Today, we’re jumping into the exhilarating—and occasionally maddening—world of biblical hermeneutics. Now, I know “hermeneutics” sounds like the kind of word that could make a grown man reach for a dictionary, but let’s cut through the fog. What we’re really doing is learning how to read the Bible without looking like we’ve been walloped by a sack of hammers. This is about rightly handling the living and active Word of God, and doing so without tripping over our own theological shoelaces.

Now, being the Reformed folk that we are, this isn’t some academic parlour game. We’re not here to rearrange our theological furniture because we’re bored. We’re handling God’s Word—the authoritative, life-altering, soul-shattering truth that stands unmoved while the world spins itself dizzy. If we interpret it wrong, we don’t just get a tender slap on our wrist; we risk driving the caravan full of our family, friends and fellow church members off the narrow path, over a theological cliff and into a worldly ditch. But if we get it right, we’re standing on solid ground—a precious commodity in a world where up is down, right is wrong, and Thanos has snapped the definition of a woman off of our dictionaries.

The Bible: God’s Word or Shakespeare?

We need to get this straight from the get-go: this Book isn’t like other books. It’s not “Moby-Dick” with a few Bible verses sprinkled in for good measure. It’s the very breath of God, exhaled into words. If you mishandle the Bible, you’re not just bungling literature; you’re wrestling with the Almighty Himself.

God didn’t give us His Word so we could play fast and loose with it. It isn’t a choose-your-own-adventure sort of deal. The Scriptures have been given to us for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness (2 Timothy 3:16). In other words, the Bible is alive, authoritative, and yes, accessible. But accessible doesn’t mean easy, just like a loaded pistol is accessible but requires careful handling. Approach it like a casual read, and you might shoot your foot off—spiritually speaking, of course.

But because God used human authors—people with quirks, languages, and lives rooted in history—we need to pay attention to how we interpret it. This means we can’t just slap verses on things like bumper stickers and expect sound theology to flow forth.

The LGH Approach: How to Stop Guessing

It’s high time we lay down some ground rules. First off, we’re not Gnostics sniffing around for secret meanings like pirates searching for buried gold. Our job is to “give the sense” of the text (Nehemiah 8:8), not to invent new senses. So, we adopt the literal-grammatical-historical approach. Yes, it’s a mouthful, but so is “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” and people still manage to say that.

• Literal: Ask yourself, “What do the words actually say?” Not, “What do I feel they should say?”
• Grammatical: Words have meanings, and those meanings are determined by their context. Pay attention to syntax and structure. God didn’t leave dangling participles and misplaced modifiers just to trip up the seminary students.
• Historical: Don’t time-travel and read modern dilemmas into ancient texts. Moses wasn’t pondering about climate change, and Paul didn’t have an opinion on your smartphone usage. The Bible has a context. Understand the world of the original audience, not the latest hashtag battle.

Take Genesis 1, for instance. The days of creation are described as days. Not metaphorical aeons, but days with evenings and mornings. Moses wrote it down so that a child could grasp it. If the Israelites wandering in the desert could understand it without a Ph.D. in astrophysics, so can you. God made the world in six days and rested on the seventh.

Genre Matters: A Song is Not a Law, and a Parable is Not a Spreadsheet

One of the cardinal sins of biblical interpretation is genre confusion—treating poetry like law, prophecy like an epistle, or parables like historical narratives. It’s like trying to dance a waltz to heavy metal; it doesn’t end well.

God, in His literary genius, didn’t stick to one genre. The Bible is a rich tapestry of narratives, laws, prophecies, poetry, epistles, and apocalyptic visions. Psalm 19 doesn’t read like Leviticus for a reason. The heavens declare the glory of God, but they don’t do it with literal speech popping out of the clouds.

When David says, “He makes me lie down in green pastures” (Psalm 23:2), he’s not suggesting that God is in the landscaping business. It’s poetic imagery meant to convey peace and provision. Meanwhile, when Leviticus tells you not to eat bats (Leviticus 11:19), it’s not a metaphor. Ignore that one, and you might end up with more than a stomachache.

Understanding genre helps us avoid the twin errors of wooden literalism and fanciful allegorizing. It keeps us on the straight and narrow, preventing us from turning parables into spreadsheets or apocalyptic beasts into political cartoons.

Finding Christ in Every Nook and Cranny

From Genesis to Revelation, the Bible is about Christ. Not just in the obvious places, like the Gospels where He’s walking around turning water into wine and flipping tables (something many modern churches might need a refresher on), but in the shadows and types of the Old Testament as well.

After His resurrection, Jesus took two despondent disciples on the ultimate Bible study, “beginning with Moses and all the Prophets” and interpreting “in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself” (Luke 24:27). The ark? A picture of Christ. The manna? Christ again. The rock that gushed water in the wilderness? You guessed it—Christ.

Our task in hermeneutics is to read the Bible Christocentrically. That doesn’t mean we force Jesus into every verse like trying to cram a size-12 foot into a size-8 shoe. It means recognizing that He’s the central thread weaving the whole tapestry together. Miss that, and you’ve missed the forest for the trees.

Application: Obey the Text, Don’t Merely Admire It

Now, here’s where we separate the men from the boys, the real theologians from the Twitter impostors. If we’ve interpreted the Bible rightly, we have to live it rightly. There’s no room for armchair scholars who treat theology like a hobby like collecting stamps or bottle caps.

James doesn’t mince words: “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves” (James 1:22). If your study of God’s Word doesn’t leave you convicted, humbled, or transformed, you might want to check if you’ve been reading the wrong book.

A sound hermeneutic demands application. It’s not enough to parse Greek verbs and debate eschatological timelines if you’re ignoring the plain commands to love your neighbor, care for the widow and orphan, and keep oneself unstained from the world (James 1:27). Theology that doesn’t lead to doxology—in both worship and practice—is a dead letter.

Handling the Word Like It’s a Double-Edged Sword

The Word of God is “living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword” (Hebrews 4:12). That’s not just poetic; it’s a divine warning. This Book can cut, and it’s meant to. It slices through our pretences, lays bare our sins, and performs the necessary surgery to conform us to the image of Christ.

Approach it casually, and you might find yourself on the wrong end of the blade. Handle it with care, humility, and diligence. Remember, interpreting the Bible isn’t merely an intellectual exercise; it’s about aligning our hearts, minds, and lives with the will of the living God.

So, read the Bible like your life depends on it—because it does. Study it, know it, live it. And in doing so, you’ll find that you’re not just reading the Word; the Word is reading you.

In a world awash with opinions masquerading as truths, the solid ground of God’s Word stands firm. Let’s be those who not only know how to read the Bible rightly but also have the courage to live it out boldly. The times are desperate for Christians who take God at His Word and aren’t afraid to show it.

So grab your Bibles, sharpen your minds, and maybe lace up your work boots while you’re at it. It’s time to delve into Scripture with the seriousness it deserves and the joy it affords. After all, we’ve got the very words of life in our hands. Let’s not treat them like yesterday’s newspaper.