No, it isn’t.
Your authority is what your pastor, denomination, small group, favorite author, or spiritual tribe told you the Bible means. That’s not snark. That’s just honesty. The Bible doesn’t interpret itself. People do. Always have. Always will.
There has never been a single, unified interpretation of the Bible. Not now. Not ever. The fantasy of a pure, uncontested “Biblical Christianity” is just that—a fantasy. What one person calls “biblical truth,” another calls heresy. And history backs that up.
Christians have never agreed on the basics:
Was Jesus divine or just inspired?
Is hell literal, metaphorical, or nonexistent?
Is God a cosmic monarch or the ground of being itself?
Is original sin real?
Is the Trinity essential—or even coherent?
The idea that there’s an enduring core theology everyone agrees on is simply false. Christianity has always been a family argument, not a settled system.
How you read the Bible has far less to do with the Bible and far more to do with you—your assumptions, fears, loyalties, and conditioning. Interpretation is shaped by things like:
• What you already believe about God
• Whether you demand literalism or allow poetry and metaphor
• Which verses you were taught to notice—and which you were taught to ignore
• Whether your theology needs everything to “line up” neatly
• How comfortable you are with contradiction and mystery
• Whether you’re more interested in being right or being honest
• How threatened you feel when your beliefs are challenged
Given all that, is anyone actually surprised that the Bible produces radically different conclusions?
And here’s where it gets dangerous: many people don’t approach the Bible as a conversation—they approach it like a test. Something to be “right about.” Something that validates them and condemns everyone else.
But let’s be clear: all interpretations are subjective. Everyone starts with presuppositions. Some people just pretend they don’t. Common ones sound like this:
• “The Bible was written to give us a single, coherent theology.”
• “The Bible is inerrant, infallible, and the final word on everything.”
• “The Bible is a divine instruction manual for daily life.”
Those ideas aren’t found ‘in’ the Bible. They’re brought ‘to’ it.
Jesus came out of a religious culture obsessed with sacred texts—the Torah, the commentaries, the rules. And what did he do? He didn’t double down on textual authority. He undermined it.
Jesus was a sage. A provocateur. A storyteller.
He didn’t lead with proof texts.
He didn’t write a book.
He didn’t commission one.
He told parables that destabilized certainty and exposed the religious addiction to control. And when he did quote Scripture, it was usually to turn it against the religious gatekeepers who worshiped it.
Jesus didn’t confront atheists. He confronted people who had turned the Bible into an idol.
Bibliolatry isn’t loving Scripture—it’s replacing God with a book.
The Bible itself isn’t a theology textbook. It’s a wild, untamed anthology—stories, poems, letters, myths, laws, visions—written by dozens of voices across centuries. It’s messy, contradictory, and brutally honest. And that’s precisely what makes it powerful.
It’s an epic. A human saga. A record of our longing, our violence, our hope, our fear, our attempts to name the divine—and our repeated failures.
And here’s the irony: people reject the Bible as absurd because they assume it was meant to be read like a modern history book.
No.
There is no sky Gandalf commanding genocide.
No divine hitman striking people dead for bad theology.
Those are interpretations, not necessities.
The real absurdity isn’t that Jonah gets swallowed by a fish. The absurdity is assuming the author wanted you to believe that literally happened. That’s like criticizing poetry for not being a spreadsheet.
Myth isn’t a lie. It’s how truth was told before PowerPoint.
But even with all that said, let’s be honest about something else: the Bible has been weaponized. It’s been used to shame, control, traumatize, and dehumanize. For many people, the damage runs too deep to reclaim it. And that’s okay.
No sacred text is mandatory.
There are other wisdom streams—Tao Te Ching, Buddhist sutras, the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita—voices that point beyond themselves rather than demanding allegiance.
Because the deepest truth isn’t trapped between leather covers.
It isn’t frozen in ink.
It doesn’t arrive secondhand from ancient men arguing about God.
The ultimate authority of your life is not the Bible.
It’s the quiet, unsettling, liberating voice of truth within you—the one religion taught you not to trust.
And maybe that’s the most subversive idea of all.
Jim Palmer
People love to say,People love to say, “My authority is the Bible.”
