Misreading Scripture with Western Eyes

by E. Randolph Richards

  Begin with yourself. Start paying attention to your instinctive interpretations as you read biblical passages that have to do with vice or virtue. As you read, are you skipping over virtues and vices you don’t like? Are you considering some very serious and others almost optional? The way you answer these questions can help you uncover what vices and virtues you take for granted.

  Be sensitive to what the biblical author is trying to emphasize. In Colossians 3:5, Paul offers a list of vices that “belong to your earthly nature”: “sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry.” If, as we argued above, lists are summarized by their final item, Paul is emphasizing idolatry. That’s not a vice we talk about much as Western Christians.

  Finally, perhaps the best way to become sensitive to our own presuppositions—what goes without being said for us—is to read the writing of Christians from different cultures and ages.

  Questions to Ponder

  Consider the qualities that employers, schools and institutions look for in successful candidates. Make a list. What virtues do they want people to have? What do they consider vices? Compare these to the lists of vices and virtues found in Colossians 3. Where is there overlap? Where is there contradiction?

  If we’re not careful, preachers and teachers can harp on the same few sins or issues we find particularly troubling. Think back over the last few months. Based on your lessons or sermons, what might the people who hear you teach conclude are the Bible’s top ten vices or virtues?

  How much are you teaching biblical values versus cultural values? Money management is a helpful skill to survive in middle-class America. (The poor have no money to manage, and the wealthy hire money managers.) If you plan to live in middle-class society, then you need to learn these survival skills. Likewise, if you plan to live in Borneo, then you need to learn how to sleep in the jungle. Neither set of skills is biblical, but both are handy. It is fine for a church in the United States to offer courses in money management. A local Haitian church offers courses in English conversation. We would not consider ESL courses to be biblical; yet aren’t money management courses often pitched as biblical? By what criteria do we determine if our teaching on a virtue such as money management is biblical and not simply cultural?

  In Proverbs 6:16-19, the writer expresses his disgust at the despicable deeds of the wicked. Take a minute to read the passage. Are you surprised at the examples the writer gives? Or consider the way David describes the wicked in Psalm 101. What vices on these lists surprise you? Which would you also have singled out?

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  It's All About Me

  Finding the Center of God’s Will

  When I (Brandon) graduated from high school, I received as gifts a trunkload of ink pens, picture frames, coffee mugs, journals, key chains and other knickknacks all inscribed with the same Bible verse: “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jer 29:11). This promise has become the standard scriptural blessing for young people making the transition to adulthood. The message is clear: you are striking out on your own, but don’t worry; God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life. It’s little wonder, then, that every year, I (Randy) have to inform my students that Jeremiah 29:11 is not about their future career plans.

  God was speaking to Judeans facing exile. That’s clear from the immediate context. The preceding verse tells us that God is referring to Israel’s time in Babylon. “This is what the Lord says: ‘When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my good promise to bring you back to this place’” (Jer 29:10). Israelite children were not on their way to the university for the first time. The “plans” God refers to in Jeremiah 29:11 are “the good promise” to return the exiled people to their homeland. “‘I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,’ declares the Lord, ‘and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile’” (Jer 29:14). It’s clear this verse is about ancient Israel and not me. Nevertheless, each of us finds a way to make this verse all about himself or herself.

  At one level, our culture’s tendency to hijack this promise for high school grads is a symptom of our tendency to take the Bible out of context. But we can arrive at this interpretation even if we take context into consideration. We might reason the application of Jeremiah 29:11 this way: “As God loved and cared for his people then, so God will also love and take care of me.”

  Maybe so. But we think this application reveals a deeper, more dangerous tendency than ignoring context. This misreading lurks deep in the substrata of “what goes without being said.” Western Christians, especially North American Christians, tend to read every scriptural promise, every blessing, as if it necessarily applies to us—to each of us and all of us individually. More to the point, we are confident that us always includes me specifically. And this may not be the case. In this chapter, we are discussing an aspect of the Western worldview that is similar to the individualism versus collectivism trait that we noted earlier. The idea is related but not the same. This misreading of Scripture arises from combining our individualism with a more subtle, deeply hidden and deeply rooted aspect of our Western worldview: we still think the universe centers around us. The assumption is naïve; but worse, it influences the way we read the Bible.

  Self at the Center

  We come by this emphasis on me honestly. Europeans commonly immigrated to America for individual improvement.[1] French immigrant J. Hector St. John de Crèvecoeur wrote extensively in the eighteenth century about his experience of and motivation for starting a new life in the New World. “I envy no man’s prosperity, and wish no other portion of happiness than that I may live to teach the same philosophy to my children,” he wrote; “and give each of them a farm, show them how to cultivate it, and be like their father, good substantial independent American farmers.”[2] Crèvecoeur’s main objective was establishing an independent way of life and passing it on to his children. He doesn’t talk about establishing a righteous community for the glory of God, like many New England settlers had. In this way, the individualistic and self-absorbed population of America developed by way of a self-selecting process. Those attracted by the rugged frontier and solitary life made the dangerous journey west. Those who weren’t, didn’t.

