Structure | Knowable Word

Mastering Book I of the Psalms

March 6, 2020 By Peter Krol

After completing my annual speed-read of the Bible, I like to follow Joe Carter’s plan for how to change your mind. Carter’s plan is simply to select a book of the Bible, read it 20 times in a row, and then move on to another book and do the same. After following that plan for 3 years, I’ve covered 20 books of the Bible, alternating between shorter books and longer ones. This discipline has been the most effective practice I’ve ever followed to help me master these books.

And for most of 2020, I’ve decided to tackle the third-longest book of the Bible: Psalms. (I already covered the second-longest, Genesis, in 2017. The first-longest, Jeremiah, still glares at me threateningly from an undisclosed rendezvous in my future timeline.)

To help me grasp the book’s ebbs and flows, and to prevent too much sensation of swimming in molasses, I’ve decided to consume the book of Psalms according to its five subdivisions, called “books.” Most Bibles will put headings over those five books: Psalms 1-41, 42-73, 74-89, 90-106, and 107-150.

So for now, I’m reading only Psalms 1-41 repeatedly (about to finish my 11th repetition). After 20 times there, I’ll move on to Book II, and so on.

The Data I’m Collecting

I’m creating a spreadsheet to help me analyze the psalms and the book’s larger structure. You can find the fruit of my labors here. (I’ll also post it on the blog’s Resources page, so you can easily find it in the future.)

On the spreadsheet, I’m tracking every ascription and description given for a psalm. I’m also tracking every psalm that uses the term “psalm,” “choirmaster,” or “selah.”

But besides such trivia, I’m also tracking which psalms are acrostics (where each verse or stanza begins with a subsequent letter of the Hebrew alphabet), what sort of poem each psalm is, which NT verses directly quote from each psalm.

And above all, I’m recording what I believe to be the main point of each psalm. My purpose in doing this is not to erase or ignore the nature of the poetry, which is typically intended to be felt and pondered and not merely reduced to a logical proposition. My purpose is simply to recognize that each psalm is profitable for teaching, correcting, reproving, and/or training in righteousness (2 Tim 3:16). And when I’m feeling especially discouraged about a particular sin that doesn’t seem to go away—to give a practical example—I would like the spreadsheet to help me remember the psalm whose primary purpose is to ask God not to discipline me in anger as my sin deserves. (In case you’re wondering, it’s Psalm 38.)

What I’m Gleaning

The biggest lesson for me so far is that the Psalms are clearly arranged with intention. This is no random assortment of devotional poems. The five books of Psalms have been set in their order to communicate a number of overarching themes designed to infect the prayer and worship of God’s people. To give only one example of the purposeful arrangement, notice how Book I has four psalms with an acrostic structure (marked in column H of the spreadsheet). No other Book has an acrostic, until Book V, which also has exactly four. This can’t be a coincidence.

For a brief, yet brilliant, take on the book of Psalms see the Bible Project video below. While I differ with them on a few details, I find their broad insight into the book quite stimulating. These guys are the ones who set me down the path of seeing the intentionality behind the book’s arrangement.

With respect to Book I, I was intrigued by the proposal that Psalms 15-24 make up an extended chiasm (a structure where the second half is a mirror image in parallel to the first half). As I have dug into these psalms myself, I can’t help but wonder whether the chiasm extends out all the way to Psalms 3-35. I’ve color-coded the parallel pairs in the spreadsheet.

Many commentators, not only those at The Bible Project, agree that Psalms 1-2 provide an introduction to the entire book. This introductions establishes a blessing on those who 1) hold fast to God’s Word and 2) submit to God’s King. I find it unsurprising that the center of the Book I chiasm consists of Psalms 19 & 20, which have the same pair of themes.

Not all proposed pairings are self-evident. But many are uncanny. For example, in Psalm 4, David asks God to answer him when he calls (Psalm 4:1), and in Psalm 34, David praises God for hearing him when he called (Psalm 34:6).

This leads to another insight I’ve gleaned, which is that there is clear movement over the course of the book. Each psalm, and even subsets of verses of a psalm, could be read or prayed in isolation as an act of worship (here are two examples). But at the same time, there is a broad movement over the course of the book that is worth following.

For example, consider only Book I. After introducing the main themes of the book in Psalms 1-2 (blessing on the one who trusts God’s Word and God’s King), the editor presents 39 psalms connected—with only one exception—to David. And in these psalms, we see a high percentage of laments and requests for help from persecution (19 psalms). Intertwined throughout are occasional psalms of praise or blessing (13 psalms). But most of the “praise” psalms even focus on praise for the opportunity to request help when life is tough (Psalms 9-10, 18, 21, 30, 33, 34, 40).

The first praise psalm (Psalm 8) is about how God set a human to reign as king over creation against God’s enemies. And the last praise psalm (Psalm 40) gives thanks for past deliverance in order to request further deliverance in the future (Ps 40:13-17). The rejoicing over past deliverance flows right out of the requests in Psalms 36-39. And the request for future deliverance sets up the Book’s final psalm (Psalm 41), which is as much a confession of faith as a lament over poor circumstances. “Blessed is the one who considers the poor! In the day of trouble Yahweh delivers him” (Ps 41:1).

