Two things tend to happen to Protestants in January: Our churches encourage us to fast, and to start a program of reading the bible. The fasting is because we’re ostensibly seeking God’s face for the new year—we want to start it right by showing him we’re really serious about following him, and really seeking some new revelations from him about his upcoming plans—and so we fast. The bible-reading is because, well, we’re Christians; we oughta read the bible. And if you’ve never read the bible all the way through, it’s high time you made it your New Year’s resolution, and start a-reading.
My church calls for a fast every January. And I hate fasting—and so does everyone, ’cause we’re Americans and don’t like to deprive ourselves of anything if we can help it. That’s why, I suspect, so many of us choose to go on the “Daniel Fast,” which is a popular fast-but-not-really-a-fast. You don’t actually go without food. You go without some foods, namely meat and sugar and oil. It’s a diet, really. It’s an exercise in self-control, and frankly a lot of us could use self-control, so in in the end it’s a good thing.
But the point of a fast is hunger—hunger for food, which we connect to hunger for God, and seek God. Unless you’re eating less on a Daniel Fast, unless you get actually hungry while you’re on it, you ain’t fasting. On the Daniel Fast, you could eat your own body weight in baked potatoes. It’s unlikely, but you could gain weight—and if it’s possible to gain wait on a “fast,” it’s no fast.
My usual fast is to not eat till noon. (And no cheating by sleeping till noon.) Which sucks, ’cause I don’t like to skip breakfast. I want my coffee and bagel and yogurt and Raisin Bran, and the occasional omelet. Today, I salved my annoyance at skipping breakfast by having a breakfast burrito for lunch. The other tricky part is to not overcompensate for a missed meal with a huge lunch: If you’re going without food, you gotta actually go without. It’s hard. But it’s got its payoffs.
Oh yeah, and the bible-in-a-month thing. Back in December 2009 I noticed how my brother and sister’s church was going through a church-wide daily bible-reading plan. They had to read a brief passage from the Old Testament, New Testament, and one of the OT poetry books. I think it took ’em a year to go through.
I’m not a fan of daily plans. I find it too unnatural of a way to read the bible. If you’re reading Romans, fr'instance, it’s a series of connected arguments. If you’re only reading a chapter of it a day, you have to stop several times in the middle of Paul’s argument, and go read a psalm ’cause you’re done for that day. When you read Romans all chopped up like that, you lose a sense of Paul’s train of thought—how each concept leads to the next, and the next, and the next. You start to think of the letter as several teachings on the revelation of Jesus, instead of one.
Same thing with the gospels. There’s something to be said for reading the whole of John at once, rather than reading it bite by bite, like we bible teachers usually present it. Or Ruth. Or Revelation.
The other beef I have is with the daily plan that’s attached to the calendar. You know: There’s a reading for today, then the 9th, then the 10th, then the 11th, and so on—and if you miss a day, or miss four or five days, you gotta catch up. Which isn’t easy. Life is busy. Which is why a lot of people tend to abandon these plans after they miss enough days. Few of them allow for skipped days.
It’s why I invented my own program, where you read the bible at your own speed, mark off what you’ve read, and when you’re done, you’re done. Missed a day? Missed a month? No problem; pick up where you left off.
But in 2009, it’d been a while since I read all the way through a bible. I’d read the entire J.B. Philips New Testament that spring, and from time to time I’ll read individual books—once, when I was waiting for a train, I read both Samuel and Kings, in their entirety, from my pocket
So that year, I decided I was gonna read the bible—and I wasn’t gonna take a year to do it. I was gonna do it in a month.
I dug out one of my childhood bibles—a Good News Bible, which I hadn’t read in years—and got to reading. Started with Ecclesiastes (’cause who says you gotta start with Genesis?), then Ezra, then Ruth. Spent an hour; knocked out three books. For the next three weeks, I read about an hour a day. Finished the bible in that time.
No, I don’t use the same translation every year. In 2011 I read the Lamsa Bible. In 2012, the new New International Version. In 2013, I started reading Philip Goble’s Orthodox Jewish Bible, but good Lord what a terrible translation. Half of it is still in Hebrew. I kid you not. Here’s how Goble renders John 3.16.
For Hashem so had ahavah for the Olam Hazeh that Hashem gave the matanah of Hashem’s Ben Yechid so that whosoever has emunah in him may not be ne’evad, but find Chayyei Olam.
Yeah. That’s how my 2013 started. No wonder the year was bupkis. Anyway, after about two weeks, I quit and read the rest of it in the
This year I’m reading the International Standard Version. It’s not bad. Like a lot of newer bibles, it doesn’t just translate, but interprets. I can’t say I agree with all of its interpretive choices, although some of them are thought-provoking. And some of them are unintentionally hilarious. Like this bit from the Judah and Tamar story in Genesis.
When Judah saw her, he thought she was a prostitute, since she had concealed her face. So on the way, he turned aside, approached her, and said, “Come on! Let’s have some sex!”
“Come on! Let’s have a little sex!” is also how Potiphar’s wife propositioned Joseph, and while that’s likely the correct sentiment behind it, it’s still just strange to read it in a bible. I grew up with the King James Version, you know.
So this first week, I’ve read (in no particular order) Genesis, Ruth, Lamentations, Daniel, Amos, Obadiah, John, Galatians, 1-2 Timothy, Titus, Philemon, 1-2 Peter, Jude, half of Judges, most of Acts, several chapters of Jeremiah, and fifteen psalms. I know; your average bible-reading program would take three months on all that. Took me maybe five or six hours. And no, not all at once. And yes, I read fast.
Yeah, till I’ve finished the bible, I’m dropping all the other books I read. (Well, except for bits of the occasional bible commentary—I’m still gonna research stuff.) For a while, Mom assumed I was doing absolutely nothing but reading the bible, nonstop, hours a day. If that were the case I’d be done already. I’m not willing to do a bible-in-a-week program. Oh, it could be done, but you couldn’t do anything but read all week long, and fasting or not, sometimes I gotta get up and eat.