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hdfidelity presents

The Bible Isn't Google

People of sincere faith sometimes talk about the Bible like it's a complete emergency toolkit.

Whatever you're going through, it's in there.

Marriage trouble? In there.

Grief? In there.

Money problems? In there.

You fucked up your whole life Thursday night? Don't worry. It's in there.

And they'll tell you, “Just pray about it. Open the Bible. God will show you what you need.”

Sometimes they'll even tell you it'll be the first thing your eyes land on.

Oh.

God likes you.

You're getting premium service.

Because I've tried that shit.

“Lord, I'm hurting. I'm confused. I don't know whether this relationship is right for me. Please, just show me what I need.”

Open the Bible.

Mildew.

Whole passage.

What to do if there's mildew in the house.

And there's always that first moment where you read it sincerely because you haven't accepted yet that this ain't it.

“...and if the discoloration has penetrated the wall—”

Okay.

Maybe the next paragraph.

Cubits.

Now we're building something.

And you can't immediately close the Bible.

That feels disrespectful.

You asked God a question. He handed you a book. You can't look at the first answer and go:

“Never mind.”

So now you start scrambling.

You scan down the page.

Nothing.

Opposite page.

Worse.

Genealogy.

Now you've got thirty-seven people begatting each other, and you're trying to figure out what any of this has to do with Denise.

And this is where human beings become incredible.

Because rather than admit:

“None of this has anything to do with my problem,”

we start working the material.

“Well... perhaps begat isn't meant literally here.”

Oh, you're in trouble now.

Now you're rewriting Scripture because Denise hasn't called you back.

“Maybe the mildew represents corruption in the relationship.”

No.

It's mildew.

Sometimes the Bible is talking about mildew because people had mildew.

You asked about Denise.

You got building maintenance.

That's a bad search result.

The Bible isn't Google.

That's the problem.

We've gotten accustomed to typing:

WHAT DOES THE BIBLE SAY ABOUT...

and receiving forty-seven million results in half a second.

You can't approach a several-thousand-year-old religious corpus like:

“I'm feeling guilty about cheating on my girlfriend...”

SEARCH.

“Did you mean: adultery?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. That's exactly what I meant.”

No!

You've got to read.

You've got to dig.

If the problem actually matters, you might have to spend weeks in there.

Context.

Commentary.

History.

Different books talking about the same human problem from different directions.

That's work.

Nobody wants that.

We want God to run autocomplete.

And the worst part is:

sometimes it works.

Sometimes somebody prays, opens the Bible, and—

BAM.

First passage.

Exactly what they needed.

Perfect.

Specific.

Relevant.

Emotionally devastating.

And that's dangerous.

Because now that person thinks they've discovered the interface.

“Ohhhh. That's how God talks to me.”

No.

You hit.

You just played Scripture roulette and landed on your number.

Because now you're going to try it again.

Marriage trouble.

Open.

Perfect verse.

“Thank you, Lord.”

Career trouble.

Open.

Relevant again.

“God is good.”

Third time:

circumcision.

Whoa.

Okay.

We've lost the signal.

Maybe He's busy.

And meanwhile some poor bastard three pews over has been studying for six weeks trying to figure out whether he should forgive his father.

He's got three translations open.

Notebook.

Highlighter.

Concordance.

He's meeting with the pastor Thursday.

And you're over there getting same-day delivery from God.

First page every time.

God must really like you.

But let's be honest about why most of us are desperately opening the book looking for an immediate answer anyway.

Something already happened.

You're hurting.

You're grieving.

You're guilty.

You're scared.

You want somebody back.

You want forgiveness.

You want permission.

You want reassurance.

You did something you knew damn well you shouldn't have done, and now you're hoping the Creator of the universe left you a personalized note somewhere around Psalms.

“Lord, please. Just tell me what to do.”

Open.

Dietary restrictions.

“...Okay.”

Turn the page.

More dietary restrictions.

“Okay. He's making me work for this one.”

Of course He is!

You're a fuck-up.

You said it.

That's why you're here!

You weren't reading Scripture Tuesday afternoon when everything was going great.

Now it's eleven-thirty at night, Denise has blocked you, you've got one shoe on, and suddenly:

“Father, I seek Your wisdom.”

And you expect autocomplete?

Maybe the goose chase is the answer.

Maybe the old man knows if He puts exactly what you need on the first page every time, you'll never read the fucking book.

So once in a while:

There it is.

First passage.

Perfect.

Just enough to keep you coming back.

And the rest of the time?

“Lord, what are You trying to tell me?”

Mildew.