Helping ordinary people learn to study the Bible
Here is a terrific example of observation and interpretive investigation. Ian Carmichael revisits what he always thought to be true about Nicodemus, the kingdom of God, and being born again. This leads him to look more closely at the text, and consider what it has to say in light of the context of John’s argument.
This is some terrific Bible study, with weighty application. Check it out!
I led a Bible study this week on John 4. Not only the woman at the well (John 4:1-42), but the entire chapter. And I once dared to call plot structure the most import tool for observing the structure of a narrative. So I decided to put my money where my mouth was, and invest my limited mental energy in exploring the plot structure of this chapter.
The results got me farther down the road than any other tool I tried. Not only was this tool the most important one for observing the structure. It ended up also being the most important tool for helping me to interpret the narrative and determine the author’s main point.
Let me show you how it worked.
Without handrails, John 4 is the sort of narrative that makes Bible students feel like they’re swimming in details. And great is the temptation for premature application. There is much in this chapter to provoke, stimulate, and inspire. All you have to do is pick your favorite from among the proffered topics and you’re free to camp there as long as you like.
We could focus on the satisfaction Jesus promises with living water (John 4:13-14). We could focus on sexual morality (John 4:17-18) or Jesus’ omniscience (John 4:16, 19). We could focus on true worship (John 4:21-24). We could focus on evangelism (John 4:28-29, 39-40). We could focus on spiritual dullness or failure to evangelize (John 4:35-38). We could focus on Jesus’ obedience to his Father (John 4:34). We could focus on Jesus’ experience of rejection (John 4:44-45) or his power to heal at a distance (John 4:50-53). We could focus on the nature of belief (John 4:39-42, 48, 50, 53) or the authority of Messiah (John 4:25-26).
So many goodies. So much raw material for theological exploration. And all of it would be true, biblical, practical, and engaging.
But why did John include all these things? What was his main idea?
The best way to see how all these goodies fit together is to analyze the text according to its plot structure.
So John 4:1-30 gives us one full cycle of plot structure, with a sense of resolution and a new state of affairs. I’ll abbreviate my commentary on the remaining two cycles.
Second plot arc (John 4:27-42):
Third plot arc (John 4:39-54):
Let me close with a few principles for mapping plot structure:
In John 4, we see three arcs with climaxes:
How does this help with discovering John’s main point? The religious insiders need help to perceive God’s salvation extending to religious outsiders. This Jesus is not only King of the Jews. He is the Savior of the world (John 4:42), rejected by his own but believed on in the world. Not even Nicodemus the Pharisee is described as believing just yet (John 3); but any outsider of any race or status who trusts Jesus’ identity and word of promise can become his child. This chapter illustrates, with flamboyant color, the truth that God so loved the world (John 3:16-17).
This main point fits perfectly with the flow of thought in this section of the gospel:
I find it is well worth my time to simply draw a plot arc and use it to help me grasp biblical narratives. Perhaps it can be useful to you as well.
When we repeat a particular idea often enough that it becomes part of the air we breathe for years, or even generations on end, it accumulates a gravitas, an authority, that soon goes unexamined. It’s easy for us to see other cultures or communities doing this; it’s difficult to see ourselves doing it. That’s why I’ve sought to expose numerous unquestioned mantras (such as: Jesus’ ministry lasted 3 years, judge not, your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, forgetting what lies behind, and Jesus never broke a bruised reed) that have become unassailably axiomatic in evangelical Protestant circles. I am deeply grateful when others show me that what I’ve always heard and assumed isn’t actually supported by the text of Scripture.
So with all due respect to commentator D.A. Carson and the countless others who have always believed Jesus walked through walls, I raised the question last week: Do John 20:19 and John 20:26 truly claim that Jesus walked through walls? Is the matter as obvious as we typically assert?
John Calvin would disagree, and with flair:
And while the doors were shut. … We ought, therefore, to believe that Christ did not enter without a miracle, in order to give a demonstration of his Divinity, by which he might stimulate the attention of his disciples; and yet I am far from admitting the truth of what the Papists assert, that the body of Christ passed through the shut doors. Their reason for maintaining this is, for the purpose of proving not only that the glorious body of Christ resembled a spirit, but that it was infinite, and could not be confined to any one place. But the words convey no such meaning; for the Evangelist does not say that he entered through the shut doors, but that he suddenly stood in the midst of his disciples, though the doors had been shut, and had not been opened to him by the hand of man. We know that Peter (Acts 10:10) [sic Acts 12:10] went out of a prison which was locked; and must we, therefore, say that he passed through the midst of the iron and of the planks? Away, then, with that childish trifling, which contains nothing solid, and brings along with it many absurdities! Let us be satisfied with knowing that Christ intended, by a remarkable miracle, to confirm his disciples in their belief of his resurrection.
