Kendall Smith, No-Div
Kendall is an elementary science teacher and an avid lover of books, nature, and long walks. She is easily distracted by thunderstorms and loves a good conversation over coffee.
My oldest son once told me that “70% of all floods are caused by water” which left me wondering, what causes the other 30%? Now, in his defense, this was when he was like 7. And also in defense, he is my child. I have an innate ability to make up facts (but am usually right!) and love to be helpful and warn other people with information they may not be aware of. My daughter gets pretty frustrated when information is not accurate, but again--it’s the point that matters, not the details, right?
Sometimes when we read the Bible we begin with eyes wide open, searching for hard details, factual accounts and proof outside of the Bible that demonstrates its absolute authority. In short, we read it like a science textbook. I have been most guilty of this: Years ago, I found it fascinating to read about people who were searching for the exact location of the Noah’s ark landing, or who were recreating the journey from Egypt to Mt. Sinai to prove that it had happened exactly like Exodus describes. The information was interesting and helpful--but as I read scripture that way--it felt like I was only one news article or archaeological find away from realizing that this delicate faith to which I had attached myself could crumble.
This way of reading the Bible is difficult, and I don’t think it’s the most faithful way to do it. Instead, I now believe that the Bible was written as one story--the story of God’s goodness and faithfulness to His creation and his people, and how He has opened a way to make us His children. When we read the 66 books we can ask, “How does this story fit into the larger narrative of God’s work in and among His people?” It even takes the pressure off the Bible to “get the facts right” and “be historically accurate”. Because, with any good story--the details and facts matter less than the main point of the story. And sometimes, the facts and details change slightly over time in service of the true meaning of the narrative--the most important message.
In the old fish tale example, the fish gets bigger with each telling. My daughter hates spiders with a passion, and when there is a spider in her room or bathroom, it grows each time she tells someone about it. But the size of the spider changes, not to accurately depict the fact, but to accurately express her experience, and to persuade us to come kill it for her!
I suppose there are instances where the actual facts are the most important thing being communicated: when you’re collecting data, conducting research, counting votes, or writing a textbook. But not when you’re telling a story. John Walton, in his incredible book titled, “The Lost World of the Flood: Mythology, Theology, and the Deluge Debate”, claims that the inspiration of Scripture comes in it’s interpretation, not in the actual events themselves. Throughout ancient history, stories like the creation of the world, the flood account, Babel’s tower, and Abraham’s meeting with the King of Salem were told again and again. And the hearers likely didn’t question the actual details--they were engaged in the purpose of the story. It wasn’t, “how did Yahweh create the world?” but rather, “Yahweh is the one who created the world.” The storytellers may manipulate facts to accentuate the meaning--not dishonestly--but in a way to faithfully communicate what really matters. After all, telling stories was Jesus’ specialty! And rather than get frustrated when his disciples didn’t always understand, he told more stories and opened their eyes to absolute truth found in Him. So maybe this takes some of the pressure off of us to “get it right” as we read. Reading with eyes of wonder might look less like studying for a pop quiz, and more like sitting back and pondering a Really Good Story.