Sometimes a buffet line is fun, picking and choosing from all the options to pile on my plate. But I’ve discovered that the best places to eat aren’t buffets, but restaurants specializing in a few dishes done really well.

I’m tempted to approach the Bible like a buffet line. The book is huge, filled with thoughtful passages and arcane references. Some lines comfort—the Lord is my shepherd—while others confront—you shall have no other gods before me. Why not pick out the best morsels and leave the rest drying out under the heat lamps?

One reason is Jesus himself. Arguing against his Jewish opponents (men steeped in the Scriptures), Jesus referenced a passage conveniently forgotten. He then reminded them that Scripture cannot be set aside. In other words, the Bible is not a buffet.

Those who claim to follow the ways of God cannot cut and paste from the Good Book. I don’t have the luxury of ignoring the parts I cannot explain, or offend the world around me. I wrestle with these words, because of the all or none nature of the Scriptures.

In this passage Jesus claimed to be the Good Shepherd, and the only gateway to God in heaven. Hard teachings for his opponents, and hard teachings for many today. But Jesus arrives with hard teachings, and I cannot claim the status of disciple without following the full teachings of Scripture. I can contemplate and study and argue, but I cannot ignore.

The buffet approach appears delicious on first glance. But while fills my belly, it leaves my soul wanting more.

John 10 in reading the Bible in 2023

Photo by Ulysse Pointcheval

When something bad happens, I speculate on the cause. The cavities in my teeth result from too much sugar and not enough brushing. My expanding waistline results from too much sugar and not enough exercise. So, I should take a look at my sugar intake, but I’d rather find something else to blame.

Jesus and his disciples walked up on a man born blind. The disciples asked Jesus, Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?

The disciples revealed a bleak view of God, assuming someone did something bad enough to deserve blindness. It seems ludicrous to question the man himself—what sin might he have committed prior to birth to deserve blindness?

Tonight is Halloween, a spooky evening of dress-up and candy. Personally I never cared much for the costume part, but I’m all in on the candy. Now that my kids are grown I don’t have any bags to raid, so I just buy my own and pretend to pass it out. I’ve been eating Mounds bars all week.

Our neighborhood sprouts more and more yard decorations every year. Bones litter the ground and skeletons beckon children to front doors. Most folks fail to look beyond the fun to the reality lying scattered across their lawn. We’ll all eventually end up mouldering in the dirt. While tempting, I won’t become the crusty old man telling the children of that truth tonight.

It’s easy to miss deeper realities in the swirl of a fun evening. In the same way, it’s easy for me to ignore deeper realities by keeping my life busy. I allow distractions to pull my mind to the immediate, to the candy I enjoy and crave, and rarely get around to pondering the eternal.

Jesus said, I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.

John contrasted light and dark throughout his gospel. Nicodemus first came to Jesus at night, and much later came out as a committed follower in the light of day. Jesus shines a light into the gloomiest of souls.

So it’s good for me to remember the realities behind a night of costumes and candy. Jesus remains my light in the midst of revelry and distractions. Jesus stands as the Lord of Halloween because Jesus stands as the Lord of Life.

In the darkness—especially in the darkness—keep the faith. Follow Jesus. Let the Light of the World give you life, even as you dodge glowing skeletons to get a hand into that pot of candy.

John 8 in reading the Bible in 2023

Photo by David Menidrey

Recently on a drive to the airport a line of traffic stopped us cold. I quickly pulled off on a side road to shoot around the jam. Bad decision. The alternate route stacked up even worse and led to another twenty minutes of delay. Fortunately, my wife made her flight but I drove home frustrated. Why didn’t I just glance at the GPS on my phone before leaving the highway?

An invading army once paused at a crossroads and consulted their ancient GPS system. The king of Babylon will stop at the fork in the road to seek an omen: He will cast lots with arrows, his will consult his idols, he will examine the liver.

While is sounds ridiculous to our ears, ancient experts examined the liver of a sheep for clues into important decisions. They looked at the shape of the liver, and for blemishes on different aspects of the liver. These priests developed into liver experts and guided kings by this superstitious practice.

Proverbs tells us, the king’s heart is like channels of water in the hand of the Lord; He turns it wherever He pleases. In the case of the Babylonian king, God massaged a sheep’s organ to accomplish his will. The slimy liver sent the invaders straight on to Jerusalem.

I like to think I possess better tools for decision-making than sheep’s liver. A pro-con list, wise words from trusted friends, impressions in prayer, and teachings from scripture make more sense, and are certainly less messy.

However, none of my decision-making techniques serve me unless I also seek the Lord. I may still be in doubt, but I can rest in the hope that the Lord directs my path, even when that path lies shrouded up ahead.

But next time I’m facing a big decision, and feel unsure of my next step, perhaps I’ll take a trip to the butcher shop and examine the livers. Who knows what inspiration might strike me?

Ezekiel 21 in reading the Bible in 2023

Photo by tommao wang