Putting it together, we see the following flow of thought through Book I:

Blessed is the one who trusts God’s Word and God’s King – Pss 1-2
David was a king who trusted God’s Word through all sorts of turmoil – Pss 3-18
Center of chiasm: The king asks God to align his words with God’s words, and the people ask God to save the king – Pss 19-20
But David is not the end of the story. He has yet to be freed from oppression, sickness, and personal sin. He is not yet vindicated as the true Son of God. There must be something more – Pss 21-41

This leaves us wondering whether Book II might suggest what is that “something more.”

Context Matters: Leave the Dead to Bury Their Own Dead

February 28, 2020 By Peter Krol

Perhaps you’ve heard some of Jesus’ cryptic sayings, such as “Let the dead bury their own dead.” What are we to make of such a mysterious sentence? How shall we go about trying to puzzle it out?

Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible properly—and we don’t just take a guess at the meaning on our own—we’ll find that the clues are right there in the passage waiting to be found.

The Text

The command comes in response to a man who considers following Jesus. The man asks to be allowed to go first and bury his father. Then Jesus speaks the words under consideration: “Leave the dead to bury their own dead.”

This brief scene occurs in both Matthew 8:21-22 and Luke 9:59-60. For the sake of this post, I’m looking at Luke’s version. Because Matthew may have a different use in mind for this scene, I might analyze his version in another post. For this season, however, my head has been in Luke. So I’ll camp there.

Some Options

A number of options have been proposed for how to interpret this command.

Some describe an ancient Jewish practice of “second burial,” where a family would return to the tomb of a loved one a year after burial and rearrange the placement of the bones. They suggest that, because Jesus would presumably never contradict the 5th commandment to honor one’s parents (Ex 20:12), Jesus must be ordering the man to forgo this practice of second burial. “Leave the second-burial dead to bury their own first-burial dead.”

Others claim that the first “dead” in the verse refers to the spiritually dead. And a Christian ought to delegate the responsibility for burying their (physically) dead parents to those who are not Christians. “Leave the spiritually dead to bury their own physically dead.”

Still others suggest that the man’s father was not yet dead, and the potential disciple was merely making excuses not to follow Jesus. “Leave off the excuse of needing to care for the aging.”

Another idea is that the phrase means either that God must come first before all else, or that we must accept that what is done is done. “Bury your priorities and your past as though they were dead, and put me first.”

Still others propose that the command is not relevant to Christians today, but was only for the first apostles. Jesus’ call to them then was so strict as to preclude their responsibility to care for aging or dying parents. But his call on us today is not as strict. “Leave the dead apostles to leave the dead to bury their own dead.”

How are we to choose from among these options? Surely we won’t get the answer by closing our eyes and reflecting on the options until one of them feels right. There have got to be clues in the text itself.

Help from the Structure

In Luke’s account, we’re given three brief scenes with potential disciples, all in a row. The first (Luke 9:57-58) and third (Luke 9:61-62) both take initiative with Jesus and announce “I will follow you.” However, with the second potential disciple, the one we are considering, Jesus makes the first move: “Follow me” (Luke 9:59). This pattern sets up a simple three-part structure:

“I will follow you wherever you go.”
- “Follow me… But as for you…”
“I will follow you, Lord, but…”

The first and third potential disciples are idealists. They’re quick to make promises about what they will do. The first is a broad idealist, offering to follow Jesus “wherever.” And the second one is a narrow idealist, offering to follow Jesus under one small condition (“let me first say farewell to those at my home”). But both remain idealists who need a dose of reality: We won’t have the greatest of accommodations (Luke 9:58), and we need to be singly focused on the kingdom (Luke 9:62).

But the structure of the paragraph points a flashing neon arrow at the second potential disciple. Being at the center of the concentric structure, we ought to expect the punchline to fall there.

And so it does. Not only is Jesus the one to take initiative, but he also closes the vignette with a clear call: “But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:60). So in some way, “burying the dead” is in tension with “proclaiming the kingdom of God.” If burying the dead will get in the way of proclaiming the kingdom, then leave the task to the dead.

In brief, then, the structure helps us to see the main point: Go and proclaim the kingdom. But it doesn’t yet help us to grasp the precise interpretation of the phrase “leave the dead to bury their own dead.” We need more help.

Help Before and After

The train of thought in the larger passage may come to the rescue.

The paragraph before the one we’re examining (Luke 9:51-56) launches a major division in Luke’s gospel (see my post on how to navigate the middle of Luke). In that paragraph, James and John ask if Jesus wants them to call down fire on a village that didn’t receive him (Luke 9:53-54). Clearly he doesn’t, because he rebukes them and moves on to another village (Luke 9:55-56). So now is not a time for unflinching judgment.

