I am a good reader. It is hardly surprising because I have devoured books since I was small. Consequently, I was often asked to read the Bible passage at church, prior to the sermon. And I always used to add afterwards, even though it was not part of the liturgy, “This is the Word of God.” But something began to niggle at the back of my mind: the voice of Jesus: “You have heard it said… but I say to you.” And a question – one that would eventually upend my theology, forced itself into my consciousness: how can the Bible, filled with these “have heard it said” moments, hold the same authority as the one who said, “but I say to you”?
In much of contemporary Protestant and Evangelical thought, the term “Word of God” is applied equally to Jesus and the Bible. Both are treated as full revelations of God, and since one revelation of God cannot be superior to another, this conflation places the two on equal footing in terms of authority.
Although most Christians who hold to this doctrine may not realise it, this balancing act creates a theological tension that is not easily resolved. If a particular text is divinely authored, as many claim the Bible is, it already carries a heavy burden of proof. But adding an extra layer of complexity—a second revelation, this time in the form of a person—requires interpretive frameworks that are both cohesive and coherent. Consequently, much of Protestant and Evangelical scholarship focuses on defending the Bible and interpreting the life and teachings of Jesus in ways that align with other Scriptural texts.
The problem is, they don’t align.
This tension is not new. Less than a century after Jesus’s death, Marcion wrestled with the stark contrasts between the God revealed in Jesus and the God portrayed in the Scriptures. His solution—proposing two distinct gods—was rightly condemned as heretical. But his initial observation was sound: God cannot simultaneously be violent and non-violent. Marcion’s failure lay not in asking the question, but in failing to see that Jesus provides the answer.
I would argue that Jesus himself is a stumbling block for Protestants and Evangelicals. He compels them to choose where to ascribe ultimate revelatory authority. Sadly, they tend to choose the Bible.
When it comes right down to it, the Protestant position often elevates the Bible over Jesus as the full revelation of God. This is rarely admitted outright, but it becomes evident in the theological gymnastics required to justify the Bible’s inerrancy. Consider the contradictions: the Bible itself claims that Jesus is the full revelation of God (as in Hebrews or Colossians), yet in defending its infallibility, Protestant frameworks often reduce Jesus to a partial revelation—the articulation of God’s loving and merciful side—while Scripture reveals the rest: God’s justice and wrath.
In this way, Jesus becomes subordinate to the Bible. The problem Marcion identified is resolved not by reconciling Scripture with Jesus but by elevating Scripture above him.
I am inviting us to make a different choice.
Clearly, only one can fully reveal who God is. God cannot be simultaneously violent (as the God of much of Scripture appears to be) and non-violent (as Jesus clearly is, despite dubious attempts at proof-texting to suggest otherwise). This series will argue that treating Jesus, rather than the Bible, as the Word of God is more consistent with his teachings and ministry—and a more authentic, theologically sound position to take.
The flawed doctrine of inerrant Scripture has serious consequences and should not be taken lightly. By clinging to certainty and control, it risks losing sight of the heart of Christianity: love, grace, and the transformative power of following Christ.
And that, I suspect, is why I find the doctrine of the inerrancy of Scripture so—frankly—repulsive. It misrepresents the character of God as revealed in Jesus. To reconcile the violent God of Scripture with the non-violent Jesus, the doctrine creates a Janus-faced god with two distinctly different personalities—one whose wrath can only be appeased in blood and one who preaches love and forgiveness.
Unfortunately, the bloodthirsty one is the one who wrote the book.
When the Bible is treated as a literal, unchanging law book, it is all too often used to justify exclusionary or oppressive practices—such as discrimination against women, LGBTQ+ individuals, and other marginalised groups—because these prejudices were normative in the societies of the writers. If we presuppose that God authored these texts through the writers, their prejudices suddenly become divinely mandated, and social inequality finds legitimacy.
Even without this darker element, when the Bible is used simply as a guide to morality, it often leads to rigid legalism that enforces compliance rather than fostering love, reconciliation, or compassion. The Bible is read in ways that elicit guilt rather than self-love, judgment rather than grace.
I have spoken to young people who left the church because their lifestyle choices—proof-texted into sinfulness—left them feeling guilty, dirty, and unwelcome. Others have abandoned faith altogether because Biblical literalism tends to pit Christianity against science and reason. For them, faith and intellect became irreconcilable. Ironically, the doctrine of Biblical inerrancy often undermines people’s faith in Scripture itself.
Apologists for the doctrine consistently fail to address its fundamental challenges. In the coming weeks, I will explore these challenges more fully:
- What does the Jewish tradition say about Scripture, and how does Jesus’s approach align with it?
- How did the doctrine of inerrancy develop, and is it consistent with the early church’s view of Scripture?
- What can the history of canonisation and translation tell us about the Bible’s role in faith?
- How did Jesus use Scripture, and how does interpreting the Bible through his life and teachings change our understanding of faith and discipleship?
Friends, please do not conclude that I reject the Bible. I am simply asking that we relieve it of the unfair burden we place upon it when we claim for it what it never claims for itself: infallibility. Instead, I invite us to dare to make the other choice.
As Michael Hardin writes in The Jesus-Driven Life:
“The Bible is not a flat text where every verse carries equal weight; it is a library of voices that must be read in light of Jesus. Only He reveals God without distortion, and it is His love that brings clarity to our reading.”
My sincere hope for you is that you will dare to start to read Scripture through the lens of Jesus, rather than the other way around, and in so doing encounter the true and living Word’s revelation of the God of love, grace, and reconciliation.
excellent essay!!! Looking forward to reading more in this series!
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