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Not the Rock but the Storm

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I was recently studying the end of Jesus’ famous Sermon on the Mount, and something struck me about the parable of the builders. Take a look at it.

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.” (Matt 7:24-27)

This little parable brings the Sermon to an end, and it is famous enough that anyone who has been around church knows what it means, right? There’s even an old children’s song about it: “The wise man builds his house upon the rock…” According to the third and fourth verses:

So build your house on the Lord Jesus Christ
So build your house on the Lord Jesus Christ
So build your house on the Lord Jesus Christ
And the blessings will come down.

The blessings come down as the prayers go up
The blessings come down as the prayers go up
The blessings come down as the prayers go up
So build your house on the Lord

Is that what this parable teaches?

Image generated with Jetpack AI Assistant from the prompt “beach house built on sand destroyed by hurricane”

A Closer Look at the Parable

Jesus is not the least bit mysterious. This parable is perhaps one of the clearest he ever told. No attempt to trick anyone here:

Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man… And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will like a foolish man…

So the building of a house on the rock is a picture of not only hearing Jesus’ words but also obeying them. And the building of a house on the sand is a picture of hearing Jesus’ words and not obeying them. So the rock in this parable is a metaphor not for Jesus but for a Christian’s obedience to Jesus. The sand is a picture of disobedience, or perhaps even indifference, to Jesus’ commands.

Of course, this does not mean that “building on the foundation of Jesus” is an unbiblical metaphor. We find that very metaphor in numerous texts such as Eph 2:19-20 or 2 Cor 3:10-11.

So I’m not saying that it’s wrong to portray Jesus with the metaphor of a foundation on which we build. All I’m saying is that that is not what is going on in the parable of the builders in Matthew 7:24-27. In this parable, the rock is not a metaphor for Christ himself but for the Christian’s obedience to Christ.

That doesn’t mean, however, that Jesus himself is absent from the parable. I believe he still plays a major role within it. And maybe the context can help.

A Closer Look at the Context

We don’t have to go very far. The immediately preceding paragraph describes two different kinds of people as well: those who will enter the kingdom of heaven and those who won’t. And the person who will enter is “the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” (Matt 7:21)—not necessarily the person who builds their case on a foundation of confessing Jesus as Lord (Matt 7:21) or on a foundation of seeking to represent Jesus when speaking the truth, overpowering satanic forces, or performing miracles (Matt 7:22).

The person who builds their Christian life from the groundwork of obedience to the Father will survive the judgment executed by Jesus himself. They will never have to hear him say, “I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness” (Matt 7:23).

Do you see how, between these two paragraphs, Jesus equates doing “the will of my Father who is in heaven” with hearing “these words of mine” and doing them? Jesus places his commands at the same level of authority as the Father’s will. Jesus’ authority is thus complete and dramatic (Matt 7:28-29).

And because Jesus’ authority is both exhaustive and divine, he is the one whom every man and woman will one day have to face. He is the one who will break the nations with a rod of iron and own the peoples for his inheritance (Psalm 2:4-9). So on the last day, he will remove all pretenders from before him (Matt 7:23). Those who honored him with their lips but kept their hearts far from him (Matt 5:20-48) will be cut down and thrown into the fire (Matt 7:19). Those who practiced their righteousness before men, to be rewarded by them, will have reached the end of their full reward (Matt 6:1). Those who passed through the wide gate and walked the broad road with the rest of humanity will reach the end of that path—destruction (Matt 7:13).

And Jesus will be the one doling it out with all authority in heaven and on earth.

So Where is Jesus in the Parable?

By the time we reach the end of the Sermon on the Mount, it ought to be clear that Jesus is not, in this text, the rock on which a person must build their life. No, Jesus is the storm that will come and put severe pressure on the lives they have built.

Jesus is the storm. He is the flood, and the wind (Matt 7:25, 27).

