Narrative | Knowable Word

Units of Thought in Narrative

February 3, 2023 By Peter Krol

One of the most important observations to make in a passage is the structure. And the way to observe structure is to first identify the parts of the passage (the units of thought) so that you can figure out how those parts relate to one another. In this post I’ll show you some of the ways to recognize the units of thought in a narrative.

What is a Narrative?

Along with discourse, narrative is one of the three text types in Scripture. A narrative is any sort of passage that describes an event or tells a story in prose (not poetry). It could be a brief episode or a sprawling epic. Either way, most biblical narratives record true events.

That adds some complexity, because we don’t typically write history books today in a narrative format. Even biographies and historical “retellings” are more concerned with chronology and sequence than with plot. But ancient writers, including biblical narrators, saw no conflict between writing true history and telling a compelling (though perhaps dischronologized) story. Such stories became an essential part of the Jewish (and later Christian) cultural consciousness. With that in mind, a few tools will help us to discern the units of thought in that narrative.

Scenes

The primary building block of a narrative is a scene. A scene is an interaction between characters in a particular place at a particular time. Therefore, the clearest way to distinguish between scenes is to identify major changes in either characters (the main actors) or setting (the time and place).

For example, in Mark 7, the first scene consists of Jesus speaking with or about the Pharisees (Mark 7:1-23). In Mark 7:24, the setting shifts up to the region of Tyre, and in Mark 7:31 it shifts again back to the Sea of Galilee. So Mark 7 has three clear scenes (Mark 7:1-23, 24-30, 31-37) based on the various settings.

In 2 Kings 4, we have an example of clear shifts in who the characters are. In 2 Kings 4:1-7, Elisha serves a widow of one of the sons of the prophets. In 2 Kings 4:8-37, he serves a wealthy woman of Shunem. In 2 Kings 4:38-41, he serves the sons of the prophets themselves during a famine. And in 2 Kings 4:42-44, he serves a man from Baal-shalishah, who himself wishes to serve the sons of the prophets during the famine. So the chapter divides into four main scenes based on the characters involved.

Sequence of Scenes

Average scenes in Matthew, Mark, and Luke tend to be quite short, when compared to average scenes in other narrative books (such as Genesis, Kings, John, or Acts). In the case of those three Gospels (called “synoptics”), it’s easier—and perhaps more important—to keep multiple scenes together when studying so we can see how one flows to the next and the next.

For example, there is certainly profit to be gained from studying the solitary scene of Mark 2:13-17 to reflect on Jesus’ mission to be a physician to sinners. But we’re more likely to grasp Mark’s main idea when we observe that this scene is the first of four controversies right next to each other (Mark 2:13-17, 2:18-22, 2:23-28, 3:1-6). And shortly before these four controversies, Mark narrated four healings in a row (Mark 1:21-28, 29-34, 35-39, 40-45). And right in between the four healings and the four controversies is a story that is both healing and controversy (Mark 2:1-12), functioning as a pivot between the two four-part sequences. Therefore, the episode with the paralytic ought to cast its shadow over our interpretation of the entire segment of Mark 1:21-3:6.

Narrator Insertions

Most of the time, biblical narrators write about other characters and the events surrounding them. But with some regularity, those narrators step into the story to share their thoughts on what just happened (or what is about to happen). They do this not only through introductions and conclusions, but something through summaries or assessments. When we come across such narrator insertions, it is not enough to consider what the narrator says. We must also account for why the narrator has inserted himself at this point in the story. Sometimes, such insertions mark off units of thought for us.

For example, Mark uses narrative summaries to mark off the main sections early in his gospel. Mark 3:7-12 summarizes Jesus ministry in Galilee as one involving great crowds coming to hear him and be healed by him. Unclean Spirits attempted to name him the Son of God, but he would not permit them. This summary is not here by accident. It is the narrator’s way of bringing everything since Mark 1:16 to a conclusion before he launches into a new idea in the following section (which ends with a briefer narrative summary at the end of Mark 6:6).

Plot

When you’re studying a book with lengthier scenes, such as John, Acts, or Old Testament narratives, the tool of marking scenes will get you only so far. What if a single scene is 20, 30, or 40 verses long? How do you break that scene down further into units of thought to help you determine the author’s main point?

In such cases, the best tool to employ is perhaps the plot structure. Develop the skill of identifying precisely where conflict is introduced, where it is solved, and how the tension escalates on the way from its introduction to its resolution—and you’ll be well-equipped to map out the structure of many biblical narratives.

The bad news is that I don’t have enough space here to elaborate on how to develop these skills. The good news is that I have already done so in another post.

Conclusion

Bible stories provoke the imagination and grip hearts. Bible characters might be used as examples to imitate or avoid (though not as often as you might think!). Bu our chief goal with narratives ought to be discovering the author’s main points in telling them. What is it the author seeks to persuade his audience of?

As you develop proficiency in distinguishing between scenes, observing the logical flow from one to the next, recognizing the structural use of narrator insertions, and tracking plot arcs, you will become equipped to identify the structure of the Bible’s narratives. And once you’ve identified your passage’s structure, you’re well on the way toward drawing credible and defensible conclusions about the passage’s main idea.

