Plot | Knowable Word

Acts 4 and 5: Similar Narratives with Distinct Emphases

January 15, 2021 By Peter Krol

“If your observation is poor, your interpretation won’t be any better.” Acts 4 and Acts 5 provide a good case study to illustrate this mantra of mine.

These two chapters of Acts (or, to be specific, Acts 4:5-31 and Acts 5:17-42) appear quite similar on the surface. In both episodes:

Jesus’ apostles draw crowds for doing miraculous signs and wonders (Acts 3:11-12, 5:14-16).
The high priest and his associates imprison Jesus’ apostles for preaching and healing (Acts 4:1-3, 5:17-18).
There is a hearing with testimony from the “offenders” (Acts 4:5-7, 5:27-28).
The apostles are compelled to bear witness to the resurrection and exaltation of Jesus (Acts 4:10-12, 5:30-32).
The priests warn the apostles to speak no longer in this name (Acts 4:18, 5:40).
The apostles contrast obedience to the priests with obedience to God (Acts 4:19-20, 5:29).
The apostles end up more motivated and more courageous to continue their proclamation (Acts 4:31, 5:41-42).

Because of these similarities, teachers and small group leaders may feel stuck when studying Acts. Should we skip over the second episode? Should we repeat the same lesson and applications? How do we prevent the study from feeling like deja vu for participants? What more can we cover the second time ’round that we didn’t address the first time?

When a biblical narrator repeats similar ideas in this way, especially in such quick succession, he may have numerous reasons for doing so. One reason could be simply to establish a matter on the testimony of two witnesses (Deut 19:15). But in almost every case, the narrator also gives clues that he has a different point to make with each episode. We can use the same skills we employ to avoid unhelpful harmonization to grasp Luke’s points in these two chapters of Acts. Let’s hear each episode and observe them doggedly.

Plot Structure to the Rescue in Acts 4

Since we’re dealing with narratives, one of the most useful tools is that of plot structure. Let’s go back over each of the two scenes with the concepts of conflict, climax, and resolution in mind. To keep things somewhat focused, I’ll be looking only at the arrest/hearing scenes and not the healing scenes that provoked them.

In chapter 4, Acts 4:5-6 describe the setting. The conflict (tangible narrative tension) enters in Acts 4:7, when the priests ask, “By what power or by what name did you do this [heal the man lame since birth and proclaim resurrection from the dead]?” The chief conflict here is the conflict between names, which represent both delegated authority and factual power. What is the name that gives you either the ability (power) or the right (authority) to do these things?

Luke masterfully foreshadows this conflict of authoritative names even as he establishes the setting: “…with Annas the high priest and Caiaphas and John and Alexander, and all who were of the high-priestly family” (Acts 4:6). Do you see what he did there? Do you see how sneaky he was in getting you to consider all those powerful and authoritative names?

The tension only increases as Peter tackles the question head-on:

“by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth…” (Acts 4:10)
“there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12)

The wannabe Names, however, can’t have any of this. Luke narrates twice their resolve to prohibit proclamation in this unapproved name of Jesus (Acts 4:17, 18). They then release Peter, John, and the formerly lame man, but the narrative hasn’t climaxed yet. The question remains unresolved: Which name will prove to be the true power here?

It is only after the disciples return to their friends (Acts 4:23), pray together to the Sovereign Lord who made heaven, earth, and sea (Acts 4:24), and ask him to embolden them even while continuing his signs and wonders through the name of his holy servant Jesus (Acts 4:29-30)—only then does the conflict finally resolve. At this profession of complete trust in the name of Jesus, the place where they had gathered was shaken, and the Holy Spirit fills hem afresh with a new measure of boldness (Acts 4:31). The shaking and the Spirit are narrative evidences that they’ve been clinging to the right name. That the power of this name to preach the resurrection cannot be stopped by a few pretenders to the Jewish priesthood. What were their names again?

Luke’s emphasis in this first scene, evident through the nature of the narrative conflict and climax, is on the vindication and authority of the name of Jesus over that of the Jewish priests.

Plot Structure in Acts 5

The conflict, climax, and resolution of Acts 5 take us in quite a different direction.

Acts 5:17-18 provide the setting, where a jealous High Priest & Co. (unnamed!) locks up the apostles. And not only Peter and John this time, but, presumably, all of them. Yes, there is implicit conflict in both the jealousy and the arrest itself. But the actual narrative conflict arises in Acts 5:19-20, when an angel shows up to bust his boys out of the slammer. The priests want them in prison; the angel (and, in light of what follows, we can add: God) wants them in the temple. The conflict: Where do you want these guys to be?

