Luke 18:18-30).
So in short, Jesus acknowledges that there is surely something yet to come. But in this section of Luke, he resists the impulse to direct people’s gaze to the horizon. He’s redrawing their attention to the here and now.
Then in Luke 18:31, Jesus claims, on the way to Jerusalem, that “everything that is written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished.” This includes being delivered to the Gentiles, mocked, treated shamefully, spit upon, flogged, killed, and resurrected. The disciples simply can’t see it, however (Luke 18:34).
But a blind man can see it. Though his eyes cannot yet see, the eyes of his heart can see the Son of David (heir to the throne) passing by right in front of him (Luke 18:35-43). And astonishingly, Jericho’s chief tax collector wants to see it (Luke 19:3).
The sight of Jesus changes Zacchaeus forever. One greeting, a meal at his home, and a modicum of reflection was all he needed to turn his life around (Luke 19:8). This demonstration of repentance (compare with Luke 3:12-13) provokes Jesus to make a shocking declaration: “Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:9-10).
Jesus spoke all about feasting with Abraham in the kingdom (Luke 13:28-30). Those who cannot recognize the master of the house of Israel will likewise go unrecognized by him (Luke 13:24-27). And here he is, in flesh and blood. He grants sight to the blind and calls Zacchaeus by name.
Here now is the “salvation” he’s been talking about through the entire book. That “salvation” is the fruit of the kingdom, which is currently present among them. The Son of Man seeks the lost, just like a shepherd with a lost sheep, a woman with a lost coin, and a father with a lost son (Luke 15:1-32). Now that salvation has come today on the unlikeliest of candidates. That fact is what spurs the people’s anticipation that the kingdom of God will appear when Jesus gets to Jerusalem (Luke 19:11).
The air is electric, and energy is at an all-time high. They wonder if this is it, if this is what they’ve been waiting for. If salvation is really present, right in front of them, embodied as a rabbi from Nazareth who has an awful lot to say about the way things ought to be.
And let’s not forget what the prophets had to say about this moment in history. Jesus said the prophets would be fulfilled as he came to Jerusalem (Luke 18:31).
“Behold, I send my messenger, and he will prepare the way before me. And the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple; and the messenger of the covenant in whom you delight, behold, he is coming, says the Lord of hosts. But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears? For he is like a refiner’s fire and like fullers’ soap…
“Then I will draw near to you for judgment. I will be a swift witness against the sorcerers, against the adulterers, against those who swear falsely, against those who oppress the hired worker in his wages, the widow and the fatherless, against those who thrust aside the sojourner, and do not fear me, says the Lord of hosts.”
Malachi 3:1-5
Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, your king is coming to you;
righteous and having salvation is he,
humble and mounted on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey…“My anger is hot against the shepherds,
and I will punish the leaders;
for the Lord of hosts cares for his flock, the house of Judah,
and will make them like his majestic steed in battle.“I will strengthen the house of Judah,
Zechariah 9:9-10:12
and I will save the house of Joseph.
I will bring them back because I have compassion on them,
and they shall be as though I had not rejected them,
for I am the Lord their God and I will answer them.
So when Luke brings the travel narrative to an end by having Jesus tell a parable about a God, the divine King, returning to inspect his people and temple to bring judgment on the shepherds of Israel—the words are loaded with centuries of anticipation. Who can stand before him when he appears?
It is no coincidence that the first thing Jesus does in Jerusalem is inspect the temple (Luke 19:45-46).
Luke has spared no expense to tell Theophilus that Jesus sat in judgment over his contemporary generation of Jewish leadership. He pronounces judgment on them time and again. This judgment is something in the future, yet to come. But it will not be long. It will take place within the current generation’s lifetime (Luke 11:49-51; 12:42-48; 13:3, 5, 9, 28, 34-35).
Subsequent to the parable of the minas, Jesus will continue presenting himself in the spirit and power of the prophets, proclaiming condemnation on the corrupt shepherds of Israel (Luke 19:41-44; 21:32). Like Jeremiah, he weeps over the fate of his generation. Like Isaiah, he describes political and social upheaval by means of apocalyptic language and cosmic metaphors.
So where does this data lead? I believe we have good reason to read the parable of the talents primarily as a description of the judgment that will take place at Jesus’ second coming (“That day”: Matt 24:36-25:46). The parable of the talents seems to direct our attention to “that day,” when humanity will be sorted for either eternal punishment or eternal life (Matt 25:46).
