I Dare You Not to Bore Me with The Bible

By Michael S. Heiser

The Bible is filled with passages that are so baffling we tend to ignore them. Yet the passages that seem weird might be the most important. This collection of essays from Bible Study Magazine will shock you, intrigue you, and completely change the way you view the Bible. Dr. Michael S. Heiser visits some of the Bible's most obscure passages, unveiling their ancient context to help you interpret them today. Read this book, and you'll never be bored by the Bible again.

Part One: Old Testament
The Ancient's Guide to the Galaxy
Walk Like an Israelite
Even the Bible Needed Upgrading
Spellchecking the Bible
Why Circumcision?
The Abandoned Child and the Basket Case
A Tale of Courage We Never Teach
Counting the Ten Commandments
Is There Really a Sin Offering?
There's a Devil in the Details
Love Potion: Numbers 5
Is My Bible Right?
The Most Horrific Bible Story
Righting a Wrong
When Giants Walked the Earth
The Divine Arrow
Promise Undelivered?
Sanctified Dirt
1003 BC Census: Who Authorized It-God or Satan?
Cookin' the Books
Slaying the Sea Monster
Does God Need a Co-Signer?
The Witness in the Clouds
Who Wrote the Book of Proverbs?
Immanuel's Mother: Virgin or Not?
Standing in the Council
Jeremiah: Double Vision?
Why the Ark of the Covenant Will Never Be Found
He, Him, Me, Myself, and I
Bizarre Visions for the Worst of Times
Do the Dead Sea Scrolls Answer the Canon Question?

Part Two: New Testament
Burying Hell
My Guardian Angel
The New Testament Misquotes the Old Testament?
"I Saw Satan Fall like Lightning": When?
The Healing Serpent
Who Took Verse 4 out of My Bible?
What Walking on Water Really Means
Born Again ... and Again and Again?
Dumbledore Meets Philip & Peter
Paul's Lost Letters
Destiny & Destination
A Female Apostle
Signed, Sealed, and Delivered-to Satan?
Treason & Translation
Charlton Heston Had Company
When Abraham Met Jesus
How Many Times Is Jesus Coming Back?
What's Jesus Waiting For?
God's Right-Hand Woman? Wisdom in Hebrews
Baptism as Spiritual Warfare
Jesus Is God: Jude and Peter Tell Me So
When Angels Do Time
Tough Love
Jesus, God, a.k.a., The Name
666: What Theories Add Up?
Perspective Changes Everything
Constantine, Conspiracy, and the Canon

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lexham Press
• Release date: Apr 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781577995678

Michael S. Heiser

 Michael S. Heiser (PhD, University of Wisconsin-Madison) is scholar-in-residence at Logos Bible Software. An adjunct professor at a couple of seminaries, he’s written numerous articles and books, including The Unseen Realm and I Dare You Not to Bore Me with the Bible.  

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Testament

The Ancient’s Guide to the Galaxy

God chose a specific time, place, and culture to inspire people to produce what we read in the Old Testament: the ancient Mediterranean and the ancient Near East of the second and first millennia BC. Understanding the worldview of this culture can lead to more faithful understandings of Scripture on our part, especially when it comes to understanding how the Israelites viewed God and the universe.

Old Testament Cosmology

Cosmology refers to the way we understand the structure of the universe. The biblical writers’ conception of how the heavens and earth were structured by God represents a particular cosmology.

The Israelites believed in a universe that was common among the ancient civilizations of the biblical world. It encompassed three parts: a heavenly realm, an earthly realm for humans, and an underworld for the dead. These three tiers are reflected in the Ten Commandments: You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth (Exod 20:4).

The Heavens

We find an Israelite understanding of the heavens in Genesis 1:6–8, which describes it as an expanse, with waters above and below: "And God said, ‘Let there be an expanse (רקיע, raqiaʾ) in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.’ … And it was so. And God called the expanse (רקיע, raqiaʾ) Heaven."

The sky, thought to be a solid firmament, separated the waters above from the waters below: When he established the heavens, I [Wisdom] was there; when he drew a circle on the face of the deep, when he made firm the skies above, when he established the fountains of the deep (Prov 8:27–28).

