“Literally”. I know someone who uses that word. Constantly. It seems that almost every sentence is interspersed with the word. Literally! It’s as if she thinks that the person listening didn’t believe what she’s saying. For example, she might be telling about going on a walk and say “I saw the most beautiful rose bush and I stopped to smell it. It was literally the most fragrant I’ve ever smelled.” It’s annoying. Almost as annoying as those who constantly insert the word “right?” into their conversations. So what’s my point? An over-emphasis on something being “literally true”, as if that gives it more credibility or value, is not necessary and in fact detrimental.

This is true not only in casual conversation, but in the interpretation of the Bible. A “literal” interpretation of the Scriptures was popularized in the Protestant Reformation of the 15th Century. Calvin and Luther were the champions of it, though curiously both took great personal liberty, interpreting passages figuratively when it suited them. Stick with me here. During my seminary training I had been indoctrinated into this literal interpretation of Scripture. There was a Latin term that I still remember: “Sensus literalis unus est”, which means “There is one literal meaning.” This was applied to all of the Bible. Here are some examples:

God created the world in six 24 hour days. Literally.
Moses crossed the Red Sea on dry ground. Literally.
The Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years. Literally.
Jonah was swallowed by a great fish. Literally.
Jesus descended into hell after his death and appeared to the demons. Literally.

This flag of literal interpretation was planted into “tierra firma” (I’m feeling the Latin. LOL) and was defended vehemently. There were some pretty lively arguments that ensued, usually with other Christians, who ALSO understood the bible literally—but differently. For example, those from a more Calvinistic background didn’t take the body and blood in communion literally—too catholic they believed—but they did take the thousand year reign of Christ on the earth, which is set forth in Revelation, an epistle intended to be understood figuratively in my opinion—literally.

Again, stick with me because this is the point: This stringently legalistic literalistic interpretation of the scriptures is relatively new. The common way of making sense of the seemingly “senseless” parts of the bible, as well as other parts, was to employ a “figurative” interpretation. This dated back to the beginning of Christianity, literally. One of the greatest of the early theologians, a guy named Origen, utilized the “allegorical” method, which allowed the listener to look for the “greater meaning” hidden in God’s Word. He took his cue from many of the Jewish teachers who were his contemporaries, as well as those who preceded him. And here’s what’s even more curious, Evangelical Christians who defend this doctrine of a literal interpretation frequently employ a very non-literal application, usually when it comes to their own lives. They read the bible and ask the question, “What does this mean, TO ME, TODAY?” In fact, I’m betting that’s what YOU do! It’s certainly how I have interpreted the Scriptures, even when I claimed to be taking them literally.

When I’m out hiking in the gorgeous mountains of Colorado, I’m not thinking of the implications of a literal six day creation. Instead I’m contemplating how insignificant I am in comparison to all of this (“What is man/woman that Thou art mindful of us?” Psalm 8), and how humbled I am that God cares about me, that I’m “fearfully and wonderfully made” Psalm 139, and that my days as well as the hairs of my head—at least the ones that are left—are all numbered!

On those days when I don’t really want to get out of bed, when I’m overwhelmed with life, I might think of people like Jonah, or Daniel or Joseph in the pit or the prison. But if I do I don’t focus on how Jonah could’ve ever survived, or Daniel not been burnt up, or whether or not Joseph really did have the gift of seemingly unwavering faith and unquestionable ability to interpret dreams—instead I consider all the shit that them, and others like them, have had to endure in their lives and how they evidently trusted God to see them through it, and I conclude that God promises to do the same for me.
And when death is staring me in the face, when I’m reminded of my own mortality, it’s not the literal death of Jesus or His descent into hell that gives me hope, but rather the glorious resurrection. The Promise of New Life! Literally. In a figurative kind of way! Because the truth is my mini mental abilities are incapable of comprehending what that eternal life is going to be like. I can only imagine. Ugh, I hate it when song lyrics pop into my head!

Anyway, I’ve gone on far too long. But I hope I’ve made my point. God’s Word is a gift. Sometimes literally for the stories they tell. More often for the figurative lessons that are learned from them as we meditate upon them. That inspiration can and does make all the difference in our lives as well as the lives of others. Literally!