Author Interview: "Better Ways to Read the Bible"
Author and pastor Zach Lambert shares how the Bible can be transformed from a weapon that condemns, oppresses, and excludes into a tool that liberates.
I first became aware of Zach on social media where I saw clips of his preaching and his posts that consistently advocated for the marginalized while simultaneously speaking truth to power. His book does all this and more. I really appreciate his ability to clearly and patiently show how everyone (Christian or not) reads the Bible through various lenses—no one comes to the text and interprets it without bias.
The implication, then, is that it is up to us to learn about those various lenses and through community find healthier lenses through which we can read and interpret the text. I think this book would be helpful to anyone in this current political and social climate as it equips us to see how some folks read the Bible to protect their power and privilege. I sent Zach some questions about the book and wanted to share his responses.
In the introduction you share about how everyone who reads the Bible does so through a set of assumptions, or a set of lenses, as they attempt to make meaning out of it. I love this point because it shows everyone, all sorts of Christians, carry with them elements of our culture and this influences how we interpret and interact with scripture (very sociological!). What are some of the experiences you’ve had that led you to recognize those lenses, both the helpful and the harmful?
I really started to recognize my own lenses when I got to seminary. I took forty different classes in my 120-hour Master of Theology program and in those forty classes, 97 percent of the books assigned were written by straight, white men. That’s a grand total of six books out of about two hundred that were written by women or people of color, and none by LGBTQ+ folks.
I remember vividly one day when one of my professors introduced a book by Cuban American church historian Justo González by telling us to keep in mind that it was written by a Latino theologian and so probably was biased. Of course, we never heard that the books from men of European descent might also contain biases. Maybe because thirty-nine of my forty seminary classes were taught by white men.
Regardless of our racial or cultural heritage, we all have biases—lenses through which we interpret the Bible. That’s not the problem. The problem is pretending that one group of people doesn’t bring any biases to their Scripture reading while everyone else does.
For most of my life, I rarely thought about being white or male or heterosexual or cisgender or able-bodied or American or middle class. I was conditioned to believe that all those characteristics were normal and anything else was abnormal. Because of this, I also believed I didn’t have any lenses when I interpreted the Bible. In fact, I didn’t think I was interpreting it at all; I thought I was just learning and teaching the plain meaning of Scripture.
But the truth is that the folks most capable of understanding the “plain meaning of Scripture” by just reading or hearing it are ancient Israelites or first-century Near Easterners living under Roman occupation—and even they debated the correct interpretations.
So, you and others launched your Austin, TX church—Restore Austin—in 2015. This was also the year that our national political context and discourse changed dramatically with Trump coming on the scene and revealing much about White American Christianity. Do you have any examples where you, as a religious leader, recognized or experienced Christian nationalism and it’s fruit?
We see the damaging fallout of Christian nationalism firsthand for more than a decade through our ministry here in Austin. The overwhelming support of Donald Trump by White American Christians has had devastating consequences. Most of us who grew up in church were taught that Christians value ethics and morals, but then we watched many Christian leaders give full-throated support a political leader who openly mocks disabled folks, brags about sexual assault, calls migrants “animals,” lies constantly, and was found liable of rape, among other things.
Donald Trump has turned injustice into an art form to great applause from the vast majority of White American Christians. This is inextricably connected to the greatest mass exodus from church in American history—a phenomenon sociologists have called The Great De-Churching. One example that hits very close to home is my cousin. Not only has he walked away from church because of Christian nationalism, his parents’ blind loyalty to Donald Trump has caused a massive rift in their family. This is the toxic fruit of Christian nationalism.