Calvin, J., & Pringle, W. (2010). Commentary on the Gospel according to John (Vol. 2, p. 264). Bellingham, WA: Logos Bible Software.
Augustine read the text to say that Christ “appeared” within the room, without speculating on how exactly he got there:
When he appeared with all the members of his body and used their functions, he also displayed the places of his wounds. I have always taken these as scars, not as actual wounds, and saw them as the result of his power, not of some necessity. He revealed the ease of this power, especially when he either showed himself in another form or appeared as his real self to the disciples gathered in the house when the doors were closed.
Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, Vol. IVb, Elowsky, J. C. (Ed.). (2007). John 11–21 (p. 356). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.
Gregory of Nyssa reads the text similarly:
After his resurrection he showed himself whenever he wanted to his disciples. When he wished to be present with them, he was in their midst without being seen, needing no entrance through open doors.… All of these occurrences, and whatever other similar facts we know about his life, require no further argument to show that they are signs of deity and of a sublime and supreme power.
Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, Vol. IVb, Elowsky, J. C. (Ed.). (2007). John 11–21 (p. 357). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.
Regarding the grave-clothes left in the empty tomb (John 20:6-8), Chrysostom seems to think they were simply stripped off and laid aside:
They see the linen clothes lying there, which was a sign of the resurrection. For if they had removed the body, they would not have stripped it first, nor, if any had stolen it, would they have taken the trouble to remove the napkin and roll it up and lay it in a place by itself apart from the linens. They would have taken the body as it was.
Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, Vol. IVb, Elowsky, J. C. (Ed.). (2007). John 11–21 (pp. 340–341). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.
Eusebius of Caesarea hears the text saying the grave-clothes were simply left lying:
The cloths lying within seem to me at once to furnish also a proof that the body had not been taken away by people, as Mary supposed. For no one taking away the body would leave the linens, nor would the thief ever have stayed until he had undone the linens and so be caught.
Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, Vol. IVb, Elowsky, J. C. (Ed.). (2007). John 11–21 (p. 341). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.
Now my point is not to say we must agree with whatever the commentators write. That would go against a fundamental principle of this blog.
Rather, my point is that the notion of Jesus’ resurrected body passing through solid objects is by no means required of the text. Many Bible readers, in cultures and times different than ours, saw nothing of the sort. Or at least, if they did, not many saw reason to say so.
On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.”
John 20:19
What is plain is that the disciples were in a room with the doors locked. And John’s explicit reason for mentioning the locked doors is to highlight not Jesus’ miraculous entry but the disciples’ great fear of the Jews. And then at some point, Jesus came and stood among them. He may have entered the room in a miraculous way (which would be consistent with the views of the older commentators quoted above), but again, John doesn’t say so outright.
John doesn’t want us to focus on how exactly Jesus got into the room, though it may have been miraculous. And there is no reason to believe John wants us to think Jesus could pass through solid objects (but as I stated last week: It’s possible he could have!).
John wants us simply to see the risen Christ, in the flesh, offering peace to his fearful followers and sending them to bear witness to these things (John 20:20-23). Those are the facts of which we can be certain, and they ought to be the focus of our attention as we strive to understand and teach John’s message in this text.
Jesus accused the Pharisees of holding to traditions which had been added to the Word of God. We may accuse those outside our tribe of doing the same today. But could there be extra-biblical traditions to which we hold steadfastly within our own circles? Oral traditions repeated often enough to now appear nearly self-evident?
I propose one such tradition is the notion that Jesus walked through a wall. If we can suspend our familiarity with the tradition and observe the text carefully, we’ll find the tradition far from evident.
We find the tradition’s source in John 20:19 and John 20:26:
On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’
Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’
D.A. Carson’s commentary on John’s gospel is a masterpiece, which I am happy to recommend. But no-one is perfect, and in his comments on these verses, Carson reflects the tradition:
But the function of the locked doors in John’s narrative, both here [v.19] and in v.26, is to stress the miraculous nature of Jesus’ appearance amongst his followers. As his resurrection body passed through the grave-clothes (v.6-8), so it passed through the locked doors and simply ‘materialized.’