We Love to Give Gold Stars

October 24, 2022 By Ryan Higginbottom

People love stories, and the Gospels and histories are some of the Bible books we’re drawn to most. But interpreting these narrative books can be tricky.

Here’s one hurdle. We have an impulse to label every character. We want to know: Are they good or bad? Was this particular action praiseworthy or condemnable?

We pose these black-or-white questions because it’s much easier to have Biblical characters in stark categories when we turn to application. We should be like the good person, and we should not be like the bad person.

Most often, the Bible does not bow to our desires for quick labeling. Applying narrative texts requires the hard, slow work of wisdom.

Jacob vs Rahab

Let’s consider Jacob and Rahab. Jacob’s story reads like a winding path, so we feel a strong impulse to grade him in each scene.

Here is the beginning of Genesis 35.

God said to Jacob, “Arise, go up to Bethel and dwell there. Make an altar there to the God who appeared to you when you fled from your brother Esau.” So Jacob said to his household and to all who were with him, “Put away the foreign gods that are among you and purify yourselves and change your garments. Then let us arise and go up to Bethel, so that I may make there an altar to the God who answers me in the day of my distress and has been with me wherever I have gone.” So they gave to Jacob all the foreign gods that they had, and the rings that were in their ears. Jacob hid them under the terebinth tree that was near Shechem. (Genesis 35:1–4)

Those foreign gods are curious! Did Jacob hide them under a tree so he could retrieve them? Or did he do it so there would be a defined marker of repentance?

The text doesn’t answer these questions. We are far more concerned about handing out (or withholding) gold stars than the Biblical authors were.

Compare this small incident in Jacob’s life with the story of Rahab, which begins in Joshua 2. Rahab was a prostitute living in Jericho, yet she hid the Jewish spies when they arrived to scope out the city (Josh 2:1–5). She lied about the spies to the king’s men, and this allowed the spies to return safely to Israel (Josh 2:23).

When Israel came to Jericho and “devoted all in the city to destruction” (Josh 6:21), Rahab and her family were rescued, just as the messengers had promised (Josh 6:22–23). Rahab was welcomed as an ethnic outsider into Israel (Josh 6:25), and the author of Hebrews praises her for her faith (Heb 11:31).

My point is not to contrast Jacob with Rahab. Rather, notice how the text directs us to view these incidents. The Biblical authors commend Rahab’s actions, many of which seem to violate Mosaic law. On the other hand, the Biblical authors are silent about Jacob and the idols.

The Dangers and Effects of a Grading Mindset

This is a discussion about interpretation. There is no harm in asking scores of questions related to observations of a Biblical text. However, we must be careful to answer only the questions the Bible itself answers.

When we obsess about the ethics of every action of a character in a Bible passage, we are likely to miss the main point. We should investigate why the author wrote this passage in this way; if they were not concerned with parsing the moral grade of a character’s actions, we should not be either.

Our desire to grade each character’s actions often leads us to speculation. We assume that people in the Bible will think, feel, or act like us (or like someone we know), and our subsequent conclusions can lead us off course. We must be mindful of when we are making good and necessary deductions and when we are in the midst of conjecture.

This Too Points to Christ

We want our characters (or their actions) to be good or bad, but the Bible does not bend to this binary. We want to point to a hero, to someone whose actions are consistently and thoroughly good so that we can listen to and follow them.

In other words, we want Jesus. He is the only person in whom there is no sin (1 John 3:5, 1 Peter 2:22). His actions were perfect, and his good works atone not only for our bad works, but for our bad thoughts, desires, and natures.

Like us, Biblical characters have flaws, some of which are on bright display. But those flaws are not the point of the passage as often as we think. When we fixate on these questions, we drift away from what matters most.

How to Apply the Bible’s Narratives

August 3, 2022 By Peter Krol

For a religious book, is it not surprising that the Bible contains way more narrative than instructional material? What are we supposed to do with all those stories? What is their connection to our lives?

Some might say we shouldn’t apply Bible stories; they are only for telling what happened and not what ought to happen. But that doesn’t do full justice to the way the Scriptures themselves make use of the stories (1 Cor 10:6, 1 Jn 3:12, 1 Pet 2:21, etc.).

Christy Gambrell has a helpful piece where she begins to explain how to connect these stories to our lives.

It helps to understand what a narrative is. Narratives are not morality tales, but real stories about real people making real decisions. As such, they’re not necessarily intended to prescribe a pattern for our actions. But they are written for our instruction, showing us truth and helping us live in response to it.

I would not make such a sharp polarization between “prescribe a pattern” and “helping us live in response to” the truth. But Gambrell is helpful in showing that we ought not make a thoughtless, immediate example or non-example out of every Bible character. Reflection must take place to recognize how the narrator makes use of the character, so we might properly appropriate the message in our day.

Gambrell gives two very helpful tactics: respect the narrative genre, and look to what the rest of Scripture says about those characters. I would add another crucial tool: Observe the plot structure to find the main point (somewhere around the climax or resolution. Then seek to apply that main point and not merely the incidental character details along the way.

