Knowable Word

Helping ordinary people learn to study the Bible

Copyright © 2012–2025 DiscipleMakers, except guest articles (copyright author). Used by permission.

You are here: Home / Archives for Interpretation

Why “Proverbs Aren’t Promises” is Misleading

By

Pick up a book with Bible-reading advice, and you’ll barely get your nose in before it gets mashed with the ubiquitous yet astonishingly forceful declaration: Proverbs aren’t promises! This piece of conventional wisdom is everywhere. Though it has roots in careful thinking about the genre of wisdom literature, this advice often goes too far and misses the point of the proverbs.

In almost every case, the counsel comes with strong emotion and a reference to Proverbs 22:6. Too many people have seen too many people bludgeon the hurting parents of wayward children through immature and thoughtless reference to this crucial verse about parenting. (“If you had trained your child right, he would not have walked away from the Lord.”) And the pastoral reflex is just right. This is not how to use Scripture.

Train me up. I promise I'll be good.
Train me up. I promise I’ll be good.

But the conclusion—that proverbs are not promises—is not right. In this case, the cure is worse than the disease.

Deep Roots

Consider first, the many respectable authors and pastors who promote the conventional wisdom. They often offer sound counsel, and their sensitivity to abuse is spot on. But when discussing how to read wisdom literature, they move in synchrony:

“A common mistake in biblical interpretation and application is to give a proverbial saying the weight or force of a moral absolute.” (R.C. Sproul)

“The proverbs commend certain paths to family members because they reflect the ways God ordinarily distributes His blessings. But ordinarily does not mean necessarily…Proverbs are not promises.” (Richard Pratt)

“The particular blessings, rewards, and opportunities mentioned in Proverbs are likely to follow if one will choose the wise courses of action outlined in the poetic, figurative language of the book. But nowhere does Proverbs teach automatic success.” (Gordon Fee & Douglas Stuart)

“The proverbs are meant to be general principles.” (John Piper)

“The proverbs appear to represent likelihoods rather than absolutes with God’s personal guarantee attached.” (James Dobson)

In other words, all agree: Proverbs are general, but not universal, statements. Proverbs are usually, or ordinarily, true. They speak about what is likely, not about what is guaranteed. But proverbs certainly are not promises. They are not absolutes. We cannot bank on them completely.

Where the Roots Run Aground

But consider some amazing statements from the proverbs. And consider where we end up if we read them as probabilities instead of promises. The conventional wisdom feels right with a verse like Proverbs 22:6, but it doesn’t hold up with much of the rest of the book.

According to Lady Wisdom: “If you turn at my reproof, behold, I will pour out my spirit to you; I will make my words known to you” (Prov 1:23). According to the conventional approach, this means that only most people who turn at wisdom’s reproof will know her words. It cannot be absolutely certain that wisdom is available to those who turn to her. Some who turn will be disappointed when she rejects them anyway.

Or consider chapter 2: “My son, if you receive my words and treasure up my commandments with you, making your ear attentive to wisdom and inclining your heart to understanding…if you seek it like silver and search for it as for hidden treasures, then you will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God” (Prov 2:1-5). This can’t really mean what it says. What Solomon wants to communicate is that those who receive and treasure, pay attention and incline their hearts, seek wisdom like silver and search for it as for hidden treasure—such people might understand the fear of the Lord. Some—but not all—who seek the wisdom of God, and who seek it in the way God requires, will know God in the end. Hopefully you can be one of the lucky ones.

But it gets better. “For the Lord gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding; he stores up sound wisdom for the upright; he is a shield to those who walk in integrity (Prov 2:6-7). Today, of course, we know that only sometimes does the Lord give wisdom. This isn’t absolute, because of course you can find wisdom in other places besides him. He’s usually the source of wisdom, but if you try other places, other deities, other schools of thought, you might also get the life you need.

Or let’s hear personified Wisdom once more: “For whoever finds me finds life and obtains favor from the Lord, but he who fails to find me injures himself; all who hate me love death” (Prov 8:35-36). Because this can’t be a promise, it must be only a likelihood. So those who find the fear of the Lord and walk in his wisdom might get his favor. Or they might end up still injuring themselves and dying the eternal death. Ya never know. In this broken world of ours, it’s a crap shoot. So go with the better odds; but don’t bank on any certainties.