The paragraphs after the one we’re examining (Luke 10:1-24) show Jesus appointing “seventy-two others” (so not including the Twelve) to go ahead of him (Luke 10:1) and proclaim the kingdom of God (Luke 10:9, 11). For this particular mission, they are to take no supplies and stop to greet no one (Luke 10:4). In other words, they are to leave possessions and ordinary politeness behind. This mission is far too urgent.

So the train of thought takes the following track:

Now is a time not for judgment but for patience—Luke 9:51-56
Now is a time for single-minded and urgent proclamation of the kingdom—Luke 9:57-62
Here are your marching orders for this season of patient yet urgent proclamation—Luke 10:1-24

Conclusion

I don’t think we have reason to believe that “leave the dead to bury their own dead” is intended by Luke as a code or metaphor for something else, as though we need to figure out who exactly the first “dead” are and who the second “dead” are. I also don’t see support from the context for even a precise definition for the saying.

Luke’s purpose here is not to tell us what to do with our dead. His purpose is to paint a picture of the urgency of proclaiming the kingdom of God. In particular, the urgency they had then of proclaiming Jesus’ approach toward Jerusalem to bring that kingdom (Luke 9:51, 53).

In painting this picture, Luke portrays a man who wants to bury his father. And Jesus wants the man to leave the situation alone for now so he can proclaim this urgent kingdom message instead. Somewhat like a modern father of a preschooler, late for a family gathering, telling his daughter to just leave her baby dolls to have their own tea party; we only need to get in the car! She would be missing the point if she began dissecting the question of whether dolls really have the ability to have their own tea parties without her.

So the weight of our interpretation ought to land on the proclamation of the kingdom instead of on deciding allowable burial practices.

Now, while the passage clearly has a particular setting (proclaiming Jesus’ imminent arrival in Jerusalem), I wouldn’t go as far as to say that this means the passage has no application to today (as with the last option on the list above). All Scripture is profitable for teaching and equipping. We can identify principles here for application, but we need to be careful not to read the instructions as though they had been delivered directly to us. There was something unique about Jesus’ journey toward Jerusalem, for which those 72 folks had a particular urgency. We likewise face an analogous urgency in our proclamation of the kingdom, but the instructions don’t always directly apply. For example, it may now be appropriate for missionaries to raise support (contra Luke 10:4; see Rom 15:24, Phil 4:15-18).

Context matters.

For more examples of why context matters, click here.

How to Navigate the Middle of Luke

February 21, 2020 By Peter Krol

Of the four New Testament gospels, Luke’s is the lengthiest. And in my opinion, the longest section within the book (Luke 9:51-19:27) is the most challenging to get through. It can feel aimless and meandering, almost as though Luke indulges his personal wanderlust without a clear purpose or organization.

Literary Stasis

At least his second volume, the book of Acts, can be organized according to travel sequences. The gospel moves out in waves from Jerusalem, into Judea, then Samaria, and then to the ends of the earth. And “the ends of the earth” section is commonly subdivided into Paul’s first, second, and third missionary journeys, with a voyage to Rome appended to the end.

But in Luke, Jesus simply commits himself to going to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51), and then he finally goes up to Jerusalem (Luke 19:28). And nothing really happens plot-wise in the intervening 10 chapters. There is a lot of talking and meandering, with occasional reminders that Jesus is “on the way.” But very few narrative events take place. And they are the sort of events that don’t typically show up on a summary timeline of the life of Christ.

There’s a funny thing about these 10 chapters. In a sense, Luke could have gone without them. Luke more or less puts Jesus into a literary stasis, frozen in the act of traveling toward Jerusalem (with almost no named stops along the way). And Luke’s overall themes could function without this part of the book. In Luke 1:1-4:13, Luke presents Jesus as, himself, the salvation of God. In Luke 4:14-9:50, Jesus proclaims the coming salvation of God through himself. And in Luke 19:28 to the end, Jesus goes and accomplishes the salvation of God. Luke could have jumped right from Luke 9:51 to Luke 19:28 without the intervening material, and the book would still have made sense.

The “parenthetical” nature of Luke 9:51-19:27 is so stark that commentators even have a label for it. They tend to call this section of Luke “The Travelogue” or “The Travel Narrative.”

What further sense can we make of this literary stasis?

Literary Divisions

It appears that Luke divides this large section into four sub-sections.* His literary signal, to show the beginning of a new sub-section, is a reminder that the plot is still frozen and Jesus is still “on the way” to Jerusalem.

When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.
Luke 9:51

Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village.
Luke 10:38

He went on his way through towns and villages, teaching and journeying toward Jerusalem.
Luke 13:22

On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Galilee.
Luke 17:11

In each case, Luke makes sure to remind us that Jesus is “on the way” to Jerusalem. And then, almost immediately, somebody asks Jesus a weighty question. And Luke spends the rest of the section showing us how Jesus answered the question.

So the pattern to mark each sub-section is as follows:

Luke reminds us that Jesus is on the way to Jerusalem.
Somebody asks a weighty question.
The following collection of scenes and dialogues answers the question.