Gambrell offers much help to get the process started.

Check it out!

Acts 4 and 5: Similar Narratives with Distinct Emphases

January 15, 2021 By Peter Krol

“If your observation is poor, your interpretation won’t be any better.” Acts 4 and Acts 5 provide a good case study to illustrate this mantra of mine.

These two chapters of Acts (or, to be specific, Acts 4:5-31 and Acts 5:17-42) appear quite similar on the surface. In both episodes:

Jesus’ apostles draw crowds for doing miraculous signs and wonders (Acts 3:11-12, 5:14-16).
The high priest and his associates imprison Jesus’ apostles for preaching and healing (Acts 4:1-3, 5:17-18).
There is a hearing with testimony from the “offenders” (Acts 4:5-7, 5:27-28).
The apostles are compelled to bear witness to the resurrection and exaltation of Jesus (Acts 4:10-12, 5:30-32).
The priests warn the apostles to speak no longer in this name (Acts 4:18, 5:40).
The apostles contrast obedience to the priests with obedience to God (Acts 4:19-20, 5:29).
The apostles end up more motivated and more courageous to continue their proclamation (Acts 4:31, 5:41-42).

Because of these similarities, teachers and small group leaders may feel stuck when studying Acts. Should we skip over the second episode? Should we repeat the same lesson and applications? How do we prevent the study from feeling like deja vu for participants? What more can we cover the second time ’round that we didn’t address the first time?

When a biblical narrator repeats similar ideas in this way, especially in such quick succession, he may have numerous reasons for doing so. One reason could be simply to establish a matter on the testimony of two witnesses (Deut 19:15). But in almost every case, the narrator also gives clues that he has a different point to make with each episode. We can use the same skills we employ to avoid unhelpful harmonization to grasp Luke’s points in these two chapters of Acts. Let’s hear each episode and observe them doggedly.

Plot Structure to the Rescue in Acts 4

Since we’re dealing with narratives, one of the most useful tools is that of plot structure. Let’s go back over each of the two scenes with the concepts of conflict, climax, and resolution in mind. To keep things somewhat focused, I’ll be looking only at the arrest/hearing scenes and not the healing scenes that provoked them.

In chapter 4, Acts 4:5-6 describe the setting. The conflict (tangible narrative tension) enters in Acts 4:7, when the priests ask, “By what power or by what name did you do this [heal the man lame since birth and proclaim resurrection from the dead]?” The chief conflict here is the conflict between names, which represent both delegated authority and factual power. What is the name that gives you either the ability (power) or the right (authority) to do these things?

Luke masterfully foreshadows this conflict of authoritative names even as he establishes the setting: “…with Annas the high priest and Caiaphas and John and Alexander, and all who were of the high-priestly family” (Acts 4:6). Do you see what he did there? Do you see how sneaky he was in getting you to consider all those powerful and authoritative names?

The tension only increases as Peter tackles the question head-on:

“by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth…” (Acts 4:10)
“there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12)

The wannabe Names, however, can’t have any of this. Luke narrates twice their resolve to prohibit proclamation in this unapproved name of Jesus (Acts 4:17, 18). They then release Peter, John, and the formerly lame man, but the narrative hasn’t climaxed yet. The question remains unresolved: Which name will prove to be the true power here?

It is only after the disciples return to their friends (Acts 4:23), pray together to the Sovereign Lord who made heaven, earth, and sea (Acts 4:24), and ask him to embolden them even while continuing his signs and wonders through the name of his holy servant Jesus (Acts 4:29-30)—only then does the conflict finally resolve. At this profession of complete trust in the name of Jesus, the place where they had gathered was shaken, and the Holy Spirit fills hem afresh with a new measure of boldness (Acts 4:31). The shaking and the Spirit are narrative evidences that they’ve been clinging to the right name. That the power of this name to preach the resurrection cannot be stopped by a few pretenders to the Jewish priesthood. What were their names again?

Luke’s emphasis in this first scene, evident through the nature of the narrative conflict and climax, is on the vindication and authority of the name of Jesus over that of the Jewish priests.

Plot Structure in Acts 5

The conflict, climax, and resolution of Acts 5 take us in quite a different direction.

Acts 5:17-18 provide the setting, where a jealous High Priest & Co. (unnamed!) locks up the apostles. And not only Peter and John this time, but, presumably, all of them. Yes, there is implicit conflict in both the jealousy and the arrest itself. But the actual narrative conflict arises in Acts 5:19-20, when an angel shows up to bust his boys out of the slammer. The priests want them in prison; the angel (and, in light of what follows, we can add: God) wants them in the temple. The conflict: Where do you want these guys to be?

The tension increases (hilariously) the next day as the priests send for their prisoners for interrogation, and they can’t find them (Acts 5:21b-25)! Nobody remembers seeing them leave, and the cells remain locked. They were so careful to place these troublemakers just so, but then they went and lost their prisoners!