Those who have only heard him, before going on with their precious little lives, will suffer from his storm, and they will fall spectacularly (Matt 7:27). But those who heard his words and then went and lived them out? Those folks will face the same Judge as the first group.

But they will remain standing before him. They will not be shattered to pieces. They will not fall (Matt 7:25).

What will be your experience of facing this Judge and the storm of his reckoning?

Context Matters: The Least of These

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Consider one of the most chilling statements Jesus ever made:

‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” (Matt 25:45-46)

It sounds as though the way a person treats “the least of these” is—if not the cause—at least the evidence of a person’s eternal fate. But do we understand who those people are whom Jesus wishes us to feed, clothe, welcome, and visit? It prevails on us to get this right.

Kevin DeYoung recently republished a helpful piece where he examines the phrase “least of these” from the context. He looks at Jesus’ usage not only in Matt 25:45 but also Matt 25:40, along with the logical flow of Jesus’ discourse and the literary connections back to Matthew 10.

I won’t quote his conclusion here, to entice you to go and read how he arrives at it.

Check it out!

How to See a Narrative’s Train of Thought

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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.

A Darkened Sun and Falling Stars

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When Jesus spoke of the sun being darkened, the moon not giving light, and the stars falling from heaven (Mark 13:24-25), was he talking about the end of the world? Or was he using prophetic terminology for the fall of Jerusalem?

Michael Bird tackles the issue in a lengthy but carefully argued article that would be well worth your time. Looking at the entire “Olivet Discourse,” he argues that:

…the discourse needs to be situated in the context of Jesus’s mission; namely, the preaching of the kingdom (Mark 1:15) and the restoration of Israel (Matt 10:5–6; 15:27; Mark 7:27; Rom 15:8). Jesus announced that Israel was facing a national crisis, that it had to choose how to be Israel. He explained how to be God’s chosen people to some who were choosing the path of violent revolution, to those who were following the pattern and piety of the Pharisees, to those who accepted the status quo of the Herodians, and to those who put put up with the moral and mercantile corruption of the priesthood. He gave them options: follow his way of being Israel, or else find the holy city laid waste and the sanctuary itself desecrated and destroyed.

Bird concedes that Matthew’s version of the Olivet Discourse (Matt 24-25) does contain a preview of the final judgment. But Mark and Luke appear to be squarely focused on events surrounding Rome’s assault on Jerusalem in AD 70.

Bird makes his case from both literary and historical contexts, and whether you end up agreeing with him or not, his article is well worth your time and consideration.

Check it out!

The Sermon on the Mount is not Meant to Make You Feel Bad

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I’ve seen a general pattern in “Christ-centered” or “gospel-centered” Bible teaching, that preaching the gospel requires us to always make ourselves and others feel bad for our sin. That the gospel has not been preached unless we get to the conclusion that “We cannot do what this text is saying, but Jesus can and did, so let’s trust him.” I’ve contributed to this tendency in years past, and have come to see how this actually flattens the Scriptures, often using them in a way contrary to their stated intentions.

One key place where this tendency shows up is in studies on the Sermon on the Mount.

Kevin DeYoung has a wonderful piece, excerpted from a recent book, where he debunks — from the text itself — this way of reading Jesus’ most famous sermon.

If we approach the Sermon on the Mount only or mainly as a means by which we see our sinfulness, we’ve not taken the sermon on its own terms… We’ve turned the Sermon on the Mount into a giant spanking spoon—good for making you squeal in pain, but not a welcome instrument or a way of life. The Great Commission, then, becomes a summons to teach the nations everything Jesus has said—which, of course, they cannot do, and he doesn’t expect them to observe.

DeYoung then observes four ways in which the text points us “away from thinking Jesus means to give us an impossible discipleship plan.”

  1. Jesus presents us with bracing either/or options at several points in his sermon.
  2. Jesus understands that there is an already-and-not-yet dimension to our Christian walk.
  3. Woven into the fabric of Christ’s kingdom living is the expectation that we will need grace and forgiveness.
  4. The Sermon on the Mount is not an impossible standard, because pleasing Jesus is not impossible.