For example, in the first section (Luke 9:51-10:37), James and John ask Jesus if he wants them to call down fire from heaven on an unresponsive village (Luke 9:54). Jesus rebukes them, and then he calls another disciple to “go and proclaim the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:60). The rest of the section describes the plan for such proclamation.

In the second section (Luke 10:38-13:21), Martha asks Jesus whether he cares that her sister has left her to serve alone (Luke 10:40). She asks Jesus to tell Mary to help her with the work. Jesus tells Martha that he absolutely cares about what Mary has done, and that Mary has actually chosen the better portion—to sit at his feet and grow closer to him. The rest of the section describes the process for such growth in the lives of those who will sit at Jesus’ feet. We get instruction about such practical topics as the Holy Spirit, prayer, tradition, money management, and repentance.

At the start of the third section (Luke 13:22-17:10), a random person asks Jesus if those who are saved will be few (Luke 13:23). Jesus acknowledges that they will, in fact, be few. And very many will strive to enter the kingdom but will find themselves weeping outside. The rest of the section shows a great concern for how many will get in and how many will be left out.

At the start of the fourth section (Luke 17:11-19:27), the Pharisees ask Jesus when the kingdom of God will come (Luke 17:20). Jesus claims that it has already arrived, but they are simply unable to recognize it for what it is. The rest of the section then describes how to recognize the kingdom, how it is already upon us, and how most Jews of that generation are just about out of time to enter it.

Summary

In summary, this lengthy section of Luke, this literary stasis, could be called “The Life of Discipleship.” This large section describes life in the kingdom of God, the life of those who would be his disciples. Luke freezes the plot to draw out the implications of what he’s told us so far in the book. What is Jesus really after? How would he describe the results he expects from his salvation? When does he expect things to play out? And what sort of people does he want his followers to be?

This lengthy section concerns four main topics:

How we must proclaim his kingdom (Luke 9:51-10:37)
How to grow as citizens of the kingdom (Luke 10:38-13:21)
Who is a true citizen, and who is not (Luke 13:22-17:10)
How to recognize that the kingdom has, in fact, come through Jesus (Luke 17:11-19:27)

Now that you grasp this skeleton, perhaps you can make more sense of the meandering parables and dialogues found there. We find some of Jesus’ most famous parables here (e.g. good Samaritan, lost sheep, prodigal son, Pharisee and tax collector, rich fool, and rich man and Lazarus). Perhaps you’ll grasp these parables—and other familiar texts—more clearly when you consider them within the context of their sub-section.

* For these structural insights, I am indebted to William Taylor’s marvelous two-volume study guide on Luke in the Read Mark Learn series (Christian Focus, 2016 & 2018).

Amazon links are affiliate links; clicking them and making a purchase will help us to indulge our wanderlust through the Bible.

The Structure of Luke’s Gospel

October 4, 2019 By Peter Krol

Luke wrote a two-volume history of the early Christian movement to Theophilus, a Roman official who likely had some role in Paul’s trial before Caesar. The charges against Paul guided Luke in his selection of themes, and led him to appeal to the Jews to turn around before their doom fell upon them.

So how does Luke structure his gospel? How does he arrange his material in order to persuade both the Romans to acquit Paul and the world (including Jews) to receive God’s salvation?

Major Divisions

Matthew uses five major speeches to shape his gospel. Mark uses disciples and predictions. John uses signs and conversations. But Luke’s primary mechanism for signaling literary divisions is his use of setting, especially geography.

After a short preface (Luke 1:1-4), Luke opens with a statement of time and place (Luke 1:5). Since he’s presenting an “orderly account” (Luke 1:3), he goes out of his way to refer to his sources and extensive research. So we ought to expect such organization to continue.

In Luke 4:14-15, Luke tells us that Jesus returned to Galilee, and he gives us a summary statement of Jesus’ work there (“he taught in their synagogues”). Such summary statements appear to serve as Luke’s main signals that a section is beginning or ending. And Jesus remains in Galilee until Luke 9:50.

In Luke 9:51, Jesus sets his face to go to Jerusalem. From here until Luke 19:27, Luke peppers his narrative with reminders that Jesus was “on the way” (Luke 10:38, 13:22, 17:11).¹

In Luke 19:28, Jesus finally goes up to Jerusalem, and he remains there until the end of the book.

So Luke’s geographical markers give us the following major divisions for the book:

Preface (Luke 1:1-4)
Groundwork for ministry (Luke 1:5-4:13)
Ministry in Galilee (Luke 4:14-9:50)
Ministry on the way to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51-19:27)
Ministry in Jerusalem (Luke 19:28-24:53)

Now Luke is a long book. Can we subdivide these major sections any further?

