Is My Bible Scripture?

Someone dear to me once asked me whether I believe that the Bible I read is scripture. Thinking about this deliciously stimulating question, I realize the wide range of possible meanings these terms have, and the need to clarify and specify what is meant before I can say "Yes" or "No" and hope to be understood properly—and avoid being branded a heretic.  

1. By "Bible" do we mean English translations of the Bible? We might, but not necessarily. As I have written elsewhere, I would prefer to call them so, rather than lump together all editions of all translations in all languages with the original Scriptures in their original languages, for
2. Are translations of anything "the same as" the original? No. By definition, they are not. No scholar of French poetry, for example, would be content to study translations, and for good reason: There is no substitute for reading the actual words in the actual language with all of its nuance, connotation, historical context, rhythms, word play, and all else that makes language what it is.
3. Does "Bible I read" mean "translations other than the one true translation," or "any translation"?
4. And would I call my Bible(s) "scripture," meaning
1. "sacred writings"? If I understood exactly what that phrase meant, I might say so.
2. "the specific sacred writings that the Holy Spirit inspired the writers of the Bible to pen"? No, since what is available to me is impressive but translated products of textual criticism, rather than the original thing.
3. or "equal to those specific sacred writings"? Equal in some ways more than others, but perhaps.
4. or "an equally inspired translation into a different language"? Definitely not. 
5. or "written documents that transmit God's intended message to us"? In a sense, yes.
6. or "written documents through which the Holy Spirit can speak his intended message"? Yes, I do believe this.
5. And what does the original question presume about how reading works?
6. And presume about how God can or does speak through text in any language or perhaps in one uniquely special language?
7. And presume about what God intends the Bible's function to be—now or in various hypothetical dispensations?
8. And are we presuming that there is a critical mass of "scripture" that we must have among the pages of what we hold for its function to be fulfilled? What would it be?
1. 100%?
2. 99%?
3. 80%?
9. And, if so, what do we presume about the result of reading less than that percentage of true scripture?
1. Total error?
2. Significant, life-changing error?
3. Sin? 
4. That we are now reading the words of Satan? 
5. The failure of God's plans in the world? 
6. The failure of God's intended purpose for the Bible?  

So, what do I believe about the Bible? 

1. I believe that the English translations of the Bible that I read are significantly and even divinely different from all other books, even if I am not sure that, as translations, they are fully and equally "scripture" in the way that the original Bible is. 
2. I believe that, at this point in history, I am blessed to have the luxury of comparing several good translations that merit not only my confidence in the text but also my awe at God's provision. 
3. I believe that, like copies of any original document, there are some real differences among them, and also differences between them and "the original Bible" written down in days of yore. 
4. I believe, however, that the differences, or any outright errors in the human words I read, are not sufficiently powerful to keep me from hearing the "'Yes!' of God in Christ" through these translations as the Holy Spirit aids my reading of them. 
5. I believe that God is greater, and is able to overcome whatever I may lack.

I believe many other things about the Bible, too, but you can read my other posts to discover more of those.

Explaining Our Differences

[Salvation #5]

Now, we could conclude from the church's differences on salvation that we really don't know what it is, or really don't get it, or really don't have it, even. And that, therefore, we really don't have any basis for communion, for community, or for witness. We could conclude that perhaps we really aren't Christ's body. Or that most of us aren't part of it, anyway. We could conclude that salvation is unknowable, or even fictional.

Another, less-troubling explanation for why we have different definitions of salvation is that we have allowed our focus to drift from knowing or experiencing salvation to defining salvation, to reducing something amazing and miraculous into words of a particular language. Perhaps we do understand what salvation is, but just have trouble explaining it—in words, at least. Which isn't the only way to explain something, to be fair. Some words have very broad definitions; other defy easy pigeonholing. We might have similar difficulties when defining other words, such as hero, art, America, or beauty. We might have similar difficulty explaining in words how much we love someone.

Language is a very tricky thing. Some languages are much better at expressing certain kinds of ideas. Some languages make certain tasks much harder to accomplish, like explaining whether an event is past, present, or future, for example. Some languages cause more airplane crashes. Different languages perhaps can even create different types of thought and can shape different views of reality. If God's thoughts are higher than our thoughts, can we really expect that each of our human languages fully expresses God's thoughts, or that our words can fully define the wonders of salvation?

God's gift to us was not a dictionary. Therefore, we've written most theological definitions by ourselves. And some of these come from attempts to harmonize numerous verses of Scripture, written by numerous authors, over the course of more than a millennium, in three languages, in various genres from poetry to history to apocalyptic literature, and often with cultural, historical, and literary context that has been lost to most of us over the last 3,000 years. Is it any wonder that we might inadvertently add at least a little of our own interpretation to the original meaning in the Bible when we construct our clever definitions, when we create what the Bible itself has failed to give us?

And interpretation is a problem.

Next stop: Why didn't God give us a dictionary?

How Necessary Is the Bible?

There has never been a time in history at which we have all had the same Bible.

Ponder that one for a moment.

Setting aside that fact, consider that millions of believers both throughout history and today have lacked some or all of what Christians now call the Bible. The "New Testament church" did. The masses before the printing press (c. 1440). Much of the underground church still does. Many who have been imprisoned. Many who are poor, or blind, or infirm. Those who are illiterate. Those without a Bible in their own language (200 million people, at present). Those without a written language, even.

If the emphasis (or even overemphasis) placed on the written scriptures by some parts of the modern Christian church is correct, and if the near-legalistic expectation of "personal" Bible study—even if only for a trivial number of minutes or verses per day—is correct, then several questions come to mind regarding those who go and have gone without, those already in the prophesied "famine of the Word," as some might call it: What is their Christian life focused on? How are they to truly know God or hear his voice? And if faith comes by hearing, and hearing (by?) the word of God, then on what basis can they come to faith in the first place? Are they inevitably stunted in their spiritual growth, compared to those who have the complete Bible? Weaker brothers and sisters, to be pitied, perhaps?

It seems that we should conclude thusly.

And if we insist that any challenge a specific passage of scripture presents can be made sense of by "the whole Bible," and that the whole Bible is required for proper understanding of (any of? much of?) its contents, then what must we conclude about those without the whole Bible, now and throughout history? And those without any Bible? That these unfortunates are doomed to misinterpretation and misunderstanding on "all matters of faith and practice"? Even on essentials, such as ... the Trinity; the relationship between sin, faith, grace, and works; or the nature of their own relationship to God?

It seems that we should conclude thusly.

And what if our own favorite translation of the Bible contains mistakes? Or if, someday, we were to find the autographs (the original books of the Bible), written in the very hands of the original authors and/or scribes—depending on your view of how the Bible was written—and different from any of the manuscript witnesses (the later copies of the books), from which all of our various and varied translations have been made? Should we conclude that we have not had—have never had—the true "Word of God"? That nobody has ever had the correct Bible?

It seems that we should conclude thusly. That we the privileged, despite our feast of Bibles and Bible study tools, have actually been in a similar position to those who lived before the closing of the canon, or those behind the Iron Curtain, or those with no Bible in their own language. That we didn't have every answer at our fingertips. That we didn't have every last word. We should conclude that some of our opinions may have been misguided, some of our emphases misplaced. We should conclude that some of our knowledge, our certainty was actually error, or naivety. Or perhaps even arrogance.

And what would this mean about God—if he has allowed all of us to wander in such imperfect light?

Or what would it mean about the Bible—if a perfect, loving, and holy God has not thought it necessary to provide one complete, uniform, and error-free Bible for all of us and for all of this time?

Despair not, gentle reader! More on this topic later.