Threads from Henry's Web

Tag: Bible Study

  • Interpreting the Bible VI – Introducing some Test Passages

    I’ve been delinquent on this series since January 24, but here goes again. My major point has been to show first that there is no obvious interpretation which one should take from the Bible, but rather that how one applies the Bible to one’s life, if at all, is based on an interpretive framework.

    It’s generally not so much that we cannot determine what a particular author meant to say, though that can be difficult. For example, the arguments over how literally one should take the first 11 chapters of Genesis are all based on a certain amount of evidence. The literary form is debatable, which is demonstrated by the number of people who debate it.

    What is most difficult, however, is determining how something applies to another time, if at all. We all have things we ignore from scripture. I’m blogging through Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy over on my Participatory Bible Study Blog right now, and those books contain many things that Christians do not do, and do not believe they have to do. In fact, it is so ingrained in Christian thought that animal sacrifices, for example, don’t apply to us, that often people don’t even think of it as something they ignore. They will tell me that’s not a real example–it’s too obvious. But the fact that Seventh-day Adventists, for example, keep Saturday as the Sabbath shows that we don’t all agree on where the line is drawn. Further, other small groups keep certain other laws or observe feasts.

    But to get to the idea of test examples, there are two very interesting topics on which Christians debate, but which tend to result in some interesting interpretation.

    The first of these examples is homosexuality. In almost any discussion of gay and lesbian rights in the church, Leviticus 18:22 will surface somewhere. It’s one of those, “But it’s obvious! The Bible says it right here!” sorts of texts. Now my purpose is not to try to tie the entire issue to this one text.

    In my experience, however, I’ve encountered an interesting phenomenon. If I ask the person who has just referred to Leviticus to read Leviticus 19:33-34, which is often just across the page–it is in the Bible I’m using right now–the tone changes. “Well,” I am told, “that passage obviously doesn’t apply today.” The argument usually has to do with welfare and how aliens might get government money to which they are not entitled.

    Now it’s quite possible that one passage applies and one doesn’t, but that isn’t an adequate hermeneutical argument. It doesn’t deal with various reasons one might find to consider Leviticus 18:22 equally inapplicable, for example. And just where does the idea that having some of your money go to people who are not legally entitled to it come from? There are, after all, many other things called “abominations” in Leviticus, yet we don’t avoid them.

    This leads me to ask this of any set of principles of interpretation: Can these principles explain why one passage is applicable and one is not?

    You’ll find that disagreement on that point lies behind many, many debates about scripture, especially debates that are particularly intractable. One side accuses the other of ignoring scripture, while in turn the second side is quite certain the first is intentionally misrepresenting their position. This is because the two don’t use similar principles.

    Once you have identified the principles being used, the next good question is just how those principles are derived. Often, the practical principle that people apply is simply whether something sounds good. “Love your enemies (Matthew 5:44) is good and literally applicable (except when you really don’t want to), whereas cutting off your hand is not (Matthew 5:30).

    Which examples lead me to the second test case. Can your approach to interpretation deal with Numbers 31 in relation to Matthew 5, or perhaps more importantly 1 John 4:13-21. You’ll have to read Numbers 31 for yourself, but I’ll just let you know that in it Moses is quite angry at the way in which the Israelites have not killed an adequate number of women and children in battle.

    In the following posts, which I hope will follow more quickly than this one did, I will look at those two issues and the principles of interpretation that might be involved. For better or worse, I must tell you now that I doubt anyone will consider my approach “obvious.” But that’s OK. I don’t consider anyone else’s all that obvious either!

    Previous posts in this series:

  • Starting Leviticus in the Tyndale Cornerstone Biblical Commentary

    I recently received my copy of this good looking volume from Tyndale for review, and I have summarized its features here.  I noted there that this is not a book I will read once and then write a short review.  Rather, I’m going to blog through it, which also means that I will be blogging through Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy.  Ambitious, no?

    Well, don’t expect massive detail, but I will bring thoughts as I go through and major points from the commentary so you can understand its value.  I’m still working with very little reading, so I’m going to defer many points until I have read more.  As of today, I completed reading of the introduction to Leviticus.

    As expected, the author, David W. Baker, takes a conservative stand on authorship and dating of the book, arguing for a “life-setting back in the period of the wilderness wanderings” (p. 5).  I won’t be making a major issue of my disagreements on issues such as this.  My only concern is that the position of the commentator is made clear and that he engages other positions as well.  Considering the length of the introduction and the size of this commentary, he is doing both quite well.