Luke 1:5-4:13

The early chapters begin with scenes that alternate between John and Jesus:

Prediction of John’s birth – Luke 1:5-25
- Prediction of Jesus’ birth – Luke 1:26-38
  - Celebration of the two coming children, who will bring salvation – Luke 1:39-56
John’s birth – Luke 1:57-80
- Jesus’ birth – Luke 2:1-20
  - Celebration of Jesus’ coming, which brings salvation – Luke 2:21-52

Then we get another major statement of setting (Luke 3:1-2) and another alternation between John and Jesus:

John’s baptism and credentials, preparing for the true son of God – Luke 3:3-20
- Jesus’ baptism and credentials as the Son of God – Luke 3:21-4:13

So Luke’s first major division has two subdivisions:

The salvation of God – Luke 1:5-2:52
The Son of God – Luke 3:1-4:13

Luke 4:14-9:50

I’m frankly uncertain regarding how to subdivide this section. I’ve come across two schemes that both make sense.

One framework divides the text thematically:

Jesus’ teaching – Luke 4:14-6:49
Jesus’ offer of salvation through faith – Luke 7:1-8:56
Jesus’ followers – Luke 9:1-50

This framework fits with the content of the material. The statement, “After he had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people” (Luke 7:1), sure sounds like a concluding transition statement into a new section. And it’s exactly the sort of thing Luke would say to “order” his account. But there is no clearly corresponding transition statement at Luke 8:56 or Luke 9:1 to suggest a division there. But “faith” is certainly a major theme in chapters 7-8. And Luke 9 appears to switch topics.

So a second possible framework is worth considering:

Jesus’ first tour of Galilee – Luke 4:14-7:50
Jesus’ second tour of Galilee, with his disciples – Luke 8:1-56
Jesus’ third tour of Galilee, sending his disciples – Luke 9:1-50

The best evidence in favor of this framework is the presence of clearer literary signals in the text (Jesus’ “going out” or “sending out” at the beginning of each of the three sections). The downside to this framework is that it can be difficult to see a unified message in each of the sections.

So I prefer the first framework, but I could easily be persuaded to reconsider.

Luke 9:51-19:27

In this part of the book, it’s easier to identify clear subdivisions, because of Luke’s reminders that Jesus was “on the way” (Luke 10:38, 13:22, 17:11).¹ These are not incidental statements without purpose. They serve as literary markers for the sections. In addition, each of the four sections opens with a question from someone for Jesus, and the rest of the section proceeds to answer the question.

Do you want us to call down fire to consume them? – Luke 9:51-10:37
Do you not care that I’m left to serve alone? – Luke 10:38-13:21
Will those who are saved be few? – Luke 13:22-17:10
When will the kingdom of God come? – Luke 17:11-19:27

The outline will be more memorable and concise, though, if we use the answers instead of the questions:

Proclaiming his kingdom – Luke 9:51-10:37
Growing his kingdom – Luke 10:38-13:21
Numbering his citizens – Luke 13:22-17:10
Timing his kingdom – Luke 17:11-19:27

Luke 19:28-24:53

Once again, we ought to expect some signals from Luke to show us the “orderly” nature of his account. So what do we find?

First, Jesus draws near to Jerusalem by drawing near to Bethphage and Bethany, at “the mount that is called Olivet” (Luke 19:28-29). So as we look for structural markers, we should look for a corresponding summary statement of setting. And we find it in Luke 21:37-38, where Jesus was “teaching in the temple” every day, but retiring to “the mount called Olivet” every night. So Luke 19:28-21:38 make up the first subdivision. In between these bookends, we see the content of Jesus’ “teaching in the temple”—a condemnation of Israel’s current generation.

Second, the next verses tell us that the Passover drew near, and the chief priests and scribes were seeking how to put him to death (Luke 22:1-2). This setting reaches its completion, of course, when Jesus is dead and seemingly done away with on the feast’s Day of Preparation (Luke 23:54-56). In between, we’re told repeatedly that Jesus was innocent and undeserving of this conspiracy (Luke 23:4, 14, 22, 41, 47, etc.).

This leaves us with chapter 24, the grand climax, where the living is not to be found among the dead (Luke 24:5), where the hope of Israel (Luke 24:21) is found in all the Scriptures (Luke 24:27, 32, 44-46), and where the worship of Jesus is found at Bethany (Luke 24:50-52) and the blessing of God is found at the temple in Jerusalem (Luke 24:53).

To summarize, we’ve got the following subdivisions:

Israel is guilty – Luke 19:1-21:38
Jesus is innocent – Luke 22:1-23:56
Israel’s salvation has arrived – Luke 24:1-53

Summary and Conclusion

To summarize, the structure shows us the following train of Luke’s thought:

Christianity is on trial, and this orderly account will help you to be certain regarding what you’ve heard about the movement – Luke 1:1-4
The Defendant’s Credentials – 1:5-4:13
1. The Salvation of God – 1-2
2. The Son of God – 3:1-4:13
The Defendant’s Fundamentals – 4:14-9:50
1. His Teaching – 4:14-6:49
2. His Offer of Salvation Through Faith – 7:1-8:56
3. His Followers – 9:1-50
The Defendant’s Goals – 9:51-19:27
1. Proclaiming His Kingdom – 9:51-10:37
2. Growing His Kingdom – 10:38-13:21
3. Numbering His Citizens – 13:22-17:10
4. Timing His Kingdom – 17:11-19:27
The Defendant’s Vindication – 19:28-24:53
1. Judaism is Guilty – 19:28-21:38
2. Jesus is Innocent – 22:1-23:56
3. Israel’s Salvation has Arrived – 24:1-53

¹I’m grateful for William Taylor’s Read, Mark, Learn volumes on Luke, which persuaded me of Luke’s structural use of these “on the way” statements. The Amazon link is an affiliate link. If you click it and buy anything, you’ll provide a small commission to this blog at no extra cost to yourself.