  While every generation likes to critique the previous one, it seems to us that Americans are becoming more self-centered.[3] My (Randy’s) generation was known as the “me generation.” Rather than saving for their children’s education, many spent their money on themselves. They continually remodeled their homes and even themselves. History has something to do with this (as always). This generation was in elementary school during the tumultuous social upheaval of the 1960s. As teens and young adults in the 1970s, many turned away from the activism of the previous decade and became focused on themselves. They wanted to have fun, be fulfilled and self-actualized and enjoy life. This is the generation responsible for the pet rock. Perfect for a self-centered generation, the pet rock didn’t need to be fed, walked or loved. When you lost interest, you could just throw it away (or pass it down to your kids).

  When the “me generation” became Christians, we baptized this egocentrism. We now felt guilty for spending all our money on ourselves. So we gave it to the church. Mainly to our own local church. The church growth (megachurch) movement was led by baby boomers and populated with the “me generation.” We built modern cathedrals with children’s ministry spaces that Disney would covet. We still gave (and give) money to missions, but preferably for a trip that includes me. We sing the (beautiful) praise chorus, “It’s all about you, Jesus.” Who are we kidding? It’s all about Jesus—as long as it’s in a service I like, in a building I like, with people I like, with music I like, for a length of time I like. At some point in this generation, “Take up your cross and follow me” changed into, “Come to Jesus and he’ll make your life better.”r />
  My (Brandon’s) generation is perhaps more self-centered, but we too have our excuses. Many Gen Xers were latchkey kids, which meant they were home alone after school in the evenings because both parents worked full time. In many ways, then, they raised themselves, with the help of afterschool specials that taught them they were special and unique and important. Reared on a steady diet of self-esteem and positive reinforcement, at least at school and on television, they are just as likely to consider themselves the center of the universe.

  The generation coming up now, often called millennials, are usually the children of Gen Xers; and because the Gen Xers’ parents (Boomers) weren’t very involved in their lives, parents of millennials tend to over-parent. They’ve been labeled helicopter parents, because they hover over their kids and make sure they get everything they need all the time. This constant attention means the millennials have a strong sense of self-esteem (verging on narcissism, some would say), a strong sense of entitlement (because they’ve always gotten what they’ve wanted) and don’t take criticism very well. They, as the generations before them, are obsessed with self-improvement, self-actualization and self-expression.

  So for generations now, Americans’ primary concern has been themselves. In his 2005 book Soul Searching: The Religious and Spiritual Lives of American Teenagers, sociologist Christian Smith coined a now-famous term to describe the religion of most teens in the United States. He called it moralistic therapeutic deism. One aspect of moralistic therapeutic deism is the assumption that the purpose of religious faith is “providing therapeutic benefits to its adherents.” The average teen, according to Smith, doesn’t view humans as existing to do the will of God; rather, they view God as existing to meet human needs. Smith goes on, “What appears to be the actual dominant religion among U.S. teenagers is centrally about feeling good, happy, secure, at peace. It is about attaining subjective well-being, being able to resolve problems, and getting along amiably with other people.”[4] Need a friend? God is there. Looking for direction in life? God has a plan. Want a more fulfilling marriage? God has the answers.

  We believe Smith’s observations are true of more than just American teenagers. The prevailing model of ministry in the United States for the past generation has reinforced this cultural value. Much preaching is focused on the felt needs of listeners; this style communicates that the value of the Scriptures, and ultimately the gospel itself, is what it can do for me. This means that while the church has not created the American preoccupation with me, it has certainly reinforced it. If we are encouraged to think about our relationships with God and the church in terms of what’s in it for me, it’s only natural that we approach the Bible the same way. And you guessed it: this tendency can cause us to misread the Bible.

  Self and Scripture

  Now, what makes this misreading so tricky is that it is built upon at least two very positive beliefs. First, we assume that the Bible applies to us. One of the important commitments of evangelical Christianity is that the Bible is for us in every age. Every part of the Scriptures, even though they record events that happened in other countries and thousands of years ago, has application for us today. That is to say, we acknowledge that the Bible records history, but it is not only about things in the past. It is also relevant for Christians in the present and, by extension, in the future. A second influential, and accurate, assumption is that God is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow. Because his character does not change, we are confident he will deal with us as he has dealt with his people previously. He was trustworthy then; he is trustworthy now. We then extrapolate that promises that applied to his people in the past continue to apply to his people in the present. If they didn’t, we reason, God would be unpredictable. But he isn’t. We trust him because “his compassions never fail” (Lam 3:22).