The tension increases (hilariously) the next day as the priests send for their prisoners for interrogation, and they can’t find them (Acts 5:21b-25)! Nobody remembers seeing them leave, and the cells remain locked. They were so careful to place these troublemakers just so, but then they went and lost their prisoners!

They hear of the apostles’ presence in the temple (incidentally, isn’t it the priests’ job to be there?), and resolve to bring them back in. But they must do so with much sensitivity and caution, lest they get themselves killed by the crowd (Acts 5:26). Luke strongly suggests that the apostles could have resisted this re-arrest, had they chosen to stay put in the temple, and the temple officers could have done nothing to physically apprehend them. The priests are clearly losing their ability to contain these unruly preachers.

I’ll simplify my analysis by suggesting that the conflict is finally reversed (i.e. reaches its climax) in Acts 5:39, where Gamaliel’s advice is simply to trust God to decide which movements he wants to grow or demolish. The priests take his advice (Acts 5:39b), but not really (Acts 5:40). They still want to have some control over deciding when and where this Christian movement can operate. And their intimidation has the opposite effect to what they intend (Acts 5:41-42).

Conclusion

All you need to do is set aside your familiarity and take a closer look. Observe, observe, observe. Take note, especially in narrative, of the details of conflict, rising action, climax, and resolution. As you do, the distinct emphases of similar episodes will surface themselves.

Then you can teach or lead discussions on Acts 4 and Acts 5 without covering exactly the same ground. First (Acts 4), you talk about the only name that has the authority to forgive and the power to heal. Then (Acts 5), you explore the fact that opposition to this name will want to contain it but never succeed.

But if your observation is poor, your interpretation won’t be any better.

On the Road to Emmaus

October 16, 2020 By Peter Krol

Luke ends his gospel with a masterpiece of a story that has captured our imaginations for millennia. And the story is so vivid and well-told that, if we’re not careful, its artistry can easily distract us from its chief message. I imagine you’ve heard speculation about whether the “other disciple” is Cleopas’s wife. And perhaps you’ve wished to be part of the greatest Bible study of all time on that 6-mile walk. Or maybe you’ve wondered how Jesus could simply vanish into thin air. And maybe you’ve been inspired by the eagerness of the two disciples to return to Jerusalem “that same hour,” after their long walk home on that long day.

These matters are all worth considering, and they are rightly in the corporate consciousness of those who read this story today. But allow me to model how a few key principles will help us to penetrate the outer edges of the story to better grasp its main point. (In what follows, I seek to apply the principles of narrative plot structure explained in this post.)

Plot Structure

With even an elementary grasp on how plot structure works, you know to look for the introduction of conflict. Everything before that conflict is simply setting the scene.

So we read, beginning at Luke 24:13, and we’re told of “two of them” going to Emmaus, about 7 miles from Jerusalem. They were talking about everything that had happened. While they were talking, Jesus himself draws near and goes with them. None of this is tense. There is no conflict yet, so all these details provide the setting for what is about to transpire.

Then Luke goes out of his way to tell us, “But their eyes were kept from recognizing him” (Luke 24:16). Now the story finally feels tense. Now there is a sense of uncertainty, of conflict between what is happening and what they perceive is happening.

In particular, we see a conflict between the disciples and their perceptions (your English teacher may have called this “man vs. himself”). The issue this story wants to address is: Can they recognize Jesus? And if so, how?

Now don’t get distracted. I can observe as well as you can that the passive voice is used: “their eyes were kept…” But don’t let that distract you into speculation on divine sovereignty vs. free will, nor into questions about why God would prevent them from recognizing Jesus. Much of the purpose of the passive voice is to avoid such matters entirely. Narrators typically use passive voice when they wish to direct your attention away from the person doing the action. They want you to gaze instead simply at what is happening to the object(s) of the action.

Skimming through the story for now, we should look for the climax. Where is the conflict (they can’t recognize Jesus) reversed? Luke does all the heavy lifting for us here, making it as clear as possible: “And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him” (Luke 24:31).

