The Risk of Playing It Safe: Why the Bible We Don’t Preach Matters

April 8, 2026

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I’ve long noticed that the Bible that gets preached from the Sunday pulpit can be, well, a bit picky. Some bits are kept in and preached. Others are studiously ignored. The result? Different churches can give quite a different sense of what the Bible's message is than if you actually read it through cover to cover.


Now I don't mean to accuse any one wing of the church: whether your tradition uses the lectionary (usually a three-year cycle of curated readings) or jumps around the canon to whichever biblical book or theme is of interest, certain parts of the Scriptures are often ignored. Some passages are cut off halfway through; others are omitted entirely.


I remember preaching on Independence Day in the US (the irony of doing so as a Brit was not lost on me). The reading for the day began in Deuteronomy 10:17:


“For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe, who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the stranger, providing them food and clothing…”


Sounds lovely, right?


Well, yes—but Deuteronomy 10:17 starts in the middle of a paragraph. In the middle of divine instruction that God gives through Moses. We can see this in how it begins: for the LORD your God... It could also be translated because the LORD your God… This passage is the explanation for something.


It is a why to a biblical command, not a standalone theological statement.


So what’s the actual command? What’s the main message God wants the people to hear? The verse before (v.16) says this: “Circumcise, then, the foreskin of your heart, and do not be stubborn any longer.”


The purpose of this speech? To call God’s people to repentance. To change.


The ‘heart’ in biblical texts usually refers to one’s innermost self. The seat of who you are in the deepest places of your will and desire. God has said he wants their obedience (v.12), he has reminded them of his extraordinary generosity in choosing them as his people (vv.13–15), but here God lands a punch:


The centremost part of who you are, God says, needs to be clipped.


Reading vv.17–22 feels quite different in light of the whole text. It’s not a statement of a good God whom we should simply ‘fear’ and ‘hold fast to’ (v.20). It’s far more rooted and real than that. In reading through all ten verses, we get a sense of a people who have become too big for their boots. Who have forgotten that it’s not because they have anything to offer that God chose them, but rather because of the graciousness of God. And we get a clear call from God that such people need to, in essence, sort themselves out. Be humbled. Circumcise their hearts.


I don’t believe the Sunday lectionary was formed with a conspiratorial agenda to omit the hard stuff (the whole thing would largely be read through in the daily lectionary for the Daily Office). But I do believe it’s spiritually dangerous for us to ignore the material that is left on the cutting room floor in our preaching.


The people of God are called to grow into the fullness of the gospel—to become mature Christians. If we only ever swim in the protected waters of the lectionary, we will not be confronted by the reality of a God who regularly and reliably calls his people to humble themselves, care for those in need, and live lives of sacrificial love. Who makes space within their communities for the vulnerable. Who looks out for the marginalised among us. Who deals with the darkest and ugliest of human evil. Who redeems out of family lines and dynasties most of us would give up on.


In recent years, there has been increasing focus on the importance of the gut–brain connection. How what you eat shapes who you are, and how you function mentally, emotionally, and physically. What we fuel ourselves with matters.


The same is true spiritually. The Bible is the spiritual equivalent of a Whole30. Or a wholemeal, organic, seed-infused sourdough loaf. It’s nutritious and gritty. It requires some chewing. It’s not always easy to digest. But it provides the minerals and nutrients we need.


It may take some adjustment, but it may also be just what the doctor ordered. Not for our physical sicknesses, but rather our more pernicious spiritual malaise.


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By Suse McBay August 4, 2026
A friend asked me for my thoughts on forgiveness. Here's some of what I have come to learn.
By Suse McBay July 28, 2026
Let me start by asking a question: if someone came up to you and asked what's the benefit or blessing of being a Christian, what would you include in your answer? There's the things we might know to say from Sunday School: Jesus loves me, died for me, so I can be forgiven and free. Or something like that. Would it naturally come to your lips to say this: The gift of my faith is that no matter how hard life gets, no matter the sorrow or suffering that comes my way, I am reassured and strengthened by the confidence that God does not ignore the unjust lives or deaths of those who stick close to Him? *** This summer I’m taking some time to look at Daniel 11-12 and Book 4 of the Jewish poetic writings I research, the Sibylline Oracles . This post is an observation and an out-loud thought from some of my reading. Again and again, both in Daniel, the Sibyllines, an array of other Jewish literature, and the gospels (as well as elsewhere in the NT—e.g. Mark 8:38-9:1, 10:29-31, John 11:25, 1 Cor 15:16-19, 2 Corinthians 4), resurrection and the post-mortem life appears as an encouragement and response to the problem of human suffering. Not a rationale or justification. It’s not an answer to the question of ‘why does God allow suffering’ in any overt sense. But an end to the story of God’s peoples that shapes how the present might be lived. When I was very young, I thought resurrection was more-or-less a get of jail free card for the crucifixion. Jesus died on a cross to deal with sin and death. But if he isn't raised it's all pointless: so God has to raise him. Resurrection as an after thought, if you will. But resurrection isn't an epilogue. It's the victory. Without it the whole story is pointless. It's a real, substantial, material hope. *** Life is hard work. Life does not always go our way. Even when it does, that way isn't usually what we really wanted anyway! There's the normal hard stuff of life: work, family, friendships, health and so on. Then there's the hard stuff of following God. We are given so much goodness in the gospel: a relationship with God for starters! But also forgiveness, healing, reconciled relationships, a change and liberation of priorities, freedom and new life. All such wonderful and good things. Yet they are all a foretaste. Reconciliation doesn't always happen. We might have an interior freedom but experience hardship after hardship externally. I've been reading the diaries of Etty Hillesum who expereinced just that. She was a young Jewish woman in the 1940s. She experienced such a bliss and joy because of her faith and spirituality that found contentment even in life in a concentration camp. Yet her life ended at the tender age of 29. So much life left to live, so much potential unrealised. *** Resurrection is a reminder and encouragement that our real hope and the true fulfilment of the gospel isn't in the here and now (it begins now, but as a foretaste of what's to come). We aren't to expect ' everything will go my way ' in this life or that I should experience the perennial blessing of God in my earthly life and relationships. Following God will not be easy. The things He calls us to do may not succeed. The people we love may not love us back. The person we pray for may never come to faith. The change we want to see manifest in the world around us may not happen in this life. But resurrection says this: God has not forgotten. God sees it all. God will set right. Unjust deaths will be dealt with. Unfair hardship will be set straight. This life is not all there is. There is so much more to come, that all of this--even the heart-breaking stuff—will pale in significance in comparison. Yes, that doesn't stop it hurting in the present moment. It doesn't stop grief or stem the tide of darkness today. But it allows us to let go. Surrender. Trust. None of this has to be fixed now. We do what we can. But the outcome of it all is not one realised in this life, but the next. So take courage. There is more to come. ******

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