Living by the Book/Living by the Book Workbook Set (42 page)

A
n old, old man sat before his twelve sons. His eyes had failed, but his insight had not. Knowing that his time was drawing near, he wished to pronounce his vision of each man’s future. They stood waiting, respectful in their silence. Finally the ancient one spoke: “Come close, my sons. Listen carefully to what your father tells you.”

The gathered successors leaned closer, straining to hear. Robert, the eldest, occupied a central position. It was to him that the wheezing voice spoke first.

“Robert, you were the first, my pride and joy. But you are boiling water. You shall be first no longer.”

The younger man’s face fell, fighting back shame and rage. But he dared not reply. The old man was continuing without a pause.

“Stephen and Lawrence. You are thieves and murderers. To you I leave no blessing, only a curse.

“John, you are a lion’s cub, and so you will rule. But someday you will wash your clothes in wine.

“Zachary is a seaport where ships will find harbor.

“Ian is nothing but a wild mule. Satisfied with anyone who feeds him, he will spend his days in forced labor.

“Daniel, you are a snake lying in the road. You will strike at your brothers and be their judge.

“George, you are a bandit. You will rob and be robbed, and live in uncertainty.

“Allen loves the choicest of meats. But he will spend his days cooking, not eating.

“Nathan is a deer on the run. His words will leap and dance.

“Jonathan, you are my tree along the cool river bank. You will grow and prosper and shade all your brothers. To you will come the blessings of my fathers, and through you will pass the blessings to my descendants.

“Bradley, my last, is a vicious wolf, hungry and wild. All day you will kill, and all night you will devour.”

He finished abruptly, and no sound could be heard but the droning of flies. No one moved. Each son brooded on the words given to him. They failed to notice that the rattling patriarch, his words at an end, had dropped his head on his chest and sighed his last.

What are we to make of this biblical tale? Oh, did I forget to tell you? This is a loose reconstruction of Genesis 49, where Jacob summons his twelve sons and prophesies the future of each one’s lineage.

If you read the account, you’ll notice the odd descriptions assigned to several of them: Judah is called a “lion’s whelp” (v. 9); Zebulun is a “haven for ships” (v. 13); Issachar is “a strong donkey” (v. 14); Dan is a “serpent in the way, a horned snake in the path” (v. 17); Naphtali is a “doe let loose” (v. 21); Joseph is a “fruitful bough by a spring” (v. 22); and Benjamin is a “ravenous wolf” (v. 27).

Again, what are we to make of these descriptions? We might expect Noah to talk to his sons like this after being cooped up on the ark, but what are these words doing in the mouth of Jacob? Are we to take them literally? If not, why not? How do we know when Scripture is actually representing reality and when it merely describes reality?

The issue here is figurative language. We’re all familiar with figures of speech. We use them all the time: “I could have died of embarrassment.” “I guess I’ll have to face the music.” “So-and-so is as mad as a hornet.” “He was bored to tears.” “Don’t let the cat out of the bag.” “She has a green thumb.”

The biblical writers and characters were no different. They laced their material with vivid images, and peculiar ways of speaking. David says that the person who follows God’s Word will be like a tree, but the wicked are like chaff (Psalm 1:3–4). The bride in Song of Solomon 2:1 says she is “the rose of Sharon, the lily of the valleys.” She calls her lover a gazelle or young stag “climbing on the mountains, leaping on the hills” (2:8–9). Jesus called Herod a fox (Luke 13:32), the Pharisees whitewashed tombs (Matthew 23:27), and James and John the Sons of Thunder (Mark 3:17). Paul called certain false teachers dogs (Philippians 3:2).

Of course, the Bible’s figurative language can be far more elaborate, even going beyond the spoken word to graphic object lessons. God told Jeremiah to buy a clay pitcher, take it to the leaders, prophesy against them, and then break the pitcher as a picture of what God was going to do to the nation (Jeremiah 19). Hosea was told to marry an adulteress as a symbol of God’s faithful love for His people, and their faithlessness toward Him (Hosea 1:2–9; 3:1–5).

When we come to John’s Revelation, we run into some very unusual language. A ruler in heaven appears as a jasper stone surrounded by a rainbow (4:3). He sees a lamb with seven horns and seven eyes (5:6). He also sees a beast rising up out of the sea, with ten horns and seven heads (13:1). And at the end of the book, an entire city covering more than two million square miles drops out of heaven (21:16).

These things make for interesting reading. But what do they mean? How are we to interpret them in our Bible study process? How do we know when to read the Bible literally and when to read it figuratively?

I’m going to give you ten principles for figuring out the figurative. But first, let’s make sure we understand the difference between “literal” and “figurative.” People talk about a “literal interpretation of Scripture.” Does that mean that in Genesis 49, they see Judah as a real, live lion’s cub? Or Joseph standing by a creek with roots going down into the soil? Or Benjamin as
some sort of uncontrollable werewolf? If so, I’ve got a good psychiatrist I can recommend.

When we speak of “literal interpretation,” we mean taking the language in its normal sense, accepting it at face value as if the writer is communicating in ways that people normally communicate. As one person has put it, “When the plain sense of Scripture makes common sense, seek no other sense.”

