Many of us in this community start the year by diving, ever so faithfully, into the book of Genesis, declaring with fresh spirits and renewed confidence that this will be the year we complete the Bible in a Year plan.
Some of us are on track.
Some are just a day or two behind.
Some got a flat tire in the middle of the creation story.
If you’re like me, then you’d rather burn yourself out entirely before you ever give up on a goal. So you read fast. And you catch up. And, if you’re not careful, you may end up tricking yourself into believing that the end goal, and the achievement that comes with it, is more important than intimacy with the God of the Bible. I know I’ve been there before.
I had an enlightening moment with Lane when we were first dating. I was about 8 or 9 days behind in my reading plan, so I was ripping through Exodus to catch up with the group.
He noticed my frantic pace, and he stopped me one day.
“You’re going to miss the marrow if you keep reading it that way,” he said to me so nonchalantly one day, as if we all find ways to use the word “marrow” in everyday conversations.
Translation: You’re going to miss the most important part. The chance to experience His presence. To know His character. To spot His kindness. This stuff truly is the marrow.
If this is you, white-knuckling your way through a reading plan, I’m afraid this year is far too fresh to already be discouraged by our own performance. A lot of times, the Bible in a Year plan feels alluring because it’s audacious and will require a lot of consistency from you.
The vision of us being super consistent works for one or two days—maybe a week at most—but if our discipline muscles are not fully trained yet, the Bible in a Year plan will feel like a quick failure, a blow to our spirits. Once we’re off by a few days, fully shaming ourselves for not keeping up, we give up. We wallow. Sometimes we stop opening the Bible altogether.
If you’re not consistently reading multiple chapters of Scripture each day, then jumping into a Bible in a Year plan is like walking into the gym and trying to deadlift 200 pounds without ever having picked up a pair of dumbbells.
You’re not a failure if you can’t keep up with the reading plan. You might just need something different.
So if you want a slower plan—one that conjures the same feelings as slow-cooked soups with fresh bread, simmer pots, and backroads with the windows down at night—this is for you.
A Slower, Steadier Rhythm
Here’s your pair of dumbbells for the year ahead:
1 chapter a day.
2 essential questions.
A slower, steadier rhythm.
Pick a book of the Bible.
Go with a Gospel if you’re new to this Bible.
Stick with Genesis if you want to read the Bible from start to finish.
One chapter a day. Read it. Mark it with anything that stands out. Draw an X over any part that confuses you or intrigues you—a reminder to come back later and dig.
Ask two questions about the chapter you just read:
1. Who are You, Lord?
2. Lord, what do You want me to do?
The two questions come from the book of Acts, within the story of Saul becoming Paul.
3 As he journeyed he came near Damascus, and suddenly a light shone around him from heaven. 4 Then he fell to the ground, and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?”
5 And he said, “Who are You, Lord?”
Then the Lord said, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. [a]It is hard for you to kick against the goads.”
6 So he, trembling and astonished, said, “Lord, what do You want me to do?”
Then the Lord said to him, “Arise and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.”
Two sacred questions, straight from the mouth of Paul:
Who are You, Lord?
Lord, what do You want me to do?
Who are you, Lord?
Who is God in this story?
What aspect of His character is shining through?
What can we learn about God from this chapter?
I love this question because it shifts the focus away from you and me. If I am being honest, I feel like modern-day Christianity can make us feel like the Bible is a book all about us, like it’s there so that we can find ourselves in the stories. We are the woman at the well. We are Peter walking on the water. We are the blind men coming to see.
But when we place ourselves too much at the center, we risk missing the bigger truth: the Bible is a story about God. His bigness. His realness. His miraculousness.
But don’t worry, you’re not forgotten, you’re covered in this next question:
What Do You Want Me To Do?
Sit still with this one for a moment. Let your spirit grow quiet. Let your mind stop wandering. Breathe and ask it again, slower this time: What do you want me to do?
The next step might be sitting right there in the chapter. It may hit you immediately. A call to forgive, or to stop gossiping for the 676th time, to trust once more.
But a lot of times it’s subtler than that. A small directive to weave into your day. Something unseen and maybe a little random. A text to send. A meal to make a friend. A pocket of presence to carve out with your kid today. Listen for those nudges. They’re wildly important.
That’s it. That’s the whole plan, friend. Come back tomorrow, read another chapter, and ask those two questions again:
Who are You, Lord?
Lord, what do You want me to do?
These two questions could guide our entire lives if we let them.
I’ll never claim to be an expert, but I’ve been letting these two questions—within this simple framework—guide my time in the Bible for the last year. I have over 357 notes about the character of God and the directives I’ve pulled from the text in front of me. More than that, I feel like I’m coming to know God better, in this 15th year of faith, than ever before.
With my Bible, a notebook, two questions, and the next chapter ahead of me, I feel steady and expectant. And I’m certainly not missing the marrow.
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