DeYoung observes the text carefully, following the sermon’s own logic, to free us from unnecessary guilt to walk in the joy of allegiance to the Lord Jesus. I highly commend his article to you.

Check it out!

How to Read the Sermon on the Plain

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When studying a passage in the gospels, we must handle parallel passages with care. We’ll make better use of the parallels if we don’t merely harmonize but illuminate.

For example, let’s take Luke’s Sermon on the Plain in Luke 6. Much time could be spent on the question of harmonization: Is this the same sermon as Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount, or not? How do we harmonize these two extensive teachings of Jesus?

But that question of harmonization is not nearly as important as the following:

  • What is Luke’s message in Luke 6?
  • What is Matthew’s message in Matthew 5-7?

Those questions may not have the same answer!

To help you with this example, let me recommend an article called “The Sermon on the Plain: What It Is & How It Differs from the Sermon on the Mount.” I wrote this article to analyze some of the similarities and differences between the two sermons. But ultimately, I wanted to get to these four suggestions:

  1. Don’t be distracted by the Mount/Plain question
  2. Read the entire sermon as a sermon
  3. Read the sermon in the context of Luke’s Gospel
  4. Read, read, and read again

Check it out!

The Titles of Jesus in Matthew

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Photo of name tags attached to a chain link fence
Daniel Thomas (2019), public domain

The names we call others provide a snapshot of our relationship. It is drastically different, for example, to hear a child refer to an adult as “Mr. Smith,” “Officer Thomas,” or “Daddy.”

Names and titles matter throughout the Scriptures, and I’ve recently started a project examining the use of titles and names for Jesus in the Gospels. My first article laid out my methodology and looked at the top 10 titles of Jesus in the Gospels.

In this article we’ll consider the titles used for Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew.

Top 5 Titles

By my accounting, there are 131 titles used for Jesus in Matthew. There are 443 in all four Gospels, so the titles in Matthew account for about 29.6% of the all titles. (Matthew contains about 28% of the verses in the Gospels.)

Here are the top 5 titles in Matthew.

  1. Son of Man (30 times)
  2. Lord (23 times)
  3. Christ (13 times)
  4. teacher (10 times)
  5. the child (9 times)

The next few entries on the list are also interesting: Son of David (8 times), Son of God (8 times), and Son (6 times). The top four titles used in Matthew are the same as the top four titles used in all the Gospels, just in a slightly different order.

Perhaps also of interest: the title “Lord” comes from Peter five times, and five of the 13 uses of “Christ” are by Matthew himself.

Titles Used by Matthew

Most of the titles used in the Gospels are put in the mouth of someone else by the Gospel author. But there are times when the author himself refers to a name or title of Jesus.

There are ten such occasions in Matthew. He refers to Jesus as “Christ” five times, as “the child” four times, and as the “Son of David” once. Nine of these occasions are found within the first two chapters of the Gospel; the other one (“the Christ”) is found in Matthew 11:2.

Old Testament References and “the child”

Matthew is the only Gospel writer who uses titles for Jesus within Old Testament quotations. He does this five times.

  • Immanuel (Matt 1:23)
  • ruler (Matt 2:6)
  • son (Matt 2:15)
  • servant (Matt 12:18)
  • beloved (Matt 12:18)

Another unique aspect of Matthew is that he is the only Gospel writer who uses the title/role “the child” to refer to Jesus—and he does this nine times. These all occur in the second chapter of Matthew, as we learn of the prophecy about the coming Messiah. This title is used by Matthew four times, by an angel of the Lord four times, and once by Herod.

Relation to Matthew’s Purpose

In my co-blogger Peter Krol’s series on the feeding of the 5000, he provided a nice overview of Matthew. In my article about the resurrection of Jesus in Matthew, I summarized Peter’s work this way.

Matthew wrote to convince his audience that Jesus was the king of the Jews. He spends much of his book explaining the kingdom of heaven and its subjects.