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.

What I Learned By Reading a Passage 25 Times

June 10, 2019 By Ryan Higginbottom

Sharon McCutcheon (2018), public domain

In my last article, I described my latest experiment. In preparing to lead my small group through Luke 16, I read the chapter as many times as possible.

In this article I’ll provide the results.

An Overview

There are three sections to Luke 16.

The Dishonest Manager (verses 1–13)

Jesus begins the chapter with a story of a rich man and a dishonest manager. The manager squandered the man’s possessions and was fired. On the way out, he had to give an account of his business transactions (Luke 16:2).

The manager called the man’s debtors and cut their bills. He aimed to gain favor with these debtors in hopes of securing his next employment.

The rich man praised the manager “because he had acted shrewdly” (Luke 16:8). Jesus extracted principles about money from this story (Luke 16:8–13).

The Pharisees (verses 13–18)

Pharisees were listening and scoffed at Jesus (Luke 16:13). Jesus rebuked the Pharisees as those who justified themselves and sought only what is praised by men (Luke 16:15).

Jesus then spoke about the relationship between the Law and the Prophets and the preaching of the gospel (Luke 16:16–18).

The Rich Man and Lazarus (verses 19–31)

The chapter concludes with the story of the rich man and Lazarus. The rich man lived lavishly while Lazarus suffered severely just outside the rich man’s gate. After death, the rich man cried out from Hades to Lazarus and Abraham in heaven for relief.

The rich man asked Abraham to send Lazarus to his family to warn them (Luke 16:28). Abraham told him that Moses and the Prophets were warning enough.

Themes in Luke 16

The major themes in Luke 16 become obvious when we pay attention to repetition: money and the law and the prophets.

The “rich man” is a character in two stories in this chapter. In between, after Jesus says “You cannot serve God and wealth,” the Pharisees are introduced as “lovers of money.” There is also instruction on wealth in Luke 16:8–12.

Earlier portions of Luke (Luke 6:1–11, Luke 11:37–54, Luke 14:1–6) show the Pharisees’ devotion to and distortion of the law and the prophets, so the Pharisees’ self-justification is likely related to the law. Jesus then talks about the preaching of the law and the preaching of the gospel, concluding that not even one stroke of a letter of the Law will fail (Luke 16:17). Abraham tells the rich man that the law (Moses) and the prophets should be enough to bring his family to repentance.

How Rereading Brought Clarity

It didn’t take long for me to identify the most confusing verse in this chapter.

And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous wealth, so that when it fails they may receive you into the eternal dwellings. (Luke 16:9)

By reading this chapter multiple times, I began to see the structure of the passage, and this helped me grasp the main point. (Most commentaries on Luke were not helpful, because they took the text in too-small portions. Despite good analysis of the trees, there was no analysis of the forest.)

When we consider the context of a passage, we usually look backward: an earlier passage sheds light on a later one. In this chapter the opposite is true.

In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, Jesus shines a spotlight on the rich man’s money (Luke 16:19). The rich man ignored Lazarus, who needed just a bit of the rich man’s abundance. Further, since wealth often runs in families, the rich man’s concern for his brothers (Luke 16:28) was a concern for other rich men. The rich man’s wealth produced a numbness in him toward his neighbor (Lazarus). Wealth is dangerous, as it can also lead to an ignorance of Moses and the Prophets (Luke 16:29–31).

We need this story to understand verse 9. The dishonest manager was shrewd with his master’s wealth, hoping to be welcomed into the homes of others, and Jesus praises this shrewdness. But, lest we think too highly of this manager, Jesus criticizes him in verses 10–12.

In contrast to the dishonest manager, the “sons of light” (verse 8) are to do better things with their wealth. He used wealth for worldly gains; followers of Jesus are to use wealth for heavenly gains.

Here’s the key. Money kept the rich man (at the end of the chapter) out of the eternal dwellings (verse 9). Christians are to use money in such a way that we make friends who can receive us into the eternal dwellings. This points to generosity.

The middle section of the chapter brings all of this together. You cannot serve God and wealth. In particular, you cannot serve God if you are a lover of money. However, you can (in fact, you must) serve God with your wealth.¹

Main Point and Conclusion

The main point of this chapter can be stated succinctly.

You cannot serve God and wealth, but you can (and must) serve God with your wealth.

I don’t claim a perfect understanding of this passage, but I owe the understanding I have to reading this passage multiple times. This practice unlocked the chapter’s structure for me, giving me insight into a confusing verse. I commend this discipline to you.