They hear of the apostles’ presence in the temple (incidentally, isn’t it the priests’ job to be there?), and resolve to bring them back in. But they must do so with much sensitivity and caution, lest they get themselves killed by the crowd (Acts 5:26). Luke strongly suggests that the apostles could have resisted this re-arrest, had they chosen to stay put in the temple, and the temple officers could have done nothing to physically apprehend them. The priests are clearly losing their ability to contain these unruly preachers.

I’ll simplify my analysis by suggesting that the conflict is finally reversed (i.e. reaches its climax) in Acts 5:39, where Gamaliel’s advice is simply to trust God to decide which movements he wants to grow or demolish. The priests take his advice (Acts 5:39b), but not really (Acts 5:40). They still want to have some control over deciding when and where this Christian movement can operate. And their intimidation has the opposite effect to what they intend (Acts 5:41-42).

Conclusion

All you need to do is set aside your familiarity and take a closer look. Observe, observe, observe. Take note, especially in narrative, of the details of conflict, rising action, climax, and resolution. As you do, the distinct emphases of similar episodes will surface themselves.

Then you can teach or lead discussions on Acts 4 and Acts 5 without covering exactly the same ground. First (Acts 4), you talk about the only name that has the authority to forgive and the power to heal. Then (Acts 5), you explore the fact that opposition to this name will want to contain it but never succeed.

But if your observation is poor, your interpretation won’t be any better.

How Plot Structure Helps with John 4

July 12, 2019 By Peter Krol

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.

Stuck in the Details

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?

Getting Unstuck

The best way to see how all these goodies fit together is to analyze the text according to its plot structure.

The first conflict is introduced in John 4:7-9. It must have been important to John that his readers understand the conflict, because he chooses to pop us on the nose with two parenthetical statements (the disciples were gone, and Jews don’t deal with Samaritans). Perhaps without the explanation, the nature of the conflict would have been subtle enough that his audience might have missed it. In short, the conflict, as John introduces it, is Jesus vs. cultural expectations of identity. Jesus does what nobody would have expected him to do: Speak to this woman, alone.
If that is the conflict, this suggests that John 4:1-6 is simply the setting to paint the picture for us. Jesus wishes to escape the Pharisees, who might compel a competition between him and John. And he “had to” pass through Samaria to get away.
So where is the reversal? Where are the cultural expectations of identity flipped around? John 4:26: “I who speak to you am he.” Here is the first climax.
Therefore, we can consider the intervening verses (John 4:10-25) as part of the rising action intended to heighten the tension and build toward climax.
- These verses are not unimportant. There is deep and significant teaching here. But, according to the way John has chosen to tell his story, this material is subordinate to the climax of verse 26.
- In John 4:10-15, Jesus has asked her for a drink, but he clarifies that, really, she should have asked him for a drink.
- In John 4:16, the conflict expands. Now Jesus is taking on not only the cultural expectations of his identity but also this woman’s worship. He shines light to expose her evil deeds (John 3:20-21), likely to see whether she’ll come out or withdraw further into cover of darkness.
- In John 4:17-25, the action rises as they now discuss true and false worship. Again, this material is valuable; I don’t think it’s unimportant. But for John, it’s part of a narrative device intended to heighten the tension and build to climax. We must keep in mind what he’s building toward: Who is Jesus, with respect to what his culture expects of him?
After the climax in John 4:26, the situation resolves into a new setting (John 4:27-30), a new state of affairs: One where Jesus’ own disciples marvel at his behavior (again, completely in conflict with their cultural expectations), and the woman testifies to Jesus’ new-found (to her) identity.

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):

John 4:27-30: setting, described above.
John 4:31-32: next conflict introduced. Jesus vs. disciples’ perception of the world.
John 4:33-37: rising action. Q&A. Jesus takes their eyes off physical food to the spiritual reality of harvest.
John 4:38: climax. Disciples’ mistaken perception reversed as they enter into another’s labor (as they now reap that for which they did not labor).
John 4:39-42: new setting. Samaritans believe that Jesus is savior of the world; they ask him to stay.

Third plot arc (John 4:39-54):

John 4:39-42: setting, described above.
John 4:43-46: more setting. John raises the question of response. We ought to expect, with Jesus, a poor response to him from his own people (cf. John 1:11, 4:44).
John 4:47-48: next conflict introduced. On the surface, we might think the conflict is Jesus vs. illness. But with Jesus’ first response (John 4:48) John highlights a different conflict instead: Jesus vs. unbelief (defined as trusting more in signs than in the savior). The surface conflict with illness is merely the literary mechanism for presenting the true conflict with unbelief.
John 4:49-50a: rising action, where the Roman official requests Jesus’ presence but receives his word of promise instead.
John 4:50b: climax. The official believes Jesus’ word, even without a visible sign. He goes on his way without Jesus’ company.
John 4:51-53a: resolution. The official gets proof of his son’s healing, to confirm the word of promise from Jesus.
John 4:53b-54: new setting. Belief spreads in Roman official’s household.