Given this purpose, it might be surprising not to find a title like “king” among the most-used in Matthew. (The title “king of the Jews” is only used four times in Matthew.)

We must remember, when looking at these titles of Jesus that I’ve compiled, that everything must be examined in context. We cannot draw any concrete conclusions by just counting occurrences or omissions. Further, different authors write differently—some might use titles more frequently, others might display Jesus as the king by showing him in kingly settings or performing kingly acts.

In what we have discussed so far, Matthew’s purpose is not hard to see. He is writing to a people who understood the Old Testament prophets, so references to “the child” (from Is 7:14) and other OT titles would situate Jesus within a rich, expectant tradition.

Matthew himself calls Jesus the “Son of David” once, and this title is used a total of eight times in this Gospel. (It is only used 12 times total in all Gospels.) We will explore these titles in a later article, but “Son of David,” “Son of God” (8 times), and even “Son” (6 times) are all royal titles. Even though the word “king” is not present, the first hearers of Matthew would have known Jesus was being described as the king.

Reading to Know Jesus

Looking at the titles used for Jesus can be interesting and illuminating, but let’s not leave it as a mere intellectual exercise. Matthew was not just writing to convey information; he wanted his readers to know that Jesus is the king of Israel.

By the titles he used, we know that Matthew did not just think of Jesus as a historical figure. He was the Christ, the promised Messiah, the one sent to save his people from their sins (Matt 1:21).

How Would They Have Applied It?

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In recent posts, I’ve been trying to help you get the most out of the interpretation phase of your study. We’ve considered different uses for different types of questions, the power of implicational questions, and the best place to find answers to your questions.

Another Angle

Another way to think of the value of implicational questions is that they help us to grasp how the original audience would have applied the text. When we ask our questions with the original audience in mind, we’re more likely to land on the true message and proper application of the text.

Our understanding of a text will be strongest—and therefore our application will hit home with greatest force—when it is very closely connected to the author’s primary intent for his audience.

So we do as much as we can to put ourselves in the shoes of those who first read this text, and to consider what this passage calls them to believe, love, or do.

Photo by Allan Mas

To do this, we must pull together all of our work in observation and interpretation so far. All our questions and answers, along with our work on the context: historical, biblical, and literary.

An Example

In Proverbs 31:1-9, King Lemuel’s mother offers him wise counsel for kings and rulers. She tells him what not to do with his strength (Prov 31:3) and mouth (Prov 31:4-5), and she promotes what he ought to do with his mouth (Prov 31:8-9a) and strength (Prov 31:9b). There is a time an place for forgetting (Prov 31:6-7), but during one’s exercise of kingly rule is not it (Prov 31:4-5).

Thus far my observation, with some progress on definitive, rational, and implicational questions. But how would the original audience have applied this poem?

It may be tempting to go directly to contemporary application, considering how we make use of our own strength and mouth, and whether we employ them to wise, selfless, and just ends. Such time would certainly be profitable, but perhaps a less direct route will lay an even stronger foundation for application.

The book of Proverbs is something of a manual for training up nobles and rulers in Israel. When Solomon speaks to “my son” in chapters 1-9, he is speaking not only to his direct heir but also to all the youth among the nobility (see where Prov 4:1, 24:21, etc., where the “sons” are either plural or are not in direct line to the throne). So if we apply every passage directly to the Christian “everyman,” we lose something of the book’s focus on training leaders.

The people of Israel hearing Proverbs 31:1-9 may not have immediately considered how they used their own strength or mouth. After all, many of them would be in the category of those for whom it would be appropriate to forget their poverty (Prov 31:6-7)!

Instead, upon hearing this text, they would be far more inclined to consider what sort of king they need to rule them in wisdom. They might expect their king to take this poem more personally than they themselves do. And if he wouldn’t, they would keep waiting and watching for another such king to arise.