Proverbs are Promises…With a Context

There has to be a better way to read this genre. And I contend that, when a proverb sounds like a promise, it is making a promise! And you can always trust God’s promises. When a proverb issues a command, it is making a moral absolute!

However, these promises and commands all have a context. Just as Jeremiah 29:11 was a promise with a context (not modern-day graduates, but ancient Israelites in exile), so also proverbs have a context, a specific situation at which they are aimed. And instead of seeing proverbs as “general” or “broad” statements, we need to see them for what they truly are: very specific and particular statements. They speak to the minute details of life, which is why they can even sound contradictory at times. For example, see Prov 26:4-5. One saying is always true in a certain context (where answering a fool will make you as foolish as he is), and the next statement is always true in a different context (where not answering a fool will leave him wise in his own eyes). Wise people will discern which context they find themselves in. But both statements are always true within their contexts, and absolutely so. Neither statement is a mere likelihood.

And to get more specific, the context of the Proverbs is God’s covenant with Israel. The promises of Proverbs typically involve blessings or curses for those who keep or reject the covenant stipulations to know the Lord and walk in his wisdom. Just read Proverbs 3:1-12 immediately after Deuteronomy 28, and you can’t help but observe the contextual connection. However, nobody argues that Deuteronomy 28 contains only “probabilities,” or that these covenant blessings and curses are “not promises.” No, these promises of blessing and cursing exist within the context of God’s covenant with Israel and simply require care to apply them properly to our new covenant context.

Objection #1: Why are You the Only One Saying This?

I’m not. Everyone agrees that Bruce Waltke has written “the standard commentary” on Proverbs. Yet few listen to him on this point:

“The popular evangelical solution that these are not promises but probabilities, though containing an element of truth, raises theological, practical, and psychological problems by stating the matter badly…A psychologically well person could scarcely trust God with all his heart (Prov 3:5) knowing that he usually, but not always, keeps his obligations.” (The Book of Proverbs, Chapters 1-15 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), pp. 107-8)

Brothers and sisters, let us no longer state this matter badly.

Objection #2: What About Proverbs 22:6?

So we must return to that which set us down the false trail. What will we do with those who mistakenly read Prov 22:6 as a promise, and thus trample on faithful, wounded people who cannot control the hearts of their children?

We must understand the context to which this proverb speaks. In his book, God’s Wisdom in Proverbs (pp.353-379), Dan Phillips argues convincingly that Prov 22:6 means almost the opposite of what we tend to think. The verse doesn’t promise superhero children to those who follow the correct parenting techniques. Instead, it threatens selfish, miscreant children to those who refuse to use God’s means (the rod and the word of patient, faithful exhortation) to drive the folly from their children’s hearts.

In other words, the verse does not promise good kids to all good parents. But it does threaten bad kids to all bad parents. Train up your child according to his way. Teach him to continue loving himself and putting himself at the center of the universe. Show him over time that there are no consequences to his foolish choices. And even when he is old, he will not depart from his natural inclinations toward himself and himself alone. This is a promise.

But even this covenant curse has a context within the covenant of grace. There is always hope. The grace of our Lord overflows with the faith and love which are in Christ Jesus. “And the saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.”

Photo Credit: Clark Maxwell (2010), Creative Commons

This post was first published in 2016.

Disclaimer: Above, Amazon links to great books are affiliate links. If you click those links, I promise you I will usually receive a small commission, ordinarily at no extra cost to yourself. But you never know when Amazon may change the terms of their agreement with me. Don’t read such probabilities as absolute promises. Click only if you dare to dig into this topic further.

4 Psalms You May Not Have Realized Were About Christ

By

Last week, I shared an article by Christopher Ash about Jesus as the lead singer of the psalms. I can’t help but follow up this week with another article by Ash entitled, “4 Psalms You Didn’t Realize Point to Christ.”

Ash considers:

  • Psalm 1 – the man who meditates constantly on God’s word
  • Psalm 6 – the innocent sufferer who can drive evildoers away
  • Psalm 109 – perhaps the harshest of the psalms of cursing against the wicked
  • Psalm 145 – perpetual praise offered to the Lord

All four psalms only make real sense if Jesus Christ is the lead singer.

Check it out!