Implications

Let me close with a few principles for mapping plot structure:

Because the categories and lines can seem fuzzy in any given story, I find it most helpful to identify first the conflict and climax. The conflict is the point at which the narrative introduces tension. The climax is the point at which that tension is fixed or reversed. Those two points are typically the clearest elements of the plot.
Then the material in between the introduction of the conflict and the climax falls into place as rising action, serving to expand on or intensify the tension produced by the conflict.
Almost everything that comes before the conflict is simply setting. The details matter for the sake of the story, but they will likely not be as crucial to the text’s theology or application.
And the payout for interpretation comes when we focus our attention on the climax and resolution to determine the author’s main point.

In John 4, we see three arcs with climaxes:

The first arc climaxes (John 4:26) with the immoral Samaritan woman hearing and, in the resolution, trusting in Jesus’ identity as Messiah.
The second arc climaxes (John 4:38) with the disciples entering into Jesus’ labor, to reap the harvest with him.
The third arc climaxes (John 4:50b) with the powerful Roman official trusting Jesus’ word of promise, without any visible sign.

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:

In John 2, the messianic kingdom has arrived!
In John 3, we see how to enter the kingdom.
In John 4, we see who enters the kingdom.

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.

The Most Important Tool for Observing the Structure of a Narrative Episode

December 7, 2018 By Peter Krol

I’ve spent a few weeks showing both why structure matters and how to observe it. My focus to this point has been on macro-structure—structure across entire books or large subdivisions—because that is the part I’ve seen most people neglect in their Bible study. And there is great value in doing this well.

In this post, however, I’ll narrow my focus to distinct episodes in a single genre: narrative. How do you observe the structure of a narrative scene? And how does that structure convey the author’s meaning?

What We Learned in Grade School

For years, I spent so much time trying to be ingenious when observing structure that I missed something I learned in grade school. And I’ve recently come to see that thing I missed as the most important tool for observing the structure of a narrative.

That tool is the essential plot structure that nearly all narratives follow.

Do you remember learning, in school, terms such as setting, conflict, climax, and resolution? Those are the building blocks of narrative plot structure.

Setting (or Exposition) is what sets the scene for the action to take place. Setting can include an introduction of characters, a description of time or location, and even some basic action that sets up the body of the story.
Conflict is the story’s heartbeat. Tension enters the story in the form of man vs. man, man vs. nature, man vs. society, man vs. technology, man vs. himself, or man vs. God.
Rising Action narrates how the chief tension moves the story forward and builds through the episode.
Climax is the point at which the conflict is dealt with or reversed in some way.
Resolution (or Falling Action) describes the consequences of the climactic reversal.
New Setting (or Denouement) is the situation in which the characters find themselves as a result of living through the conflict and its climax. This new setting often sets up the next episode.

With these building blocks, we can quickly outline nearly any narrative episode. (Exception: Sometimes a single episode serves no other purpose than to elaborate the setting or to introduce the book or subdivision. If there is no conflict and reversal, we’ll need other to use other tools to observe the structure.) And there might be some gray area as to where exactly the setting ends and conflict begins, or which precise statement constitutes the exact climax. But if we get ourselves in the right ballpark, we will do well.

Putting the Tool into Practice

Let’s outline the narrative in Mark 2:1-12 of the healing of the paralytic.

Setting (Mark 2:1-5): Jesus teaches in Capernaum after some days. So many people listen to his teaching that a group of friends can’t get in the door. They open a hole in the roof, lower their friend, and Jesus forgives his sins. Someone could argue that the struggle to get into the crowded house introduces conflict (man vs. environment), but the fact that the story doesn’t climax with their entry to the house suggests Mark wants a different conflict to grab our attention.
Conflict introduced (Mark 2:6-7): Scribes vs. Jesus. Scribes question Jesus in their hearts: God alone can forgive sins!
Rising action (Mark 2:8-10): Jesus knows their thoughts, bluntly addresses them, asks a few questions, and reasons that though it would be easy to say “your sins are forgiven” (since you can’t see or touch the evidence to verify that forgiveness took place), it would be harder (i.e. more objectively falsifiable) to say “rise and walk.” Will he have the chutzpah to go there? Maybe he will! To make them know that the Son of Man has authority to forgive, he speaks…!
Climax (Mark 2:11): “I say to you, rise, pick up your bed, and go home.” The point of conflict was whether Jesus had authority to do what he had done. He now puts that claim of authority on the line by doing that which is more objectively falsifiable.
Resolution (Mark 2:12a): The paralyzed man immediately rises, picks up his bed, and walks out in plain view of all. The proof is presented; the gauntlet has been thrown down.
New setting (Mark 2:12b): All are now amazed and glorifying God, as they’ve now seen something they’ve never seen before: A man with divine authority to forgive sins.

Let me give another example from Exodus 13:17-14:31, the crossing of the Red Sea.