Carson, The Gospel According to John, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991, p.646.
Carson simply asserts that Jesus’ body “passed through locked doors and simply ‘materialized'” as he did with the grave-clothes. So I turn to his comments on the grave-clothes for further textual evidence of the phenomenon:
The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen. Clearly John perceives these details to be important, but their exact meaning is disputed. Some have thought that the burial cloth still retained the shape of Jesus’ head, and was separated from the strips of linen by a distance equivalent to the length of Jesus’ neck. Others have suggested that, owing to the mix of spices separating the layers, even the strips of linen retained the shape they had when Jesus’ body filled them out. Both of these suggestions say more than the text requires. What seems clearest is the contrast with the resurrection of Lazarus (11:44). Lazarus came from the tomb wearing his grave-clothes, the additional burial cloth still wrapped around his head. Jesus’ resurrection body apparently passed through his grave-clothes, spices and all, in much the same way that he later appeared in a locked room (vv. 19, 26). The description of the burial cloth that had been around Jesus’ head does not suggest that it still retained the shape of the corpse, but that it had been neatly rolled up and set to one side by the one who no longer had any use for it.
Carson, p.637
So we see Carson first exposing a few baseless traditions (that the grave cloths were shaped liked a hollow mummy) because they “say more than the text requires.” This standard for evaluating traditions is eminently reasonable. However, Carson goes on to link the grave-clothes with the entering of the locked room. And he says more himself than the text requires by suggesting that Jesus’ body must have “passed through” solid objects.
C.S. Lewis offers another way one can grasp the tradition of Jesus walking through walls. In his novel Perelandra, as well as in The Great Divorce, he grapples with the idea that heaven is in fact more real than earth. The heavenly grass pokes at the sensitive feet of spiritual tourists, and heavenly rain drops threaten to crush those who lack substance. Lewis challenges the standard tradition in that he wants us not to see Jesus’ resurrection body as less “real,” or more “ghostly” than ours. He wants us to see Jesus’ body as more real and ourselves as the ghosts.
Both Carson and Lewis have important points to make on this topic, but both require us to look more closely at the text: Did Jesus walk through those walls? Did his body pass through the grave-cloths?
I’ll start with the grave-cloths:
[Simon Peter] saw the linen cloths lying there, and the face cloth, which had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen cloths but folded up in a place by itself.John 20:6b-7
John tells us that Peter saw the grave-cloths “lying there.” He does not say they were shaped like a hollow mummy. And he does not say they looked as though the body had Disapparated and the cloths had fallen flat without being unwrapped. He says they were “lying there,” but he says nothing about the condition in which they were lying (except for the face cloth being folded).
They could have been ripped off like one of The Incredible Hulk’s shredded garments. They could have been removed and tossed aside like dirty laundry. They could have been rolled or folded neatly. John says the face cloth was “folded up in a place by itself,” so with confidence we can declare that piece of cloth as folded. But the rest? John simply doesn’t tell us. He doesn’t say nearly enough to require us to conclude the body must have passed through the garments.
Now look again at the locked room:
On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’
Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’
john 20:19, 26
We know the doors were locked, with the disciples inside. We know the disciples were afraid of the Jews. We know that Jesus then stood among them within the room and spoke to them. But John doesn’t tell us how Jesus got from outside the room to inside the room.
Perhaps he walked through the walls. Perhaps. Or perhaps he knocked on the locked door until they heard his voice, opened up, and let him in. Or perhaps he spoke by the word of his power and made a section of the wall collapse. Or perhaps he found some others to open a hole in the roof and let him down on a pallet. Or perhaps he teleported from one location to another. I intend no irreverence whatsoever; I only wish to highlight that which we simply don’t know.
Please note: I am not saying that Jesus could not have walked through the walls or passed through the grave-cloths. He certainly could have. He is the Lord.
I am saying only that it is not self-evident, from John’s narrative, that he must have walked through walls. John is not nearly as clear about metaphysical post-resurrection ontology as we might wish him to be.
Why does it matter whether Jesus walked through a wall or not? What is at stake here?
Simply the fact that traditions snowball over time, with the end result of making void the Word of God (Mark 7:13). In this case, the tradition has led many to speculate on the physical properties of either the resurrection body or the new heavens and the new earth. This can lead many to make too sharp a division between the “natural” and the “spiritual”—and then we use those adjectives more like Plato than like Paul, which promotes unbiblical asceticism (Col 2:20-23), among other things.