Examples of “Thinking Bigger”

By

Last week, I argued for the value of “thinking bigger” in your Bible study—of seeking to grasp how your text fits into the book’s larger argument. In this post, I’ll give some examples to show the payoff of such bigger thinking.

jigsaw puzzle on yellow background
Photo by Ann H on Pexels.com

Proverbs 2

First, a rather simple example. Upon studying Proverbs 2, you may recognize that this poem describes how to become wise. All you have to do is passively receive wisdom and actively seek it, and the Lord is just waiting to dole it out.

So much, so good. But how does this chapter fit into the book’s argument?

As a whole, Proverbs 1-9 serve as an extended introduction to the book. In the long poems there, the sage poet explains the fundamentals of how wisdom works, what it does, and why it’s worth it. Chapter 2 on how to get it fits right in with the other fundamentals.

And all those fundamentals are to be assumed when we read chapters 10 and beyond. Therefore, to read particular verses of proverbs as points of secular business, finance, or relationship advice is to miss the entire point. Proverbs 2 plays a crucial role by explaining that God is the only source of wisdom and that he is generous in giving it to those who seek him. Recognizing this role enables us to perceive the weightiness of chapter 2 and the importance of constantly returning to it to help interpret the wisdom found in the rest of the book.

The Fruit of the Spirit

We love to give Sunday school children their coloring pages to help them learn about the cornucopia described in Galatians 5:22-23. But what role do those verses play in light of the letter as a whole?

Gal 2:16 could perhaps summarize the main point of the whole letter: “We know that a person is not justified by works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ.”

Paul makes his case first through his autobiography (Gal 1-2) and then by drawing out the tension between law and promise (Gal 3-4).

Now, in chapters 5-6, he explains the freedom that comes with the righteousness that is by faith. This freedom leads us to serve one another in love (Gal 5:13), which is the sum of the whole law (Gal 5:14). In other words, getting right with God (by faith) will produce rightness of relationship (in love).

Gal 5:16 then contrasts the desires of the flesh with the desires of the Spirit. At this point and throughout the letter, “flesh” has stood for justification by works (which leads to all kinds of strife and relational tension), and “Spirit” has stood for justification by faith (which leads to loving communities).

So by following the argument of the entire letter, we will recognize that the fruit of the Spirit is not about how to be a good Christian person, but about what sprouts forth when people put their faith in Christ.

The Good Samaritan

Luke’s gospel is especially challenging on account of its length. But repeated reading and re-reading pay great dividends as you pick up the overall contours of the book’s structure. I won’t restate the full structure here, but can only refer you to my post on the topic.

We find the parable of the Good Samaritan within the lengthy middle section of Luke, which can be difficult to navigate until we discover that it’s organized around four key questions. The Good Samaritan is the final scene in the discussion of the first question: “Lord, do you want us to tell fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” (Luke 9:54). In other words, Luke is addressing the issue of how Jesus’ followers must go about proclaiming his kingdom.

So in the section of Luke’s gospel where Jesus’ disciples want to call down fire on Samaritans for not receiving Jesus, Jesus ends up telling a story about a Samaritan to illustrate who is one’s neighbor. The parable demonstrates that Jesus wants his people proclaiming the kingdom to all their neighbors (with neighbor being defined by the story as anyone in need, even across the cursed Jew-Samaritan divide).

So yes, those who hear the parable today ought to do good to people they wouldn’t otherwise like. But they ought to do so from a belief that the message of Christ’s kingdom is for all nations. We proclaim grace, and we act out that grace, so they might believe.

Conclusion

These three examples, from three different text types, exemplify the value of following the argument of the entire book you are studying. This takes a lot of work, and it’s not easy. In fact, I don’t think I ever get it “right” on my first pass through a book. But I do the best I can and then refine my work when I come back to a book later in my study.

Don’t settle for quick answers on a text. Think bigger and take stock of how your text fits into the author’s larger argument. In this way, you may find your Bible study more enriching, encouraging, and enlightening than you expected.

How to See a Narrative’s Train of Thought

By

Bible Stories Have a Point

Perhaps I’ve convinced you that part of Bible study requires picking up an author’s train of thought. And you can see it most clearly with instructional texts like epistles, wisdom poetry, and prophets. But what about the narrative books? Do they have a train of thought as well?