    As one who thinks Christians neglect the book of Leviticus I was happy to see that Baker is making an all-out assault on this neglect of an important portion of the Bible.  Along with the typical arguments of history and theology, that this is part, even a core part, of Israel, and that we have grown from Israel, and that it is also of great historical interest, he suggests “religious reasons” and particularly that one might see it as a “handbook for worship” (p. 4).  I am eager to see how he will portray that particular perspective through the book.

    I’ve been a bit irritated ever since I finished my reading of Jacob Milgrom‘s commentary, because I have so many notes that I would like to use in teaching but very few of them are accessible without a serious effort in terms of teaching background and history, for which I rarely have time.  Many believe the hardest part of Biblical studies is digging out details.  In my view, the hardest part is developing an understanding to the point at which one can express it clearly and comprehensibly.  After reading the his introduction, I am looking to Baker for help in that task.

    I’d conclude this interaction with the introduction with the following quote:

    …Whether we like it or not–and the lack of preaching and teaching from Leviticus today seems to indicate that we don’t–this book is also in our canon.  Leviticus is God’s Word to us in some way just as much as the Gospels.  We also are an audience who must seek to determine the book’s relevance to the church in our own times.

    Very much my own feelings.  I am hopeful that Baker can help make it more of a reality.

  • Reviews Posted on Two Books from Tyndale

    These reviews are on the New Life Application Bible Studies volume on Acts, and the 24/7 Chronological Study Bible.  Both of these are excellent resources for particular needs in Bible Study.

  • Mark – The Mission of John the Baptist

    The following audio comes from a radio program I recorded in 2003.  The scripture is Mark 1:1-8, especially Mark 1:4.

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  • What Did They Cry?

    In Judges 4:1-7, when the Israelites cried out, what did they have to say?  With Psalm 123 included along with Judges 4:1-7 in Proper 28 / Ordinary 33 / Pentecost +27, I think we have an interesting possibility for preaching on prayer in trouble.

    My basic starting point would be to suggest to the congregation that they imagine themselves in deep trouble.  How should you pray?  Would it be Psalm 123 with a simple statement that you’ve had it and God needs to show you some mercy?  Would it be more complicated.  One could try a number of different prayers, and ask the congregation which is the “best” one.

    • The arrogant prayer–I’m one of the good guys, Lord, so why haven’t you helped me?
    • The self-deprecating prayer–I don’t deserve anything, of course, I’m completely worthless, but could you help anyhow?
    • The desperate prayer–I’m at the end of my wits.  If you don’t help me, I’m done for!
    • The bargaining prayer–if you help me now, I’ll be faithful forever.  (This would be a good time to look elsewhere in Judges for the behavior of the Israelites.
    • The thankful prayer–if you can think of things to thank the Lord for.  (Note that just because God is doing lots of good things doesn’t mean that we will notice them!

    The Israelites have brought all of this on themselves, according to the text, and it is God who sent the oppressor.  Does that change the way one should pray?  There are those who always rebuke Satan in times of trouble, but is it necessarily Satan who is acting?

    Finally, does the prayer one offers change God’s response to the situation?

  • New Year Blog Dressup

    I spent a good bit of time yesterday dressing up my blogs for the new year. This unseemly waste of time on the merely visual probably came to pass because I’m fighting a cold.

    I like to keep my three blogs, this original Threads blog, and the two I derived from it (Participatory Bible Study Blog, and the Jevlir Caravansary) similar in appearance. I’ve used the same theme on all three with a different header image and different sidebar arrangements.

    For those who may be new to Threads, I created the Participatory Bible Study Blog in order to separate material strictly on Biblical exegesis from the more general “religion and society” theme of this blog, and the Jevlir Caravansary to separate out my occasional flights into fiction or poetry writing. While Threads is my personal blog, I do stay closer to my professional work in religious education here. My life is divided these days between writing and teaching on the one hand, and continuing computer business on the other. As I’ve developed the teaching ministry, I’ve spent less and less time on the computers. In turn, the computer business is divided into managing networks for small businesses, which provides a steady income, and the occasional spurt of activity producing custom software. It will probably surprise nobody who is involved in any ministry work that while I spend probably 80%+ of my time on the writing/teaching, and 20% on the computer related business, a majority of my income still comes via technology. I call it modern tentmaking.

