I have a confession to make: I have never read the Bible in a year. And I know it sounds wrong, but I don’t plan to do it this year, either.

The Bible in a year. It’s a popular New Year’s resolution, and I think I may have tried to do it once back in college. The thing of it is, I just don’t want to rush. Is that bad? There are some books worth speed reading, and for me, this is not one of them. Maybe if I read it through more often, I could read it faster without missing something. But as it stands now, this is an ideal that just doesn’t fit for me.

Of course, “Bible-in-a-year” isn’t the only model out there. I had a youth pastor who told us that you should read the Bible until you see something interesting, and then stop. His example was Genesis 1:1, “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” Stop. Done for the day. Meditate on that and pick it up again tomorrow.

At that rate, I was sure I would reach Revelation by retirement.

Contrast this with one of my seminary professors, who insisted that each book of the Bible ought to be read in one sitting so that you see the big picture for each book. In his program, you would read all 50 chapters of Genesis today. And tomorrow, presumably, you would read all of Exodus. Is it hard? No. You’re just undisciplined.

When I’m teaching, I do try to get a sense of the whole book, but as part of daily devotions? That seems extreme.

Read it all in a year. Read a verse a day. Read a book a day. Who is right? How should I be reading my Bible?

Why Do We Read?

For me, there’s no point in trying to answer that question until I know what the purpose of Bible reading is. Once I know the purpose, I’ll have a better sense of which strategy is best. But before I go there (that is, to reason out the right answer), let’s stop and ask if God says anything about Bible reading.

Without doing an exhaustive search, I know for sure that there are many references to meditating on God’s Word day and night. I can’t think of a quantity statement anywhere in terms of how much ground to cover. Instead, what is clear is how much of me it should cover. In other words, the quantity to measure is my time and not chapter/verse/book.

I know that the Bible is useful for many things (teaching, correcting, training in righteousness, etc.). It’s full of wisdom and examples. So if I want to do any of those things, I should turn to the Word.

So we have two clues: meditate on it day and night, and know that it is useful for teaching and training. I believe God’s purpose for my Bible reading is to renew my mind by meditating on the truth. It’s a way of listening to God, and by listening I will find myself taught, rebuked, corrected, and in training.

What is clear is how much of me it should cover.

I’ve had seminars where I had to read a textbook a week in class. They were a stretch to say the least. But I don’t know that the value of reading the whole text was quite as important as the amount of time put into it. These were secular authors, so there was no point in relishing the language; our mission was to identify the central claims, trace the arguments and supporting evidence, and dig through the author’s background to become aware of agendas or biases. This kind of reading is right for a seminar, but it’s not the way I want to approach Scripture. I’m not evaluating and using the Bible as a tool for my purposes. I am coming to be evaluated and to let it reform my purposes.

So when I read, I have two goals: first, I want to renew my mind with the words and works of God. I want to meditate on who He is, what He has done, and His telling of the story. I want to know what He finds important. I want to know what frames I should use for interacting with the world and understanding my place it in. And second, in renewing my mind, I want to draw strength in my relationship with God. This is, to me, an important part of abiding in Christ. By renewing my mind, I’m hoping not just to gain a better sense of the world and better habits for acting in it; I want to hear God’s voice and enjoy close fellowship with the Triune God.

How Much Should We Read?

So if I’m right about the purpose, which mode seems best? Well, for me, I usually read a chapter a day, or more if there is a larger story being told. I just finished reading Genesis, and stories like the Flood or Joseph in Egypt simply demand to be read in one sitting. It makes most sense for me to read it at the story level, for the most part. These stories captivate, inform, and renew. The reading doesn’t exactly dominate my day, but what I read does have a better chance of sticking with me.

Do I miss things that the book-a-day or inspiration-a-day approach would uncover? Yes, I’m sure I do. You will always miss something when you read. That’s why you don’t read anything important just once. I’m at peace with not getting everything; my goal isn’t to get everything. My goal is to listen, submit, and be changed, and God can accomplish that quite easily even at a chapter a day.

Now, I must admit I often miss a few days here or there. I’m ok with that. While I am missing out, the quality aspect is more important to me than checking a daily box. I need it every day, I’m sure of that. But I don’t like cramming. Again, the goal isn’t rush to the end and say I did it. But don’t misunderstand; this isn’t about waiting until I “feel like it.” Practices often drive feelings, and so often the days I don’t feel like it are the days I need it most. Skipping is not about my mood, it’s about my schedule; some days it just doesn’t fit. This is almost certainly a result of poor planning on my part. As long as I am still living and thinking out of what I read the day before, that’s good enough for me.

So how long does it take me to get through the Bible? Well, the last time took far longer than it should have. I lost my way. I got discouraged at points. I read other “good things” and spent lots of time reading other Scriptures here and there. I don’t know that this is bad in and of itself. But what I missed out on by pausing my daily studies was moving away from the passages I gravitate toward and listening to passages that I overlook.