Ted McGrath (2014), Creative Commons

Ted McGrath (2014), Creative Commons

Remember that Bible stories are more than stories. While biblical narratives tell a true history of God’s redemption, the purpose of the stories is more than the history itself (or the story itself). Paul uses biblical narratives to provide examples to follow and warnings to avoid (1 Cor 10:6, 11). Jesus uses biblical narratives to draw ethical principles for his day (Mark 10:6-9). And Hebrews uses biblical narratives to inspire and motivate people not to shrink back but hold fast to Jesus despite great affliction (Hebrews 10:39-12:3). Examples, morals, and motivation all come from stories.

Finding the Point of a Bible Story

What does this mean for our Bible study? How do we find the main points of Bible stories?

Narratives by nature don’t present their material logically. You won’t find many “so that”s or “therefore”s in narratives, so it’s more challenging to trace out a logical train of thought.

But the tools of narratives lie primarily in plot, structure, and climax. Learn to see these things, and you’ll discover the narrator’s train of thought.

Plot: What is the primary sequence of action? Who does what to whom, and what are the results? At what point does the plot hinge and build toward climax and resolution?

Structure: Narratives won’t make clear logical argument, but they structure their material intentionally.

Climax: Where is the highest point of energy in the story? Where do the characters find what they seek or resolve their tension?

Look for these clues, and you’re on your way toward the main point.

Example #1 – Matthew 1:18-25

This short example begins with a clear title statement: “Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way” (Matt 1:18). The plot immediately thickens as Mary gets pregnant and Joseph tries to do the right thing by her. Suddenly, an angel appears to him in a dream (not an everyday occurrence) and gives Joseph two commands with explanation:

  • command 1: do not fear to marry her.
    • explanation: this child is from the Holy Spirit.
  • command 2: call his name Jesus.
    • explanation: he will save his people from their sins.

So not only the marriage, but also the child’s name is important here. We don’t hit the story’s climax, though, until we read “All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet” (Matt 1:22), which leads into more talk of pregnancy, birth, and naming of a child – with another explanation of the name (God with us – Matt 1:23).

As the tension resolves, Joseph obeys the angel. And Matthew goes out of his way to tell us that he 1) married her without making love to her, and 2) named the child Jesus (Matt 1:24-25).

We’re not told much in this short tale, but the following things are clear:

  1. Joseph is not this child’s father.
  2. God has come to be with us.
  3. This God will save his people from their sins.

What is the point of this short story? God himself has come to deal with his people’s sin. See how the story’s train of thought leads us to this key point?

Example #2 – Mark 6:7-8:30

I don’t have the space to analyze this lengthy passage exhaustively, but I want to show how observing structure helps us to get the point.

Intro: Jesus sends out the 12, creating a crisis for Herod: Who is Jesus? – 6:7-29

A Jesus feeds 5,000 – 6:30-44

B Jesus crosses the sea with his disciples – 6:45-56

C Pharisees argue with Jesus – 7:1-23

D Jesus talks to a woman about bread – 7:24-30

E Jesus heals a deaf man – 7:31-37

A Jesus feeds 4,000 – 8:1-9

B Jesus crosses the sea with his disciples – 8:10

C Pharisees argue with Jesus – 8:11-13

D Jesus talks to his disciples about bread – 8:14-21

E Jesus heals a blind man – 8:22-26

Conclusion: Peter sees and understands exactly who Jesus is – 8:27-30

Seeing this larger structure is what helped me to understand why it took Jesus two tries to heal the blind man in Mark 8:22-26. Mark portrays two parallel cycles of events with the disciples, where they get to experience firsthand who Jesus is. Herod’s initial questions (John the Baptist? Elijah? One of the prophets?) go unanswered until Jesus takes his disciples through these two cycles.

And they don’t get it (Mark 8:21). But in healing the blind man, Mark gives a living parable of Jesus’ healing of the disciples blindness. And then, finally, they see him clearly. Not John the Baptist, Elijah, or one of the prophets – but the Christ (Mark 8:27-29).

The narrative has a train of thought; not only within a particular episode but also across many episodes. Look for this train and hop on board.

Hop Aboard the Train of Thought

By

When I write an article, I want to make a point. To make that point stick, I follow a series of steps. First, I try to capture your attention with the first sentence or two. Second, I introduce my thesis early. Third, I explain the thesis and apply it. Finally, I land the article with a strong sense of arrival (or liftoff, if I want to inspire you with a certain Bible study practice). Along the way, I pepper my writing with salty metaphors, everyday illustrations—like the time I explained how Bible study was like teeball—and clear conclusions. Therefore, I have something to say, and I want to set you up to hear it.