One of the things I appreciate about your book is how in each chapter—the 4 on the harmful lenses and then the 4 on the healing lenses—you not only describe each lens but then show us a (wait for it) better way to read the Bible as it pertains to some of the topics that tend to generate arguments over the certain passages in the American church. Things like creation/evolution, the end times, gender, and sexuality. Chapter 9 on The Flourishing Lens was really wonderful, and I think, so applicable to confronting Christian nationalism. But I’d like to ask you to model some of what you do in the book on an argument we see and hear right now concerning the biblical command to “love your neighbor.” How do we know “neighbor” doesn’t just mean “folks like me?” Does this command lead to “toxic empathy”? How do we know “love your neighbor” is a broader than just “fellow citizens”?
We know it because Jesus tells us! When we go back to where the biblical command to love your neighbor comes from, we see that the question posed to Jesus “but who is my neighbor” is not a good faith inquiry. The “expert in the law” who asks this question of Jesus was explicitly doing so to “justify himself” (Luke 10:29). In other words, he is trying to get out of the God-given responsibility to love those who are different from him.
That’s when Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan, which would have been shocking to his listeners because the hero was not “one of us” but “one of them”—a religious and ethnic outsider. The Flourishing Lens helps us interpret this text as Jesus intended. It helps us practice love of neighbor in ways that contribute to the well-being, dignity, and wholeness of others, no matter their group identity. Jesus shatters tribal boundaries in the Good Samaritan story by centering an enemy as the model of neighbor-love and showing that need, not similarity, defines who qualifies.
Also, I think “toxic empathy” is a faulty phrase. The author of Hebrews describes Jesus like this: "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses." (Hebrews 4:15). Empathy isn’t toxic; apathy to someone else’s suffering is.
Another aspect of the book I appreciate is hearing your story. All of us are on journeys and it is always so helpful to discover the twists and turns in the path of fellow travelers. As you reflect on that journey and how it led to Better Ways to Read the Bible, what aspect do you think stands out now that might give hope to someone perhaps starting out on a similar journey?
Looking back, I think what stands out most is how much of the journey didn’t make sense while I was in the middle of it. There were seasons when I felt disoriented. There were times when it felt like I’d lost the map and wasn’t sure if I was even heading in the right direction. But over time, I began to see that God’s presence wasn’t tied to my certainty.1 Even in moments when I was questioning everything I thought I knew, God was patiently walking with me.
If someone is starting out on a similar path, I’d want them to know that feeling unsettled or unsure doesn’t mean you’ve lost your faith. Actually, it often means your faith is growing. And that is healthy! The questions you’re wrestling with today might be the very ones that open you up to a freer, more life-giving way of reading Scripture tomorrow. The doubts you’re struggling through right now might be the path toward a deeper faith in the future. And you don’t have to figure it all out at once; you just have to keep taking the next faithful step. You aren’t alone on this journey.
Ok, one final question. How are you practicing hope these days?
Honestly, Better Ways to Read the Bible officially being released this week has brought me so much hope because I’ve been hearing stories of how the stories and concepts in it are already helping people. Every time someone shares that it’s given them a new way to approach Scripture, or that it’s helping them heal from a harmful interpretation, I’m reminded why I wrote it in the first place. It’s easy to get discouraged by how entrenched some unhealthy readings of the Bible can be, but these glimpses of transformation remind me that change really is possible.
As I write in the book:
“Transformation can happen. I’ve seen it and experienced it firsthand too many times for me to doubt it now. I know it might feel like your love of Scripture is dead or your faith is lifeless, but Jesus is in the business of resurrection. You can be transformed. The people you love can be transformed.
Your parent who has bought into the lie of religious hierarchy and spends their time supporting a version of Christianity consumed with power and domination can embrace the way of Jesus. Your child who has been wounded by moralistic doctrine can heal from the damage of legalism. Your partner who has walked away from faith because they find literalistic interpretations of the creation story preposterous can find a faith that works with science instead of against it. Your friend who has fallen into conspiracy theories based on Left Behind theology can be set free.
There are better ways to read the Bible than what many of us have been taught—ways that lead to liberation and fullness of life for absolutely everyone.”
Phew. That’s good.
Really honored by your words, man. Thank you for the conversation and for all the great work you do. Glad to be in this together!