  We wholeheartedly affirm both of these statements: that the Bible applies to us and that God is not capricious. The problem is that these foundational ideas are tweaked when we view them through the lens of me. The Christian church has always believed that the Scriptures are for us. But our historical location changes what that means. As Eugene Peterson has argued, the original process through which God worked with his people was through speaking-writing-reading (aloud)-listening. That is, until the Reformation, people heard the Scriptures in church—and only in church. That meant the natural question when interpreting the Bible was, “What does this mean to us?” With the double-edged gift of Gutenberg’s printing press, the process is often reduced merely to writing-reading. Now we read the Bible alone in our homes. This allows a communal process to become individualized. Worse, one can own the Word of God (meaning a book), rather than hear the Word of God, which is usually a communal act. The act of carrying around a book gives the individual the perception: I have the Word of God.[5] Now instead of asking, “What does this mean to us?” our instinctive question is, “What does this mean to me?” The shift to individual, reader-centered interpretation was natural, post-Gutenberg. But we must never lose sight of the implications of that shift.

  Additionally, what goes without being said is that it’s all about me. We believe the Bible endorses our preoccupation with ourselves. We infer from Scripture that God has made us unique, has a special plan for each of us and therefore must have something to say to us specifically in the pages of Scripture. God said to Jeremiah, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart” (Jer 1:5). Likewise, Isaiah and Paul spoke of being called by name (Is 49:1) or set apart (Gal 1:15) in their mother’s wombs. As a Westerner, I find myself thinking: if God chose them in their mother’s womb, then he must have chosen me, too. I may even cite Psalm 139:13 as proof. But the reasoning is circular; we assume that’s what it means because our culture tells us we are special and unique. The point the Bible is making seems to be quite the opposite. Jeremiah, Isaiah and Paul were apparently making the point that they were an exception. Unlike everyone else, they were set apart for a special word and a special task from the Lord. But in the way we read it, Jeremiah is “special,” just like everyone else.

  These assumptions have serious consequences for the way we read Scripture. To begin with, our focus on me in our Bible reading affects if we read the Bible before it ever affects how we read it. What we mean is this: our preoccupation with what the Bible says to me leads us to prioritize certain parts of the Bible and ignore others. Do you have a favorite verse or book of the Bible? What makes it your favorite? It is likely that it means something special to you, challenges you, encourages you. The fact is, I am quite naturally concerned only with what pertains to me or has application for me. We call this a concern for relevance. And that means we, not God, determine what is relevant. If we want answers about how to share the gospel with unbelievers, we’re likely to find the book of Acts relevant. But what do we do with Judges? Let’s be honest. When we don’t immediately recognize the relevance of a passage—if it’s not immediately clear what I can get out of it—we are less likely to read it. This leaves us basing our Christian life on less than the full counsel of God.

  Our preoccupation with me also leads us to confuse application with meaning. We attend lots of Bible studies. After a verse is read, participants are frequently asked for comments. People often begin their replies with, “What this verse means to me is . . .” Technically, the verse means what it means. What the participant actually means is, “How this verse applies to me is . . .” which is a wonderfully appropriate point to make. We affirm that God’s Word has application for his people. But when we confuse application with meaning, we can ignore the actual meaning of the text altogether. This American worldview trait, particularly among Christians, can lead us to believe that we (meaning I) have a privileged status in God’s salvation history. I may not be sure what God’s plans are, but I am confident that at the center will be me. We read a verse and say this verse is about me or my country or my time in history. God’s “plan” is centered around me.

  Compounded by o
ther cultural tendencies, such as our assumption that rules must apply 100 percent of the time to 100 percent of people, our emphasis on me can lead us to have unrealistic expectations of God which, when shattered, can cause us to doubt the truth of Scripture and the promises of God. Consider Psalm 37:25: “I was young and now I am old, yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken or their children begging bread.” Taking this verse alone and at face value, couldn’t it lead you to believe that if you are a Christian, you will never be hungry? What happens, then, when you find yourself unable to make the rent or buy groceries? Do you assume that God has failed to keep his promises? We wonder, If this verse is not true for me, can it be true at all? We will touch on these issues at greater length below as we walk through three well-known Bible passages from Jeremiah 29, Romans 8 and Matthew 24.

  God Has a Wonderful Plan for My Life

  “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future’” (Jer 29:11). As we noted above, this is a popular “theme verse” for many of our students. The context of the passage is undisputed. The inhabitants of Jerusalem were on the brink of disaster. The Babylonians were knocking at the door. Death and slavery were best-case scenarios. God had miraculously delivered Jerusalem from the Assyrians about a hundred years earlier: “That night the angel of the Lord went out and put to death a hundred and eighty-five thousand in the Assyrian camp. When the people got up the next morning—there were all the dead bodies!” (2 Kings 19:35). Some self-proclaimed prophets were predicting God would do this sort of thing again. God sent Jeremiah to set the nation straight, to break the bad news. There would be no miraculous rescue this time. Even so, God did add that he had plans to ultimately prosper and not to harm his people. That is usually as far as our students get.