May our thinking and our doctrine be increasingly rooted in vigilant observation of the God-inspired text, that we might be complete, equipped for every good work.
Protestants sometimes accuse Roman Catholics of holding to traditions not found in the Bible (e.g. Mary’s immaculate conception and perpetual virginity, etc.). But even Protestants must be careful with their judgment, as they will certainly be measured by the same measure with which they measure others (Matt 7:1-2). Certainly they don’t irrationally hold on to traditions unsupported by Scripture, do they?
We could explore a number of such traditions that Protestants ought to be willing to reconsider in light of the biblical data. In this post, I’ll tackle the typically unexamined maxim that Jesus’ ministry lasted for 3 years. A related assertion is that Jesus was 33 years old when he was crucified. Careful observation of the scriptural data will show us that these assertions could be true, but they are far from certain.
If you research an article or book that examines the question, and doesn’t merely assert the 3-year timeframe, you’ll find the answer typically hinges on a few pieces of biblical evidence:
From this evidence, the conclusion is drawn: He began at age 30, he ministered for 3 years (through 3 annual Passover feasts), and therefore he died at age 33.
But please don’t allow your familiarity with the tradition to blind you from careful observation of the text!
Now I hope this analysis doesn’t generate seismic repercussions in anyone’s faith. My guess is that most people reading this explanation are not shaken to their core by it. If your reaction is along the lines of, “Who cares whether Jesus’ ministry was 3 years, or 2 years, or even 6 years long?”—I would like to buy you a drink and bless you in the name of Christ.
So why do I care enough to point it out?
Because these things snowball across generations. It’s not difficult for an angel’s legitimate blessing of Mary (Luke 1:28) to evolve over time into sacred legends about her moral perfection, perpetual chastity, or extraordinary origin. In the same way, who knows when or how the mistakenly assumed “three-year ministry of Jesus” might evolve into a three-year master plan for discipleship, or a three-year sacred tradition for church planting, or a set of uncompromisable three-year expectations for how God must work to build his kingdom?
Most spurious traditions have their origin in something true and good. But we cannot add to that truth without, in the end, compromising the very truth we sought to uphold. For example, it is a good and right thing to love God more than your parents (Luke 14:26). But it’s an altogether wicked thing to add traditions to that truth which end up undermining the obligation to care for your aging forebears (Mark 7:9-13).
The Bible doesn’t tell us exactly how many years Jesus spent with his disciples, going about doing good and healing. So we ought not to casually assert a three-year timeline as though it were self-evident.
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1:14)
John saw fit to introduce his portrait of Jesus in this way, and you might be among those blessed for believing it, without having personally seen it (John 20:29). But do you know what this means? Do you? It means you are ceremonially pure and holy, without trace of defilement from your past choices. It means you were not irrevocably disqualified by the abuse you suffered. It means God remembers you daily and singles you out for particular affection. It means you shine with his glory, your nakedness has been adequately clothed, and your life is never really in question.
But how can this be so?
In the prologue to his Gospel, John clearly has two things in mind: the creation of the world and the tabernacle of Moses. I’ll come back to the creation in a bit, but let me list the evidence for my latter claim:
So John clearly has Moses’ tabernacle in mind from the start, at least in the paragraph of John 1:14-18.
John doesn’t stop alluding to the tabernacle after that intro paragraph. Not only does he make explicit reference to Jesus’ body as a new temple (John 2:19-21), but he also develops many themes from the tabernacle description in Exodus. I’ve been working through the book of Exodus with some sample Bible studies. Now that I’ve gotten to the end of the tabernacle instructions, it’s a good time to reflect on how John uses this material for his purposes.
Many have taken note of the seven “I am” statements throughout John’s Gospel. But have you ever noticed their connection to Moses’ tabernacle, at least for the first few?
Eric Golub (2012), Creative Commons
I confess the connection is either absent or much less clear with “the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25-26), “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6) and “the true vine” (John 15:1). But the Exodus/tabernacle imagery never really goes away in the narrative.
And then, at the story’s climax, John paints a picture of a new Holy of Holies, with a new mercy seat—the place where Jesus’ body had lain—all decked out with two angels, one on one side, and one on the other (John 20:12). Don’t miss the allusion to the ark of the covenant! Full access has now been granted to God’s people. Not to a high priest on a high holy day, but to a woman who loved her lord (and to the rest of us who likewise love him). We have now truly seen his glory, full of grace and truth.