What’s more, long gaps like this make it harder for me to remember what I read two books ago and how it’s relevant to this other book here. Making the different books of the Bible talk to each other is, I think, a crucial mark of maturity. It means you’re not simply reading and moving on; you’re wrestling with what God is saying.

Of course, a huge part of reading is context. Some say it’s everything. There is always a context. If I read just one verse each day, my context for reading is almost certainly the rest of my experiences that day. I’m using my life (and the few verses I remember from previous weeks) as the frame of reference to process this verse. If that’s true, it’s a profound weakness of that method. If I read a book a day, the context for anything I read is book itself, which is absolutely right. That’s the context you want! The more you can swim in the context of the whole Word of God, the more you are reading the Bible in its proper context, because Scripture interprets Scripture. It should guide your focus and choices. So long gaps are bad, especially if you’re doing the pace I tend to pursue.

Trying New Things

Last year I finished a cycle of reading through the Bible, and I took a break for a few months, reading here and there as my interests dictated. This year I’m starting a new cycle. I need it. I want it. I’m excited to have the time to really enjoy it.

But this time around I’m also trying to share what I’m learning, and that makes it more complicated. I have not been blogging my reflections on each chapter; this is partly because I don’t want to make Bible reading a means to some artificial end, and partly because I don’t want to make it such a burden than I’m tempted to skip more often.

So I finished reading Genesis and what I am doing is looking for themes. What does God emphasize? I want to write about that. I have my own list of questions, but then questions I wasn’t asking start emerging and they intrigue me. I’m not done chewing on Genesis enough to share what I’ve found. But I also don’t want to move on and lose it. But I also don’t want to stop. So what do I do?!

This year I’m trying something new. I read through the book once, and now I’m reading through it again. The first time, I brought my black pen and made all kinds of general marks and notes. What jumps out? What surprises me? What seems deeply meaningful? Where do I see connections elsewhere? This second time, I grabbed a blue pen, and I’m reading with an agenda: I want to see exactly where God is. And I’m asking three questions: what names of God are being used, what is God doing, and what is God saying.

Since I just read these stories, I’m reading a bit faster this time. And because I’m reading with an agenda, new things are jumping out at me. I’m thoroughly enjoying it, and I think it adds a crucial layer to whatever I would have said about Genesis anyway.

When I’m done with this pass, I plan to choose another pen, another agenda, and read with that in mind, too. As much as possible, I’m trying to let the Bible tell me what my agenda should be. (Did you know God is mentioned over 30 times in Genesis 1? That helped inspire my “first agenda.”)

Yes, it means I have to wait on Exodus and the rest. (I may come to regret that.) There’s always a tradeoff. But this is helping me to meditate on God’s Word, which, again, is the goal. And I hope very soon to have some interesting studies to share.

This past weekend I had the privilege of preaching, and I felt led to preach on a topic that God was working on in my own life: anger.

I’m used to being pretty transparent with my flaws, but this is one I actually feel pretty self-conscious about. Feeling “irritated” or “impatient” is a more polite way to describe it. We can all relate to that. That’s still respectable. But if someone says they have an anger problem, something immediately feels unsafe. We instinctively associate it with violence.

I don’t think of myself as a violent person, but when anger starts affecting your actions, that’s the general direction, isn’t it? It’s a humbling thing to admit.

I’ve known I’ve wrestled with anger in my heart since I was young. I remember feeling convicted about having a temper as a kid, even though I was a generally joyful person. I went through a phase where the anger died down on the outside, but I was depressed on the inside. They say depression is anger turned inward, and I think there may be something to that.

After that depressed phase was over, I noticed the anger slowly starting to come back. As I reflect on it now, it typically came from one of two places: either 1) you’re getting in my way and I’m frustrated, or 2) you’re doing it wrong and I’m judging you.

None of this is good, of course. It may be the shadow side of a good desire, but there’s nothing good about it. It’s not Christ-honoring. Patience is a fruit of the Spirit. Love, peace, and joy are, too. Setting my sights on something good without producing the fruit of the Spirit is clearly flawed from the outset.

So I’ve known I needed to do something with it for a long time. I always had other priorities, but I have been able to pick up a few insights along the way. I became more aware of passive aggression and anger that I had stuffed down over the years when I should have sought resolution. I learned that I had a tendency to interpret things more negatively than warranted, and to withdraw from conflict instead of working through it. Those were helpful.

In an intro to biblical counseling class I took in seminary, I learned that anger is fundamentally rooted in our sense of justice, and the question to ask when I feel angry is what my expectations are and whether or not they are warranted. This was helpful, too.

I also found I was naturally less prone to anger when I stopped striving for my goals. After I dropped out of my doctoral program, I resolved to simply try to be a man of wisdom and character. Go for quality over a certain outcome. This was a very spiritually healthy period in my life, and it ended when I started setting goals again. Goals have a way of turning some people into obstacles, which is not at all how I want to see them.