Setting (Ex 13:17-22): God leads the people along a certain route.
Conflict introduced (Ex 14:1-4): God commands the people to turn back and camp between Migdol and the sea because Pharaoh will think they’re helpless. God will harden his heart so he can get glory over Pharaoh. Striking: The primary conflict is not between Israel and Pharaoh; it is between Israel and God! Will they trust him, even when he makes their situation harder than they expect?
Rising action (Ex 14:5-28): Pharaoh indeed responds as God foretold, and God indeed hardens his heart. Pharaoh pursues the people, and they see their impossible predicament. They cry out to God through Moses, and Yahweh wants them to move forward instead of crying out. He holds Egypt back long enough to set up walls of water for them to race into. Then, through Moses, he crashes the water down on Egypt’s chariots.
Climax (Ex 14:29): If the chief conflict is between Israel and God (will they trust him through the painful circumstances?), the reversal happens in verse 29 when the people walk on dry ground through the sea. In doing this, they obey God’s command to “go forward” (Ex 14:15). It’s tempting to place the climax at Ex 14:28, when the waters drown the Egyptians; but the Egyptians were not the chief antagonists in the narrator’s framing of the story.
Resolution (Ex 14:30): Yahweh saved the people that day (summary statement), and Israel saw Egypt dead on the shore.
New setting (Ex 14:31): The people who were struggling to trust their God have now seen his great power. They have learned to fear Yahweh and to believe both Yahweh and his servant Moses.

Sometimes the exact boundaries of the different plot components will be fuzzy. But the clearest points should be 1) when conflict is introduced, and 2) when that conflict climaxes in a reversal. If you can find those two things, the rest of the pieces fall into place.

Why This Matters

We will typically find the narrator’s main point at the point of climax or resolution. The climax presents the reversal he seeks to portray. The resolution draws out the implications of that reversal. So we must look there for the main point.

Observing the narrative’s plot structure in this way helps us to avoid placing too much weight on unimportant details. For example, in Mark 2, we ought not make much (either interpretation or application) of the fact that Jesus saw the friends’ faith and thereby forgave the paralytic’s sins (Mark 2:5). That’s only part of the setting, or the set up for the actual main point: Jesus’ authority to pronounce forgiveness. For another example, in Exodus 14, our application will focus more on developing trust in God than in necessarily expecting to be rescued from hard circumstances.

And outlining a narrative’s plot structure enables us to answer the age-old question of whether a particular narrative is meant to be prescriptive or descriptive. Identify the conflict, climax, and resolution, and you’ll be close to the main point. Grasp that main point, and you can have confidence in what the author wants us to get from his narrative. Perhaps it may be a descriptive point; perhaps it may be more prescriptive.

Putting Micro-Structure and Macro-Structure Together

And when you combine the micro-structure (plot arc) with the macro-structure of the larger division, you are approaching mastery of the text and a profound grasp of the narrator’s intentions.

For example, you might notice that the story of the paralytic is preceded by 4 healing episodes (Mark 1:21-28, 29-31, 32-39, 40-45) and that it is followed by 4 controversy episodes (Mark 2:13-17, 18-22, 23-28; 3:1-6). The paralytic story is itself both a healing and a controversy. The first two healings take place on a Sabbath, and the last two controversies take place on a Sabbath. The passage begins with Jesus having more authority than the scribes (Mark 1:22), and it ends with Pharisees and Herodians taking counsel to destroy him (Mark 3:6). There is therefore a clear chiastic (symmetric) arrangement here (A-B-C-D-E-D-C-B-A), with the paralytic story sitting at the prominent hinge point in the center.

So Jesus’ divine authority (perhaps even his specific authority to forgive sins) must be a major component of the message of the full section that goes from Mark 1:21 to Mark 3:9. Append Mark 1:16-20 as an introduction and Mark 3:7-12 as a conclusion, and you’ve got your hands on Mark’s first major literary division.

I’m grateful for a few Simeon Trust preaching workshops, which alerted me to the importance of these plot devices in outlining a narrative’s structure.

4 Practical Guidelines for Reading Old Testament Stories

November 9, 2016 By Peter Krol

As I’m well into my series of sample Bible studies through the book of Exodus, it’s a good time to step back and consider how to read stories such as we find in Exodus. This week’s “check it out” comes courtesy of Dr. George Guthrie, who gives 4 practical guidelines for reading Old Testament Stories:

Read the story in light of the bigger story of which it is a part! Don’t read each chapter/episode as though it were in a vacuum, but read it as part of the larger epic. For example, when we hit Exodus 19, we must draw connections back to Exodus 3, where God promised Moses would bring the people back to the mountain of God to worship him.
Read the story in light of its purpose. Take note of the clues dropped by the narrator about why he’s telling this story. For example, I noted last week that God’s plans come with the intentions “you shall know that I am Yahweh” (Ex 6:7) and “the Egyptians shall know that I am Yahweh” (Ex 7:5). Such purpose statements are like bright signs highlighting a text’s meaning.
Understand important cultural elements in the story. The narrator assumes his original audience would have understood certain things due to their experience, history, or shared experiences. Such things are left unstated but nonetheless key to interpretation. For example, though Exodus 6:14-25 never uses the term “high priest,” this cultural element would have been immediately clear to the original audience.
Read the story, recognizing God as the hero. Though Old Testament characters do give us some examples to follow or avoid (1 Cor 10:1-11), those characters and narratives themselves constantly point to God as the primary mover. For example, Exodus 2-7 makes no attempt to put Moses on a pedestal. The narrative shows him as a weak man, full of impediments, doubts, and fears—but he has a big God who will keep his promises to his people.