I write these things not to amaze you with elusive mysteries or secret knowledge. I do it simply because we’re usually not familiar enough with the tabernacle narratives to catch the allusions.
And let me take it one more step. Through my study of Exodus, I’ve been arguing that the tabernacle is pictured as a re-creation of the world, a starting over of God’s people in relationship with their Father. If we were already familiar with this idea from Exodus, we would quickly see John trace out the same connection.
John is concerned from chapter 1 with not only the tabernacle but also the creation.
So when we reach the story’s climax, we have not only a new Holy of Holies (John 20:12), but also a new Man and a new Woman in a Garden, drawing near to God and preparing to rule and subdue the earth (John 20:15-18).
Please let these things motivate you when you hit the hard parts of the Bible, such as the tabernacle instructions. They’re here for a reason, and, if you have eyes to see, they will explain marvelous things about the person and work of Christ. When you read that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, make sure to step back and get a clear handle on what it really means.
Every Wednesday, I encourage you to check out something on the web (not on this site) to show that we’re not the only ones talking about or employing the OIA Bible study method. In particular, I’m eager to show you that I didn’t invent this method, and that I’m not the only one using it with great profit.
This week I am delighted to refer you to the keynote messages from our recent DiscipleMakers Fall Conference. (DiscipleMakers is the campus ministry organization I serve with.)
In these messages, the main speakers walked through John’s account of the last few days of Jesus’ passion week. We aimed to observe the text, interpret what John meant to communicate, and apply it practically and specifically. These men have been some of the most influential teachers in my life, and I’m eager to commend their messages to you.
Mark Fodale on the arrest of Jesus:
Brian Parker on the trial of Jesus:
Rhys John on the crucifixion of Jesus:
And I closed the conference with the resurrection of Jesus. In this talk you’ll notice many themes from my recent studies in Exodus. John has much to say in applying tabernacle imagery to the work of Christ:
If you’d like to see more such teaching, getting more models of OIA Bible study in action, you can find our library on the DiscipleMakers website. Check it out!
Phong Nguyen (2014), Creative Commons
Why did Jesus rise from the dead? Each Gospel author answers this question differently. In this post, I’ll unpack John’s account. I’ll start wide before zooming in on the passage.
John leaves no doubt about why he wrote his Gospel:
Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book; but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name. (John 20:30-31)
John’s Gospel records numerous signs and their explanations. Many more signs could have been included, but John chose to report those that best fit his intentions: to show Jesus to be the Messiah (Hebrew for “Christ”), the Son of God, and to help people believe in Jesus and have life.
John narrates nine signs performed by Jesus that show his identity as the Messiah, the Son of God. He also recounts extended conversations surrounding the nine signs, where people consider whether they can trust what the sign means about Jesus’ identity. For a complete list of the nine signs and verse references to their role as “signs,” see my post on the feeding of the 5,000 according to John.
The point I’d like to make here is that the resurrection of Jesus is one of the most important signs in the book. John telegraphs it early, and he gives it much fanfare. Unfortunately, when commentators discuss the signs in John’s gospel, many don’t think to include his death or resurrection. Many speak only of the “seven” signs in John’s Gospel. For example, see Wikipedia and Bible.org.
But consider the following about the resurrection:
1. One of the first things John tells us about Jesus is that “in him was life” (John 1:4). And a quick look at a concordance shows that Jesus, as portrayed by John, cares deeply about life (John 3:15, 16, 36; 4:14, 36; 5:21, etc.—47 times); he is not a bringer of death (John 3:16-17, 12:47, etc.).
2. Right after performing his first sign, Jesus reboots the temple system. Let’s not separate those two events in chapter 2! His rampage through the temple courts is nothing short of turning ceremonial water into the wine of the kingdom. The sign of John 2:1-12 (changing water to wine) pictures the fundamental truth of John 2:13-25 (the new covenant has come in Christ, replacing the temple system). And the Jews ask Jesus to justify his behavior with a “sign” (John 2:18). What sign does he give?
“Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” … But he was speaking about the temple of his body. When therefore he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this, and they believed the Scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken. (John 2:19-22)
In other words, Jesus’ resurrection would be the sign, or proof, that he was the one to usher in the new covenant, the best wine, the glory of God.
