students of jesus

Only fools and lawyers argue over the law, and both are highly trained specialists. The rest of us should leave such work to the experts. Sometimes they unite in their work, giving us ordinances prohibiting the transport of ice cream cones in your pocket, or banning birds from flying over city landmarks.

I’d be content to leave the law to the fools and lawyers except for a troubling practice among religious people: they are in the habit of treating the Bible—especially the Old Testament—like a book of law. If there is anything worse than city ordinances against public singing before 8:00 in the morning it’s when religious people become religious fools and lawyers with respect to the Bible.

It’s understandable. The Old Testament sometimes calls itself “the Law” which is an unfortunate translation because life is more like a living room than a courtroom. Hebrew scholars, rabbis and Christian professors alike, would like us to know “Torah” can mean instruction, teaching, or even “the way.”

The Old Testament, that portion of the Bible we so often avoid, was the “Bible” that shaped Jesus’s spiritual formation. Jesus was nourished on the stories of Adam, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph—and that’s just Genesis! Jesus chanted the Shema, memorized the ten words from Sinai, and paid close attention to the rituals of Leviticus. Jesus sang the Psalms, puzzled over the prophets, and marveled at the courage (and stupidity) of people portrayed in the Biblical narrative.

Jesus did not grow in wisdom and stature by memorizing the rules; he became a deep person by engaging the Old Testament with all his faculties: his mind, his heart, his imagination, his hopes, his questions, his fears, and his spirit.

Jesus knew his Bible as something beyond the scroll in the synagogue. It was all around him. He saw grass whither and fade, and then reflected on things that last forever; he saw the clumsy gait of an ox and saw the folly of following a prostitute to her house; when the thunder answered the lightning he heard the voice of God; he gleaned insight from industrious ants. The sweetness of honey tasted to him of his Father’s wisdom. When he wrestled with the poetry of Isaiah, Hosea, and the prophets the wisdom of God spoke to him through his parents’ marriage, the oil his mother used to cook, the tramping of soldiers through his home town, and the in-breaking of God’s mercy in each new sunrise. Jesus did not need some someone to bring the Bible alive, his world was alive with the Bible. He understood at a gut level that God’s word was living and active, and that everyday life teemed with the deep truth of the word of God.

Meanwhile, in our modern age, we think “Bible study” is the stuff of ancient languages and word origins. Like either lawyers or fools (you decide) we ponder over the meaning and application of cross-cultural studies or socio-psychological interpretations. We think Bible study is more like hard work and not at all like a feast. We march with grim determination through our “quiet times” and we wonder who will make the book of Job feel more like Jimmy Fallon.

The Bible—both Old and New Testaments—is the Father’s indispensible grace-gift to followers of Jesus. Our Lord has modeled every aspect of life for us. We can follow his example, including his loving embrace of the written word, which brings us to the Living Word.

Why not receive Students of Jesus in your inbox? Subscribe to our email newsletter and never miss a post.

Once there was a man who lived a life guided by a checklist. He did not always fulfill each item each day, but each and every day the checklist was his guide. All day long, eyes down, he navigated his life according to the inspired advice on the list. The man gained great wealth, and even some reputation among the people of his town, but at the end of his life he was no wiser than at the beginning, because the checklist was not enough. The checklist was his only friend, and he died alone.

Is there anything more handy than a checklist?

The original checklist was ten items long. Eventually it grew to 613. No checklist provides the desires of our hearts, but we cling to our checklists because we like to think they hold the secrets of life itself. We refine the lists, prioritize the lists, interpret our lists, and look down on other people’s lists. We claim to have special insight into the most important items on the list.

Whether God’s Old People or New, it’s so much easier for us to keep our eyes on the clipboard. Give to the poor? Check. Relax one day a week? Check. Sacrifice? Pray? Memorize? Check. Check. Check. The checkmarks fall into a neat line from top to bottom. We start a new page each day. We smile at the winning streaks we piece together, unaware we have won the wrong game.

We like checklists because is it easier to relate to a book of rules than to relate to a living person. Checklists are unchanging and accessible. People are filled with mystery. Checklists are clear and unequivocal. Checklists make plain statements and tell us what to do. People—even perfect people—present nonverbal hints and clues. People are hard to read, but they yield rewards we have never imagined. If we successfully keep a checklist, we have ourselves to thank. If we get to know a person, we discover a world beyond ourselves.

A question, what if we live our lives according the the master checklist, but never meet the Master himself?