Nonfiction works this way: An author has something to say, but that author must bring the readers along for the ride. From the beginning of the work to the end, a journey of discovery unfolds. We call this journey the author’s train of thought.

The Bible works similarly, and our Bible study hits pay dirt when we hop aboard the author’s train of thought.

Why it Matters

Leon Rice-Whetton (2009), Creative Commons

Leon Rice-Whetton (2009), Creative Commons

The author’s train of thought outlines his main ideas. And his main ideas are, well, his main ideas. If you’d like to grow at fighting for the main point and reading passages in context, you’ll want to grow your ability to follow a train of thought. The tracks have been laid. Will you walk along them?

Example #1: Romans 4

Look at how Paul’s argument unfolds, and hop aboard for the ride:

  • Rom 4:1: What did Abraham gain in this matter [How did he get the righteousness of God (Rom 3:21)?]?
  • Rom 4:2-8: He didn’t get it by works.
  • Rom 4:9-12: He didn’t get it through circumcision.
  • Rom 4:13-15: He didn’t get it by law.
  • Rom 4:16-17: Therefore, he got it by faith!
  • Rom 4:18-22: Abraham’s faith = despite outward circumstances, being fully convinced God is able to do what he promises.
  • Rom 4:23-25: Our faith works the same way (believing God’s promise despite our circumstances) and achieves the same result (the righteousness of God).

What’s at stake for Paul in this chapter? How Jews can be made right with God. How it’s always been this way for them. How it’s no different now for non-Jews.

Looking at the immediate context, we see that Paul addresses key questions asked by the Jewish members of his Roman audience.

  • What about good works? (Rom 3:27-28)
  • What about circumcision? (Rom 3:29-30)
  • What about the law? (Rom 3:31)

And for Jew and Gentile alike, God’s righteousness remains available—not through good deeds, religious rituals, or law-keeping, but by believing him who raised Jesus from the dead (Rom 4:24).

Example #2: Hebrews 1-5

Hebrews hits us between the eyes with its train of thought. I can think of no other book that announces each point this clearly before explaining it. The announcements come as transitions from one major section to the next.

  1. Big idea: God has spoken by his Son who sat down (Heb 1:1-4).
  2. First point: Jesus became “as much superior to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs” (Heb 1:4).
    • Jesus’ more excellent name (Heb 1:5-14)
    • Jesus’ superiority to angels (Heb 2:5-18)
  3. Second point: Jesus had to “become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God” (Heb 2:17-18).
    • Jesus the faithful high priest (Heb 3:1-4:14).
    • Jesus the merciful high priest (Heb 4:15-5:10).

The rest of the book continues in the same way, announcing the points before explaining them. The author scatters sections of application between major points. The main idea comes alive with each point: Jesus accomplished the work of salvation God sent for him to do. Therefore, he is “more” and “better” than the things God used to communicate salvation in the Old Testament. Hop aboard the train of thought when you study Hebrews, and you’ll find buckets of gold at the end of each rainbow.

Example #3: Job 4-5

It works for poetry as well. Look at the first speech given by one of Job’s friends, and track the thinking stanza by stanza.

  1. Can I remind you of where your confidence should be (Job 4:1-6)?
  2. You are guilty (Job 4:7-11).
  3. You are mortal (Job 4:12-21).
  4. You’re a fool (Job 5:1-7).
  5. Seek your confidence not in yourself, but in God (Job 5:8-16).
  6. Accept the Almighty’s discipline (Job 5:17-27).

Think about how Eliphaz moves from one thought to the next, and we can discover his underlying point: “Hardship is always a sign of God’s corrective discipline; therefore, Job, you’re despising God’s redemptive work in your life.” Of course, the larger context of Job makes it clear that Eliphaz is wrong (Job 42:7-8). But that doesn’t stop Paul from turning Eliphaz upside down to see if he can shake some treasure out of his pockets (1 Cor 3:18-19).

Conclusion

Of course, some passages won’t have much train of thought (think Proverbs 10-29). And narratives look a little different. But don’t miss this train, or your Bible study might not get where you’d like it to go.