    As for the new year, my plan (business plan, not resolution) involves putting more time into writing, especially for print, and spreading the other work around.

    A blessed New Year to all!

  • Biblical Studies Carnival XXIII Posted

    . . . at Ancient Hebrew Poetry. I don’t have a post in there this time, but that’s not a complaint–I can’t think of what I’d nominate in this case. I will certainly get some blogging fodder from reading the posts. There are certainly a substantial number of excellent biblioblogs available.

    Speaking of which, John continued his postings with things he left out of the first one and then a map of the world of Bible bloggers. The latter is especially useful.

    Enjoy!

  • Theological Arguments Against Evolution: Sin and Death

    Yesterday I wrote about the senses in which the phrase “bad theology” is used in the creation-evolution debate and in particular on the question of ID. To call something “bad theology” generally requires either a challenge to the internal logic of the statement, or a reference to a particular faith community, because there is no single “good theology” against which theological statements can be tested.

    I’d like to follow up by looking at a theological argument against evolution, and how it relates to the some faith groups. While there has been considerable argument against intelligent design on theological grounds, the theological objections to evolution have been addressed less frequently.

    In fact, I am frequently told that a belief in evolution really doesn’t have any theological consequences. The Bible tells us that God created the world, science tells us how. The only folks who have a problem with this are a few who incomprehensibly treat the Bible as a science textbook. There are two problems with that. First, there are quite a considerable number of folks who believe that the Bible is true in a sufficiently literal sense that they expect to connect the factual dots of Genesis to scientific data. They are frequently addressed with the rather inadequate statement “You shouldn’t take the Bible so literally!” Second, an excessively literal reading of scripture is not the sole theological problem with the theory of evolution.

    Regarding the first point, the issue is a bit more complex than simply “not taking the Bible literally.” One has to ask just how one is to take it. I’m not going to address this in detail in this post (I talk about it a great deal more in my book When People Speak for God), but at a minimum one needs to specify how someone ought to take the Bible. For example, assuming Genesis 1 is not narrative history (one of the things loosely grouped as literal) what is it? I would suggest that it is liturgy, and that in turn suggests some things about how to understand it.

    But today I want to look at a theological argument in a different form. Instead of arguing that evolution must be incorrect because the Bible makes certain historical claims, one can argue that evolution must be incorrect based on certain theological claims. These theological claims may be derived from the Bible, but the important issue is that they seem to contradict certain things derived from evolution.

    Those who are not religious, or specifically not Christian will find this a strange form of argument, but it is valuable to see how certain people think about these issues in any case, and to realize that there are many for whom evolution poses substantial theological problems, quite apart from the interpretation of Genesis 1-11 as narrative history.

    Sin and death is such an issue, and in my experience, it is the key issue. The theological proposition involved states that physical death is the result of human sin, and that had human beings remained loyal to God, there would be no death. Now I’ve discussed this position from the point of view of theodicy in Theodicy: Taking a Stab at Natural Evil. Since some may have a hard time comprehending this argument, it states that evolution cannot be true simply because it involves creatures dying before there were human beings to have committed sin. As I discuss in the referenced post, this is a problem for old earth creationism as much as it is for evolution, and Dembski has proposed an alternate suggestion, that God created physical death as a sort of pre-emptive response to sin, which God’s foreknowledge told him would occur.

    But I’m dealing here solely with those who hold a chronological relationship. In this view human beings are created perfect in a world without death, they rebel against God, and death results. Obviously, for someone who holds that position, evolution cannot possibly be true. I grew up with that view as a member of the Seventh-day Adventist church. It took me some time to step away from it, as it can get pretty much ingrained.

    I can now argue against the theology involved, pointing out that Genesis doesn’t actually say that, but in fact suggests that barring the way to the tree of life is a way to prevent human beings from becoming immortal. One can understand spiritual death in many other passages that relate to death. None of that really matters for my purposes here; this particular position demonstrates that there are theological consequences to belief in evolution, and the presence of physical death as a fundamental fact of the universe is one of those.

    Indeed, one key mental exercise I propose to such people is to propose a universe in which there is no death and yet there are things such as “fruit” to eat. How exactly does such a thing work? In particular, choice seems to be a fundamental of the universe and of the Bible, and what exactly is choice without a chance of failure?

