Familiarity | Knowable Word

Look and Look and Look

November 8, 2017 By Peter Krol

When I first learned how to study the Bible, I heard the story of Professor Agassiz, telling his student to look, look, and look again at a fish. The story tells of the wonder and amazement that comes from simply learning how to observe. And it shows how difficult it is to overcome our assumption of familiarity which prevents us from observing as we ought.

It’s a classic illustration, and John Piper tells it beautifully in this short video from Desiring God.

https://vimeo.com/208846470

Let this spur you to keep looking at the Scripture. You might think you already know it, but you’ll be amazed at how much more there is to see of the beauty and glory of Christ. Check it out!

HT: Andy Cimbala

Bruised Reeds and our Inclination to Presume

April 22, 2015 By Peter Krol

Sometimes we don’t observe well because we’re too familiar with a passage. Then we presume the meaning of a text and stifle ongoing curiosity. In the end, things stay the same, and inertia prevents vibrant application.

Sure, we can see the problem in others. Jehovah’s Witnesses miss the point of John 1:1. Theological liberals miss the mark on John 14:6. Many presume upon Romans 1:26-27 and mistakenly consider it irrelevant to the contemporary same-sex marriage movement.

But can we see the problem in ourselves? We, who claim to love God’s knowable word and who work to study it and submit to it? The deadening progression from familiarity to presumption to inertia is subtle enough that we usually can’t see it, even when we’re aware of the danger.

That’s why I decided to tackle one of evangelicalism’s most hallowed mottos: “Jesus didn’t break a bruised reed.”

The metaphor seems self-evident. “Bruised reeds are people who are broken and needy, people worn out and tired and exhausted with life’s circumstances, people neglected by the world, but accepted by Jesus.” We casually toss the phrase out like a trump-suit ace impervious to counter-play. No need to explain; just assert: “Jesus never broke a bruised reed.”

But have you considered why the reed doesn’t get broken? Look at the text carefully, and you might find you’ve become a little too familiar with this biblical phrase and perhaps have missed a profound point. In fact, hastily assuming the “what” may have obscured your insight into the “why.”

My point is not that we shouldn’t have compassion on needy people (of course we should). My point is that this biblical phrase means something other than what we’ve come to presume.

Check out the full article at Desiring God.

Don’t Get Too Familiar with the Bible

December 31, 2014 By Peter Krol

I was delighted to partner with Desiring God through a guest post entitled “Don’t Get Too Familiar with the Bible.” The article warns against the wrong kind of Bible familiarity that leads us to assume things that aren’t in the text and miss things that are. The article elaborates and illustrates what I’ve written on this blog about why familiarity is the greatest enemy of observation.

Where is Jesus in the story of David and Abigail? Name the woman who ate the forbidden fruit. How old was Jesus when he died? Remember the time when Jesus walked through a wall?

Check it out!

What Frozen Taught Me about Bible Study

February 7, 2014 By Peter Krol

I’ve seen this movie a million times. Not this exact film, of course, but many like it. O Disney, how you love your clichés; let me count the ways:

Cutting edge, beautiful animation? Check.
Pleasantly catchy tunes? Check.
Adventurous young princess pushing boundaries? Check.
Handsome young feller rolling over for his sweet crush? Check.
Skin-deep, feelings-driven love at first sight? Check.
Confusing this love with “true love”? Check.
Promises of gooey sentimentality? Check.
Look inside, find yourself, break free, follow your heart, “Let It Go”? Check. Check. Check. Check. Check.

The movie’s action turns on the declaration that “only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart.” Upon hearing such drivel, I begin preparing an agenda for discussion. I think, My daughter—mesmerized by her first theatrical experience—must learn to see through these lies. I’m glad we came, for it will be a good exercise in discernment.

However, something shifted. I need to see the movie again to remember exactly when and how it shifted, but the shift was clear. The seeds of drivel sown throughout the movie never bore fruit. In fact, those seeds were trampled on, dug up, and burned in the fire (or should I say frostbitten and discarded?).

Everything got turned on its head and flipped around, such that infatuation proved unsatisfying, self-indulgence had to cease, and true love required personal sacrifice.

Now here is something to celebrate.

What did this movie teach me about Bible study?

I could write about the Bible’s message of true love—the sacrifice of the only innocent one, who thaws our frozen hearts and restores us into God’s royal family—but I don’t want to give away any detailed plot spoilers from the movie. (I recommend this excellent reflection on Frozen by my friend Sarah Monticue.)

I could write about the bankruptcy of self-actualization, but it’s way too easy a target.

Instead, I’ll write about how Frozen reminded me not to presume an interpretation simply because I’ve observed something familiar.

The clichés were familiar. The message was familiar. The cinematic devices were familiar. The movie’s direction seemed familiar.

This familiarity led me to presume the movie’s main point. I was preparing to rebut the message of inward sovereignty and misdirected authenticity. But if I had stopped watching and hearing, I could have missed the film’s true intention.

So it is with the Bible. The more we read and study, the more likely we are to find ourselves in familiar territory.

And such familiarity comes at great risk. We presume to know what we’re reading. “I know that story,” “I’ll skim the part I’ve been through before,” and “I understand this; it’s time to move on” all put us in danger of missing the point. And since the point is to know Jesus better, I presume we won’t want to miss the point.

“Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it” (Heb 2:1, ESV).

How can we become better observers?

I notice this danger when I read emails or blogs or books that quote Scripture. I often skip the quotation (since I’m familiar with the Bible already) and dedicate my attention to what’s new (what this person wrote about the quote). The more I notice myself doing it, the more I realize the frequency with which I do it.

And I’ve realized that I do it in my Bible reading as well. As soon as I hit the familiar parts, I fly through them to get to something more innovative and exciting.

We must be aware of this tendency so we can resist it. Let’s master observation so we can perpetually build on what we know, but without presuming that there’s nothing more to learn. Let’s learn not only to see but to observe.

One thing that helps me to fight deadening familiarity is to read a different translation each year. Also, I like switching Bibles from time to time, so a familiar text isn’t on the same part of the page. But not everyone is like me. What do you find helpful in resisting familiarity and presumption in Bible study?

Perhaps you find my advice a bit cold, as though I would prefer unfamiliarity over familiarity. Please know that I’m arguing not for ignorance but for careful observation.

And, well, the cold never bothered me anyway.

The Greatest Enemy of Interpretation is Observation

October 24, 2012 By Peter Krol

Interpretation happens when we figure out why a passage says what it says. We fail to interpret well when we fail to figure out why the passage says what it says.

The chief obstacle to excellent interpretation is observation.

Of course I don’t think observation is a bad thing. I’ve already written about how we should value careful observation. (See here for a few common examples of less-than-careful observation.) Careless observation leads directly to incorrect interpretation.

However, when you study the Bible, you can’t stay in observation. It’s easy to feel like you’ve really studied the Bible, when it’s possible that all you’ve done is observe.

For example, people often go to Romans 1:18-32 to show that humanity is sinful. Excellent observation! But why does Paul go to such great lengths to show how sinful humanity is? Perhaps it’s because he wants to tighten the noose slowly and imperceptibly around the reader. “Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges” (Rom 2:1, ESV).

We find another example in Philippians 4:4-9. This passage is full of beautiful sayings commonly quoted by Christians. We love to “rejoice in the Lord always” (Phil 4:4). We find great comfort in letting our requests be made known to God, with supplication and thanksgiving (Phil 4:6).

These are good observations. But why are these verses here? The Philippian church was experiencing a serious rift between two prominent women (Phil 4:2-3). So Paul sent instructions for resolving the conflict to one of his companions in the church. Read Phil 4:4-9 in that light, and the passage comes alive.

Old Testament narratives make up one last set of examples. As we observe these stories, we might notice all kinds of characters to either imitate or avoid, but we might fail to move into interpretation. Now viewing these characters as examples is not wrong (see 1 Cor 10:11), but it’s all too easy to stop with such observation. Why are the stories there? To show us Jesus, of course (John 1:45, Luke 24:44-47). The trick each time is to figure out how.

Remember not to let familiarity get in the way of your observation. And don’t let observation get in the way of your interpretation.

The Greatest Enemy of Observation is Familiarity

August 30, 2012 By Peter Krol

The first step of our Bible study method is Observation. Before we’ve even crossed the line of scrimmage, however, familiarity is right there to knock us down. When we think we know something, we stop paying attention to it.

For example, how many stairs are there in your house? What color are your father’s eyes? What is your license plate number? Name three left-handed people in your acquaintance.

As Sherlock Holmes says to Dr. Watson in “A Scandal in Bohemia,” “You see, but you do not observe.”

Let me give an example. I recently taught on Genesis 31, the story where Jacob runs away from Laban without telling him. My initial thought was, “I know what happens. Why does the story have to take up 55 verses, and how am I going to teach on it?”

So I dug deeper. I stared at the text and kept reading it over and over. Things started popping out.

For example, I observed that every other verse in Gen 31:4-16 makes reference to God. Up until now, Jacob hasn’t really mentioned God a whole lot.

Then I observed that the narrator calls Laban “the Aramean” (Gen 31:20, 24). That’s funny, because he used to call him Jacob’s “mother’s brother” (for example, see Gen 29:10 where he’s called that 3 times). So the narrator doesn’t consider Laban family anymore….

Then I observed that Laban calls God to witness their agreement (Gen 31:53), but do you see which god it is? “The God of Abraham and the God of Nahor, the God of their father, judge between us.” The true God called Abraham to leave the household (and gods) of his fathers (Gen 12:1). Jacob knows this, but Laban doesn’t get it. Jacob swears by the true God, the Fear of his father Isaac (Gen 31:53).

I could go on. My point is not that any single observation is the silver bullet that unlocks a Bible passage. Instead, I’m suggesting that the way forward is always to keep observing. We must be willing to stare at a text until we don’t just see, but we observe.

I’ll give one more big example. One of the most famous passages in the whole Bible is 1 Corinthians 13:1-13. It’s the great Love Chapter. We’re so familiar with it, though, that we generally miss the point.

Read it again, one verse at a time, and ask yourself, “what is he saying here?” Observe carefully, and I think you’ll see that it’s neither romantic nor encouraging. It’s actually a stinging rebuke directed toward those who don’t know how to love their neighbor.

Let’s not just see. Let’s observe.