So everything between verses 16 and 31 serves as “rising action.” The events recounted here are heightening the tension and magnifying the conflict. And the material in verses 32-35 provide the resolution (32-34) and new setting (35). Remember, our opening setting involved two of them walking away from Jerusalem discussing the events surrounding Jesus’ resurrection. On account of the conflict, rising action, and climax, we have reached a new state of affairs where these two folks are no longer asking and wondering, but telling of what happened. And more particularly, they can proclaim “how he was known to them in the breaking of the bread” (Luke 24:35).

Approaching the Main Point

So our simple identification of conflict and climax strongly suggests that Luke’s main point in this episode has something to do with recognizing the risen Jesus. Of course, that’s not quite enough to go on just yet (it’s only a short phrase and not a truth proposition that ought to be believed or obeyed). But it sets us in the right direction.

We can look within the story’s action to discover that the testimony of the Hebrew Scripture plays a major role in such recognition. And there is something more going on than simply identifying Jesus by name in a lineup (bare “recognition” of Jesus’ name or face). Luke is communicating quite profoundly that they failed to recognize resurrection as being fundamental to the person and work of the Messiah. And this was not a problem of education but a problem of faith and of biblical interpretation (Luke 24:25-26).

That’s as far as I’ll go for now. I don’t want to simply tell you what I think the main point is. That would defeat the purpose of trying to help you figure it out for yourself.

But I trust my reflections here have done enough to show you that their eyes, while on the text, had been focused in all the wrong places. Perhaps we ought to avoid the same error when we study these Scriptures ourselves.

How Plot Structure Helps with John 4

July 12, 2019 By Peter Krol

I led a Bible study this week on John 4. Not only the woman at the well (John 4:1-42), but the entire chapter. And I once dared to call plot structure the most import tool for observing the structure of a narrative. So I decided to put my money where my mouth was, and invest my limited mental energy in exploring the plot structure of this chapter.

The results got me farther down the road than any other tool I tried. Not only was this tool the most important one for observing the structure. It ended up also being the most important tool for helping me to interpret the narrative and determine the author’s main point.

Let me show you how it worked.

Stuck in the Details

Without handrails, John 4 is the sort of narrative that makes Bible students feel like they’re swimming in details. And great is the temptation for premature application. There is much in this chapter to provoke, stimulate, and inspire. All you have to do is pick your favorite from among the proffered topics and you’re free to camp there as long as you like.

We could focus on the satisfaction Jesus promises with living water (John 4:13-14). We could focus on sexual morality (John 4:17-18) or Jesus’ omniscience (John 4:16, 19). We could focus on true worship (John 4:21-24). We could focus on evangelism (John 4:28-29, 39-40). We could focus on spiritual dullness or failure to evangelize (John 4:35-38). We could focus on Jesus’ obedience to his Father (John 4:34). We could focus on Jesus’ experience of rejection (John 4:44-45) or his power to heal at a distance (John 4:50-53). We could focus on the nature of belief (John 4:39-42, 48, 50, 53) or the authority of Messiah (John 4:25-26).

So many goodies. So much raw material for theological exploration. And all of it would be true, biblical, practical, and engaging.

But why did John include all these things? What was his main idea?

Getting Unstuck

The best way to see how all these goodies fit together is to analyze the text according to its plot structure.

The first conflict is introduced in John 4:7-9. It must have been important to John that his readers understand the conflict, because he chooses to pop us on the nose with two parenthetical statements (the disciples were gone, and Jews don’t deal with Samaritans). Perhaps without the explanation, the nature of the conflict would have been subtle enough that his audience might have missed it. In short, the conflict, as John introduces it, is Jesus vs. cultural expectations of identity. Jesus does what nobody would have expected him to do: Speak to this woman, alone.
If that is the conflict, this suggests that John 4:1-6 is simply the setting to paint the picture for us. Jesus wishes to escape the Pharisees, who might compel a competition between him and John. And he “had to” pass through Samaria to get away.
So where is the reversal? Where are the cultural expectations of identity flipped around? John 4:26: “I who speak to you am he.” Here is the first climax.
Therefore, we can consider the intervening verses (John 4:10-25) as part of the rising action intended to heighten the tension and build toward climax.
- These verses are not unimportant. There is deep and significant teaching here. But, according to the way John has chosen to tell his story, this material is subordinate to the climax of verse 26.
- In John 4:10-15, Jesus has asked her for a drink, but he clarifies that, really, she should have asked him for a drink.
- In John 4:16, the conflict expands. Now Jesus is taking on not only the cultural expectations of his identity but also this woman’s worship. He shines light to expose her evil deeds (John 3:20-21), likely to see whether she’ll come out or withdraw further into cover of darkness.
- In John 4:17-25, the action rises as they now discuss true and false worship. Again, this material is valuable; I don’t think it’s unimportant. But for John, it’s part of a narrative device intended to heighten the tension and build to climax. We must keep in mind what he’s building toward: Who is Jesus, with respect to what his culture expects of him?
After the climax in John 4:26, the situation resolves into a new setting (John 4:27-30), a new state of affairs: One where Jesus’ own disciples marvel at his behavior (again, completely in conflict with their cultural expectations), and the woman testifies to Jesus’ new-found (to her) identity.