3. Jesus proclaims the purpose of his resurrection again in chapter 10:
For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my Father. (John 10:17-18)
According to the logic of verse 17, Jesus’ voluntary death and authoritative resurrection are the reasons why the Father loves him. Take careful note: Jesus was not willing to die and rise because he knew his Father loved him. No, the Father loved him because Jesus was willing to die and rise. This mission was the Father’s charge. Jesus’ willingness to obey that charge secured the Father’s love and his unique place as God’s Son. (Of course, there was a fundamental love between Father and Son from eternity past—see John 17:26. But there is an even fuller love, a completed love, a requited love that takes place when the Son obeys his Father’s will by dying and rising again.)
Putting these three reflections together, we see that Jesus’ resurrection shows Jesus as:
In short, Jesus’ resurrection climactically bundles up everything John wants us to know about Jesus (John 20:31). We see this before we even get to the narrative of the resurrection’s discovery.
The main character in John 20:1-18 is a woman named Mary Magdalene, who shows up in the Gospels only to support Jesus’ ministry (Luke 8:2) and to witness his death and resurrection. She comes to the tomb while it’s still dark (John 20:1), sees that the stone was taken away, and runs to tell Peter and the beloved disciple (John 20:2). Having returned to the tomb with the disciples, she waits there, weeping, after they leave (John 20:11), sees two angels at either side of the sepulchral bench (John 20:12), converses with the angels and with Jesus (John 20:13-17), and returns to the disciples to announce what she saw and what he said (John 20:18).
Mary pictures for us the response of faith John desires for all his readers:
Mary is neither perfectly cheery nor spiritually sentimental. But she trusts her Lord. She asks, seeks, knocks—and she receives the kingdom. Would that we could all declare with confidence, “I have seen the Lord!” and announce the things he’s said to us.
Time will fail me before I could ever delve the depths of these 18 glorious verses. I could write about Peter’s preeminence in entering the holy place, as a first step to his restoration. I could write about Mary’s entrance into the new Holy of Holies, with mirrored angels overlooking the seat of atonement. I could write about the new man in the new garden, naming his woman and ushering in a new creation.
But I’ll have to settle for the main idea, which is no less wonderful than the colorful easter eggs set throughout this text. Through narrating Jesus’ resurrection, John wants you to know that Jesus truly is the Son of God, the Messiah who makes all things new, the source and essence of life. You can trust him with your life.
This is a guest post by Brian Stenson and Lincoln Fitch, who serve with DiscipleMakers in eastern Pennsylvania. They share a love for good coffee, good books, and good Bible study. Listen to their talk on Bible study from the DiscipleMakers Fall Conference here.
Finding the main point tends to be one of the most difficult skills to master when learning to study the Bible, in part because of believing one or more of the following five misconceptions.
Perhaps you think your Bible study is not worthwhile without a solid main point. And certainly, understanding the main point of a passage is crucial to understanding God’s word.
Yet God’s words are living and active, sharper than a two-edged sword. The words that come from his mouth will not return to him empty.
This means that the God-breathed words in this book are not dependent on us. We definitely want to be careful and handle them faithfully, but the power in them is not from us but from God. This fact frees us from needing to have perfect main points.
If you’re tempted to cancel your Bible study because you’re not sure you’ve understood the main point, don’t! Trust in the power of God’s words.
A summary of the passage simply retells the facts. In contrast, the main point interprets what those facts mean.
For example, a summary of John 1:1-18 might be “Jesus is the Word, the life, the light, and the glory of God made flesh.” This statement communicates (summarizes) what the passage says. But to get the main point, we must ask what these things mean, and we’ll come up with something like, “God is making himself known through Jesus.”
Summaries of the passage can lead you to the main point. But don’t settle for a summary. Dig further to understand what the passage teaches about God.The Main point must answer the question: Why did the author write this?
Finding the main point is not an exact science. There’s no formula that guarantees you a main point if you follow certain steps or ask certain questions.
Finding the main point is more of an art, where you use different tools to discover the author’s intentions. You put yourself in the author’s shoes.
And when we call Bible study an art, we’re speaking less of the art of creation and creativity, and more of the art of fine arts criticism. Or more specifically, the art of literary analysis. We’re not creating meaning, but simply uncovering the meaning already present in the text.
So don’t expect any series of steps to drop the main point into your lap. Rather, acquire the careful discernment required to understand the author’s intentions.
Don’t think of it as a treasure hunt for the right answer, nor as an encryption key to break a code.
