My husband’s face turned gray. “He’s not gonna make it!” he groaned next to me.
As the characters pushed the show’s season finale to its closing scenes, Kamron nearly jumped up from his seat. It was one of those complicated and mysterious shows that, at the same time, felt important, with lots of foreshadowing, allusions, and metaphors. I had occasionally watched it with him as the season had progressed, but I always felt like I was left with more questions than answers. As the final episode wrapped, I again concluded that the show was, as one friend said, “a fever dream” and the writers let everyone think it has deep significance.
When I think of my personal experience with devotions as a Christian, if I’m being honest, it’s often felt like watching that show with Kamron: confusing and unsatisfying.
As a teenager, my shoulders used to sag with guilt nearly every morning during devotion time. For various reasons, I felt pressured to come up with sermon-level reflections when I read my Bible. I felt like I was supposed to feel something divine. But that’s not usually what happened. More often, I asked the same questions I asked Kamron as he watched his show: What is happening? Is that guy a good guy or a bad guy? Why are they doing that? I’m so confused! Lots of times, I didn’t feel much of anything… except like a bad Christian.
Maybe you’ve felt similar guilt and frustration when it comes to reading the Bible. You almost don’t want to read it because you know it will be confusing, but you also feel guilty because you know you should.
Over the years, I’ve learned principles for studying Scripture, which have made it easier to understand. However, there’s another truth that has made my devotional time less frustrating and more meaningful, and maybe it will help you too.
I realized that the Bible isn’t a devotional book.
Now, before you freak out, listen. I’m not saying you shouldn’t read your Bible for devotions. You should. But the Bible doesn’t read like devotional books today, with a short story, a moral lesson, and a verse supporting the taught principle. I wouldn’t even say it’s a moral guidebook.
Looking back, that is how most of the spiritual leaders in my life framed it, like a Magic Eight Ball with Jesus inside. So, then, when there weren’t always clear answers to my teenage and young adult dilemmas (Is this music bad? Why is dancing wrong? Is this movie OK? etc.), they would say things like, “Well, the Bible is deep and you have to study it a lot.” To me, that sounded like God was deflecting blame for being a bad communicator. If the primary purpose of His book was to show me how to live, why did He make it so hard to understand?
I disliked devotion time because I thought of the Bible mainly as an instruction manual, and I believed that God’s goal was to change my behavior. I had to realize that instruction manuals are for machines. God’s goal is to restore His relationship with humanity, so He gave us a story.
The Bible is first a story and, on some level, a pretty complicated one. Many things in it are relatively black and white—there is moral instruction and theology in it—but it is primarily a story with characters who sometimes do the right thing but very often do the wrong thing. It’s not always clear who’s the good guy and who’s the bad guy. There are metaphors, allusions, cross-references, and poetic prophecies that create a narrative arc that can be studied forever.
There is a slow burn to the Bible, and understanding that can take our devotions from frustrating and confusing to meaningful and powerful.
How so?
First, it relieves the pressure of making each devotion time a pseudo-self-help pep talk. I still try to ask myself as I read, what does this tell me about God? What can I learn about how He wants me to live? But I don’t freak out if, some days, I’m unsure of what’s happening in the passage. That’s what happens when you read a story, it takes time to understand.
Second, Scripture is complex because God wants to meet us where we’re at. Life is complicated. I would get annoyed at anyone who tried to give me cliché, oversimplified answers when I opened up about my struggles. So, God gave us a book filled with almost no heroes, a protagonist who rarely answered anyone’s questions, and supporting characters who couldn’t keep the plot straight.
Third, if the Bible were a simple instruction manual, it would speak to our minds but fail to heal us at our core. Sin has damaged us intellectually, emotionally, and physically. God wants to heal us on all levels, and stories can do that. They change how we think, move our emotions, and can even affect our bodies. Think about when someone tells you something embarrassing and you involuntarily cringe or how Kamron nearly jumped off the couch.
Last, understanding the Bible as an inexhaustible story safeguards me from legalism. If the Bible were a book I could master, I could read it and ignore Jesus. But as the Bible was written over 1500 years by 40 different authors and contains over sixty thousand cross-references, we’ll never be able to base our value on our ability to master it.
So, if you’re struggling to sit down and read your Bible regularly because you feel like you’re not good at it or it doesn’t make sense, try remembering it’s a story. Lean into the feeling of wonder you get when you read a passage you don’t understand. If you don’t get anything from it some days, tell yourself, so what?
Surrender to it. Feel the angst and despair of the prophets. Let your mouth drop at David’s wild, pendulous emotions. Shake your head in confusion as you see God call flawed, complex characters on a journey with Him.
Treasure is rarely laid out in the open. You have to dig for it. Like a good book or TV show, sometimes you sit through episode after episode until the pieces come together in a grand finale.
Anneliese Stock
Allie is a 2012 ARISE graduate and on-staff writer and communications assistant for Light Bearers. She is fascinated by the intersection of faith and the creative process and enjoys poetry. When she’s not watching a good movie with her friends, she enjoys narrating life with mediocre accents.