Such consideration of the original audience helps us to see Christ more clearly in the text. And since we have been united to him through faith, it remains appropriate to apply the text to us today. But having gone through Christ to get to application, we’ve ratcheted up the urgency and persuasiveness.

One Caution

In order to determine a text’s implications on the original audience, we must be able to identify who that original audience is. Such identification is quite tricky for narratives, for at least two reasons.

The first reason is that we often don’t know who the precise audience was. It would be difficult to nail down exactly which generation was the first audience for Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1-2 Samuel, or Esther. We can’t be too precise about the audience for some of the gospels, as we’re not told. In all such cases, we must remain fuzzy, though it still helps to know “these people needed a king,” or “these people must have been Jewish Christians.”

The second reason the identification is tricky is that we often confuse the text’s audience with the text’s characters. So when studying the sermon on the Mount, we might find ourselves putting ourselves in the shoes of those who were present, listening to the sermon as Jesus preached it. But instead, we ought to put ourselves in the shoes of those reading the book that Matthew wrote.

So the implications of the text on the characters within the text might help you to understand the text. But what’s even more significant is to grasp the implications of the text on those who first read the text.

Conclusion

When you can clearly answer the question of “how would they have applied it?” you’ll be far more likely to get a strong answer to “how should we apply it?”

Why the Spirit is Willing but the Flesh is Weak

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Zach Hollifield has a wonderful article where he makes a keen observation and asks a crucial rational interpretive question:

It’s when Jesus returns from his own prayer to find them snoozing that he utters the infamous line “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” …

Matthew and Mark go out of their way to make it clear that Jesus says this to Peter and Peter alone. Mark even quotes Jesus as beginning the statement with, “Simon, are you asleep—?” Jesus finds all three sleeping, and yet when he makes the statement about the spirit being willing and flesh being weak, he says it directly to just one disciple. Why?

Hollifield finds in the text compelling answers to his question, leading to some really helpful application. This is a great example of strong Bible study skills.

Check it out!

Units of Thought in Discourse

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One of the most important observations to make in a passage is the structure. And the way to observe structure is to first identify the parts of the passage (the units of thought) so that you can figure out how those parts relate to one another. In this post I’ll show you some of the ways to recognize the units of thought in a discourse.

What is a Discourse?

Discourse is one of the three text types in Scripture. A discourse is simply a passage where someone is speaking. It could be a speech or sermon. It could be a law code. It could be a letter. It could be a prose prophetic text. But when someone is speaking or teaching, a few particular tools will help us to discern the units of thought in that speech.

Photo by Volodymyr Hryshchenko on Unsplash

Logical Connectors

The first thing to look for is logical connectors. These are words or phrases that signal the movement from one idea to another. Such words include because, since, however, therefore, consequently, for this reason, finally, and many more.

It’s important to observe the use of such logical connectors, but it’s even more important to figure out how they are being used. For example, the word “but” could signal a very narrow and particular contrast between two words (e.g. the contrast between “bronze bases” and “silver hooks” in Ex 38:17). It could signal a larger contrast between clauses (e.g. the contrast between “the patriarchs sold him into Egypt” and “God was with him” in Acts 7:9). Or it could signal a larger contrast between sections or units of thought (e.g. the contrast between “you were” in Eph 2:1-3 and “but God” in Eph 2:4-6).

Noticing these larger, discourse-level transitions (not just word-level or clause-level transitions) helps us to follow the author’s larger argument by identifying his units of thought. For example, in Ephesians, after the blessing of God in Eph 1:3-14, the connector words “for this reason” (Eph 1:15) signal the next section. And there is no discourse-level connector word again until the “therefore” of Eph 2:11. This suggests that Eph 1:15-2:10 are a single unit of thought, explaining Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians to perceive their union with Christ. And the “therefore” section of Eph 2:11-22 explains the practical implications of such union of the entire community with Christ (and therefore with one another).