Can You Really Trust the Teaching of Ecclesiastes?

By

Mitch Chase takes up an important question in the Bible’s wisdom literature: Can you trust the book of Ecclesiastes? Is it a collection of biblical wisdom, or is it a curation of ungodly beliefs to reject?

When you survey commentaries on the book of Ecclesiastes, you’ll notice that not every interpreter is convinced we should trust the words in this book. So how should we approach it? Is the content of Ecclesiastes like the book of Job, in which the speeches of Job’s friends have a mixture of truth and error? Or do the Preacher’s observations about life “under the sun” stay uncorrupted and trustworthy?

I think we can thoroughly trust the book’s content and wisdom, and I want to offer some considerations as to why.

Check it out!

Recognize Both Divine and Human Authors of the Bible

By

Daniel Rowlands suggests that one context we ought to keep in mind when reading the Bible is the context of the whole Bible. We can do this because, though the books of the Bible were written by various human authors, they were also written by the singular divine author.

Here is a taste:

The word of God in the Bible comes to us through human writers. We find the humanity of the writers in variations of vocabulary, idioms, structure, and style. For example, there is the difference between the exquisite Hebrew poetry and varied vocabulary of Isaiah and the straight-forward narrative of Joshua. Similarly, in the New Testament there is the difference between the complex and elegant Greek of Hebrews and John’s more elementary Greek. We can detect the presence of the human authors throughout all of Scripture.

On the other hand, and at the risk of sounding obvious, we ought not neglect the divine author, God himself. Here, the incarnation of the Son of God in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Word become flesh (John 1:14), is a helpful analogy for understanding the human and divine together as one.

Check it out!

Examples of Wrestling through the Prescriptive/Descriptive Debate

By

Last week, I brought up the debate that inevitably arises in a discussion of a narrative text: Is this passage prescribing something we should imitate (or avoid), or is it simply describing what the characters did in their setting? I proposed that we can often eliminate the need for such a debate if we focus on applying the passage’s main point. Commonly, the passage’s main point is clear enough to direct us in how to change; we don’t even need to decide whether a given detail or behavior in the text ought to be imitated or not.

Let me give two examples where the main point eliminates the debate (by rendering it irrelevant), and one example where it doesn’t.

Photo by Gift Habeshaw on Unsplash

Acts 15:36-16:5

In Acts 15:36-41, Paul and Barnabas have a sharp disagreement over whether to take John Mark with them on their second missionary journey. They cannot agree, so they split up and part ways. I’ve heard people use this passage to argue that parting ways is an unhealthy way to deal with conflict. And I’ve heard other people use this passage as an example of when parting ways is inevitable and perhaps even healthier than remaining together in constant strife.

So which is it? And it begs the question: Is this text even meant to prescribe a certain way of dealing with conflict (through either good or bad example), or is it simply describing what happened in the lives of those three men?

Notice that the narrative of this split comes immediately after the resolution of a major debate in the early church (whether Gentile converts to Christianity need to follow the law of Moses) and the delivery of the council’s verdict (Acts 15:1-35). And the very next scene (Acts 16:1-5) shows Paul circumcising a new protege on account of local Jewish sensibilities and the knowledge of Timothy’s Greek lineage on his father’s side (Acts 16:3). The narrator connects Timothy’s circumcision quite closely with the delivery of the Jerusalem council’s decision in that region (Acts 16:4).

That literary flow and context is a major factor leading me to conclude that the main point of Acts 15:36-16:5 is that the growth of Christ’s kingdom cannot be stopped, even when leaders must make trade offs in partners (Acts 15:36-41) and practices (Acts 16:1-5). In other words, partners and practices can change, but the grace of Jesus Christ remains the same.

So is the Paul/Barnabas split prescriptive or descriptive? In light of the main point, it’s both. And neither. The point of the text is not to provide direction on whether you ought to leave your church or split up a partnership (perhaps by demonstrating what sort of circumstances would warrant a split). The point of the text is to provide larger assurance that many things will change (and should change!) in service of the unchanging gospel of Jesus Christ.

So maybe you should leave your situation and maybe you shouldn’t. But maybe an even more important question this text wants you to ask is whether you (and not your environment) should change. Or your methods should change. Or your expectations or objectives. We don’t need to answer the prescriptive/descriptive question in order to apply this text in personal and profound ways.