No, it isn’t.
Your authority is what your pastor, denomination, small group, favorite author, or spiritual tribe told you the Bible means. That’s not snark. That’s just honesty. The Bible doesn’t interpret itself. People do. Always have. Always will.
There has never been a single, unified interpretation of the Bible. Not now. Not ever. The fantasy of a pure, uncontested “Biblical Christianity” is just that—a fantasy. What one person calls “biblical truth,” another calls heresy. And history backs that up.
Christians have never agreed on the basics:
Was Jesus divine or just inspired?
Is hell literal, metaphorical, or nonexistent?
Is God a cosmic monarch or the ground of being itself?
Is original sin real?
Is the Trinity essential—or even coherent?
The idea that there’s an enduring core theology everyone agrees on is simply false. Christianity has always been a family argument, not a settled system.
How you read the Bible has far less to do with the Bible and far more to do with you—your assumptions, fears, loyalties, and conditioning. Interpretation is shaped by things like:
• What you already believe about God
• Whether you demand literalism or allow poetry and metaphor
• Which verses you were taught to notice—and which you were taught to ignore
• Whether your theology needs everything to “line up” neatly
• How comfortable you are with contradiction and mystery
• Whether you’re more interested in being right or being honest
• How threatened you feel when your beliefs are challenged
Given all that, is anyone actually surprised that the Bible produces radically different conclusions?
And here’s where it gets dangerous: many people don’t approach the Bible as a conversation—they approach it like a test. Something to be “right about.” Something that validates them and condemns everyone else.
But let’s be clear: all interpretations are subjective. Everyone starts with presuppositions. Some people just pretend they don’t. Common ones sound like this:
• “The Bible was written to give us a single, coherent theology.”
• “The Bible is inerrant, infallible, and the final word on everything.”
• “The Bible is a divine instruction manual for daily life.”
Those ideas aren’t found ‘in’ the Bible. They’re brought ‘to’ it.
Jesus came out of a religious culture obsessed with sacred texts—the Torah, the commentaries, the rules. And what did he do? He didn’t double down on textual authority. He undermined it.
Jesus was a sage. A provocateur. A storyteller.
He didn’t lead with proof texts.
He didn’t write a book.
He didn’t commission one.
He told parables that destabilized certainty and exposed the religious addiction to control. And when he did quote Scripture, it was usually to turn it against the religious gatekeepers who worshiped it.
Jesus didn’t confront atheists. He confronted people who had turned the Bible into an idol.
Bibliolatry isn’t loving Scripture—it’s replacing God with a book.
The Bible itself isn’t a theology textbook. It’s a wild, untamed anthology—stories, poems, letters, myths, laws, visions—written by dozens of voices across centuries. It’s messy, contradictory, and brutally honest. And that’s precisely what makes it powerful.
It’s an epic. A human saga. A record of our longing, our violence, our hope, our fear, our attempts to name the divine—and our repeated failures.
And here’s the irony: people reject the Bible as absurd because they assume it was meant to be read like a modern history book.
No.
There is no sky Gandalf commanding genocide.
No divine hitman striking people dead for bad theology.
Those are interpretations, not necessities.
The real absurdity isn’t that Jonah gets swallowed by a fish. The absurdity is assuming the author wanted you to believe that literally happened. That’s like criticizing poetry for not being a spreadsheet.
Myth isn’t a lie. It’s how truth was told before PowerPoint.
But even with all that said, let’s be honest about something else: the Bible has been weaponized. It’s been used to shame, control, traumatize, and dehumanize. For many people, the damage runs too deep to reclaim it. And that’s okay.
No sacred text is mandatory.
There are other wisdom streams—Tao Te Ching, Buddhist sutras, the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita—voices that point beyond themselves rather than demanding allegiance.
Because the deepest truth isn’t trapped between leather covers.
It isn’t frozen in ink.
It doesn’t arrive secondhand from ancient men arguing about God.
The ultimate authority of your life is not the Bible.
It’s the quiet, unsettling, liberating voice of truth within you—the one religion taught you not to trust.
And maybe that’s the most subversive idea of all.
