There are two ways to read the Bible. The first way to read it is as a series of stories, books, statements, and teachings that are fragmented and disjointed, that, though they have little relationship to one another, have been compiled into an errant and fallible collection. The other way is to read it as a consistent, connected, and consecutive work that tells one cohesive story. When we read it this way, we see that Genesis is as connected to Revelation as it is to Exodus, that the ending perfectly complements and completes the beginning. When we accept it like this, we understand it as it truly is.
I’d love for you to read this lovely piece of writing by Theodore Cuyler who explains how we ought to read God’s Word—how we ought to read the story of how God is at work in this world to save his people and bring glory to his name. Read it and be blessed!

Some people regard the Word of God as a mere miscellaneous collection of disjointed fragments. They could not make a greater mistake. The Bible is as thoroughly connected and consecutive a work as Bunyan’s “Pilgrim,” or Bancroft’s History. The whole composition hangs together like a fleece of wool.
It begins with the creation of the world; it ends with the winding-up of all earthly things and the opening scenes of the endless hereafter. The Old Testament is the majestic vestibule through which we enter the matchless Parthenon of the New. It is mainly the history of God’s covenant people. Through all this history of nearly forty centuries are interspersed the sublime conversations of Job, the pithy proverbs of Solomon, and the predictions of the Prophets. We hear, at their proper intervals, the timbrel of Miriam, the harp of the Psalmist, the plaintive viol of Jeremiah, and the sonorous trumpets of Isaiah and Habakkuk.
Through all the Old Testament there flows one warm and mighty current—like the warm river of the Gulfstream through the Atlantic—setting towards Jesus Christ. In Genesis he appears as the seed of the woman that should bruise the serpent’s head; the smoke of Abel’s altar points towards him; the blood that stains the Jewish lintels on the night of the Exodus is but a type of the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world; Moses and the prophets testify of Jesus. Just as the rich musical blast of an Alpine horn on the Wengern is echoed back from the peaks of the Jungfrau, so every verse of the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah is echoed in the New Testament of Immanuel.
After a silence of four hundred years, the New Testament begins—and with the genealogy of the incarnate Savior. The first four books are occupied with the earthly life and sacrificial death and resurrection and ascension of the same Personage. The four independent narratives of the evangelists—like the four walls of a church edifice—contain and enclose the complete narrative of Christ’s life. Each one has its place and its purpose. Matthew wrote for the Jews, and in his gospel Christ is represented as a king; the book describes his kingdom and its laws. Mark describes his wondrous deeds as the man of action—the Christ as a servant doing his Father’s will. Luke wrote for the Gentiles, and of Jesus as the Son of Man. John occupies his rich aromatic pages with the wonderful words of the Son of God. He defines his special object at the close of his twentieth chapter: “These are written that ye may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing ye might have life through his name.”
The biographies of Jesus are completed, but not his life upon earth. The next book carries it forward. He still lives by his Spirit in the chosen Apostles. The Book of the Acts written by Luke, commences with these words—“The former treatise have I made, O Theophilus, of all that Jesus began to do and to teach.” This second treatise simply continues to narrate what Christ does and teaches through his Apostles and representatives. It is devoted to the founding of Christian churches in certain great centers of influence, like Jerusalem, Antioch, Ephesus, Corinth and Rome. The churches thus founded must next be instructed in the commandments of their Lord and be indoctrinated in the practical principles of holy living. Hence arises a necessity for the Epistles. Each has its province. The epistle to the Romans is the grand argument for justification by faith. That to the Galatians treats of deliverance from the bondage of the law. The letter to the Philippians is redolent of gratitude and of joy in hours of trouble. Its motto is “gaudeo; gaudete!” The epistle to the Ephesians is the setting forth of the “heavenlies;” that to Philemon is the charter of human rights and the seed of emancipation-proclamations; the epistles to the Corinthians are manuals for personal conduct and the government of churches. When Paul wrote to Timothy and to Titus, he furnished manuals for Christian pastors. John’s epistles are all love letters—the effusive sweetness of the heart’s honeycomb. When Apollos penned the Epistle to the Hebrews (as I am inclined to believe that he did) he set forth the priestly office of Jesus and the blessings of personal faith. Peter utters the practical precepts and warnings that are needed not only by the dispersed disciples, but by all disciples to the end of time.
When the life, the death, and the mighty works and divine instruction of Christ (by his Apostles) have been completed, there bursts upon us the magnificent panorama of the Apocalypse. This is the book of sublime mysteries. But through all the apparent confusions of thrones and of armies, of thunders and lightnings, of trumpets and viols and winged angels, we can distinctly trace the progress of the final conflict between King Jesus and the powers of darkness. The long battle terminates in the overthrow of Satan, and the glorious victory of him who wears on his head the many crowns. Then comes the final resurrection of the dead, the general Judgment, the revelation of the New Jerusalem, prepared for the endless habitation of the redeemed. The Apocalypse closes with its seven-fold chorus of hallelujahs and harping symphonies.
Such is the wondrous volume which God has given to man, and which outweighs all the libraries on the globe. It contains many writings, yet is it but one book. It has many writers, yet it is all from one Author, the Almighty Spirit of God. The pure, white, spotless fleece hath throughout its connecting fibers; the fabric is divine in its origin, its unity, and its imperishable power and glory.