Jonah 3

The prophet Jonah, fresh off his three-night stay inside a 5-star seaside resort, finally makes his way to Nineveh to preach what God commanded him to preach. His message is direct and to the point: “Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” (Jonah 3:4). Is that the sort of message God’s preachers ought to be preaching to the church’s enemies?

Maybe. And maybe not. But perhaps that’s not the question this text pushes us to ask.

Jonah 3 tells the story of a salvation too strange for satire. It could not be more extreme. Jonah gets spit up by the fish. He walks only a third of the way into the bad guys’ HQ, preaching a single sentence of judgment (with neither an offer of mercy nor a demand for repentance). The response is immediate and ridiculously unlikely: All people repent. Word gets ahead of Jonah to the palace. The king immediately halts all civil operations and declares a national mourning. Even the livestock must wear itchy clothes and join the public prayer meetings.

The plot builds to the climax of verse 9: “Who knows? Maybe, just maybe God will relent.”

As the plot conflict finally resolves, God sees what the Ninevites have done, and he does, in fact, relent. He doesn’t do what he said he would do.

The main idea is that God saves the wrong kind of people. It has nothing to do with the merits of the people, the message itself, or the preacher who delivered it. It has everything to do with the God who loads his gun with mercy and keeps it on a hair-trigger setting.

So is Jonah’s preaching style and message prescriptive or descriptive? It really doesn’t matter, because the point is not to instruct God’s people in how to preach to their enemies. The point is to paint a dramatic and outrageous picture of God’s proclivity to show mercy. When we apply that main point, we might draw implications for preaching or evangelism. But it is not crucial that we figure out how to do (or avoid) what Jonah did.

Acts 2

And now for a closing example where the main point does not sideline the prescriptive/descriptive question. Should churches speak in tongues like the apostles on the Day of Pentecost, or not? Is the text prescribing such behavior, or is it simply describing a unique thing that happened that day?

In Acts 2:1-4, the proclamation of God’s works in different languages provides a sign that the Holy Spirit has come upon the disciples. The body of the chapter is organized by the answers to two questions:

  • What does this mean? – Acts 2:5-13
    • Peter’s answer – Acts 2:14-36
  • What shall we do? – Acts 2:37
    • Peter’s answer – Acts 2:38-40

Then a narrative conclusion exhibits the new creation community launched that day (Acts 2:41-47).

This structure emphasizes the Q&A that makes up the body of the chapter, where Peter explains what all the stuff happening in the narrative frame means. And the main point of that explanation is that the arrival of God’s Spirit is proof that Jesus is the King who has made salvation possible.

So, is the disciples’ speaking in tongues prescriptive or descriptive? This time, I can’t say that the question is beside the point. One person could argue that speaking in tongues is prescribed as a way of proving to people today that Jesus is the King who has made salvation possible. Another person could argue that speaking in tongues is no longer necessary; that unique event provided the proof that Jesus is the King who has made salvation possible. But both of those perspectives are trying their best to faithfully apply the main point.

Please note: I am not saying (and I wasn’t saying in the previous examples) that the main point answers the prescriptive/descriptive question. In the first two examples, I was saying only that the author’s main point makes the question irrelevant and unnecessary. In this third example, the main point actually makes the prescriptive/descriptive question highly relevant.

Much more work needs to be done in context, correlation, systematic and biblical theology to answer the question of speaking in tongues in Acts 2. But the main point confirms that the question itself is well worth asking.

Conclusion

Much of the time, it is not necessary for us to figure out whether particular behaviors in a text are prescriptive or descriptive. The text’s main point reveals an agenda to produce change in some other area, and we should focus on that area instead of our prescriptive/descriptive question. In these situations, when someone asks whether a narrative detail is prescriptive or descriptive, we can sidestep the question by asking instead: What’s the author’s main point?

But in a few cases, a text’s main point confirms the crucial importance of the prescriptive/descriptive question, and our time seeking to answer the question is well spent.

Whose Body is a Temple of the Holy Spirit?

By

I’ve argued before, from the context, that 1 Cor 6:19 is not a catch-all prohibition against anything and everything a person can do to their body (tattoos, alcohol, smoking, etc.). Nicholas Piotrowski and Ryan Johnson take it another step further to clarify what exactly Paul means by “your body.”