So John 4:1-30 gives us one full cycle of plot structure, with a sense of resolution and a new state of affairs. I’ll abbreviate my commentary on the remaining two cycles.

Second plot arc (John 4:27-42):

John 4:27-30: setting, described above.
John 4:31-32: next conflict introduced. Jesus vs. disciples’ perception of the world.
John 4:33-37: rising action. Q&A. Jesus takes their eyes off physical food to the spiritual reality of harvest.
John 4:38: climax. Disciples’ mistaken perception reversed as they enter into another’s labor (as they now reap that for which they did not labor).
John 4:39-42: new setting. Samaritans believe that Jesus is savior of the world; they ask him to stay.

Third plot arc (John 4:39-54):

John 4:39-42: setting, described above.
John 4:43-46: more setting. John raises the question of response. We ought to expect, with Jesus, a poor response to him from his own people (cf. John 1:11, 4:44).
John 4:47-48: next conflict introduced. On the surface, we might think the conflict is Jesus vs. illness. But with Jesus’ first response (John 4:48) John highlights a different conflict instead: Jesus vs. unbelief (defined as trusting more in signs than in the savior). The surface conflict with illness is merely the literary mechanism for presenting the true conflict with unbelief.
John 4:49-50a: rising action, where the Roman official requests Jesus’ presence but receives his word of promise instead.
John 4:50b: climax. The official believes Jesus’ word, even without a visible sign. He goes on his way without Jesus’ company.
John 4:51-53a: resolution. The official gets proof of his son’s healing, to confirm the word of promise from Jesus.
John 4:53b-54: new setting. Belief spreads in Roman official’s household.

Implications

Let me close with a few principles for mapping plot structure:

Because the categories and lines can seem fuzzy in any given story, I find it most helpful to identify first the conflict and climax. The conflict is the point at which the narrative introduces tension. The climax is the point at which that tension is fixed or reversed. Those two points are typically the clearest elements of the plot.
Then the material in between the introduction of the conflict and the climax falls into place as rising action, serving to expand on or intensify the tension produced by the conflict.
Almost everything that comes before the conflict is simply setting. The details matter for the sake of the story, but they will likely not be as crucial to the text’s theology or application.
And the payout for interpretation comes when we focus our attention on the climax and resolution to determine the author’s main point.

In John 4, we see three arcs with climaxes:

The first arc climaxes (John 4:26) with the immoral Samaritan woman hearing and, in the resolution, trusting in Jesus’ identity as Messiah.
The second arc climaxes (John 4:38) with the disciples entering into Jesus’ labor, to reap the harvest with him.
The third arc climaxes (John 4:50b) with the powerful Roman official trusting Jesus’ word of promise, without any visible sign.

How does this help with discovering John’s main point? The religious insiders need help to perceive God’s salvation extending to religious outsiders. This Jesus is not only King of the Jews. He is the Savior of the world (John 4:42), rejected by his own but believed on in the world. Not even Nicodemus the Pharisee is described as believing just yet (John 3); but any outsider of any race or status who trusts Jesus’ identity and word of promise can become his child. This chapter illustrates, with flamboyant color, the truth that God so loved the world (John 3:16-17).

This main point fits perfectly with the flow of thought in this section of the gospel:

In John 2, the messianic kingdom has arrived!
In John 3, we see how to enter the kingdom.
In John 4, we see who enters the kingdom.

I find it is well worth my time to simply draw a plot arc and use it to help me grasp biblical narratives. Perhaps it can be useful to you as well.

The Most Important Tool for Observing the Structure of a Narrative Episode

December 7, 2018 By Peter Krol

I’ve spent a few weeks showing both why structure matters and how to observe it. My focus to this point has been on macro-structure—structure across entire books or large subdivisions—because that is the part I’ve seen most people neglect in their Bible study. And there is great value in doing this well.