In the past couple of years I have learned more about cemeteries than I would ever have cared to know. I have learned about purchasing plots and commissioning monuments. I have learned about proper etiquette and how different cultures relate to their dearly departed in very different ways. I have learned that a grave offers a place to go to grieve and, as importantly, a place to leave grief behind for a time.

One thing we learned quickly is that while a cemetery will take great care in burying a loved one, raising a monument, and sodding over the stark, bare earth, they will take very little care in watering that grass or ensuring that it grows and thrives. Once the grave is closed and the grass replaced, they will offer only the barest maintenance. That’s true, at least, of the cemetery we chose for our son.
We cannot tolerate the thought of Nick’s grave being covered in dry, brown grass. We cannot tolerate the thought of it becoming overgrown with weeds. We cannot tolerate the thought of it looking overlooked and abandoned. And so we tend to it with great care. We visit it regularly. We water it diligently. We maintain a tiny garden that sits up against the gravestone, adapting it to the seasons.
I might have been tempted to believe that grass would grow best if was only ever sunny and that flowers would thrive best under the constant glare of the sun. I might have been tempted to believe that days of gloom and cloud would slow progress and inhibit growth. But I have come to observe that this is not the case, for clouds bring rain and rain brings life. Meanwhile, unbroken sun quickly dries the ground and leaves it parched. We have come to look forward to dark skies and brooding clouds, for we know the grass will soon be greener, the flowers brighter and straighter, all of it more colorful and more beautiful.
You and I are not too different from grass and flowers, for as God sees fit to have them grow through sun and rain, he sees fit to have us grow through joy and grief. As it is his will that they display their beauty through good weather and bad, it is his will that we display our beauty through easy times and difficult. The beauty he wishes for us to display is the beauty of character that is heavenly rather than worldly, that is divine rather than so naturally human.
Such character does not come easily to us, for we enter the Christian life with long-established patterns of sinfulness and selfishness, of caring much for ourselves and little for others. For our lives to display godly beauty, we must be changed, we must be transformed. And this kind of transformation needs more than ease, more than merely good times.
For this reason God leads us into times of grief and sorrow, times of sickness and loss, times of pain and persecution. He knows that for us to truly thrive in this world and for us to truly be fit for what lies beyond it, we need both sun and rain, both joy and sorrow. In the bright sun of the best of times we may grow in love and joy and peace and patience, for these virtues tend to be the ones that spring up first and bloom fastest. But it is often only in the dark gloom of the worst of times that we grow in kindness and gentleness and self-control, for virtues like these tend to grow slowly and only under specific conditions. If we are to be the Christians God wishes us to be, we must have sun and rain, clear days and cloudy.
And so, as we approach times of sorrow and suffering, when they sweep over us with all their pain and all their tears, all their agony and all their uncertainty, we never need fear that God has forgotten us or forsaken us. We never need fear that we will emerge worse than we entered in. For God has ordained that these times are necessary for our growth, necessary for us to take on the beauty of godly character. God has ordained that we will be like flowers—flowers that spring up in the rain.

May the Lord be with you and bless you today.

Westminster Books is offering a deep discount on a book I reviewed last week.
Queer Nation Is No Nation At All
Carl Trueman: “Flags typically serve as rallying points for unity. They point to something a culture considers sacred. The Stars and Stripes was, for many generations, precisely such a rallying point in America. The fact that flag burning, while protected by the Constitution, was deemed by both its opponents and proponents to be remarkably serious, speaks to this: One cannot desecrate that which is not considered sacred.”
Pastor, Don’t Give Them an Unrealistic Christianity
This is a call for realism. “Applying a sermon on Monday morning is difficult. Living in light of what you read at 7:00 a.m. can be difficult by 8:00 a.m. The joy of fellowship can give way to the frustration of isolation when you hang up the phone or part ways in the coffee shop parking lot.”
Truth on Fire (Free ebook!)
The Good Book Company is giving away a free ebook of Truth on Fire by Adam Ramsey. In the book, Adam encourages readers to know God truly and experience him deeply. (Sponsored Link)
Why Should Pastors Avoid Online Quarrels?
“I like to post pictures of my kids and family, delicious food I enjoy with my wife, a few quotes from Christian books I’m reading, and an occasional funny Christian meme on social media. But I rarely engage in online debates.” Here’s why one pastor uses social media for some things, but not for quarrels.
Hand-Crafted
“We do crave connection and care. We will always be partial to humans over machines because we are humans, and humans are not machines. We are made for more than cold perfection—we are made for connection. We are made to relate.”
On Penguins and Christian Unity 
Here’s how penguins model the way Christians ought to be.
What Is the Goal of Parenting?
“What is the goal of parenting? The answer to this question is going to define how you approach the task. Your daily decisions will largely be determined by what you identify as the answer.” Indeed…
Flashback: Blessed Are the Weak!
It is embedded deep within our depraved nature to regard weakness as misfortune, feebleness as failure, lack of physical strength as lack of divine favor. But nothing could be further from the truth, for weakness draws the eye of God, the heart of God, the strength of God.

None can build a beautiful, shining character upon covered sins. Joy is part of a complete Christian life, and no one can be joyous with sins concealed in his heart. —J.R. Miller