Jim Palmer
No, it isn’t.
Your authority is what your pastor, denomination, small group, favorite author, or spiritual tribe told you the Bible means. That’s not snark. That’s just honesty. The Bible doesn’t interpret itself. People do. Always have. Always will.
There has never been a single, unified interpretation of the Bible. Not now. Not ever. The fantasy of a pure, uncontested “Biblical Christianity” is just that—a fantasy. What one person calls “biblical truth,” another calls heresy. And history backs that up.
Christians have never agreed on the basics:
Was Jesus divine or just inspired?
Is hell literal, metaphorical, or nonexistent?
Is God a cosmic monarch or the ground of being itself?
Is original sin real?
Is the Trinity essential—or even coherent?
The idea that there’s an enduring core theology everyone agrees on is simply false. Christianity has always been a family argument, not a settled system.
How you read the Bible has far less to do with the Bible and far more to do with you—your assumptions, fears, loyalties, and conditioning. Interpretation is shaped by things like:
• What you already believe about God
• Whether you demand literalism or allow poetry and metaphor
• Which verses you were taught to notice—and which you were taught to ignore
• Whether your theology needs everything to “line up” neatly
• How comfortable you are with contradiction and mystery
• Whether you’re more interested in being right or being honest
• How threatened you feel when your beliefs are challenged
Given all that, is anyone actually surprised that the Bible produces radically different conclusions?
And here’s where it gets dangerous: many people don’t approach the Bible as a conversation—they approach it like a test. Something to be “right about.” Something that validates them and condemns everyone else.
But let’s be clear: all interpretations are subjective. Everyone starts with presuppositions. Some people just pretend they don’t. Common ones sound like this:
• “The Bible was written to give us a single, coherent theology.”
• “The Bible is inerrant, infallible, and the final word on everything.”
• “The Bible is a divine instruction manual for daily life.”
Those ideas aren’t found ‘in’ the Bible. They’re brought ‘to’ it.
Jesus came out of a religious culture obsessed with sacred texts—the Torah, the commentaries, the rules. And what did he do? He didn’t double down on textual authority. He undermined it.
Jesus was a sage. A provocateur. A storyteller.
He didn’t lead with proof texts.
He didn’t write a book.
He didn’t commission one.
He told parables that destabilized certainty and exposed the religious addiction to control. And when he did quote Scripture, it was usually to turn it against the religious gatekeepers who worshiped it.
Jesus didn’t confront atheists. He confronted people who had turned the Bible into an idol.
Bibliolatry isn’t loving Scripture—it’s replacing God with a book.
The Bible itself isn’t a theology textbook. It’s a wild, untamed anthology—stories, poems, letters, myths, laws, visions—written by dozens of voices across centuries. It’s messy, contradictory, and brutally honest. And that’s precisely what makes it powerful.
It’s an epic. A human saga. A record of our longing, our violence, our hope, our fear, our attempts to name the divine—and our repeated failures.
And here’s the irony: people reject the Bible as absurd because they assume it was meant to be read like a modern history book.
No.
There is no sky Gandalf commanding genocide.
No divine hitman striking people dead for bad theology.
Those are interpretations, not necessities.
The real absurdity isn’t that Jonah gets swallowed by a fish. The absurdity is assuming the author wanted you to believe that literally happened. That’s like criticizing poetry for not being a spreadsheet.
Myth isn’t a lie. It’s how truth was told before PowerPoint.
But even with all that said, let’s be honest about something else: the Bible has been weaponized. It’s been used to shame, control, traumatize, and dehumanize. For many people, the damage runs too deep to reclaim it. And that’s okay.
No sacred text is mandatory.
There are other wisdom streams—Tao Te Ching, Buddhist sutras, the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita—voices that point beyond themselves rather than demanding allegiance.
Because the deepest truth isn’t trapped between leather covers.
It isn’t frozen in ink.
It doesn’t arrive secondhand from ancient men arguing about God.
The ultimate authority of your life is not the Bible.
It’s the quiet, unsettling, liberating voice of truth within you—the one religion taught you not to trust.
And maybe that’s the most subversive idea of all.
Jim Palmer