Transitional and Thesis Statements

In a modern-day sermon, you might hear the preacher say “My first point is…” or “Having seen [the first point], that leads us to consider the matter of [the second point].” These are the sorts of transitional words and phrases speakers use to let their audience know they are moving from one idea to the next. Some biblical discourses do the same thing.

For example, Hebrews 1:4 states a thesis that the Son of God is superior to angels because he has inherited a superior name. Heb 1:5-14 then explains the superiority of the Son, and Heb 2:5-18 demonstrates his superior name. Though there is some application in the middle (Heb 2:1-4), Heb 1:4-2:18 makes one complete unit of thought.

Another example: Eccl 11:7-8 states a thesis that because light is pleasant for the eyes, we ought to rejoice in what God gives and remember that dark days are coming. Eccl 11:9-10 then expands on the command to rejoice in God’s gift of life, and Eccl 12:1-7 expands on the command to remember the Creator before the dark days of old age threaten your joy.

One more example: In the second half of 1 Corinthians, Paul introduces each section with a transitional “concerning [the matters about which you wrote.” These transitional statements clearly inform us how to understand each section, so that we don’t get lost in the details. 1 Cor 7 deals with sexual relationships. 1 Cor 8-11 addresses the matter of food offered to idols. 1 Cor 12-14 covers the topic of spiritual things or spiritual people (the word “gifts” does not appear in the Greek of 1 Cor 12:1 but is added by translators).

Shifts in Content

When distinguishing units of thought in discourse, one final tool to keep in mind is straightforward shifts in content. We see such shifts clearly in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount where he uses very few direct transitions or connectors. After the blessings (Matt 5:3-12) he discusses salt and light (Matt 5:13-16) and the proper understanding of the Law and the Prophets, against Pharisaic oral tradition (Matt 5:17-48).

Then he does offer a thesis statement in Matt 6:1 to warn us of practicing righteousness before other people, and his shifts in content from giving (Matt 6:2-4) to prayer (Matt 6:5-15) to fasting (Matt 6:16-18) mark the subdivisions under that larger thesis.

Finally, he concludes the sermon with discussion of treasure (Matt 6:19-34), true and false judgments (Matt 7:1-20), and hearing and doing (Matt 7:21-27).

Embedded Discourse

One special type of discourse to watch for is embedded discourse, which is when a speech is placed within another kind of text, such as a narrative. When we’re dealing with embedded discourse, we must not only look for structural markers within the discourse itself. We must also pay close attention to the narrative markers that show the author’s larger purpose.

The Sermon on the Mount is embedded within Matthew’s larger narrative. So while the shifts in content help us to observe structural units of thought within the speech, we must also take note of the narrative frame in Matt 4:23-5:2 and Matt 7:28-29 to grasp not only Jesus’ point but also Matthew’s larger point in recounting the sermon.

Another example: In the Flood narrative, notice the narrative markers “And God said to Noah” (Gen 6:13) and “Then the LORD aid to Noah” (Gen 7:1). Prior to the Flood, God makes two speeches to Noah. We ought not squish them together, as though they were a single set of instructions. The narrator signals that God had two points to make or two sets of instructions for Noah.

Similarly, in Genesis 17, the narrative markers of Gen 17:1, 9, 15, and 22 mark three distinct speeches of God. God had something to say about himself (Gen 17:1-8). Something about Abram (Gen 17:9-14). Something about Sarai (Gen 17:15-21). And then he was done (Gen 27:22). Simply observe how the discourse has been embedded within the narrative, and you have immediately found the main units of thought and thereby the structure.

Conclusion

Discourse texts are some of the most beloved passages in all the Scripture. But we must be careful, for it is remarkably easy to get lost in the details. Employ these four tools—logical connectors, transitional and thesis statements, content shifts, and narrative markers for embedded discourse—to help you find the units of thought, and you’ll be well on your way to grasping the passage’s structure. This matters, because only once you’ve grasped the structure will you be able to draw credible and defensible conclusions about the passage’s main idea.