One of the hallmarks of members of the Churches of Christ was “They know their Bible!” It’s hard not to have Scripture in our DNA. We sang “The B-I-B-L-E” song, had memory verses pinned to our clothes, raced to find a passage first, sang “The Books of the New Testament” song, and cited book-chapter-and-verse to back up what we said. Even if we did it imperfectly, we still tried to “Speak where the Bible speaks, and be silent where the Bible is silent.” In reflecting on our Restoration heritage’s respect for the Bible, let’s consider a couple of questions: What could we do better? Why is Scripture such an important part of our identity?

We were a people who read, examined, and memorized our Bibles. And our Bibles showed it; the worn covers and crinkled pages attested to the diligence of our study. As wonderful as biblical literacy is, however, our understanding of Scripture often didn’t advance beyond “Whoever knows the most wins”; that is, we respected an encyclopedic level of Bible knowledge, but we neglected the application and theological message of Scripture. We’ve all suffered through Bible classes that droned on and on citing names, dates, and lists, with little or no attention to how Scripture might form our hearts and actions. We could recite the cities of Paul’s missionary journeys, but we often missed the social implications of the gospel. We primarily focused on the Bible as data, without attending to the theological message of Scripture. Even though our respect for Scripture usually led to a respect for God, we would do well to remember Jesus’ words  (John 5:39-47); it’s possible to master the study of Scripture but to miss the message—and even more tragically to miss the living God revealed in Scripture. In general, our questions focused on content (what?) and method (how?), seldom addressing issues of identity (who?) and purpose (why?). Nevertheless, with such an immersion in Scripture, we could hardly avoid being deeply shaped by the Bible.

Ironically, perhaps the opposite is also true; that is, we who once had the highest biblical literacy now find increasingly lower biblical literacy in our churches. No wonder; reading the Bible as data and trivia has little appeal. The news, however, is not all bleak. We can recapture—and build on—our rich heritage; even today, thousands of teens cram the venues of LTC (Leadership Training for Christ) and compete in Bible Bowls; churches can and do make the public reading of Scripture a regular—and valued— part of services. And we have begun to develop our theological muscles to aid in applying the text and reading for the message of the text. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to excel in both biblical and theological literacy?

Why should we treasure this heritage based in Scripture? We become what we know and what we love; we become our story. In reading Scripture, we find ourselves in the story of God’s people: Adam and Eve, Abraham and Sarah, Deborah and Samson, Joseph and Mary, Priscilla and Aquila, and Phoebe or Paul. Their story is our story; our congregations and our lives add chapters to the story of God’s people. The more we know who our God is and who God’s people are, the more likely it is that we ourselves desire to live out the story in compelling ways: showing mercy to the downtrodden, spreading the gospel, and building community. When we see ourselves in God’s story, we realize how we can participate in the activity of God in our world.

We are a people for whom reading Scripture is a foundational marker; as such, this activity creates a different type of people. Used to being surprised or bothered by a text, we don’t shrink from stories that scare or stump us. Serious reading of Scripture creates humble and honest readers. We expect to examine the text and for the text to examine us; we ask questions of the text, and the text further questions us; as people who read carefully, we know that study is a recursive process. Furthermore, we know that study brings unexpected surprises from “How did I never see this before!” to “What in the world is going on here?” We find challenge and comfort; disorientation and hope. As we enter the world of the text—finding it oh-so-different and seeing our deepest selves—we become equipped to engage our world in all its diversity. As an example, one of the New Testament’s most difficult passages (1 Corinthians 11:2-16) also reveals a breathtakingly beautiful reflection on gender and creation in 11:11-12. As we find that Scripture’s answers lead to new questions, we become equipped for the complexity and ambiguity of real life. Scripture takes us across the full spectrum of human experience, from the dark depths of doubt and lament to the heights of exaltation and song.

Finally, a people who claim to go “back to the Bible” place themselves in both a vulnerable and an enviable position. We stake out an affirmation to be open, to be continually shaped and reshaped by God’s Word. This claim puts the possibility of change ever before God’s people. In addition to this vulnerability, we also profess a profound respect for truth and a desire to follow God, even if that path may be difficult. For example, we had to reconsider race, and we continue to reimagine how our churches can embody God’s vision for all humanity. This combination of openness, respect for truth, and faith—founded in God and shaped by Scripture—has led to spiritual renewal and positive change over and over again. Throughout the history of God’s people, re-examining Scripture has led to massive change: witness the finding of the book of the law under Josiah (2 Kings 22-23) and Martin Luther’s cry of sola scriptura in the Reformation. A kingdom-shaped present and future is always possible when God’s people are willing to be formed anew by God’s Word.