In this post, however, I’ll narrow my focus to distinct episodes in a single genre: narrative. How do you observe the structure of a narrative scene? And how does that structure convey the author’s meaning?

What We Learned in Grade School

For years, I spent so much time trying to be ingenious when observing structure that I missed something I learned in grade school. And I’ve recently come to see that thing I missed as the most important tool for observing the structure of a narrative.

That tool is the essential plot structure that nearly all narratives follow.

Do you remember learning, in school, terms such as setting, conflict, climax, and resolution? Those are the building blocks of narrative plot structure.

Setting (or Exposition) is what sets the scene for the action to take place. Setting can include an introduction of characters, a description of time or location, and even some basic action that sets up the body of the story.
Conflict is the story’s heartbeat. Tension enters the story in the form of man vs. man, man vs. nature, man vs. society, man vs. technology, man vs. himself, or man vs. God.
Rising Action narrates how the chief tension moves the story forward and builds through the episode.
Climax is the point at which the conflict is dealt with or reversed in some way.
Resolution (or Falling Action) describes the consequences of the climactic reversal.
New Setting (or Denouement) is the situation in which the characters find themselves as a result of living through the conflict and its climax. This new setting often sets up the next episode.

With these building blocks, we can quickly outline nearly any narrative episode. (Exception: Sometimes a single episode serves no other purpose than to elaborate the setting or to introduce the book or subdivision. If there is no conflict and reversal, we’ll need other to use other tools to observe the structure.) And there might be some gray area as to where exactly the setting ends and conflict begins, or which precise statement constitutes the exact climax. But if we get ourselves in the right ballpark, we will do well.

Putting the Tool into Practice

Let’s outline the narrative in Mark 2:1-12 of the healing of the paralytic.

Setting (Mark 2:1-5): Jesus teaches in Capernaum after some days. So many people listen to his teaching that a group of friends can’t get in the door. They open a hole in the roof, lower their friend, and Jesus forgives his sins. Someone could argue that the struggle to get into the crowded house introduces conflict (man vs. environment), but the fact that the story doesn’t climax with their entry to the house suggests Mark wants a different conflict to grab our attention.
Conflict introduced (Mark 2:6-7): Scribes vs. Jesus. Scribes question Jesus in their hearts: God alone can forgive sins!
Rising action (Mark 2:8-10): Jesus knows their thoughts, bluntly addresses them, asks a few questions, and reasons that though it would be easy to say “your sins are forgiven” (since you can’t see or touch the evidence to verify that forgiveness took place), it would be harder (i.e. more objectively falsifiable) to say “rise and walk.” Will he have the chutzpah to go there? Maybe he will! To make them know that the Son of Man has authority to forgive, he speaks…!
Climax (Mark 2:11): “I say to you, rise, pick up your bed, and go home.” The point of conflict was whether Jesus had authority to do what he had done. He now puts that claim of authority on the line by doing that which is more objectively falsifiable.
Resolution (Mark 2:12a): The paralyzed man immediately rises, picks up his bed, and walks out in plain view of all. The proof is presented; the gauntlet has been thrown down.
New setting (Mark 2:12b): All are now amazed and glorifying God, as they’ve now seen something they’ve never seen before: A man with divine authority to forgive sins.

Let me give another example from Exodus 13:17-14:31, the crossing of the Red Sea.

Setting (Ex 13:17-22): God leads the people along a certain route.
Conflict introduced (Ex 14:1-4): God commands the people to turn back and camp between Migdol and the sea because Pharaoh will think they’re helpless. God will harden his heart so he can get glory over Pharaoh. Striking: The primary conflict is not between Israel and Pharaoh; it is between Israel and God! Will they trust him, even when he makes their situation harder than they expect?
Rising action (Ex 14:5-28): Pharaoh indeed responds as God foretold, and God indeed hardens his heart. Pharaoh pursues the people, and they see their impossible predicament. They cry out to God through Moses, and Yahweh wants them to move forward instead of crying out. He holds Egypt back long enough to set up walls of water for them to race into. Then, through Moses, he crashes the water down on Egypt’s chariots.
Climax (Ex 14:29): If the chief conflict is between Israel and God (will they trust him through the painful circumstances?), the reversal happens in verse 29 when the people walk on dry ground through the sea. In doing this, they obey God’s command to “go forward” (Ex 14:15). It’s tempting to place the climax at Ex 14:28, when the waters drown the Egyptians; but the Egyptians were not the chief antagonists in the narrator’s framing of the story.
Resolution (Ex 14:30): Yahweh saved the people that day (summary statement), and Israel saw Egypt dead on the shore.
New setting (Ex 14:31): The people who were struggling to trust their God have now seen his great power. They have learned to fear Yahweh and to believe both Yahweh and his servant Moses.

