We aren’t very good at handling poetry in the church; most of the good stuff goes way over our heads.

We look at Song of Solomon and try to squeeze it into a Bible study about a good marriage. If King Solomon put on a Marriage Retreat weekend, it would be the laughed out of town. Who is he to teach us about marriage? But if he published a poem between he and his lover, we would be all ears and would walk away learning a thing or two.

Or what about the Psalms – a horrendous place to create our theology, especially the kind we like – crisp, clean, simple. Good luck with that. Kill my enemies, don’t let me be put to shame, great are you. I’d hate to see what kind of theology develops when someone tries to take the average of my best and worst prayers. If the Psalmist wrote some systematic theology, it might be the worst book ever.

The writers were sharing an experience they thought others might benefit from by hearing; they weren’t there to teach with a three point outline and an application at the end.

We miss the point all the time in poetry. Poetry is meant to help you experience something, not teach you something.

Take Job. All in all, it does a terrible job of teaching someone about the meaning of suffering and the problem of evil. Especially if we try to approach it like a historical guide.

Was Job really a person? Where does this book fall chronologically? Where did Job live? Does Satan really go in front of God all the time? Does God really ask him, “Whadda been up to?”

All of that misses the point. There’s an experience we are meant to share in and we lose it when we ask these questions too much. Continue reading