    I heard this very recently presented in quite different terms, dealing with God’s care, grace, and gentleness. How could a God who teaches the law of love create by means of such violence? Then there are those promises of a future, peaceful world where “the wolf and the lamb shall feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like the ox; and dust shall be the serpent’s food. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain, saith Jehovah.” Isaiah 65:25 (ASV). Surely if it’s promised for the future world, it must also have been true of the past!

    Now I personally would compare this approach to a belief in verbal dictation of scripture, for example. People accept this position while ignoring the abundant evidence of different writers, backgrounds, perspectives and so forth throughout. Don’t come to a conclusion of how something ought to be, and then assume that it is that way. The physical evidence for evolution is extremely strong, and for an old earth it is overwhelming, either of which would require substantial modification of this particular doctrine.

    The key thing to remember, however, is that for someone who holds the specific form of this doctrine I cited, there is a serious theological impediment to accepting the theory of evolution, and this is based not necessarily on reading the Bible literally, although the sequence is. You can argue the evidence for evolution as much as you want, but they won’t be moved, because they have a key theological proposition that directly contradicts it.

    I have been interested to note as well that my own view of God is perceived as more distant, because I believe that God honors choice and allows the consequences to take place. In fact, I believe those who suggest I see God as more distant are quite correct. I believe God is distant enough to allow human responsibility to be meaningful.

    This separates me just a bit from the NOMA (non-overlapping magisteria) approach, since I hold that the discoveries of science can have a substantial impact on one’s theology. They certainly have had such an impact on my own theology. In general, I believe NOMA to be the correct approach, and theology and science must clearly be separated to prevent theology from attempting to predetermine the results of scientific research. (I’m reminded of the notice at my graduate school offering grant money to those who would do research “to support a 6,000 year model of the earth’s history.) But physical reality should have an impact on theology.

  • Translation, Exposition, and Communication

    Yes! I have found another pretentious title for a relatively simple post!

    I’ve been following the discussion around the blogosphere about literary translation, which has involved any number of blogs. I’ve been too busy to write about it. I was about to start last night, and then Doug at Metacatholic said part of what I wanted to say, and I waited until this morning to put it all together a bit more.

    In working with secular literature, and even with much religious or spiritual literature, there are many ways in which a work can be transformed to reach a particular audience. One of the methods I’ve been playing around with is simply writing a very short fictional piece that tries to teach the same lesson (example here). The point here is not to produce professional fiction or for the teacher to produce a “better” story, but rather for students to study the story by changing its form. I would ask students to tell a story from their own lives or to create a fictional one to teach the lesson. In studying Bible stories I also use the technique of having students tell the story from someone else’s point of view (see the section toward the end on Ahab’s Viewpoint).

    In secular literature we can have a book re-presented as a condensed book, a movie, a play, a children’s edition, illustrated edition, modernized (for an older work), and so forth. In each presentation, there are many choices made in terms of what of the original work will be presented again and what will be left out. Any time one changes the presentation, one loses something, and one may also gain something. The person who alters the form may well instill some additional meaning into the work that was not there before.

    But in Bible translation it seems to me that we tend to operate in fear of doing it the wrong way. Now don’t get me wrong here. I have very strong preferences in terms of Bible translation. I’m an advocate of dynamic equivalence, and of using ordinary, natural expressions in the target language. That is what I want most in a translation. If you think about it, and then realize that the most common thing I’m doing with a Bible translation is using it in a teaching context, you will realize that my preference of translation and my purpose tend to line up. One must add that I do not pretend to teach my classes Greek or Hebrew (unless that’s the subject!) and thus I am uninterested in a presentation of the forms of the source language.

    Nonetheless, as I talk about translations, I tend very strongly to speak in terms of lines of division. There are formal equivalence and dynamic equivalence, and never shall the twain meet. Now I actually believe there is a continuum (illustrated here), but that continuum easily gets lost in discussion.

    Let’s take [tag]The Message[/tag] for example. The key question people ask me, and the one I’m likely to bring up if they don’t, is whether this version is really a translation or not, and whether it is “good to use.” I can then analyze the language, and how close it is to the source, and in general I must admit that The Message doesn’t seem to me to reflect the original very accurately in many cases.

    But let’s shift context. Would I say the same thing about [tag]Eugene Peterson[/tag]’s teaching or his exposition in other material that he has written? There’s a bright line there that we may not always acknowledge. If he’s expounding, it’s OK. If he’s translating, well, not so much. What we are generally looking for is a solid line that divides working with the original languages from translation, and then working with a translation from someone’s exposition.