So, according to this principle, when Jesus tells us to “render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s” (Luke 20:25), we don’t need to look for some hidden meaning or elaborate interpretation. It’s quite plain that He is telling us to pay our taxes. On the other hand, when He calls Herod a fox, He obviously is not saying that the man is a roving carnivore. He’s speaking figuratively, comparing Herod to that sly, dog-like creature.

What happens when the “plain sense” does not make common sense? Are there any rules that govern when we should interpret odd expressions figuratively and when we should take them literally? I’m afraid there are no foolproof means for that. But here are ten principles that will keep you out of the worst kinds of trouble.

This is clear from what we have just talked about. In reading the Bible, we have to assume that the writers were normal, rational people who communicated in the same basic ways that we do. And yet time and time again, people “spiritualize” the text, trying to make it say everything but what it plainly says.

A classic illustration is the Song of Solomon. For years, interpreters have said that this is an allegory of the relationship between Christ and His church. But how can that possibly fit with the text? The poem was written centuries before Christ. It has a definite lyric form and needs to be read according to the conventions of that genre. Moreover, there’s a simpler, more sensible interpretation: this is a book that celebrates erotic love in marriage as God intended it to be.

Some passages tell you up front that they involve figurative imagery. For instance, whenever you come across a dream or a vision, you can expect to find symbolic language because that’s the language of dreams. In Genesis 37, it’s clear from the context that Joseph’s dreams are talking about things that are going to happen in the future. The same is true of the pharaoh’s dreams in Genesis 41 and of Daniel’s prophetic visions in Daniel 7–12.

This is where we need some sanctified common sense. God does not shroud Himself in unknowable mysticism. When He wants to tell us something, He tells us. He doesn’t confound us with nonsense. However, He often uses symbolism to make His points. Yet He expects us to read them as symbols, not absurdities.

Consider Revelation 1:16, where the Lord appears: “Out of His mouth came a sharp, two-edged sword.” What does this mean? Is it likely that our Lord would have a literal sword sticking out of His mouth? Hardly. The most likely explanation is a figurative one, so we need to search the text for what this picture represents.

It’s probably not what you think. You may be thinking of Hebrews 4:12, which says that the Word of God is “sharper than any two-edged sword.” On that basis, you might assume that the Revelation image is about Christ and His Word. But a word study rules otherwise.

The word for “sword” in Revelation 1:16 is not the same as the word used in Hebrews 4:12. In Hebrews, the sword is a short, fighting sword like those used by Roman soldiers. But the sword in Revelation is a large, ceremonial sword of victory and judgment. Carried by a conquering king, it would be used to execute the vanquished after a triumphal procession. Consider how that fits with the theme and imagery of Revelation.

So figurative language can be very descriptive, as well as very precise.

In John 6:53–55, Jesus confounded certain Jews who opposed Him with these words:

That’s a rather strange way of talking, to say the least. Was He suggesting that His followers become cannibals? No, that would have been a repulsive violation of the Old Testament law. And none of His listeners took it that way. They were puzzled by His words, to be sure: “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” cried the Pharisees (6:52
NIV
). You see, they were grappling with the problem of interpretation. Others said, “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?” (6:60
NIV
). But they recognized that the Lord was speaking figuratively.

God never violates His character. And since He bases His Word on His character, we can be sure that His commandments are consistent with who He is. He never asks us to do something that He would not do or has not done Himself.

The biblical text often signals its use of figures of speech. Similes, for instance, use the words
like
or
as
to make comparisons: “
Like
a gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful woman who shows no discretion” (Proverbs 11:22, italics added,
NIV
). “[The Lord] makes Lebanon skip
like
a calf” (Psalm 29:6, italics added).

Scripture uses other figures of speech that make sense only when read figuratively. When Isaiah predicts that “the moon will be abashed and the sun ashamed” (24:23), he is using an obvious personification. When Paul quotes Hosea, “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55), he is using a form called apostrophe, addressing a thing
as if it were a person. Expressions such as “he was gathered to his people,” a man “knew” his wife, the Lord gave the people “into the hands of” their enemies, or that someone “fell asleep” are common euphemisms and idioms.

Revelation 5:1–5 describes a fascinating scene before the throne of God. We read about “the Lion of the tribe of Judah.” Is the writer talking about a literal beast? Obviously not, as that would make no sense in the context. A bit of comparative study shows that he is using a title given to the Messiah. So we need to determine what that title represents and why he uses it.

Remember that in figuring out the figurative one of your best guides is the context.

This is really an extension of what we just looked at. Remember, the context of any verse is the paragraph, the section, and ultimately the book of which it is a part.

This principle applies especially to two types of literature: the prophetic, which often makes sense only if read figuratively; and the poetic, which employs imaginative language as matter of routine.

For instance, the psalmist says, “In the shadow of Thy wings I sing for joy” (Psalm 63:7). That does not mean that God has feathers. But He does protect His children with the same watchful concern as a mother eagle for her chirping nestlings. That image fits with the general atmosphere and style of this psalm.