For more explanation with some very clear examples from other parts of the Old Testament, see Guthrie’s full post.

Check it out!

How to See a Narrative’s Train of Thought

May 8, 2015 By Peter Krol

Bible Stories Have a Point

Perhaps I’ve convinced you that part of Bible study requires picking up an author’s train of thought. And you can see it most clearly with instructional texts like epistles, wisdom poetry, and prophets. But what about the narrative books? Do they have a train of thought as well?

Ted McGrath (2014), Creative Commons

Remember that Bible stories are more than stories. While biblical narratives tell a true history of God’s redemption, the purpose of the stories is more than the history itself (or the story itself). Paul uses biblical narratives to provide examples to follow and warnings to avoid (1 Cor 10:6, 11). Jesus uses biblical narratives to draw ethical principles for his day (Mark 10:6-9). And Hebrews uses biblical narratives to inspire and motivate people not to shrink back but hold fast to Jesus despite great affliction (Hebrews 10:39-12:3). Examples, morals, and motivation all come from stories.

Finding the Point of a Bible Story

What does this mean for our Bible study? How do we find the main points of Bible stories?

Narratives by nature don’t present their material logically. You won’t find many “so that”s or “therefore”s in narratives, so it’s more challenging to trace out a logical train of thought.

But the tools of narratives lie primarily in plot, structure, and climax. Learn to see these things, and you’ll discover the narrator’s train of thought.

Plot: What is the primary sequence of action? Who does what to whom, and what are the results? At what point does the plot hinge and build toward climax and resolution?

Structure: Narratives won’t make clear logical argument, but they structure their material intentionally.

Climax: Where is the highest point of energy in the story? Where do the characters find what they seek or resolve their tension?

Look for these clues, and you’re on your way toward the main point.

Example #1 – Matthew 1:18-25

This short example begins with a clear title statement: “Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way” (Matt 1:18). The plot immediately thickens as Mary gets pregnant and Joseph tries to do the right thing by her. Suddenly, an angel appears to him in a dream (not an everyday occurrence) and gives Joseph two commands with explanation:

command 1: do not fear to marry her.
- explanation: this child is from the Holy Spirit.
command 2: call his name Jesus.
- explanation: he will save his people from their sins.

So not only the marriage, but also the child’s name is important here. We don’t hit the story’s climax, though, until we read “All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet” (Matt 1:22), which leads into more talk of pregnancy, birth, and naming of a child – with another explanation of the name (God with us – Matt 1:23).

As the tension resolves, Joseph obeys the angel. And Matthew goes out of his way to tell us that he 1) married her without making love to her, and 2) named the child Jesus (Matt 1:24-25).

We’re not told much in this short tale, but the following things are clear:

Joseph is not this child’s father.
God has come to be with us.
This God will save his people from their sins.

What is the point of this short story? God himself has come to deal with his people’s sin. See how the story’s train of thought leads us to this key point?

Example #2 – Mark 6:7-8:30

I don’t have the space to analyze this lengthy passage exhaustively, but I want to show how observing structure helps us to get the point.

Intro: Jesus sends out the 12, creating a crisis for Herod: Who is Jesus? – 6:7-29

A Jesus feeds 5,000 – 6:30-44

B Jesus crosses the sea with his disciples – 6:45-56

C Pharisees argue with Jesus – 7:1-23

D Jesus talks to a woman about bread – 7:24-30

E Jesus heals a deaf man – 7:31-37

A Jesus feeds 4,000 – 8:1-9

B Jesus crosses the sea with his disciples – 8:10

C Pharisees argue with Jesus – 8:11-13

D Jesus talks to his disciples about bread – 8:14-21

E Jesus heals a blind man – 8:22-26

Conclusion: Peter sees and understands exactly who Jesus is – 8:27-30

Seeing this larger structure is what helped me to understand why it took Jesus two tries to heal the blind man in Mark 8:22-26. Mark portrays two parallel cycles of events with the disciples, where they get to experience firsthand who Jesus is. Herod’s initial questions (John the Baptist? Elijah? One of the prophets?) go unanswered until Jesus takes his disciples through these two cycles.

And they don’t get it (Mark 8:21). But in healing the blind man, Mark gives a living parable of Jesus’ healing of the disciples blindness. And then, finally, they see him clearly. Not John the Baptist, Elijah, or one of the prophets – but the Christ (Mark 8:27-29).

The narrative has a train of thought; not only within a particular episode but also across many episodes. Look for this train and hop on board.

Bible Stories are More Than Stories

April 24, 2015 By Peter Krol

Let’s not overreact.

When the Bible’s glorious message of grace penetrates the hearts of Christ-loving people born or bred in legalistic communities, the temptation to overreact looms large. Such folks draw attention away from rule-keeping and toward faith and mercy. They notice the largely narrative makeup of Scripture, and they revel in this greatest of all stories. They delight in the overarching narrative of God’s plan to rescue his people through the person and work of Jesus Christ. They bask in God’s redemption, and they get the shakes around too many precepts, moralisms, or “Be good like Bible character X” sermons.