The firmament dome surrounded the earth, with its edge meeting at the horizon—the boundary between light and darkness (Job 26:10). It was supported by pillars or foundations, thought to be the tops of mountains, whose peaks appeared to touch the sky. The heavens had doors and windows through which rain or the waters above could flow upon the earth from their storehouses (Gen 7:11; 8:2; Pss 78:23; 33:7).

God was thought to dwell above the firmament, as described in Job 22:14: Thick clouds veil him, so that he does not see, and he walks on the vault of heaven.

The Earth

The earth sat upon the watery deep. The waters below speak not only to waters that people use, but also the deeper abyss. Thus, the earth was surrounded by the seas (Gen 1:9–10), having arisen out of the water (2 Pet 3:5). The earth was thought to be held fast by pillars or sunken foundations (1 Sam 2:8; Job 38:4–6; Psa 104:5).

The Underworld

The realm of the dead was located under the earth. The most frequent term for this place was sheol (שאול; Prov 9:18; Psa 6:4–5; 18:4–5). The word for earth (ארץ, ʾerets) is also used—the graves dug by humans represented gateways to the Underworld. In Job, the realm of the dead is described in watery terms: The dead tremble under the waters and their inhabitants. Sheol is naked before God, and Abaddon has no covering (Job 26:5–6).

Jonah’s description is perhaps the most vivid. Though in the belly of the great fish, Jonah says he is in the Underworld: the watery deep at the roots of the mountains, a pit that had bars that closed forever (Jonah 2:5–6).

Becoming familiar with the ancient Near Eastern worldview can help us interpret the Old Testament. By understanding the Israelites’ concept of cosmology, we have a better idea of their perceptions of God.

Walk Like an Israelite

Cuneiform tablets changed my life. I’m not kidding. As I look back on my 15 years of graduate school in biblical studies, the turning point in how I view the Bible was my course in Ugaritic, a cuneiform language very similar to biblical Hebrew. This class compelled me to transform read the Bible in context from a naïve platitude to an issue of spiritual integrity.

A Bible Study Epiphany

I had the impression that interpreting the Bible in context meant learning about a piece of pottery here, an odd custom there, or having a factual acquaintance with who was alive, and what those people were doing at the time of the biblical events.

But in my Ugaritic course, I learned that all of that can divorce the Bible from the ancient world in one critical way: It can exclude religious or theological ideas from all the context talk. It’s easy to presume that most of the Bible’s theological content was unique to Israel. I basically thought that Israel shared some cultural customs with pagan Gentiles—like diet, dress, marriage, and family structure. But I thought Israel’s religious worldview was handed down from heaven, having no common links with paganism. Not true—and the content of the tablets I had to translate in my graduate school course was Exhibit A.

For starters, the people of Ugarit, a city-state in ancient Syria, described their gods with words and phrases that were in the Old Testament—in a number of cases word for word. Their chief deity shared the same name (El) as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. (But the El of Ugarit could hardly be called holy by biblical standards.) The honorary titles and other descriptions of the Ugarit El and his primary assistant, Baal, are applied to the God of Israel in many passages in the Old Testament.

There are other examples. The behavior of prophets and the use of divination (casting lots, consulting the ephod) have clear ancient Near Eastern parallels. The design and purpose of the ark of the covenant align well with the use of sacred boxes known as palanquins in ancient Egypt. Trial by ordeal—such as that found in Numbers 5, where a woman accused of adultery must drink a potion to test her fidelity—occurred in surrounding cultures. Terms for Israelite sacrifices are found in ancient Gentile religious texts. The belief that the sky was solid is part of the ancient Near Eastern cosmology shared by the Bible (Job 37:18; Prov 8:28).¹ The notion that the seat of our intellect and emotions was our kidneys or intestines was common throughout the ancient world.²

Spiritual Lessons and Implications

Discovering all this was a little shocking. But God used that temporary discomfort to produce honesty with the biblical text. I needed to think like an ancient Israelite to understand the Old Testament.

