Have you ever thought about what the Bible would be like if you had been in charge of writing or editing it? Whatever you would do, I am quite certain you would end up with something that would bear far more resemblance to a systematic theology text than the Bible we hold in our hands today. You would almost definitely scale down the narrative to scale up the plain teaching. In the end, it would probably read more like a Wikipedia entry than the Scripture God gave us.
Yet when God prepared his Book, he ensured it combined both teaching and example in a way we never would. Why would he do this? I suppose it’s because he wanted to both show and tell.
God explains to us the beauty of self-denial, the importance of sober-mindedness, the wonder of devotion, and the necessity of courage. Well and good. But then, just in case we’re still not perfectly clear on it, he introduces us to Daniel, to Paul, and to Deborah, all of whom wonderfully illustrate these virtues. We find them described and then see them lived out. It’s a perfect combination of show and tell.
Similarly, God speaks to us in his Word about the evil of pride, the ugliness of folly, and the sheer horror of failing to take God seriously. But then, in case we are not heeding these warnings, he introduces us to Nebuchadnezzar, who personifies them all and who suffers the ghastly consequences. We are warned in words and warned in example.
God assures us that all things—even very hard things—come to us by way of his providence and insists that each one is an opportunity to bring glory to his name. Then he shows us Job, who suffers the greatest losses, yet remains faithful.
God assures us that sin is progressive, that sin grows in its intensity so that one transgression is soon added to another. Then he shows us David, who escalates lust to adultery and adultery to murder.
In thousands of ways, through thousands of examples, and over thousands of years, he teaches and illustrates.
He tells us we ought to pray, then shows Daniel on his knees. He tells us that marriage is to be between one man and one woman, then shows us the ugliness of polygamy in the lives of Abraham, Jacob, Elkanah, and a host of others. He tells us of the importance of both devotion and service, then shows us Mary and Martha. He tells us of the horrors of elevating ourselves above God, then shows us Herod being struck down and eaten by worms. In thousands of ways, through thousands of examples, and over thousands of years, he teaches and illustrates.
One author says positive illustrations of character are like a lighthouse that guides us safely into harbor. Meanwhile, negative illustrations of character are like buoys that flash to warn that in these very spots, ships have been driven into the rocks and sunk. And so we rightly thank God that when he gave us his book, he gave us both teaching and narrative, for the two are perfectly and wonderfully complementary. He gave us teaching to instruct us in the way he means for us to live, and he gave us narrative to serve as both lighthouses and buoys—lighthouses to draw us to safety and buoys to keep us from destruction.
Inspired in part by the works of De Witt Talmage
