The theologians discussed hermeneutics. They found no conclusions.
One man insisted every word was literal; everything written was profound truth. The next man countered that the Bible held too many contradictions; we pick one and stick with it. A third man rolled his eyes and blurted out, “We all interpret what we read; each person comes at it differently.”
An old missionary agreed but mentioned that cultures understand the words differently. Translation hampers our understanding; words have multiple meanings. A historian added that we might not understand what the ancient writer believed. The last scholar shook his finger and chastised them for over-thinking everything; just follow tradition.
Other people sat around listening. They finally figured out the big word “hermeneutics” simply meant “how to understand and apply biblical scripture.” They realized these arguments repeatedly ripped the church apart throughout its history. Often groups turned to hatred, rejecting the conviction of opposing groups. Occasionally, they stopped debating and “agreed to disagree.”
It all felt hopeless. The truth in what to believe seemed so distant. The people wished for something simple.
A boy stood up. To get anyone’s attention, he whistled loudly, and the room focused glares onto him.
“Sirs,” he said. “Where is the love of God?” Eyebrows shot up across the room. “My teacher said we should always do what Jesus said, ‘love God’ and ‘love each other.’ All of God’s laws connect to these two. Shouldn’t everything we believe show the love, mercy, and forgiveness of God? If it doesn’t, why do we make it a law?”
The older men bowed their heads, convicted just like the men who wanted to stone the adulteress.
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