Reading the Bible as Story Part 2

In my last article, I talked about how many people walk away from their engagement with the Bible feeling frustrated rather than liberated or transformed. They know they are reading words they understand, yet somehow the meaning they are longing for remains just beyond their grasp. Additionally, many people approach the Bible in ways that don’t take advantage of its original intent.

Part of the challenge is that every form of communication invites us to read it differently. While some people instinctively know this, others may not, so let me try to explain.

We don’t read poetry the same way we read prose (ordinary everyday writing with standard paragraphs and sentences, like in novels and essays).

Likewise, we don't read a novel the same way we read a legal document.

We don’t read a love letter the same way we read a textbook. Do people still write love letters?

Each form communicates differently because each form is trying to accomplish something different.

The Bible is no exception.

One reason readers become frustrated is that they often approach every part of Scripture in exactly the same way. Yet the biblical authors clearly did not write everything the same way.

The Psalms invite us into poetry.

The Prophets employ imagery, symbolism, metaphor, and dramatic language.

The Gospel writers tell stories.

Paul writes letters.

Even what many Christians commonly call "the Law" (such as the law of Moses or the Ten Commandments) is not simply presented as a list of disconnected regulations. In fact, much of what we call the Law (commonly translated as “law” from the Hebrew word “Torah”) is embedded within an ongoing story. And to further the point, the Hebrew word “Torah” is often better understood as “instruction” or “teaching” rather than merely “law” or “command.” God's instruction is given to a people already participating in a story.

The commands do not exist apart from the narrative. They emerge from it.

And that matters.

Because when we misunderstand the kind of literature we are reading, we often create expectations the text was never intended to fulfill.

The biblical authors employ the same literary tools that great storytellers have always employed.

Plot.

Conflict.

Tension.

Resolution.

Characters.

Imagery.

Symbolism.

Hyperbole.

Irony.

Repetition.

Many modern readers are surprised to discover how frequently Scripture uses these techniques. All within different genres still communicating one story. We sometimes assume that because Scripture is inspired, it must communicate differently than every other piece of literature.

Yet inspiration does not erase humanity.

God chose to communicate through human authors writing in human languages to human audiences.

The Psalms speak of rivers clapping their hands and mountains singing for joy.

Jesus speaks of camels passing through the eye of a needle and beams protruding from people's eyes.

The prophets paint vivid pictures that stir the imagination and evoke deep emotion.

The Gospel writers carefully arrange details to highlight particular themes and truths.

None of this diminishes the truthfulness of Scripture. It is how Scripture communicates truth. And among all these literary tools, perhaps none is more important than story itself.

Stories have their own way of communicating truth.

Like any great story, Scripture's meaning emerges as we dwell within it, learning to see the world through its eyes. The truth of a story is rarely found in a single sentence isolated from everything around it. It emerges through characters, conflicts, settings, promises, failures, victories, and countless moments that accumulate over time.

The world behind the story matters.

The chapters that came before matter.

The hopes, fears, loves, and longings of the characters matter.

Even the questions we bring to the story matter.

None of us read stories neutrally. We all bring assumptions.

We assume we know who the heroes are.

We assume we know who the villains are.

We assume we know what kind of story we are reading.

Sometimes those assumptions are correct. Sometimes they are not.

For instance, every great story contains characters who move the story forward and characters who resist that movement.

This interaction creates conflict and tension. There are moments of catastrophe and what J. R. R. Tolkien called a "eucatastrophe," the sudden joyous turn when hope unexpectedly breaks into despair.

There is a plot moving toward resolution.

But just because the authors use literary devices doesn’t mean the result is less divine; it means it is also beautifully human.

To help us understand the divine, it is helpful to recognize the humanity.