    But is such a line realistic? Let’s compare my reading of Hebrew, for example, to that of a Rabbi who has spent his entire life working strictly with the Hebrew text. Alternatively we could compare my reading to someone who has spent his entire life studying comparative ancient near eastern languages, which is closer to my own study. Since I went from that study at the MA level to teaching Bible at the popular level, I have spent a great deal less time in the details. I would expect there to be points that either of those experts would see in the text that I would easily miss. When I read their expositions, I see this in action.

    Let me belabor the point a bit before I build on it. I had read Leviticus through in Hebrew several times on my own, and done so in connection with Nahum Sarna’s JPS commentary, for example, but then I picked up Leviticus with Jacob Milgrom’s three volume Anchor Bible set. I claim to study from the original languages, and I do–in a sense. But not like that!

    On the other hand I regularly encounter preachers who say that they prepare their sermons from the original languages, and yet can barely work through the material word by word. Now don’t take this as criticism. I congratulate them for using all the tools at their disposal, but their specialty and their calling doesn’t allow them to become experts in everything.

    Hopefully that portrayal will do to show three levels of reading of the source texts–the expert in the texts, the person with facility in the language yet who does not professionally research on linguistic issues, and the pastor/teacher who knows some of the language. Anyone with experience could fill in the blanks either direction.

    We could similarly work our way through a continuum of levels of study with various English translations, based on how accurately the text conveys the maximum possible content of the source text. Somewhere in there we should fit someone who studies from multiple English versions.

    Finally, if we keep looking, we’ll find those persons who really don’t learn directly from the text or a translation at all, but rather learn the Bible in their community through exposition. There is a contempt in conservative Christianity for such people, but there are many who do know their Bibles quite well simply because they are regularly in the church when the scriptures are read and expounded, or they get similar knowledge from reading. This kind of thing makes folks like me nervous, because there are plenty of written materials that I believe distort the meaning.

    Now note that the continuum I have presented is based solely on comprehending the intended message of the text. If I were to abandon that particular question, I might ask instead what methods of study and exposition result in the greater absorption of the spirit of the text by the students. That would result in quite a different list.

    I could again shift views and try to build a continuum based on what produces a community sense of worship in reading scripture. This is a tremendously neglected area in many protestant churches. The information content is the sole criterion. The notion of the scripture reading as a vehicle for community worship is rarely considered. I can evoke cries of dismay when I suggest that respect for the scriptures might well be enhanced by reading all four lectionary texts on a Sunday. There seems to be a sense that if we don’t talk about it, if there is no sermon that builds directly on all those texts, there is no point in reading them. That comes from the idea that only knowledge is important.

    When reading scripture for worship, the literary quality of the text becomes more important, and especially the sound of the text when read aloud. Out of modern versions I like the sound of the [tag]New Jerusalem Bible[/tag] or the [tag]Revised English Bible[/tag] in public reading, but I know a number of people who would still go for the [tag]KJV[/tag] solely for its literary beauty. Now I don’t happen to like the KJV all that well myself, but I believe that literary taste has only a small objective portion and a very large subjective portion (a few notes on this here).

    If I were to work solely from my own tastes, I would suggest trying to match the literary quality of the original in translation. If so, [tag]Hebrews[/tag] should be harder to read, even when you know all the vocabulary words, than is [tag]1 John[/tag]. But of course it should not merely be harder to read; that’s just a product of someone not steeped in the language and rhetorical techniques reading a rather sophisticated text. The translation would need to be a literary masterpiece in English. My question would be this: Can you do that without reorganizing the material? In order to present the message of Hebrews as perhaps a masterful short theological essay, would we not need to take liberties with the structure of the book? After all, few English readers even notice the various literary features.

    What I’m suggesting here is that none of these issues are binary issues, and that there are very few absolutely right and wrong answers. I use the slogan “the best Bible version is one your read.” My point is that different people will be comfortable reading, and will understand different Bible versions. There will always be a compromise on what is conveyed and what is filtered out by the translation choices. That is simply a feature of translating, transforming, or expounding a message.

    One last note for those working on single translations into languages that are likely to have only one. There I can think of no better goal than “clear, accurate, and natural.” It’s very easy to set goals that are out of range of human thinking. In English, where so much effort is expended, we have the luxury of using multiple version and thousands of books of exposition to get the message across. In languages much less privileged–or abused–that doesn’t exist. There I would have to say that having something clear, accurate, and natural would come before anything else.