Israelite religion had some significant divergences from the religions of other surrounding nations, but on the whole, there were more similarities than differences. I came to the realization that the correct interpretive context for the Bible is not the early church, the Protestant Reformation, the Puritans, or modern evangelicalism. Those historical contexts are alien to the Bible. Rather, the context for understanding the Bible is the historical, literary, intellectual and religious context in which it was written.

Although He could have done so, God didn’t change Israel’s culture when dispensing His truth. He didn’t give Israel a new culture that was dramatically distinct from Israel’s neighbors. That choice would have produced something indecipherable to the people of the time. That would have undermined the whole enterprise of communication.

What this means is that inspiration operates within a cultural context chosen by God in His sovereign wisdom. We cannot honor God’s choice of communication strategies if we refuse to ignore the deep worldview connections shared by both Israelites and pagans.

The profound contextual overlaps between Israel and her pagan neighbors was a wise theological tactic on God’s part. When divergences in Israel’s theology appear in the text—and there are some dramatic, stark points of contrast—they scream for attention on the part of the ancient reader. Unlike the pagan deities, Israel’s God could not be cajoled like an idol; Yahweh could not be brought down to earth and tamed. Laws about sacrifices were set in specific covenant contexts, giving them a unique theological dimension. Yahweh would rather have faith and loyalty than sacrifice.

Even the Bible Needed Upgrading

Wait a minute. The Bible needed an upgrade?

Those sound like fighting words to anyone with a high view of Scripture. An upgrade implies that something needed updating, but the Bible is timeless! That’s true, but in this case I would have to excuse myself from the ring. I wouldn’t want to tangle with those responsible for the improvements: the biblical writers and, well, the Spirit of God.

Believe it or not, there is evidence that the Bible was updated.¹ That may sound strange, but if you read closely, it’s undeniable. Take Genesis 14:14 as an illustration:

When Abram heard that his kinsman had been taken captive, he led forth his trained men … and went in pursuit as far as Dan.

Did you notice the problem? This is the time of Abram, a time before Moses and Joshua—before there was a promised land divided among the tribes of Israel. There wasn’t even an Israel yet. So what’s up with the reference to the land that belonged to the tribe of Dan?

If we plotted out the battle between Abram described in this verse on a map, with place names appropriate for Abram’s day, we’d see that the writer really meant that the enemy was pursued all the way to a place called Laish, not Dan.

Many Bible critics would call this an error, but it isn’t. Much later, in the days of Israel’s judges, Laish was renamed as Dan: And they named the city Dan, after the name of Dan their ancestor, who was born to Israel; but the name of the city was Laish at the first (Judg 18:29). Evidently, an unnamed editor updated the text of Genesis 14:14 after the name change took place. The editor likely did this to make sure readers of his own day would understand the geography.

In other instances, an editor repurposed something already written in the Bible to make it preach to their community. Psalm 51 is well known as a record of David’s repentance after his sin with Bathsheba and murder of Uriah. The psalm, though, ends by asking God to do good to Zion and with the command, build up the walls of Jerusalem (Psa 51:18–19). The walls of Jerusalem were not in need of repair until after God’s people were exiled, centuries after David lived. The editorial addition is a masterful literary stroke. Just as King David repented centuries before, an editor sought to move the exiles to national repentance. It was just the kind of example they needed.

Though it seems strange, the updating of Psalm 51:18–19 and Genesis 14:14 gives us an insight into the process of inspiration.

Spellchecking the Bible

The words of the original biblical text cannot always be read with certainty. Genesis 49:10 is a famous example. These three translations show the differences.

Three translators arrived at different conclusions because the Hebrew text itself is ambiguous. The problem is one word made up of four letters: שילה (shiyloh).

The NASB takes these four letters as spelling Shiloh, the place where the ark of the covenant was kept during the days of the Judges, Samuel, and David. As it is written, this is how the word should be pronounced, but Shiloh is not spelled this way anywhere else in the Hebrew Bible.¹ The odd spelling has led many translators to suspect that Shiloh is not the correct translation.

