There’s something I wish I had known earlier.
Not just as a pastor.
Not just as a seminary student.
As a follower of Jesus who wanted more than knowledge—who longed for closeness, clarity, and presence with God.
What I wish someone had told me is this:
The Word of God is not only meant to inform my mind. It’s meant to fill and fortify my soul.
But no one ever told me that.
I was taught to read the Bible for truth (a good thing).
I was taught to interpret it accurately (also essential).
But I wasn’t taught that the Bible could read me.
Or that it could become a daily encounter—not just a duty.
For too long, I read Scripture like a manual.
Now I read it more like a meal.
☕ A Word About Contemplation
This week’s practice tool introduces you to something called lectio divina—Latin for “sacred reading.” It’s the best-known form of contemplative reading of Scripture, a stream of Christian spirituality that many believers (especially in Protestant traditions) were never introduced to.
If the phrase “contemplative spirituality” sounds unfamiliar—or suspicious—don’t worry.
This post is here to guide, not guilt.
So let’s begin where we should: not with a method, but with a goal.
🎯 The Goal of Christian Contemplative Spirituality
Christian contemplative spirituality isn’t about zoning out or chasing inner enlightenment.
Its goal is bold and simple: to help the soul gaze at God.
It doesn’t aim to accumulate facts about God.
It aims for relational closeness—with language shaped not by obligation, but love.
Contemplatives speak of communion, intimacy, and union—not in the sense of dissolving into the divine, as some eastern philosophies teach, but in the sense Paul means when he writes:
“There is now no condemnation for those who are in union with Christ Jesus.”
(Romans 8:1, CJB)
This isn’t fusion. It’s friendship.
Not the loss of self, but the joining of lives.
And that’s what Scripture was always meant to foster.
📜 How Lectio Divina Fits
Lectio divina is how contemplative spirituality meets the Word.
In the early church, theology and intimacy weren’t separated.
Exegesis and encounter went hand in hand.
By the 3rd century, Christians were using the phrase lectio divina, seeing the reading of scripture as a way of encountering deeper communion with God. It seemed to them that whenever they read the Bible, something sacred might happen.
By the 4th and 5th centuries, the great theologians of the church, Augustine and others, were embracing, using, and teaching lectio divina as a way to receive and understand more whenever your read scripture.
By the 6th century, Benedict of Nursia had given us the shape that endures to this day:
Lectio – Read
Meditatio – Reflect
Oratio – Pray
Contemplatio – Rest
Many, including me, have added a fifth step: Silencio — Be still
This wasn’t a performance. It was a posture.
You can see what is developing. Scripture is taking on such importance that care must be taken not to sprint through Scripture, but read it in a slow, soul-deep way that made possible for one to be immersed in the presence of God.
💡 Why This Matters (Especially Now)
Since the Enlightenment—a time when reason and analysis became the dominant ways of seeking truth—our relationship with Scripture has leaned heavily on intellect.
We’ve treated the Bible as something to dissect, map, categorize, and master.
But here’s the problem:
God’s Word is not meant to be mastered. We are meant to be mastered by it.
In my own doctoral program—a program in theology and spiritual formation—we were trained to read Scripture with care and rigor.
And rightly so.
We were taught to measure the words—to classify them, parse them, and determine what they revealed about God, truth, ethics, and human purpose.
We were taught that the goal was accurate interpretation.
That’s not all bad.
But it’s not enough.
No one ever taught me to take the words into myself. No one showed me that was even possible.
I had a little terrier when I was growing up on a farm.
Now and then, he’d show up in the yard with a deer bone he’d found in the fields—some remnant of a life once lived.
He didn’t measure the bone.
He didn’t classify it.
He gnawed on it.
For hours.
Tail twitching.
Focused.
Determined.
He worked that thing down until it disappeared into him.
That’s the difference.
Analytical interpretation, heavy on cognitive skill, is like measuring the bone.
It tells you where it came from. What kind it is. What it meant in its original setting.
But lectio divina is what happens when you decide to sit with it.
Turn it over.
Gnaw on it.
Let it nourish you.
I wasn’t taught that in seminary.
I had to find it elsewhere.
I found it in lectio divina.
And now, I can’t imagine reading Scripture any other way.
🧠 Head and Heart Are Meant to Travel Together
Some people worry that contemplative reading is light on doctrine or soft on truth.
It’s not.
Lectio divina doesn’t bypass the mind.
It integrates it—with the heart.
It begins with observation.
It deepens through meditation.
It unfolds in prayer.
And it settles into your soul in rest.
This is not a new trend.
It’s an old treasure.
And it may be exactly what your soul has been craving.
🔒 The next section—including your downloadable Lectio Divina tool—is for paid subscribers.
If you’ve been following these posts and feeling stirred, this is your invitation to go deeper.
✨ Why Subscribe Now?
Every Wednesday, paid subscribers receive:
A contemplative spiritual formation tool
A step-by-step practice rooted in Scripture
A gentle rhythm for deepening intimacy with God
🕊️ From now through May 10, new subscribers get 20% off.
If the Word of God has felt distant or dry, this may be the path you’ve been looking for.
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