Sometimes the exact boundaries of the different plot components will be fuzzy. But the clearest points should be 1) when conflict is introduced, and 2) when that conflict climaxes in a reversal. If you can find those two things, the rest of the pieces fall into place.

Why This Matters

We will typically find the narrator’s main point at the point of climax or resolution. The climax presents the reversal he seeks to portray. The resolution draws out the implications of that reversal. So we must look there for the main point.

Observing the narrative’s plot structure in this way helps us to avoid placing too much weight on unimportant details. For example, in Mark 2, we ought not make much (either interpretation or application) of the fact that Jesus saw the friends’ faith and thereby forgave the paralytic’s sins (Mark 2:5). That’s only part of the setting, or the set up for the actual main point: Jesus’ authority to pronounce forgiveness. For another example, in Exodus 14, our application will focus more on developing trust in God than in necessarily expecting to be rescued from hard circumstances.

And outlining a narrative’s plot structure enables us to answer the age-old question of whether a particular narrative is meant to be prescriptive or descriptive. Identify the conflict, climax, and resolution, and you’ll be close to the main point. Grasp that main point, and you can have confidence in what the author wants us to get from his narrative. Perhaps it may be a descriptive point; perhaps it may be more prescriptive.

Putting Micro-Structure and Macro-Structure Together

And when you combine the micro-structure (plot arc) with the macro-structure of the larger division, you are approaching mastery of the text and a profound grasp of the narrator’s intentions.

For example, you might notice that the story of the paralytic is preceded by 4 healing episodes (Mark 1:21-28, 29-31, 32-39, 40-45) and that it is followed by 4 controversy episodes (Mark 2:13-17, 18-22, 23-28; 3:1-6). The paralytic story is itself both a healing and a controversy. The first two healings take place on a Sabbath, and the last two controversies take place on a Sabbath. The passage begins with Jesus having more authority than the scribes (Mark 1:22), and it ends with Pharisees and Herodians taking counsel to destroy him (Mark 3:6). There is therefore a clear chiastic (symmetric) arrangement here (A-B-C-D-E-D-C-B-A), with the paralytic story sitting at the prominent hinge point in the center.

So Jesus’ divine authority (perhaps even his specific authority to forgive sins) must be a major component of the message of the full section that goes from Mark 1:21 to Mark 3:9. Append Mark 1:16-20 as an introduction and Mark 3:7-12 as a conclusion, and you’ve got your hands on Mark’s first major literary division.

I’m grateful for a few Simeon Trust preaching workshops, which alerted me to the importance of these plot devices in outlining a narrative’s structure.

What Catching Fire (Hunger Games #2) Taught Me About Bible Study

November 22, 2013 By Peter Krol

In honor of the second “Hunger Games” movie opening this weekend, I’m updating and reposting this article (originally published June 4, 2012) about the novel Catching Fire.

I just finished reading Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins, part 2 of the Hunger Games series (see here for my thoughts on the first book). The plot pacing and literary devices were similar to the first book, but a few new things struck me in this volume that help with Bible study.

1. Structure is Your Friend

The Hunger Games is divided into three parts; each part had nine chapters. Not bad. It helped me to remember the flow of the story: the Tributes, the Games, the Victor.

Catching Fire has the same structure: three parts with nine chapters each. A nice, memorable flow: the Spark, the Quell, the Enemy.

I must admit, I looked ahead to the third book. Guess what? Three parts, nine chapters each. Fantastic. That means the entire series is made up of nine parts with nine chapters in each part. Beautiful symmetry!

It can’t be an accident. In fact, most chapters (and some of the parts) don’t really end with a scene change the way most books do. Collins clearly set things up to have the right number of chapter and part divisions.

How does this help with Bible study? Biblical authors employ the same tactic. They consciously structure their books so readers can easily remember and assimilate the material. Here are some examples.

