If you read the Bible a lot, it can become like a piece of furniture in your house. When you get a new piece of furniture, it makes the whole room look different for a while. You smile every time you see it. Then, in a few weeks, you forget it’s there. You stop noticing it. The same thing can happen if you’ve been studying the Bible for a while, especially if, like me, you started young. You can read words of power and inspiration almost without seeing them.
There are remedies for this sort of scripture slump. You can read Bible commentaries that illuminate cultural and historical context, unpacking new meaning. You can go to a Bible study and discuss interpretation and life application with other people. You can even do what I did—get a BA and an MA in Theology in hopes that you’ll unlock some secret Bible code. Or you can just buy The Message by Eugene Peterson and feel like you’re reading the Bible for the first time.
The Message is a translation of the Bible into modern language that does more than just toss out the “thous” and “begats.” Peterson uses his linguistic, historical, and theological expertise to extract meaning from the Bible that previous translations miss. For example, the New King James Version renders John 1:31 like this: “I did not know Him; but that He should be revealed to Israel, therefore I came baptizing with water.”
Now check out the same verse in The Message: “I knew nothing about who he was—only this: that my task has been to get Israel ready to recognize him as the God-Revealer. That is why I came here baptizing with water, giving you a good bath and scrubbing sins from your life so you can get a fresh start with God.”
Good stuff, baby. You can imagine my joy when I stumbled across this gem. Reading the Bible would no longer feel like work. The book that set my heart ablaze when I was ten years old could do so again. My spiritual life would be revitalized and I’d start acting more like a Christian instead of a crank. I couldn’t wait to get started.
There was only one problem. I couldn’t figure out when to read it.
Reading the Bible isn’t like cruising through a Jonathan Kellerman novel. You need time to meditate and reflect. Sometimes a passage is so thick with wisdom that you want to read it again. You might also feel like praying afterward. You need a time that is quiet and unrushed, but you don’t want to be too tired, either. You need energy to focus and concentrate.
Since my wife and I have quadruplets that are two and half years old, quiet moments are rare. When one pops up, I usually feel like I’m about to slip into a coma. Nevertheless, my excitement about The Message compelled me to find a time to read the Bible and pray. In a rare moment of insight and forethought, I decided to discuss the problem with God.
“Lord,” I said, “What is the best time during the day for me to read the Bible and pray?”
“Good question,” said God, sounding a little like Sean Connery in his post-Bond days. “I’ve got some ideas, but let’s see what you can come up with first.”
“How about lunch time at work?” I said.
“You’ll be eating those stupid Lean Pocket things and getting crumbs on my book,” said God. “And it’s too easy for you to get distracted at work.”
“Good point. Maybe I could do it after the kids go to bed.”
“You need to spend time with Shelley then. After that, I’ve got a two in three chance of losing you to CNN, Sportscenter, the Xbox, or an Orson Scott Card novel. When Lost and Battlestar Galactica start their new seasons, those odds become three in three.”
“You know, that omniscient thing is annoying sometimes.”
“Yet always sexy. Keep trying.”
“Um, should I get up early?”
“Not even I want to deal with your morning funk.”
“You’re making this hard. I’ve run out of options.”
“No you haven’t.”
“How about giving me a hint.”
“Okay, slacker. It’s a time when you’re totally alone, right before you take a shower.”
“No. No way.”
“Yes way.”
“That’s gross. And totally irreverent.”
“Like I haven’t seen anyone take a dump before. And I created bowel movements so watch what you’re calling ‘irreverent.’”
“I can’t read the Bible on the toilet!”
“You have no problem immersing yourself in Rolling Stone, Sports Illustrated, or US Weekly while taking a number two.”
“The US Weekly is Shelley’s! I do not read celebrity gossip!”
“Whatever. Like you said, I’m omniscient. Besides, you’re changing the subject.”
“You really want me to read The Message on the privy?”
“If I have to tell you again, it’s going to be the King James Bible standing on your head.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“That’s more like it. Now plop down on the pot and get started.”
I followed the Lord’s instructions, but it wasn’t easy at first. I felt sacrilegious. Over time, however, I discovered that God was right. He’s always right, which would be irritating if it wasn’t for that whole grace and love thing.
Even on the toilet, The Message made scripture come alive again. Other translations had made the Bible sound formal and distant. This felt more accessible, almost more true. Passages I’d read a hundred times spoke new wisdom to me. I could feel God’s presence, right there with me in the bathroom. Even a dinner of saturated fats followed by a high-fiber breakfast couldn’t keep me from feeling close to God for a little while each morning. And it improved the rest of my day. I was more likely to be patient and kind, and a little less likely to be, well, me.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Jesus washed the feet of his disciples the night before he was crucified. That’s more hardcore than it sounds. In first century Palestine, people wore sandals and walked through dirt all day, not to mention the occasional camel pie trip-mine. Some of the disciples were fishermen, so the Son of God might have been scrubbing out scales and fish guts. He was doing something holy that, to us, seems kind of gross. He did it because he wanted his disciples to feel his unconditional love. Maybe that’s what Jesus was trying to show me. Maybe he didn’t want me reading the Bible when I felt pious and clean. He wanted me to see that we could be together anytime, anywhere. I guess God really does want to “meet us where we are.”