So now that I am taking a break from work and trying to build something new, one thing God laid on my heart was to finally address this anger issue.

When I was a young man, I was told either in a sermon or some other context that anger was actually ok. The Bible says “be angry and do not sin,” which means it’s ok to be angry as long as you don’t sin. From that point on, I made no effort to restrain my anger. My only desire was to purify it. Let’s get good at this!

And let me pause again and say that while it may sound as though I’ve been living with this on a daily basis, I don’t. I really am a joyful person, and I would hope that those who know me best could attest to that. I’m describing a tendency to flare up too easily, not a constant burn. I don’t know that that’s actually any better, but it seems better to me somehow. In my mind it’s the difference between being emotionally immature (me) and being dangerous (someone else). But it’s possible that’s just denial.

Now, this desire to purify my anger mixed with the growing awareness I had of its sources and problems led me to a place where I was angry about better things, but not in a better way. What I mean by this is I was getting better at justifying my anger, to myself, to God, and to anyone close enough to know it existed. Because remember, this is mostly in my inner judgments, not the kinds of things that you would notice expressed in the office or at home. I’m not lashing out out there, but I am swift and decisive in my judgments in my heart. And if my judgments are more accurate, that’s the goal, right?

Perhaps at this point you are screaming NO! Perhaps all along this line of thinking has been intuitively uncomfortable to you. Maybe you have a disposition that sees this for what it is. I know some of you don’t. I know some of you can relate. But what comes next is a swift and decisive NO! from the Bible.

I don’t normally preach topical sermons, but I wanted a biblical theology of anger before I chose the passage that I thought would best speak to it. I may share more of the details in the future, and the sermon audio will be available shortly, but for the sake of this post, I will summarize briefly my findings.

1. Anger truly is not bad in and of itself. God is described as angry sometimes. It can indeed be a right response to a wrong in the world.
2. Anger in the hands of mortal man tends toward evil quickly. So quickly, in fact, that the Bible repeatedly says stay away. Don’t be angry. Don’t associate with an angry man. Anger is a work of the flesh. Anger does not accomplish the righteousness of God. Let it be put away from you ASAP. This is the overwhelming majority of the counsel the Bible gives on this subject.
3. God’s advice for how to deal with anger first of all is to ponder in your heart, put your faith in God, and let it go. Whatever injustice you sense is seen by God. He cares. He knows. He is able to make it right, and too good to let it slide. And frankly, He will deal with it much better than you ever could.
4. Ultimately, Jesus commands that we pursue reconciliation. Anger creates/reveals a breach in the relationship, and it should drive us to heal that breach.
5. Man is never commended for fueling anger, holding on to anger, expressing anger, acting in anger, etc.

So my takeaway is this: I am no longer trying to figure out how to justify anger. I don’t want to unlock the secret of righteous anger. I am ready to let it go.

And one reason that’s not so easy is that anger feels powerful. It can be especially intoxicating to someone who is constantly being interrupted and talked over. I’m not an alpha male and I have never desired to be. (I have no shame in saying it even though you may feel bad for me. I’ll save that for another post.) So in a world where people often assume you must be weak, and where following Christ seems to lead toward meekness, humility, service, and other apparently disempowering postures and activities, the thought of righteous anger seems like a way out. It feels like a way to be strong and Christlike at once. It’s a way to justify taking the reins from someone else, a way to justify asserting yourself so that you can make things right. You can have a sidearm holstered while you carry around your towel and basin of water.

Yeah, I’m here to serve. And you’d better not give me any grief about it.

So when I say that I am giving up trying to purify a righteous anger, part of what I mean is that I’m giving up a claim to power. I’m putting an end to that conversation in my heart where I tell myself they are the problem and I am the solution. I may have gotten better at identifying problems over the years, but anger is no part of the solution. And even in typing these words, I become more aware of the arrogance hiding just beneath the surface. Anger hides that. It misdirects attention.

So in letting go of anger, I’m being confronted with new issues like this. Wow, beneath that “righteous” anger was no small trace of self-righteousness. Beneath that “righteous” anger was a numbness to the astounding mercy God has shown me. Beneath that “righteous” anger was a lack of faith and trust in God’s sovereignty. I suspect there’s more to come.

If social media is any indication, there are a lot of angry people out there. And there’s a chance that my words here have offended you. Maybe your anger is better, purer, more justified. Maybe I’ve communicated something that seems dismissive of your real hurts. You have a right to feel angry. I’m not trying to challenge that. But based on what I see in Scripture and what I have experienced in my own life, that right has an expiration date measured in hours and minutes rather than days, months, or years. What you do with your anger is between you and God. But I know what I have to do. And even though I haven’t been on this path long, it already feels so good to walk away from the heat. I never learned how to “be angry” to the glory of God, but I can already see “let it be put away from you” bearing fruit.