A slow study
On disillusionment and awe
It was in a recent conversation with an old friend that I was begrudgingly reminded of the reorienting power of inductive Bible study. She mentioned how the late Tim Keller had listed it specifically in his book, Walking with God through Pain and Suffering, as a practice for making space to hear the voice of God in tough seasons. Quite frankly I was annoyed by the suggestion. I read that book probably a decade ago, and though I remembered it striking a beautiful chord to my early-twenties self, I didn’t actually want to be told to do work in my current season of change. Yet, I knew Tim and my friend were right.
I’ve done inductive study plenty of times before— printing off a large portion of text (a chapter or a whole book), slowly reading and re-reading, studying historical and biblical context, underlining, making notes, asking questions, and following any train of thought until I’m satisfied. It’s really just a disciplined act of paying attention, and has proven fruitful whether I spend five or fifty minutes on it on any given day. When I do it regularly, I honestly love it. It is so satisfying to dive into layer after layer of Scripture, letting the gems surprise me.
This time I chose the book of Haggai. Why? No reason other than it’s short and I’ve never studied it inductively. Pretty quickly into the first perusal I noticed that one phrase, spoken by God to wayward Israel, was repeated twice in the first few sentences: “Think carefully about your ways.”1 Somehow these divine words acted as a command and an invitation. Repeated words communicate emphasis, so I paused, choosing to take this phrase and meditate further with the ancient practice of lectio divina. It is slow work, but the point isn’t speed— it’s meeting with God.
As I read this sentence multiple times with a quieter mind, the two final words caught my attention: “Think carefully about your ways.” There is a real sense of othering in those words, a finger unmistakably pointing out the reality that the ways of man are distinctly unlike the ways of God.2 Yet there is an unspoken invitation here too, a redemptive opportunity to take ownership of past action, a way into repentance. It is as though God as a patient and wise counselor is saying, “Yes, you chose these ways. You picked them. Now stop: look at the patterns. Let’s examine them together. Consider: why did you make them yours?” I was no longer examining the text— it was examining me. In it’s light I felt exposed, foolish.
Intercessory Prayer
By Eugene H. Peterson
Praying mantis
Pray for me.
I need your insect
intercession.
I've never heard
You make a sound,
Still I'd like
Your still small voice
To pray for me.
Just a few verses later in Haggai, after conviction and imperfect repentance, there is restoration with words that Jesus will echo to his disciples centuries later in the Great Commision:3 “I am with you— this is the Lord’s declaration.”4 Even after decades of following Jesus, I can forget that this whole faith thing is not just a system of thought, but a dynamic relationship— a cosmic and intimate knowing and being known. I can forget that he is with me. There is a mandatory humility in realizing you are fully seen and fully loved, warts and all. And there is a deepening awe in the glimmering moments of bite-sized comprehension of the mysterious wisdom of God. There is something to be found in being still, in the sharpness of a Word. And maybe even a mantis can teach me to pray.
Found in Haggai 1:5&7
Isaiah 55:8-9
Matthew 28:20
Haggai 1:13