Another problem with translating this word as Shiloh is that the Septuagint—the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible produced a few centuries before Christ, which is often quoted by the New Testament writers—has a different rendering. The Septuagint literally reads: until that which is stored away for him comes. The Hebrew text used by the Septuagint translator did not read שילה (shiyloh).

The Septuagint translator saw one of two things. The four consonants in our problem word could have been divided into two words: שי לה (shay loh). That option would result in until tribute comes—is brought to him.² The ESV reflects this option. Or the text of the Septuagint translator may have had three consonants instead of four. His Hebrew Bible may have read שלה (shiloh). Although this is a frequent spelling for Shiloh in the Hebrew Bible, the Septuagint translator did not regard the word as the place name. Instead, he took the word as a combination of two other words: ש (that which) followed by לה (to him or to whom). The result is typically translated, that which to whom it belongs. When the verb (he/it comes) is added, we get something akin to the NIV: until he comes to whom it belongs.

Both of the possible Septuagint textual readings have a messianic flavor. They speak of a person—specifically, a descendant of Judah—coming to reign, or having tribute brought to him as king. While translators don’t have to guess about messianic prophecy in dozens of other places, Genesis 49:10 has kept them guessing for centuries.

Why Circumcision?

Circumcision is mentioned nearly 100 times in the Bible. It is a central focus for Old Testament and New Testament theology (Rom 4:9–12; Gal 2:1–12; 5:1–10). If we’re honest, that just sounds absurd.

Circumcision was the sign of God’s covenant with Abraham (Gen 17:9–14), but it was also widely practiced in the ancient Near East (the method, though, wasn’t always the same). Jeremiah 9:25–26 notes that Israel’s neighbors were circumcised. Archaeologists have also found that it was practiced in Syria and Phoenicia. Textual remains indicate that circumcision in Egypt goes back to at least 2200 BC, centuries before the Israelites were enslaved. Israelite men may have even submitted to Egyptian circumcision while in Egypt, since Joshua commanded the men crossing into the promised land to be re-circumcised in order to roll away the reproach of Egypt (Josh 5:2, 9). The evidence suggests that circumcision did not distinguish Israelite men from their foreign neighbors.

When God told Abraham to be circumcised, he was past the age of bearing children and his wife, Sarah, was incapable of having children (Gen 18:11). Nevertheless, it would be through Sarah’s womb (Gen 17:21; 18:14) that God would fulfill His promise of innumerable offspring to Abraham (Gen 12:1–3). God’s covenant with Abraham could only be realized by miraculous intervention.

The miraculous nature of Isaac’s birth is the key to understanding circumcision as the sign of the covenant. After God made His promise to Abraham, every male member of Abraham’s household was required to be circumcised (Gen 17:15–27). Every male—and every woman, since the males were all incapacitated for a time—knew that circumcision was connected to God’s promise. It probably didn’t make any sense, though, until Sarah became pregnant.

Everyone in Abraham’s household witnessed the miracle of Isaac’s birth. From that point on, every male understood why they had been circumcised: Their entire race—their very existence—began with a miraculous act of God. Every woman was reminded of this when she had sexual relations with her Israelite husband and when her sons were circumcised. Circumcision was a visible, continuous reminder that Israel owed its existence to Yahweh, who created them out of nothing.

In the New Testament, membership in God’s family is circumcision neutral (Gal 5:6). It is faith in Christ, not a Jewish identity signified by circumcision, that makes someone part of the Church. Paul even connects baptism to circumcision (Col 2:10–12). Like circumcision, baptism is a response driven by faith. Both signs are for men and women.

The Abandoned Child and the Basket Case

In modern stories people destined for greatness rarely start off privileged. They are dropped off at the doorstep of an orphanage or abandoned in the rain. This literary motif goes back to ancient stories, where writers use the abandoned child theme to identify a character that rises from obscurity to privileged hero status. It’s a motif found in the biblical account of Moses’ birth. But is that really the whole story?