The Plagues on Egypt (Exodus 7:14-10:29), organized as three sets of three plagues each. Notice how the first plague of each set begins with something like “Go to Pharaoh in the morning…” (Ex 7:14, 8:20, 9:13). The tight organization contrasts with the utter chaos resulting from the plagues, and it helps us appreciate the power and majesty of the Lord.
Jesus’ Sermons in Matthew (Matthew 5-7, 10, 13, 18, 23-25), dividing the Gospel into five sections. Each section highlights a particular aspect of what it means to be Jesus’ disciple. The book climaxes with the Great Commission to go out and make disciples (Matt 28:16-20).

Pay attention to structure, as authors use it to couch their main points in a memorable way. For more help, I highly recommend The Literary Structure of the Old Testament by David Dorsey.

2. Plot Twists Have Always been in Style

Catching Fire has lots of plot twists. Some are clearly foreshadowed; others caught me by surprise. Modern stories seem boring if they’re too predictable, but Collins delivers engagingly.

Plot twists are not a modern invention; the Bible showed us how to do it long ago.

Readers of the Old Testament expected the Messiah to deliver Israel (Acts 1:6), but who would have guessed that God himself would become a man, be born of a virgin, live in poverty, and die in great shame? If the rulers of this age had known it, they would not have crucified Jesus (1 Cor 2:7-8). Many today still read the Bible but miss Jesus, the main point (2 Cor 3:12-16).

Now that we know the end of the story, however, we can go back and get the point.

P.S. For a fantastic review of the content and ethics of The Hunger Games, see N.D. Wilson’s article posted by Trevin Wax at The Gospel Coalition. And for a keen but scathing review of the popular response to the Hunger Games franchise, see Scott Mendelson’s review at Forbes.

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Disclosure: The Amazon links above are affiliate links, so if you click them and buy stuff, you’ll end up supporting this site at no extra cost to yourself.

What The Hunger Games Taught Me About Bible Study

May 21, 2012 By Peter Krol

I just finished reading the first Hunger Games book, which simultaneously captivated and horrified me. This post is not a review of the content of the book, but an attempt to capture some literary points that (I think) contribute to the book’s success. For more evaluative reviews, see my brief Goodreads review, or reviews by Tim Challies or Mark Meynell.

1. Pay attention to verb tenses

Something nagged at me through the first part of the book. The story felt alive to me, almost too alive. It took a while to notice the cause, but eventually I realized the verbs were in the present tense. Sorry, I did that paragraph all wrong; let me try it again.

Something nags at me through the first part of the book. The story feels alive to me, almost too alive. It takes a while to notice the cause, but eventually I realize it’s the verbs are in the present tense.

Collins isn’t the first novelist to use this convention, but I think it’s uncommon. I can’t remember the last time I read a novel that employed it.

What does this fact have to do with Bible study? Pay attention to tenses! Authors communicate tone and mood through it. Each biblical author communicates different style and purpose through his text. One particularly vivid example is the Gospel of Mark.

For example, check out the New American Standard Bible, which conveniently lets us know when the original language behind a narrative uses present tense (instead of the more common past tense) by marking it with an *.

“Immediately the Spirit *impelled Him to go out into the wilderness” (Mark 1:12, NASB).

“They *went into Capernaum…” (Mark 1:21, NASB).

“Now Simon’s mother-in-law was lying sick with a fever; and immediately they *spoke to Jesus about her” (Mark 1:30, NASB).

Swap each of those *verbs with a present tense (the Spirit impels…hey go…they speak…), and you’ll get the picture Mark intends. You’ll picture yourself right there with Jesus and his disciples, and the story will come alive.

2. Put Yourself in the Story

Part of what I enjoyed about The Hunger Games was that stuff happens. We didn’t need chapter after chapter of set up. We didn’t get a lot of back story, except through the course of the action. Collins’s greatest strength is her plot, which she uses well to both build characters and configure setting. But the plot is always central.

So also, in the Bible, there are times when plot is central. Again, the key example that comes to mind is the Gospel of Mark. For example, notice how often Mark uses the word “immediately.” Compared to the other three Gospels, Mark has the fewest recorded speeches of Jesus. Mark cares about action, and he wants that action to impact us as though we were there. Jesus is a doer, the King of the Universe, and he’s doing everything in his power to fix what is broken, especially in our own lives.

In short, as I read The Hunger Games and considered why it was so popular, I was inspired to go back and re-read Mark, which I did at my first opportunity. As you engage in the folklore of our culture, allow it to sharpen your skill at reading God’s Knowable Word.

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