They carefully observe the grammar, context, and flow of thought through the entire letter of 1 Corinthians to conclude that “your body” is not, after all, your own body but the larger community (the body of Christ).

The trouble is that the Bible consistently speaks of one temple for the one God. So if each Christian’s individual body were a temple in and of itself, then that would mean God has millions of isolated temples all over the world. There is a bit of a theological problem with this.

I need to consider this further myself, especially since the “body” appears to refer to an individual’s physical in 1 Cor 6:18, the immediately preceding sentence. But perhaps my familiarity is clouding my observation of that verse as well!

Piotrowski and Johnson give four very good reasons for reading the verse in a corporate way, and I encourage you to give their reasons your own consideration.

Check it out!

Why “What Does it Mean to Me?” is a Bad Question

By

Our method for Bible study can be summarized with just three letters—OIA—which represent three skills that govern all human communication: observe, interpret, and apply. Those three skills provide the answers to three basic questions:

  • What does it say?
  • What does it mean?
  • How should I change?

Over the years, I’ve regularly heard well-meaning folks ask that third question—the question of application—in this way: What doest it mean to me?

That question has the benefits of rhythm and resonance. It flows right off the tongue to recite: “What does it say, what does it mean, what does it mean to me.” And that rhythm can certainly aid with memory.

However, the costs we pay in clarity and accuracy are not worth the gains of memorability, for at least four reasons.

a bearded man pointing at his plain white shirt
Photo by MART PRODUCTION on Pexels.com

It confuses application with interpretation.

By asking “what does it mean?” we are doing the work of interpretation. We are figuring out why the original author says what he says, and what that meant to the original audience. By using the same verbiage of “what does it mean,” despite the qualifier “to me,” we communicate that we are doing the same thing, only with a different audience in view.

Why does that matter? Who cares if we do (or communicate that we are doing) the same thing for different audiences? That leads me to the second reason that “what does it mean to me?” is a bad question.

It relativizes truth.

The question presumes that meaning is a matter of indifference. That a text’s meaning depends on who reads it. On how they perceive it. And so a text can mean one thing to one person or community, and another thing to a different group.

When we relativize the truth in this way, we ought not be surprised when the realities of Scripture are brought into question whenever they grow too inconvenient. For example, many who once stood for the Bible’s definition of marriage have come to interpret those pesky passages to have a different meaning, now that severe cultural pressure has been exerted.

And while I’m a fan of relativizing application, we must not do the same with interpretation. A passage doesn’t mean what any reader believes it means. A passage means what the author meant by it. For this reason, the concept of meaning carries much weight and is not something with which to tamper.

Wi to the intent to apply, it makes sense to ask “what does the text mean for me?” That question prods for implications and applications. But to ask what the text means to me is to tamper with its meaning.

You can choose to agree with the text or disagree with it. You can like it or dislike it. But you can’t change what it means. Do you see what I mean?

It makes application an exercise in self-fulfillment.

I recently wrote a thank-you note to a generous person who did something extraordinary for my family. In that note, I said, “it means so much to me that you…” That phrase, “what it means to me,” has a particular force and use in modern English, which has more to do with inspiration and delight than with truth or understanding.

The average person in today’s Western world, hearing the question “what does that mean to you?” doesn’t naturally hear a challenge or stimulation toward life change. That person hears an expression of self-fulfillment.

And self-fulfillment is not always a bad thing (as long as it’s not a godless or ultimate thing). I hope many people find great satisfaction and delight in their study of God’s word. But such satisfaction and delight is not the same thing as robust application.

It predisposes application to only one direction.

By asking “what does it mean to me,” we communicate momentum from the text to the individual reading it. Perhaps unintentionally, this frames what is happening as something that terminates on the reader. Therefore, even if the question itself is understood as one of application and not interpretation, it sets the reader up for inward application alone. The reader is not likely to consider outward application as well.

And since many of us are already naturally inclined to forget application’s second direction, we don’t need to reinforce the inclination with the way we frame the question.

Conclusion

For these reasons, we have never recommended “what does it mean to me” as a way to summarize the application step. We prefer to ask “How should I change?”

That doesn’t mean I’ll start flipping tables if I’m in your Bible study and you ask “What does this text mean to you?” I promise I’ll do my best to be polite. But I’ll also do my best to reframe the resulting discussion in a more useful way.