Emily Raw (2008), Creative Commons

And they should do all these things. But please, let’s not overreact.

I’m guilty; I’ve done it. I’ve encouraged others to do it. And it’s dangerous, because something about this particular overreaction feels right.

For example, Sally Lloyd-Jones, who did the world a tremendous service by writing The Jesus Storybook Bible, overstates her case in an article entitled “Teach Children the Bible is Not About Them“:

When we drill a Bible story down into a moral lesson, we make it all about us. But the Bible isn’t mainly about us, and what we are supposed to be doing — it’s about God, and what he has done!

When we tie up the story in a nice neat, little package, and answer all the questions, we leave no room for mystery. Or discovery. We leave no room for the child. No room for God.

When we say, “Now what that story is all about is…”, or “The point of that story is…” we are in fact totally missing the point. The power of the story isn’t in summing it up, or drilling it down, or reducing it into an abstract idea.

Because the power of the story isn’t in the lesson.

The power of the story is the story.

It’s funny, because just a few paragraphs later, Ms. Lloyd-Jones states that she wrote The Jesus Storybook Bible in part so children would know “that — in spite of everything, no matter what, whatever it cost him — God won’t ever stop loving his children… with a wonderful, Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love.” I’m not sure how that’s any different from saying, “The point of that story is…” Lloyd-Jones has a great story to tell, and she teaches an essential lesson from that story.

The simple truth is this: Bible stories have a point. Biblical authors had pastoral reasons for including some stories and excluding others from their narratives. They had educational reasons for including certain details and excluding others. (For a case study, see my analysis of the four feeding of the 5,000 accounts.) When it comes to interpreting the point of a story, we could be right or wrong, but we can’t say there is no point. We’re misreading the Bible unless we remember that “all Scripture is … profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work” (2 Tim 3:16-17). Even when we keep Jesus at the center, where he belongs, these stories still have lessons, principles, and role models for modern readers young and old.

Everything written was meant to teach us, that we might be encouraged to have hope (Rom 15:4). Biblical narratives offer both examples and warnings to us (1 Cor 10:6, 11). Of course, these stories are about what God has done. But that doesn’t mean they’re not also about what God wants for us, through us, in us, or around us.

We can and should look for the author’s main point in each story, and we can do so without falling into the errors of legalism or self-righteous moralism.

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If you’re looking to buy an amazing storybook Bible for children and you click the Amazon link above, you’ll support this blog at no extra cost to yourself. This is not a legalistic disclaimer; just free grace coming from you to us so we can keep blogging about Bible study.

What to Observe: Genre

September 17, 2012 By Peter Krol

Professor and Poet Marilyn Hacker once said, “Poetry seems to have been eliminated as a literary genre, and installed instead, as a kind of spiritual aerobic exercise – nobody need read it, but anybody can do it.” She lamented the loss of poetry’s unique place and rigorous standards in popular writing. The implications of her perspective impact our Bible study, because sometimes it can be easy to miss the significance of a text’s genre.

In answer to the question “how do I observe a Bible passage?” or “where do I begin when I sit down to study the Bible?” we’ve discussed numerous items to consider: words, grammar, and structure. Today we come to a fourth item: genre.

Genre is easy to miss because it’s not something that is likely to change substantially from verse to verse. Once you observe a book’s genre, you’re likely to come across only minor deviations from time to time. The important thing is that we remain on the lookout.

Let’s use our study of Luke 2:1-24 as an example.

The main observation to make is straigtforward: the genre of this text, as with most of Luke, is historical narrative. The author reports on events that actually happened (see Luke 1:1-4 for his intentions), but he does so by telling a story. He doesn’t issue a medical report or a media sound byte. He’s done his research, interviewing witnesses and collecting relevant documents, but he presents the facts in the shape of a narrative of the key events that verify the truthfulness of what has been taught about Jesus.

What are the implications of this observation?

It really happened. Luke 2:1-24 speaks of governors, shepherds, and angels. A baby is born to a virgin. These things are neither fable nor fairy tale. They were researched, verified, and presented as historical fact.
The story has an agenda. Although factually trustworthy, it would be naive to conclude that the text was written in a coldly objective way. The author still has an agenda. He includes certain details, and excludes others, for a reason. The purpose of the story is to tell a story, not to report on every little thing that might forestall potential questions. How many shepherds were there? Did the angels have wings? Were they floating in the sky? Was Jesus born in a stable or a cave? We don’t know. Such specifics were not part of Luke’s agenda.

One more thing: observe that the genre changes briefly in Luke 2:14, where we get a brief switch to poetry.

We know Luke 2:14 is poetry because:

the angels were praising God (likely singing)
the quote consists of two parallel lines (the chief component of Jewish poetry)

Why is this observation significant? Because we ought to change our expectations. “Glory to God in the highest” does not mean that God exists physically at a higher altitude than everyone else. Something more poetic, more figurative, is intended.