I don’t remember the exact moment I decided to stop regularly reading the Bible. Ironically, I think it was around the time I finished a “read the Bible in a year” plan, faithfully executed out of a sense of duty. This time through, something shifted for me, and I began to realize that scripture was a place of peril for my fragile faith.
Writing the above admission, I’m aware it goes against all orthodox wisdom. It’s not something I’ve ever revealed to anyone in my church for fear of being misunderstood, maybe even rejected. God’s Word is the foundation of our faith, the cure for spiritual and cultural ills, the very vehicle for God’s voice.
But here’s the truth: even the very best things can be fashioned into weapons.
For a believer with a healthy background in the church, I have no doubt that scripture is an unqualified blessing. But for me, who spent my early years steeped in a controlling, legalistic church culture? It’s complicated.
Some of my earliest memories have the Bible embedded at the center: winning the prize at Bible Bowl; Awana badges with their little plastic jewels; scripture memory systems with cards on a key ring; and sermon after exegetical sermon, Sunday morning and night. The problem was never a lack of regard for scripture. To the contrary, it was practically worshiped, treated like a book of magic spells. Doubting? Meditate on the promises of God. Anxious? The Bible says, “Be anxious for nothing,” so get a grip. Confused? The answer awaits if you’ll dig deep enough. In the faith environment of my youth, the answer always went back to the Bible, no matter the question.
The problems with this approach are complex, rooted in historical and scholarly strands of evangelical thought. But the personal angle for me is this: the God of the Bible, revealed in my early encounters with scripture, was not the God who I now long to love and worship. That former God of fundamentalism was angry, and deeply displeased with me. I may have been technically saved from his wrath by Jesus’ sacrifice, but his overall posture was all about my unworthiness. Through the years I’ve learned about the miracle of grace.
I’ve tasted the unqualified and lavish affection of a God who loves like a Father. Overall, I’ve made so much progress picking apart the twisted view of a Heavenly Taskmaster whose favor rests on my performance.
But like so many other habits of mind, our early years imprint us deeply. Decades into the process, scripture was still a landmine. Instead of offering comfort, it sometimes transported me back to spiritual leaders who used those same words to guilt and manipulate. Some of those leaders, men who had known the Bible intimately, have since been revealed as abusers and charlatans. Mastery of the Bible, instead of producing the fruit of the Spirit, had emboldened them to gain power over well-meaning people. If knowing scripture inside-out means knowing God, how could this have happened?
Author Rebecca Reynolds writes: “The urge to shift our theology after people abuse application makes sense. That’s a natural pain response. But not everything that has gone bad has done so because the foundations were errant. Sometimes bad people build a gallows on a frame that’s intended to become a greenhouse.” My struggle with scripture is all about that pain response, not about my theology. And I’ve longed for the greenhouse, instead of the gallows, to be slowly reconstructed in my heart.
For years now, I’ve been using a prayer book that weaves scripture into daily prayers, leaning heavily on the Psalms. Sometimes I’ll read a verse and tears will suddenly fill my eyes. Instead of pain, they are tears of recognition: here’s a God I want to love! Every so often, his tender voice revealed there calls to me patiently. I see hopeful signs that I can learn to treasure the Bible again, this time less as a weapon and more as a balm, less as a to-do list and more as a love letter.
“Jesus loves me, this I know.” I’m starting to believe it again, but not just because the Bible told me. I’m hearing it straight from the source Himself.
Joy Wooddell lives in the Northwest Georgia mountains with her musician husband and three teenagers who always keep her laughing. Currently she’s winding up many years as a home educator and piano teacher and thinking about what’s next. She loves cultivating plants and relationships, listening to music her kids recommend, and getting outside as much as possible.
I love this! It seems to me that anyone who reads the Old Testament seriously is going to come away shaken. Thank you for addressing this head-on. Refreshing!
Thank you for having the guts to reveal your feelings about the way you were taught to read, study, believe the Bible. I have trouble with religions that cast women in the role of submissive, voiceless servants. God did not create us to be someone’s doormat. I’ve always been taught the Bible is the “divinely inspired word of God.” I believe over the years since God inspired the words of the Bible, man has rewritten them (in many instances) to serve his purpose; we have many translations of the Bible from its original text providing man the opportunity to interpret the Bible with words of his culture.
Joy, thank you for sharing your story in this space, knowing it took courage and felt risky. The details are yours, but I know it will resonate with so many!
This piece is honest, relevant, and ultimately FREEING in a way that breathes LIFE. Thank you for this open offering of a topic to which many of us can relate, but equally as many of us refrain from speaking aloud due to fear and shame. Bringing it to the table takes so much courage, Joy.
I was “led to Christ” when I was 8yo, but never really “got it” until I was 32 and in the midst of a major crisis. After a long night of fears, tears and regrets, I encountered the living God and knew that I had eternal rest in Jesus. I became a voracious reader of the Bible, various commentaries, practically everything I could get my hands on. All this time I was hungry and thirsty for the Word – and I didn’t even know it.
I really can relate. So complex. But I was nodding along with this.
Such a honest, challenging piece. I’m so thankful you risked sharing this. I feel less alone in my own journey because of your courage to share.
You speak here what I have felt for a very long time. Dealing with abuse in my life has led me to look at God and the Word as a place for shame and contempt because it was pushed so hard as the answer to my healing. But all I saw was more power, rules, and control. I wrestle with this feeling still but feel encouraged by your story that the bible isn’t the end all be all. God can meet me anywhere. Thank you for being vulnerable and sharing.