Writing From the Sky

I remember sitting in my sixth grade classroom, going through the morning routine that we followed every day at the evangelical Christian school that I attended.  We would start off with the pledge of allegiance, and then sing that grand, old song, “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee.”  This was followed by the pledge to the Christian flag (yes, there is a Christian flag) and the singing of “Onward Christian Soldiers.”  All of this was rounded out with the pledge to the Bible (notice this was last in the routine) and “Thy Word is a Lamp unto My Feet,” or something like that.  I’m not kidding.  You can’t make this stuff up.  And despite my parenthetical sarcasm, I took this introduction to the school day pretty seriously.  With my hand firmly placed over my heart, I would proudly declare my undying devotion to the United States, the cross, and God’s Word, in that order.

What I remember most vividly is the image evoked in my mind during the final pledge and song.  I would picture one of the Bible-writers sitting up against a rock, stylus in hand and papyrus on lap, scribbling words that were epically and mysteriously spoken through a booming voice coming from the sky.  (The nice thing about this vision is the ease with which you can switch writers.  All you have to do is picture an old man in a robe with a long beard, and you can readily swap Moses for Solomon, Paul for Peter.)  Now, I had always been taught that the Bible is the infallible, inspired Word of God.  The forty-or-so dudes who penned these sixty-six books were simply writing down teachings that were dictated to them by the very mouth of God.  Such ideas come largely from 1 Timothy 3:16-17:  “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.”

The Greek used for “God-breathed” here is theopneustos, a word that very well may have been coined by Paul in this text.  It combines the words for God and spirit; the last is also understood as breath.  Interestingly enough, when Paul writes about Scripture, he refers not to the four Gospels, or the writings of his contemporaries, and certainly not his own letters, which comprise most of what we now call the New Testament.  In fact, it’s hard to believe that Paul or any of his buddies had the slightest idea that the words they were writing would have any significance 2000 years later on the other side of the world.

Scripture, to them, is rooted in what we call the Old Testament or the Hebrew Bible.  It’s the Torah, or books of law, that give the history of Israel as a people and the strict regulations they followed to set themselves apart from the rest of the world.  It’s the Nevi’im, or the prophets, that spoke out against the idolatry and injustice that Israel fell into and then submitted to.  It’s the Ketuvim, or the writings, that teach wisdom and principled living as God’s people.  These were the Scriptures that Paul grew up studying, memorizing, mulling over, chewing on, and living by.

And this story—the one that starts with Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, moves through Father Abraham as the patriarch of the nation of Israel, continues on to Moses delivering that nation out of slavery and towards the Promised Land, reaches its climax at the height of the reigns of David and Solomon, and winds up with God’s chosen people being continually conquered and ruled by the dominating empires of each passing age—this story contains just about everything that a story can have.  And it’s expressed just about every way that a story can be expressed.  There are ups and downs, victories and losses, Godly-living and horrific sin.  Through it all, the people of Israel are trying to figure out how to live as a people who are set apart from those who don’t know God.  They turn their backs on God over and over again, and they return to God over and over again.

These writers seem to realize the vast significance of story-telling.  Of learning from the past.  So they write it all down.  Some, like Moses, record the oral traditions that had been passed down for many generations and the history of Israel as a people.  Others, like David, capture their joys and struggles in worshipful poetry.  Still others, like Jeremiah, seem to vent through their telling of their own attempts to bridge the gap between God and people.

What if there was no voice booming from heaven as their pens scribbles across the scrolls?  What if God-inspired means that the search for God undergone by these writers led them to create the scriptures we now hold so dearly?  More, what if Paul and the other writers of the New Testament realized this, that God was still in the inspiration business?  That the story continued with them.  And with us.  One more thing:  what if we would understand that God didn’t stop inspiring people after John wrote Revelation—that we have power to continue telling the story today?  I think that would change the world.