I get frustrated everytime I read the Bible.

Sometimes I don't know why I do it. Perhaps to fulfill a certain level of expectation or for the most part, trying to furiously decipher the latest gem of information that might satisfy my intellectual appetite. The words jumping out of the pages somehow form the basis for the rest of my day, seemingly giving definite insights on how I should feel, react or live. As I comb through a familiar text, immediately I assume it meant the same thing as how I understood it before.

How many of us rather indulge in mindless application of good principles found in the text rather than allow it to speak for itself? We try to dig out the Word from the text rather than giving space for the Word to find us

Marva Dawn points out a useful starting point:

Can we live with enough mystery? Can we not live with enough humility? Can we live primarily with enough patience to wait until we have been gifted with insight into how to understanding such text? I'm calling for a hemeneutics of self-doubt. Of self-suspicion. To constantly to know my own limitations. My own pre-prejudices. My own contextualized experiences. Which make me not think a certain section of scripture is God's Word for me.

Read.

Think.

Pray.

Live.

It's time to return to my monastery.

The purpose of the Bible is not to let the world re-describe it. The purpose of the Bible is to re-describe the world.

G