But the parable of the ten minas hits much closer. In context, it appears that Jesus speaks primarily of his first coming and what is about to happen to and through him at Jerusalem. The reckoning has come for the Jewish nation and its leaders. Those who have been serving faithfully, and who recognize their master, will be rewarded with cities (Luke 19:17-18). Those who have not, and who do not, will either have their deposit taken from them (Luke 19:24) or face the executioner’s sword (Luke 19:27).
For those reading this who are immigrants to the covenants of promise (Gentiles) and not natural-born citizens (Jews): Do not become proud. For if God was willing to wipe out a generation to make room for the Gentiles to enter, will he not do the same thing with another generation who presumes upon his kindness and drifts from loyalty to him (Rom 11:17-24)? Though the parable speaks primarily about something that’s already occurred (Jesus’ first coming), it still has serious and sobering ramifications for those who would serve the King in any generation.
Guy Waters has a fine piece showing us how to trace a theological theme through a book (or pair of related books) of Scripture. He draws out the implications of Paul’s doctrine of the trinity from 1&2 Thessalonians.
What did a body of new believers need to hear? They needed to hear the gospel. It was through the gospel that the church in Thessalonica had come to faith. It would be through the gospel that the church in Thessalonica would grow in faith. And the gospel, according to Paul, is a message centered upon the triune God – one God in three persons, Father, Son, and Spirit.
These two letters afford rich reflection upon the triune God. We may trace four lines of teaching about the Trinity from these two letters. And then we may draw some implications from these letters about the place of theology in Scripture and in the Christian life.
Reading the Bible in its proper context is so important that I (apparently) cannot stop writing about it. I’ve explained the dangers of ignoring context, and I’ve shown that we can still share Scripture responsibly.
I know I am arguing for a more difficult path. Verse-of-the-day calendars are easier and more inspiring. Studying the Bible takes work.
I hear other objections too. For example, it’s possible to conclude something true from the Bible despite missing a verse’s context. What’s the big deal? Only a real stick-in-the-mud would get worked up about this, right?
In our Context Matters series, we have tackled passages where the popular interpretation can be found in the Bible, just not (as we argue) from that passage.
Many people take the “where two or three are gathered in my name” verse as a promise by Jesus to be present with a small group of his followers when they seek him. In fact, God promises in many places never to leave his children, but this passage is about church leadership and the removal of a member.
So, it is possible to arrive at a legitimate destination through less-than-careful means. But this should make us praise God for his grace, not continue on in recklessness.
When we share portions of the Bible with others, we are not only sharing our conclusions. We are sharing our method. We are teaching people how to use God’s holy word.
So, when we pluck out a verse and tack it to our email signatures, we’re modeling this behavior. We’re encouraging onlookers to use the Bible in this à la carte way. If we inspire people to walk blindfolded, some of them just might do so on a cliff. And quickly.
You might not see the effects first-hand. But using Bible verses out of context can have damnable consequences.
Jehovah’s Witnesses differ from Christians in important doctrinal matters, some of which are the direct result of ignoring Scriptural context.
This article is not intended to be a complete refutation of Jehovah’s Witness theology, so we will look at just two examples.
Jehovah’s Witnesses agree that Jesus is the Son of God but do not believe that he is God Almighty. Here is one of their arguments.
Jesus’ early followers did not view him as being equal to Almighty God. For example, the apostle Paul wrote that after Jesus was resurrected, God “exalted him [Jesus] to a superior position.” Obviously, Paul did not believe that Jesus was Almighty God. Otherwise, how could God exalt Jesus to a superior position?
As with many other doctrines, this interpretation depends in part on the translation Jehovah’s Witnesses use. A more common way to translate the relevant phrase in Philippians 2:9 is “God has highly exalted him.” But even if we put this quibble aside, we reach quite a different conclusion when we consider this passage in context.
Paul writes that Jesus “was in the form of God” but “did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped” (Phil 2:6). Instead, he “emptied himself,” “being born in the likeness of men” (Phil 2:7). So, Jesus refused to grasp his God-nature tightly, and as a humble servant he took on human nature.
Paul is not making an argument against the divine nature of Jesus in Philippians 2. He is showing that the sacrificial love he urges was demonstrated by God himself in the incarnation and life of Jesus.
In addition to theological matters, Jehovah’s Witnesses also play fast and loose with Scripture when it comes to ethical considerations. Consider the following argument they make for why they do not go to war.
Jesus’ disciples obey his command to be “no part of the world” by remaining strictly neutral in political matters. (John 17:16) They do not protest against military actions or interfere with those who choose to serve in the armed forces.
A quick look at the verse in question reveals that Jesus is giving a description, not a command. His disciples are “not of the world, just as [he is] not of the world” (John 17:16).