Moses’ story begins when Pharaoh feels threatened by the growing Hebrew population in Egypt and commands that all Hebrew male infants be killed (Exod 1:16–22). Moses’ mother hides her newborn son for three months and then devises a risky but calculated plan: She sets him adrift on the Nile in a small basket made of bulrushes, waterproofed with bitumen and pitch (2:1–3). Moses’ older sister, Miriam, watches as the basket floats to where the daughter of Pharaoh bathes. God uses these circumstances to bring Moses under the protection of Egypt’s ruler (2:4–10).

Ancient literature outside the Bible attests to several stories in which a child, perceived as a threat by an enemy, is abandoned and later spared by divine intervention or otherworldly circumstance. Roughly 30 stories like this survive from the literature of ancient Mesopotamia, Canaan, Greece, Egypt, Rome and India.

The Mesopotamian work known as the Sargon Birth Legend offers the most striking parallels to the biblical story. It relates the birth story of Sargon the Great, an Akkadian emperor who ruled a number of Sumerian city-states around 2000 BC, centuries before the time of Moses. The infant boy is born into great peril: His mother is a high priestess, and he is illegitimate. Consequently, his mother sets him adrift on a river in a reed basket. The boy is rescued and raised by a gardener named Akki in the town of Kish. He becomes a humble gardener in Akki’s service until the goddess Ishtar takes an interest in him, setting him on the path to kingship.

Some assume that the biblical story of Moses’ birth was based on the Sargon Birth Legend, but this is unlikely. Although ancient Sumerian accounts of Sargon the Great date back to his lifetime, the legendary account of his birth is known from only four fragmentary tablets—three from the Neo-Assyrian period (934–605 BC) and one from the Neo-Babylonian period (626–539 BC). During the Neo-Assyrian period an Assyrian king took the name Sargon II and likely commanded the legends to be written about his namesake (722–705 BC). By doing so, he would have linked himself to the ancient hero and glorified himself as a revived Sargon figure. This would suggest that the birth legend was composed for propaganda purposes well after the biblical story of Moses.

The existence of stories like the Sargon Birth Legend help us understand the biblical story. They show that the abandoned child theme was a popular literary strategy for the ancients. They used it to introduce a figure who rises from mundane origins after gaining favor from fate or the divine. The common elements in these rags-to-riches stories helped ancient audiences identify with the central figure and develop respect for his achievements.

Moses’ story is about more than parallels, though. While Moses briefly seems to find favor and protection in the household of Pharaoh, a quasi-divine figure for the Egyptians, his life takes a surprising turn. He ends up leaving the kingdom of Egypt fearing that Pharaoh will kill him. From there, the story is repatterned: In a wilderness of Midian, Yahweh appears to Moses, now an obscure shepherd slow of speech and of tongue (4:10). He tells Moses to act as His spokesperson before Pharaoh and lead His people out of Egypt.

Moses stands out against the stories of the ancient cultures because he isn’t promoted like their chosen figures, but saved and demoted to poverty so that he can lead others to salvation. He is the new archetype of the chosen hero—one who is promoted only for the benefit of others. Over and against the stories of worldly kingdoms, Moses’ story articulates God’s remarkable work for His kingdom. His values are different from ours, and as is often the case in retrospect, we can be grateful for that.

A Tale of Courage We Never Teach

Moses’ encounter with God in Exodus 4:21–26 is arguably one of the strangest, most confusing events recorded in the Bible. In this passage, Moses is en route to Egypt—seemingly following God’s call to deliver the Israelites from Pharaoh’s vice-like grip. But then something shocking happens:

And the LORD said to Moses, When you go back to Egypt, see that you do before Pharaoh all the miracles that I have put in your power. But I will harden his heart, so that he will not let the people go. Then you shall say to Pharaoh, ‘Thus says the LORD, Israel is my firstborn son, and I say to you, Let my son go that he may serve me. If you refuse to let him go, behold, I will kill your firstborn son.’ 

At a lodging place on the way the LORD met him and sought to put him to death. Then Zipporah took a flint and cut off her son’s foreskin and touched Moses’ feet with it and said, Surely you are a bridegroom of blood to me! So he let him alone. It was then that she said, A bridegroom of blood, because of the circumcision.

