The Bible Tells Me So
by Meg Peery McLaughlin
Having recently been ordained in the Presbyterian Church (USA), I pay attention at Presbytery meetings when new ministers are being questioned for ordination or transfer. Two confessions about my attentiveness:
1. I’m glad it is them and not me up there. It’s intense.
2. Code words from the new minister’s statement of faith jump off the page when I
read, especially in the Scripture section. words like inerrant and infallible.
The question that comes on the floor of Presbytery about the authority of scripture is not often asked as an authentic theological question, but more of a litmus test. Sadly, scripture’s authority has been an issue that has driven the church into camps. And both camps are guilty of the division.
Last week I read a piece by Walter Brueggemann that helped me reframe this issue. The authority of scripture is not about science and history and certitude. No, Brueggemann claims it is about the authorizing voice of Scripture, and how it empowers communities to live and hope and act in new and transforming ways. Whose is that authorizing voice other than God, the one revealed in the text? I’m left wondering what the difference is between scripture being authoritative and scripture being revelatory.
All Presbyterian elders, deacons, ministers of Word and Sacrament are asked if they believe that the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments are by the Holy Spirit, the unique and authoritative witness to Jesus Christ in the Church universal, and God’s Word to them. It is a deeply serious question. Even the language of this question, it seems to me, points to revelation. The Scriptures are an authoritative witness—they point to and testify about and reveal Jesus Christ.
This Presbyterian does not believe in the Bible, but she does believe in God.
I believe in God who has been revealed to me through the words and narratives and miracles and convictions of the Old and New Testaments. I believe in God whose voice summons me to the work of justice and care, to the labor of love and peace.
I recently met with three siblings who lost their mom. Reminiscing over her 90 plus years, they told stories of cardboard dollhouses, cub scouts, and a mother’s love that flowed in and around every corner. They went on to tell me that their mom had started working later in life for a Homes Association. That Association, put together years before civil rights, had bylaws that prohibited African-Americans from renting or owning homes. So this gentle white haired employee took her hand to the White Out. She obliterated any sign of printed discrimination on the documents she sent to new homeowners and tenants. Where did she learn such boldness in the face of bigotry?
Someone was revealed to this woman. A Holy One. One who spoke through ancient words like, “blessed are the peacemakers” and who was revealed in ancient words like “there is no Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you all are one in Christ Jesus.” And isn’t this what we want Scripture to do? To reveal and to empower?
Brueggemann goes on to say Scripture is “infallible” in the sense that it authorizes a way of living and believing that without fail leads us to the work of peace and kindness, self-control and joy. So, perhaps next time I’m reading a statement of faith or hearing the litmus test being administered on Presbytery floor, I will resist the camp mentality. I pray that I will trust that, like me, my brothers and sisters have experienced God being revealed to them in the book—in the text, which is enough for life. The Bible tells me so.