Further, Jesus is not praying that his disciples would stay out of political matters. In the previous breath, Jesus asks his Father, “I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one” (John 17:15). Just two verses later, Jesus prays, “As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world” (John 17:18). Jesus wants his disciples in the world, but protected.
It is not my goal to argue anything specific about politics. I simply observe that, while making their argument, Jehovah’s Witnesses yank this phrase entirely out of its context.
It might seem bold or encouraging to share a Bible verse out of context with your followers or friends on social media.
Please remember: There’s a better way! You are not only sharing God’s word, you’re showing others how to handle it. And handling the Bible out of context is a dangerous business, potentially leading to heresy and hell itself.
Can there be any doubt that context matters?
Have you heard the parable of the ten minas (Luke 19:11-27)? It’s sort of the creepy, leering uncle to the parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30). I say that because it seems sensible enough for the most part, but it has those quirky parts that would never make it into the children’s Bibles.
But as for these enemies of mine, who did not want me to reign over them, bring them here and slaughter them before me.
Luke 19:27
For the bulk of my Bible-reading life, I’ve assumed the parable of the minas was just a repetition of the parable of the talents that somehow lost a few things in transmission. It has ten servants instead of three. Each is given one coin, instead of differing amounts. And, of course, those citizens don’t want the guy to be their king, so he has them executed.
But for a number of years now, I’ve argued that we ought to understand such parallel passages on their own, within their own context. Perhaps these two parables really have different things to say to different audiences. So in my current study of Luke, I gave this one a fresh shot.
And now I arrive at my second assumption with respect to this parable. Because of my first assumption (that it’s basically the same as the parable of the talents), I’ve always assumed that it speaks of Jesus’ second coming and the future judgment of humanity.
A nobleman went into a far country to receive for himself a kingdom and then return.
Luke 19:12
It seems so self-evident:
As they heard these things, he proceeded to tell a parable, because he was near to Jerusalem, and because they supposed that the kingdom of God was to appear immediately.
Luke 19:11
They supposed the kingdom of God was to appear immediately, and they were mistaken. So he tells them this parable to inform them of the great delay that must take place before his return. Easy peasy.
But hold on. Luke doesn’t say that they were mistaken. He doesn’t say, either, that Jesus aims to correct them. What if he told the parable not to correct their mistake, but to affirm the fact that they’ve finally started listening to him (see, for example, Luke 17:21)? Maybe it’s not the timing of the kingdom that they’re wrong about, but the nature of it. That, in other words, though it will appear immediately, it will not bring good news for most of them. The time has arrived for a reckoning.
From the first phrase of Luke 19:11, we must ask: “What things did they hear, which prompted their enthusiasm for the kingdom’s appearance when he got to Jerusalem?” And we get much help in the immediate proximity. Check out Luke 19:9-10.
And we also ought to ask: When did Jesus, and the original audience to this parable, expect this severe reckoning to take place? What exactly is he describing by telling a story about a great king returning home to check on his appointed servants? We get much help in the succeeding vicinity. Check out Luke 19:41-44.
At this point in Luke’s gospel, Jesus has—yet again!—just reminded his disciples why he is going up to Jerusalem (and Luke has spent 10 chapters describing that single-minded journey):
See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished.
Luke 18:31
So what did the prophets have to say about this arrival in Jerusalem? And how does the parable of the ten minas connect with what those prophets had to say? Help is available, especially in Malachi 3:1-5 and Zechariah 9:9-10:12.
I’ll leave it there for now, so you can examine the text yourself and consider these questions. Hopefully I’ll get to write more on it next week, after you’ve had time to ponder the matter.
Tommy Keene has another great reflection on his blog, this time about which English Bible is the best version to use. I concur with his conclusion:
There’s a very simple answer to that question: whatever translation your church uses.
In most cases, your default translation should be the one that the majority of people that you are talking to on a weekly basis are regularly using themselves. That doesn’t mean that it’s the only translation you should consult (we will talk about how to do that in a subsequent post), nor does it mean that you need to wave a “Best Translation Ever” flag every time you quote it, but it does mean that any exegetical argumentation you make should usually be grounded in that translation. It means this is the translation you are working from, and it means that if you cannot prove your point from this translation on its own merits then you might want to consider whether or not it is a point worth making.
He goes on to explain that there are many very good English translations. They’ve all got strengths, and they’ve all got flaws. And by “translations,” he’s referring to bona fide translations and not paraphrases.
Check out his reasoning for this conclusion.
