There is in the church a certain saying, “the Bible speaks for itself.”  It implies perhaps two things: that we cannot add anything to the presentation of the Word, and that we shouldn’t add anything to the presentation of the Word.  In discussions on the nature of reading and teaching from Scripture, I have often heard words to the effect of “we cannot improve on the Bible.”  It makes sense, after all: the Bible is God’s special revelation to us.  Through more than 40 authors over more than 1500 years, God used other humans to write down those things He apparently thought most important for us to study constantly, meditate on, and have taught to us over and over again.  And yet, I still wonder if perhaps these sayings we have aren’t missing the point.  God is a God of mystery, a God of variety.  He very often does not speak plainly.  In Jesus’ final speech to his disciples during the Last Supper, he says,

“Though I have been speaking figuratively, a time is coming when I will no longer use this kind of language but will tell you plainly about my Father.” (Jn 16:25)

Further back, in the Old Testament, many of the hundreds of messianic prophecies were vague, oblique, and difficult to read.  They were only obvious much later on, while or after the events in question were actually happening.  In this regard, surely, the Bible does not speak for itself, and shouldn’t: it needs the Holy Spirit to guide us in its interpretation.  Furthermore, it requires the constant tension of debate and research to be sure we are properly following the Spirit in understanding it.  Only when we are intellectually and spiritually “striving” with one another can we really be sure that we have arrived at a worthwhile reading of the Word—only then can we be sure that our broken selves are not twisting our views. As the proverb says,

“As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.” (Pr 27:17)

But there is still more here: I have often heard it said that “the truth of the Word is enough,” as if everything added in the natural process of teaching and Scriptural exegesis is just window dressing to the obvious truth in whatever passage is being taught.  This has been used to defend simple sermons, sermons that are essentially restatements or paraphrases of a passage of the Bible, line-by-line.  I think this ignores a fundamental aspect of how the Bible is itself put together.  God could have given us an explicit list of instructions and left it at that.  Then we would have nothing to paraphrase!  The entire Bible could have been a list, much like the Ten Commandments, and Sunday mornings could be spent reciting them and nothing more, a modern-day Rule of St. Benedict.

But instead, the Bible is filled with stories, with poetry and song.  What God knew that we take for granted is that truth is lesser without beauty.  This is partly because there is a kind of beauty inherent in great Biblical truths.  When we painfully extract the beauty from them and present the truth alone, we are weakening it fundamentally.  Not only beautiful, but truth should be useful.  All of this can become a part of teaching.  You can preach that God’s forgiveness covers over any sin, and it would be true, but by itself, the beauty is only apparent to those who have already well experienced it.  It might be far better to give a personal example of the impact of His redemption, or better yet—allow a brilliant poem to relate the depth and beauty of God’s redemption, such as Francis Thompson’s “The Hound of Heaven.”  We do a disservice to the truth of God’s Word when we cover up its beauty.  It was never made to be without it.

All quotes from the 1984 NIV translation.