It was my second year of seminary when I had the distinct honor of taking New Testament 1 with Frances Taylor Gench. This was not my first class with Dr. Gench (affectionately known by many as FTG), but I awoke on the first day of class with a thrill, ready to conquer (or, perhaps more accurately, be conquered by) her course syllabus. Though I’ve had many years of higher education, the first day of New Testament 1 stands out in my mind. It was the first time anyone had ever told me that before becoming a pastor, I ought to have read the entire Bible. And so, a requirement for the class was to read the entirety of the Gospels plus Acts.
At the time, I remember thinking that was a monumental task. And so, that semester, I struggled through those five books of the Bible over three months, begrudgingly fulfilling part of my charge as a pastor-to-be to have read the whole Bible.
I look back on that day with a bit of embarrassment and a lot of gratitude. Three years after my ordination, I am a pastor who has “read” the “entire” Bible, mostly in my studious preparations for the PC(USA) Bible Content Exam (a requirement for ordination). But FTG’s declaration that no one should preach the Scriptures without having read them all first has remained in the back of my mind, nagging me ever so gently, reminding me of my duty. I even purchased The Year of the Bible: A Guide to Reading Scripture by James E. Davison last fall, toying with the notion of leading such a study with my congregation.
But if one should not preach without having read the Scriptures, surely one ought not to lead a year-long Bible study without having read them recently and closely, right?
And so, with the encouragement of a colleague and a desperate desire to get something out of year two of this pandemic, I decided on January 1 that this would be the year I read the Bible cover to cover. With Davison’s book in hand, I queued up the Bible app on my phone and found an unused journal on my bookshelf. I tapped around to open Genesis 1, and my year-long adventure began.
I anticipated missing some days, and, already in the first month of this journey, I have. But what I did not anticipate was waking up each morning looking forward to what the Bible had in store for me. This daily reading has become part of my morning routine, right alongside brushing my teeth and Wordle. I crack open that journal with coffee in hand, taking short (and not exactly profound) notes as I go to make sure I’m reading the text closely. I’ve already noticed things in Scripture I’ve never seen before — or, at least, that I don’t remember. I’m noticing themes across books (and beyond) that are much harder to see when reading discrete passages to prepare a worship service or Bible study. I’m wondering about what’s to come, knowing many of the stories ahead of me and anticipating new connections there too.
Four weeks in, I’ve read the entirety of Genesis, most of Matthew, and a few psalms. And that feels like an accomplishment. Perhaps the Bible and I are in a honeymoon phase together, but I feel certain that She will bless me through the journey.
Of course, it’s still only January, the Bible is long, and not all of it is riveting (I’m looking at you, 1 Chronicles). I shouldn’t get too excited about having kept up with this daily reading for 4/52 weeks. I know I’m a person who tends to set personal goals and fails to meet them, my motivation withering away as the days drag on. (Not unrelated: I am also a person who beats herself up about being unable to maintain spiritual practices, knowing it does not make me a better pastor.) This still may happen in my year with the Bible. And yet I hold gratitude for the way this practice has blessed me already. It’s what’s giving me life in these cold, short, hard days of winter. It’s what’s sustaining my ministry in a time where we have to plan and re-plan around covid with an intensity I’ve not experienced since spring 2020. When very little else is, this spiritual practice is bringing me joy.
Thanks be to God for the gift of Scripture; for seminary professors who encourage faithful wrestling with holy texts; and for quiet mornings with my Bible app, journal, and a cup of coffee.