This passage is not only difficult and confusing, but it raises numerous questions. Why would God want to kill Moses right after calling him to deliver Israel? In addition to this theological conundrum, there are other uncertainties. We’re startled and confused when Zipporah, Moses’ wife (Exod 2:21), deals with this threat by immediately circumcising her son Gershom and touching the foreskin to Moses’ feet. What does that mean? And why would her action pacify God’s wrath?

Doing the Wrong Thing: Moses’ Negligence

If we look at the original Hebrew text of this passage, we would notice that the name Moses does not actually appear in the phrase translated as touched Moses’ feet. The text literally reads, "touched his feet." Consequently, Zipporah could have taken the foreskin and touched either Moses or Gershom, which would affect our interpretation. However, since Moses is the major character in the wider context, it seems logical to conclude that God is angry with Moses, not Gershom.

Why is God angry? We can infer the answer from two considerations: the difference between Egyptian circumcision and that prescribed by the Abrahamic covenant (Josh 5:2–9; see Gen 17), and the circumstances of Moses’ birth and childhood (Exod 1–2).

Circumcision was practiced in Egypt, but Egyptian circumcision did not remove the foreskin; instead, the foreskin was split. Any Israelite born in Egypt who was circumcised in this way would not have been in accordance with God’s covenant. Since Joshua 5:2 says some Israelite men were being circumcised a second time, we can infer that something was unacceptable about their Egyptian circumcision. Therefore, the ceremony in Joshua 5 would be a second circumcision for some men, but the first circumcision for those males born in the wilderness (Josh 5:4). Circumcision was not only a sign for Israelite men, but also for women, who needed to be certain they were marrying Israelites and not men who worshiped other gods. Every married Israelite man was thus a bridegroom of blood—a man who had undergone the blood ritual of circumcision.

Since the other Israelite males were circumcised prior to the conquest at Gilgal (some a second time; Josh 5:2), we can reasonably assume that Moses had never been circumcised or was circumcised according to Egyptian custom. Had he been marked by Hebrew circumcision, he would likely have been in danger in Pharaoh’s household.

God’s anger at Moses in Exodus 4 is apparently due to Moses’ negligence in obeying God’s covenant ritual as a free man in Midian after he had fled Egypt. Exodus informs us that the Midianites knew the God of Sinai and practiced circumcision—Zipporah knew how to perform the ritual (Exod 4:25). Since God chose Moses as His representative to deliver Israel, Moses’ laxity in covenant obedience became an issue.

Doing the Right Thing: Zipporah’s Courage

What about the meaning of touching the foreskin to the feet? This is not part of the normal circumcision ritual. However, the Hebrew word translated feet (רגל, regel) is also used as a euphemism for genitalia or genital functions, including sexual exposure (see Judg 3:24; 1 Sam 24:3; Ezek 16:25; Ruth 3:4, 7). The phrase in Exodus 4:25 makes sense only if Zipporah circumcised her son, Gershom, and then symbolically transferred that circumcision to Moses by taking the foreskin and touching Moses’ genitals.

Performing this rite was not only prudent, but courageous. Circumcision in Israel was performed only by religious duty—and only by men. Moses had neglected the ritual, and now he, Zipporah, and little Gershom were already on the road back to Egypt. A circumcised Moses would be unable to travel, so Zipporah performed the ritual on Gershom and, symbolically, on Moses. Her deed was unprecedented, but necessary. Zipporah acted in faith, and God relented. She saved Moses’ life and also atoned for his negligence. Moses was now a proper bridegroom of blood.

Will It Preach?

We shouldn’t shy away from the difficult passages of Scripture. By exploring

Reviews for I Dare You Not to Bore Me with The Bible

[leandrod-2 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The book is so good I will not take an star because of incomplete arguments: they are understandable due to it being a collection of articles from a magazine.

Even with some incomplete arguments, this book works effectively of a kinda John H Walton-lite, contextualizing texts in the culture and language of the original writers and readers, and thus renewing out understanding of Scripture. It is even more important in our deracined culture, when almost everyone, from right to left, seems to eixegese instead of exegese.