James St. John (2015), Creative Commons
Think of it like a gem—one beautiful idea with many facets. You can come at the main point from different angles. Don’t put pressure on yourself to get the wording exactly right. There is no secret answer key of main points for the Bible.
And note: While there usually is no single, “right” main point for a passage, there can certainly be many wrong answers. For example, possible main point statements for John 1:1-18 could be:
But it would be incorrect to say the main point of John 1:1-18 is that “Jesus is the first created being” (poor observation) or that “Jesus was rejected by those who should have received him” (focusing on a sub-point of the passage’s argument).
Because finding the main point is more art than science, and because the main point can have many facets from which to view it, we should expect some disagreement or differences in stating the main points. Commentators can state the main point differently, and yet still have a good understanding of the passage. Pastors can preach different sermons from the same passage and yet still be faithfully representing the passage.
So if you and your Bible study co-leader come up with similar main points, but you phrase them differently, don’t be surprised! As long as you’re looking at the same gem, it’s OK if you don’t frame the main point the same way.
The main point is not an observational summary but an interpretive statement. We’re looking in the text, not for a specific phrase, but for the author’s intention, which, like the facets of a gem, can be looked at from multiple directions.
Picture a miner digging down 20 feet and hitting copper. Though he isn’t thrilled, he figures it’s the best he can do. So he packs up and leaves, ignorant of the gold just a few feet further down. We’re like this when we study the Bible but don’t quite get to the author’s main point. And how much more valuable is the Lord’s word than gold?
So don’t give up! Keep digging to understand God’s word.
This is a guest post by Brian Stenson and Lincoln Fitch, who serve with DiscipleMakers in eastern Pennsylvania. They share a love for good coffee, good books, and good Bible study. Listen to their talk on Bible study from the DiscipleMakers Fall Conference here.
Can you imagine pouring yourself into your study of a passage, only to discover you were missing the main idea?
I (Lincoln) had that experience a few months ago. After reviewing my notes for an upcoming sermon, my ministry supervisor asks me straight out: “What would you say is the main point of the passage?” And upon hearing my answer, he holds nothing back. “I don’t think that is the main point of the passage.” Though it is hard to hear this, I know he is right. I can’t even justify my proposed main point to myself. And now I feel like a total failure. Will I ever be able to understand or teach the Bible accurately?
While finding a text’s main point is not easy, it is crucial. Consider what happens if we teach the Scripture without grasping the main ideas. At the very least, the message (even if it has some real truth) doesn’t arise clearly from the page to stick in your listener’s hearts. At the worst, you could be working at cross-purposes with what God actually wants to communicate through the passage. But finding the main point empowers you to access the boundless power of God’s transformative word. Whether you lead Bible studies, teach and preach, or study the Bible on your own, finding the main point of a passage is foundational to understanding and communicating who God is.
If you’re familiar with OIA Bible study, you’ve probably experienced the challenge of finding the main point. After observing, you ask questions, especially “why” questions. You consider the context. You try to figure out the author’s intentions. But often, you feel stumped.
We find one particular question to be crucial when it’s time to identify the passage’s main point:
Why did the author write the passage this way?
ed_needs_a_bicycle (2012), Creative Commons
It’s not a flashy or revolutionary question, but it usually gets the job done. And it does so by causing us to examine a few more specific questions.
For example, notice how the shape of John 6:60-71 reveals much about the author’s main point:
Do you see how both groups of disciples comment on Jesus’ words? The first group turns away because they are challenged and offended by Jesus’ words. The second group keeps following because they hear Jesus’ words and receive them, knowing them to be the words of eternal life. This text reveals a lot about people by their response to Jesus’ words, and by the inherent contrast in the structure.
Here’s where we think John is going: People’s responses to Jesus’ words demonstrate whether they’ll follow him or fall away. There is our main point.
You could state the main point in many ways, but the passage clearly highlights both Jesus’ words and what we do with them. May the Lord help us to hear and love the words of eternal life found in the Scriptures!
Do you see why structure matters? The passage has a significant change (the number of people following Jesus) from beginning to end, which shows us the author’s intentions: to demonstrate the impact of our response to Jesus’ words. This insight arises from examining why the author wrote the passage this way.
Finding the main point of a passage is not easy, but it’s worth it. The main point is your front-row ticket to the revealed glory of God, and it will equip you to think and speak with clarity and power when you teach the word.