This interpretation depends on the phrase “unrighteous wealth” referring to wealth on earth as opposed to treasures in heaven, not wealth gained in an evil way. This interpretation depends on Luke 16:11. ↩

Keep Rereading the Passage

May 27, 2019 By Ryan Higginbottom

Susan Yin (2018), public domain

What’s the key to understanding a Bible passage? Ten different people may give you ten different answers to that question, all of them helpful.

Today I’ll share the best advice I know on this topic. It’s not complicated or sophisticated or newsworthy. It’s difficult but extremely effective. Are you ready?

To understand a Bible passage, you need to read it. A lot.

Read to See the Structure

This advice is not ground-breaking, but I’ve recognized its value on several occasions since a discussion with my co-blogger Peter back in February.

We were talking about the way we prepare Bible studies, and he mentioned that his main practice is to read a passage as much as possible to determine its structure. Peter is convinced of the value of structure in understanding a passage’s train of thought and main point. He tries to understand the structure by listening for the rhythm, repetition, and other literary markers that occur in the Bible.

The more we read a passage—and this is especially true for longer passages—the more we understand the author’s intent. We notice words and phrases and themes that show up in neighboring chapters of a narrative. We see a character’s description change throughout an extended story. We observe the way a Gospel writer groups parables together to make a common point.

Peter has already written a great deal on structure. I encourage you to read his posts, starting here or here.

Advice for Rereading

Rereading a passage may be challenging. But the hard work will pay large dividends. Here are a few things to keep in mind.

Allow yourself time. It may take 10 or 20 or more readings before you get a grip on a passage’s structure. That’s ok! We are fallible and finite, so we should not expect instant understanding of divine truth.
Approach the passage from multiple angles. Read the passage from at least two translations. Listen to an audio version of the passage for a change of pace.
Make an outline. After five or ten readings, sketch your own outline of the text. Don’t worry about trying to be perfect! Since we often think as we write, forcing yourself to diagram and label the various parts of a passage will help you think through the big picture.
Adjust your outline. Change your outline as you go. Your first version will rarely be your last. As we continue to read, God often reveals more to us, so be willing to modify your work.

An Upcoming Case Study

In my next article, I’ll explain how this rereading strategy helped me prepare a Bible study on Luke 16.

If you’re unfamiliar with the chapter, it contains some confusing verses. (See especially Luke 16:9.) Heading into my preparation, I knew this might be the case, so I decided to put Peter’s advice into practice. I read the passage as much as I could before my small group meeting, and while I won’t pretend to have a definitive interpretation to offer, the repeated readings were immensely helpful.

I’ll share it all next time.

Back Soon…

January 4, 2019 By Peter Krol

I’m taking a little additional time away from blogging here at the beginning of the year, partly to have more time for Bible reading.

But now that I’ve done more of the ground work I wanted to do on structure—its value, how to observe it, how it conveys meaning, etc.—I’ll be ready to get back to more “Context Matters” posts. Readers have given me many ideas of potential verses to cover in that series, and I’ll work my way through them in 2019. I won’t cover every suggestion but will limit myself to those examples where I think I can make a contribution.

Stay tuned!

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.

How Structure Conveys Meaning

November 30, 2018 By Peter Krol

What is the difference between the following statements?

Because the Bible is the authoritative word of God, I must submit every area of life to its instruction.
God doesn’t just want me to work on the Bible; he wants the Bible to work on me.

The first statement is obviously more precise. But I bet most would consider the second statement more inspirational. More memorable.

And why is this? Because structure conveys meaning. In this case, the structure of the sentence itself packs a persuasive punch. The sentence makes use of a “concentric pattern” or “chiasm” to drive its point:

Me … work … Bible

Bible … work … me

The symmetry of the phrases catches your attention. You can feel the hinge in the middle that unwinds until the tension finally lands with force on the final “me.” The very structure of the sentence conveys additional inspirational or persuasive meaning that goes beyond what the first, more precise, statement could ever communicate.

Biblical authors do this very thing, when they embed their primary emphases, their authorial intentions, within the very structure of the texts they compose.

Observe the Structure

Before we can talk about interpretation, we must first develop the skills to observe the structure. I wrote on this topic a few weeks ago, so I just want to underscore the need to do this well.

Get your chapter and verse divisions out of the way. Drop the extra headings that most Bibles put in. Get a reader’s version, use software such as Logos, or print a numberless manuscript from Bible Gateway. Get yourself looking at the naked text so you can actually observe the literary signposts the author drops in like paint blazes on a wilderness trail.

Identify the constituent units. Then take note of how those units are arranged. If your structural observation is poor, your interpretation won’t be any better.

But once you’ve discovered the units, and you’ve mapped their arrangement (typically parallel, symmetric, or linear—again see the previous post for explanation), you are ready to consider what this structure communicates about the author’s intended meaning.

But how do you do that? David Dorsey (chapter 4) explains 3 main ways that structure conveys meaning.

