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Should we randomly open our Bible and ask God, “Reveal yourself to me”?
If we truly esteem God’s Word, shouldn’t that reverence show up in how we study it?

The Bible and the Teenage Donkey

When I was 16, I gave my life to Christ and was baptized. My new church family gave me a Bible to celebrate the decision. I still remember one of the deacons handing it to me that morning while my youth group friends—sitting together as we always did—offered exaggerated “oohs” and “aahs” over the crisp white pages.

Trust me, they were impressed. Of course, it didn’t take long for things to go sideways.

So, in a moment of full-on teenage goofiness, I slipped my finger between the pages, struck a solemn tone, and declared, “I’d like to read something that has meant a lot to me.”

I turned to a random page, pointed, and read aloud from Proverbs 30:2–3 (1984 NIV, naturally—my generation’s KJV):

“I am the most ignorant of men; I do not have a man’s understanding. I have not learned wisdom, nor have I knowledge of the Holy One.”

It was completely random—and completely perfect! Of course, we all got a great laugh out of it; in fact, we all lost it! But that moment also taught me something:

“Pin the tail on the donkey” Bible study might just make you the donkey.

Reveal Yourself to Me—Or Feel Your Way Through the Bible?

Fast forward thirty-some years. I’m flipping through a professionally produced discipleship guide—part of a small group series promising to help people grow “the way Jesus did”—when I find this prompt for one session:

Reveal Yourself to Me Holding a Bible, ask Jesus what he wants you to read. Then flip through the Bible until you feel a nudge to stop. Run your finger across the page until it feels like the place to stop. Read that passage and ask Jesus to reveal something to you about himself—or yourself—through those words.

Mind you, this came from a reputable curriculum company, one I’d often found thoughtful and theologically sound. And yet, here they were suggesting what felt a lot like biblical divination—inviting people to treat God’s Word like a spiritual Magic 8 Ball.

To be fair, I won’t name names.

Let’s just say the publisher rhymes with Broop Fublishing.

Dear Fublisher . . . er, Publisher . . . A Concerned Reader Writes

I decided to send a kind and thoughtful email expressing my concern (because I am, in fact, a kind and thoughtful person). Among other things, I wrote:

“I understand this isn’t technically a Bible study—it’s a ‘discipleship experience’—but I would never encourage a disciple to use this kind of Bible reading practice.”

Shockingly, I received a reply the very next day from someone on the creative team. He explained:

The point we’re trying to make throughout the resource is that Jesus wants an active relationship with us, characterized by intimacy and the kind of back-and-forth interaction that infuses all deep relationships. This activity is designed to help people to learn how to depend on, and be guided by, the Spirit of Jesus in their life. This is a simple, playful way to risk and follow the “nudges” of the Spirit. If we’re to have a real relationship with Jesus, in real time, in real circumstances, we’ll need to “normalize” a dependence on His Spirit. That’s what we’re trying to do here.

But we’re totally not telling people the Bible is a magic book where you can just stick your finger in and find a message just for you. This is something completely different. We’re trying to teach people to have “a real relationship with Jesus.”

So How Does It Work?

In hindsight, I probably should’ve stopped there.

But no. I replied again—this time with the story of my 16-year-old self, quoting Proverbs and revealing myself to be “the most ignorant of men.” I closed my note with this:

There’s a difference between my goofiness and responsible reading of the word of God. Your prompt says to “flip through the Bible until you feel a nudge to stop.” Then, “run your finger across the page until it feels like a place to stop.” I’m not questioning the ability of God to speak to us in those random moments, but is it truly responsible Bible reading? I think about Jeremiah and the dark places he found himself in his life. Dark enough that he declared, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it” (Jeremiah 12:9)? Are you truly ok with a person in a dark place like that randomly choosing a Bible verse and seeing it as a personal message from Jesus? Can you guarantee the correct word every time this practice is performed?

The reality is, if you can’t guarantee consistent results, then this practice IS superstition. Would it not be better to teach disciples, as God calls from Isaiah 1:18, to “reason together” with the Lord? Or, as Paul encourages Timothy, to “rightly handle the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15)?

Their response?

A polite version of: Thanks for your concern, but I’ve written real books. I know what I’m doing. Have a great day.

(Summarized for all of you who haven’t written real books. You’re welcome.)

Reveal Yourself to Me: A Real Relationship with Jesus

I know people who love the Bible deeply—who see it as the very breath of God and a source of wisdom for every good work (2 Tim. 3:17). And yet, they’ll still treat a “Verse-A-Day” calendar like a divine fortune cookie. Flip the page. Get your word. Go live your life.

But here’s the thing: the Bible never encourages that kind of engagement.

Inspirational Bible Quote Less Inspirational if You Know Who Said It

What we see instead is the early church devoting themselves to the ministry of the word (Acts 6:4). We see the Bereans eagerly searching the Scriptures together (Acts 17:11). We hear Peter warn that no prophecy of Scripture is a matter of one’s own interpretation (2 Peter 1:20).

This book was never meant to be read in isolation, nudged by feelings, guided by randomness. It was meant to be explored in community—with shared insight, discernment, and humility.

Reveal Yourself to Me… To Us

Pete Enns once wrote, “I love the Bible because it forces me to reflect on God in community with others.”

In fact, that’s what we were doing, back when my 16-year-old self stood in church and declared, “I am the most ignorant of men.” My friends laughed—with me (and, okay, a little at me)—because we all knew that’s not how the Bible works. God wasn’t revealing himself to me in that moment. I was just revealing myself to be a goofball.

Real discipleship might begin with a goofball. But it should end with a goofball in community—approaching the Word of God with respect, understanding, and shared insight. Because again and again in Scripture, we find that God’s favorite way to reveal himself . . . is through the people closest to us.

And maybe that’s not such a bad place to start.

Now that’s what I call a discipleship experience!

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