    I sense that understanding in Peter Kirk’s post “Literary Translation” and Obfuscation, which I think brings up a number of points. Look at that post from the perspective of a Bible translator who is not adding yet another English translation to the literature.

    Let me note the following from John Hobbins: Is Literary Translation Possible and If a text is literary, its dynamic equivalent in translation must also be literary From the second I take the following:

    But that means that dynamic equivalent translations like the Good News Bible and the Contemporary English Version are improperly done. For vast swathes of the Old Testament, the translation they offer is not literary enough.

    My point would simply be that I don’t accept the phrase “improperly done.” They are done according to the goals of their translators. The proposed “literary” translation would not accomplish that goal. Let me belabor the point some more. I love reading the [tag]REB[/tag]. It sits open on the reading stand by my computer because I love to consult it. I love to read it aloud. But I cannot use it in teaching, because I end up with too little understanding of the text. What to me is literary beauty obscures the meaning for them.

    For my goals in teaching, the REB is “improperly done.” But for my goals in reading and study, it is quite “properly done.”

  • The Human Face of Scripture

    Psalm 137 came up in the lectionary for this week. Now there was a time when we would get this Psalm at least with the final verse left out. That verse reads “Blessed is the one who seizes your little ones and dashes them against a rock.” One should understand, of course, that this was a Psalm about/by Jewish exiles in Babylon, and that the Babylonians had done precisely that sort of thing to them. One strong element of the Psalm is revenge.

    I was teaching a class on the Old Testament, drawn from the book Who’s Afraid of the Old Testament God? once, and I asked people in the class whether they would feel the way the Psalm describes if someone had come into their community and killed their children. Would they want their attackers to suffer the same fate?

    Person after person in the audience expressed their desire to be forgiving, and their disapproval of the attitude expressed in the Psalm. Then one lady, a grandmother, interrupted the flow. “I think many of us are lying to ourselves,” she said. “I would feel bad that I wanted it, because I know what Jesus said, but I would want them to suffer the same fate.”

    Several people changed their minds. That one lady had given them some cover to be honest with themselves. The fact is that Psalm 137 is a very human Psalm, and a very real Psalm. It makes us uncomfortable, but I believe part of that discomfort is that we know that those feelings are not far from many of us.

    Does this justify a search for vengeance? That’s another matter. It is an expression of the true desires. Perhaps what we need to do when we have such feelings is express them and then seek the grace to forgive. That’s another subject. My point right now is that the Psalm expresses who we are.

    This Psalm makes me think about what the Bible actually is. I’m amazed at how frequently we decide what the Bible ought to be, and then try to force it to be whatever it is we think it ought to be. But we have the Bible itself and we can observe that it doesn’t fit these prescriptions we make for what it must be. People decide it must contain hard information sent from God by means of verbal dictation. Humanity should not have any real involvement. A little personality here and there, but no impact on the actual message.

    But in fact the Bible displays a range of human attitudes, emotions, cultural baggage, and even mental capacity. God’s commands are not merely God’s commands; they are what people heard God commanding them to do. And communication is limited to the capacities of the least capable end of the line. Scripture displays both a human and a divine face. (See The One-Ended Cord.)

    I also recently read a post titled Minimising mistakes in the Bible (or not). This is a good discussion of a minor Biblical error. The “error” a problem for inerrantists, who have to find a way to work around it. I would suggest, however, that it’s a natural part of the human face of scripture. The message comes through clearly, while there is a minor glossing over of fact.

    People often assume that I don’t believe in inerrancy because I have a long list of errors in the Bible. But that is not my problem with the doctrine at all. For those who want to ask me for my list, I don’t have one. I’ve encountered many things that I put down to “the human face of scripture,” but I don’t keep lists of them, because to me they are not very important. I suppose that if I did not reject inerrancy on other grounds, such a list might become important to me. But as it is, I think inerrancy simply misses the point of a communication between a perfect God and imperfect (or at least limited) human beings. Such a communication is simply much more dynamic than can be described in the phrase “error-free.”

    Scripture is divine, because it involves communication with God. It’s human because it is communicated through and to humans. Because it is what it is it requires careful and prayerful–Holy Spirit guided–interpretation and application, accomplished, of course, by humans, who are hopefully aware of their own limitations.