George Pankewytch (2014), Creative Commons

Overall Structure

Sometimes historical narratives follow a linear pattern to simply communicate the progress of time. But at other times, they follow a cyclical pattern to communicate, through the structure itself, the spiraling up or spiraling down of the protagonists’ fate. For example, Judges gives us 7 cycles of Judges, following the pattern established in Judg 2:11-19, which clearly spiral downward into greater fallenness. But the book of 1-2 Samuel gives us 3 main overlapping narrative arcs: Samuel’s, Saul’s, and David’s. Those three arcs advance from one degree of glory to another, yet all three are ultimately tragic in their shape (narrating a rise, a peak, and then a fall).

Another example of the overall structure conveying meaning is the book of Lamentations. Hebrew poetry often works in parallel lines with parallel stresses (A-B-C/A-B-C). For example, “Serve (A) the LORD (B), with gladness (C)/Come (A) into his presence (B) with singing (C)” (Psalm 100:2). But scholars of ancient literature have pointed out that laments cut this pattern short. The second line loses one of the stresses, yielding a 3-2, or something like an A-B-C/B-C pattern. For example: “O my God (A), I cry by day (B), but you do not answer (C)/and by night (B), but I find no rest (C)” (Psalm 22:2).

Lamentations takes this pattern of laments and drops it into the book’s overall structure. Not only do we see a 3-2 pattern in almost every verse (for example: “She (A) weeps bitterly (B) in the night (C)/with tears (B) on her cheeks (C)” (Lam 1:2a). But we also see this pattern across the chapters.

Chapter 1: long acrostic with 66 lines

Chapter 2: long acrostic with 66 lines

Chapter 3: long acrostic with 66 lines

Chapter 4: shorter acrostic with 44 lines

Chapter 5: even shorter acrostic with 22 lines

The whole book takes on the 3-2 shape of lament that visually and audibly peters out by the end, leaving the sadness hanging heavily.

Structured Repetition

When you observe matching units in parallel or chiastic structures, you should investigate why and how they match. Do they present a comparison or contrast? Is a promise in the first section fulfilled in the second? Does one section better explain the other? Is some sort of reversal taking place?

The Gospel of Mark divides into two main divisions: 1:1-8:30 and 8:31-16:8. The first verse outlines the structure: “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” The first half of the book concludes with Peter’s confession that Jesus is the Christ (Mark 8:29). The second half concludes with the centurion’s confession that Jesus is the Son of God (Mark 15:39). By comparing the closing sections of each half of the book, we see that Peter gets part of Jesus’ identity (chapter 8), but he doesn’t understand all of it (chapter 14-15). By the end, Peter is denying that he even knows this man (Mark 14:71), while a Gentile military officer grasps something remarkable about the nature of Jesus’ suffering. “When the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said…” (Mark 15:39).

The parallel between Jonah’s prayer in chapter 2 and his prayer in chapter 4 leads us to question the sincerity of his repentance in the belly of the fish.

When you observe these repetitions, these matching units, you are well prepared to ask “Why” and better uncover the author’s intentions.

Positions of Prominence

The final way structure conveys meaning is through positions of prominence.

This is neither mechanical nor foolproof, but often the most prominent part of a parallel structure is the end. And the most prominent part of a chiasm is the center.

Don’t apply that principle woodenly, but you should at least investigate the matter.

For example, Mark 6-8 follows a parallel structure, surrounded by an inclusio (bookends):

Intro: When Jesus sends out the twelve, Herod fears John the Baptist has risen from the dead. But others think he’s Elijah or one of the prophets (Mark 6:7-29).

A. Feeding a multitude (Mark 6:30-44)

B. Crossing the sea (Mark 6:45-56)

C. Disputing with the Pharisees (Mark 7:1-23)

D. Discussing bread with a follower (Mark 7:24-30)

E. Healing a malfunctioning sense—deafness (Mark 7:31-37)

A. Feeding a multitude (Mark 8:1-9)

B. Crossing the sea (Mark 8:10)

C. Disputing the Pharisees (Mark 8:11-13)

D. Discussing bread with followers (Mark 8:14-21)

E. Healing a malfunctioning sense—blindness (Mark 8:22-26)

Conclusion: When Jesus questions the twelve, they claim people think he’s John the Baptist or Elijah or one of the prophets. But Peter (who used to be deaf and blind—Mark 8:18) now sees clearly enough to know “You are the Christ” (Mark 8:29).

What is Mark’s point here in chapters 6 through 8? Jesus is healing his disciples’ own deafness and blindness so they can hear and see who he is.

And what is my point with this little exercise? If you find yourself fretting over why Jesus would call someone a dog (Mark 7:27), what the disciples failed to understand regarding the number of baskets of leftovers (Mark 8:19-21), or why it took Jesus two tries to heal the guy’s blindness (Mark 8:23-25), you need only take yourself to the position of prominence. In this case, the end of the parallel sequence gives us the author’s emphasis and intention: to help Jesus’ disciples perceive who he really is. When we get this, the rest will make more sense.