The book of Judges contains some of our best-known Bible stories, such as Gideon and his water-lapping soldiers, and Samson and his hair. The book of Judges also contains some rarely-referenced weirdness, such as Shamgar’s oxgoad and Abimelech’s dictatorship. In addition, the book of Judges contains some horrific tales, typically considered inappropriate for polite company, such as Eglon’s feces spilling out, and a Levite’s despicable treatment of his concubine.
This book is heroic, confusing, and quite dark, sometimes all at the same time. How are we to understand its message?
The book divides into sections according to the lives of its chief protagonists, the “judges,” or military and political leaders of the tribes of Israel. Some judges get complete stories assigned to them, while others get only a summary statement or two. These biographies yield the following list (I’ve indented the minor judges who appear only in summary statements):
Most of these stories end with either the death of the leader, or the land having rest from oppression, or both. So they are presented as a set of life-stories that fit together in a literary sequence.
That leaves us with a quite a bit of material at the beginning and end of the book that doesn’t fit within the sequence of life-cycles of the judges. But a closer look shows that this material is still carefully arranged.
The book opens “after the death of Joshua” (Jdg 1:1), but then later describes what happens “when Joshua dismissed the people” (Jdg 2:6). So these scenes must be out of chronological order.
The first scene describes the results of each tribe’s conquest of the promised land, getting progressively less effective, and culminating in the condemnation of the angel of the Lord (Jdg 1:1-2:5). The second scene steps back and offers perspective on why those conquests tended to fail: The people stopped listening to Yahweh and chose instead to pursue false gods (Jdg 2:6-3:6). This second scene lays out a template of sorts, which each judge’s narrative will then follow: the people turn aside, are handed over to an oppressor, cry out to God, have a judge raised up, conquer the oppressor, find rest, and turn again to false gods.
So the opening two scenes describe what happened in the generation following Joshua’s death (scene 1), and why (scene 2).
Jumping to the end of the book, we also find two distinct units. In the first unit (Jdg 17-18), a man sets up a personal shrine with a private priest (who happens to be the grandson of Moses!), which is then robbed by the tribe that executed its conquest most poorly (Dan). In the second unit (Jdg 19-21), a Levite cannot be trusted with his own quasi-bride, civil war erupts, and everything falls to pieces.
So the closing two scenes grant us graphic portraits of why things have gotten so terrible (unit 1), and just what happens when things get so terrible (unit 2)—the same issues as the opening scenes, but in reverse order. By book’s end, we ought to feel utterly repulsed by the behavior and beliefs of the people of God. How did things ever get so out of hand, when God was so faithful to deliver them time and again?
The book’s final lines present a chilling assessment that ought to rattle any clear-thinking society:
In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.
Judges 21:25
This statement appears as a refrain multiple times in the closing scenes (Jdg 17:6, 18:1, 19:1, 21:25). It parallels the opening statement of Joshua’s death, leaving the people leaderless (Jdg 1:1). So the book’s conclusion is driven by this piercing assessment.
So if the book’s introduction and conclusion both unpack what went wrong and why it went wrong, what does the cycle of judges in the book’s body suggest about the narrator’s agenda?
In one sense, we can see the sequence of judges as a linear sequence getting progressively worse.
In this linear sequence, the judges represent the people of Israel not only politically but spiritually. The life of the judge is a living parable of the spiritual state of the community, descending into chaotic, horrific self-centeredness.
But there is another sense in which the stories of the judges are presented. In addition to the linear descent into madness, we also see a concentric (or chiastic) sequence.
How are the judges placed in parallel?
Gideon stands at the book’s center, as the reluctant leader who accomplishes tremendous deeds for Yahweh. Yet even his greatest victory comes tinged with a hint of self-aggrandizement (“A sword for Yahweh and for Gideon!” – Jdg 7:18). His story culminates in a critical proposition from the men of Israel: “Rule over us, you and your son and your grandson also” (Jdg 8:22). While he refuses this offer of a dynasty (Jdg 8:23), he still has the chutzpah to name one of his sons “my father is king” (Jdg 8:31). His story ends with more than a hint of something sinister afoot.
The book’s key question is: Who will lead these people? And its key conclusion is: They need a king. But clearly, not just any king. Someone like Abimelech will never do.
First and foremost, they need Yahweh as their king. Everything goes haywire when then they rebel against him. But perhaps Yahweh will see fit to grant them a human king in his image, after his likeness, according to his own heart. Judges only raises the question, but you have to keep reading into Ruth and 1 & 2 Samuel for an answer.
This post is part of a series of interpretive overviews of the books of the Bible.
