Gilbert The Epic Story of the Bible

How to Read and Understand God's Word
1. Auflage 2022
ISBN: 978-1-4335-7330-9
Verlag: Crossway
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 176 Seiten

A User-Friendly Introduction to Interpreting and Understanding God's Word Many Christians view the Bible as a book that they know they should read, but it can be hard to know where to start. If they spend time regularly reading it, it can often feel like a chore to be checked off for the day. What many miss is that the Bible is a sweeping story full of narrative, poetry, and letters-something to be marveled at and enjoyed.  In The Epic Story of the Bible, Greg Gilbert aims to teach Christians-or those interested in Christianity-what the Bible is and how to study it. Adapted from the ESV Story of Redemption Bible, Gilbert examines major themes woven throughout Scripture and shows readers how to understand its various genres, helping them appreciate the word of God with less confusion and greater confidence.  Download Reading Plan - Accessible: Written in an approachable and easy-to-read format - Ideal for New Christians or Interested Non-Christians: A good introduction to understanding the Bible for those wanting to take the next step in learning more about their faith  - Gospel-Oriented: Points readers to the gospel for the purpose of deeper understanding and worship - Examines Major Scriptural Themes: Gilbert shows how themes such as God's presence, covenant, kingship, and sacrifice are woven throughout Scripture 

Greg Gilbert (MDiv, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary) is senior pastor at Third Avenue Baptist Church in Louisville, Kentucky. He is the author of What Is the Gospel?; James: A 12-Week Study; and Who Is Jesus?; and is the coauthor of What Is the Mission of the Church? Greg and his wife, Moriah, have three children.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Gilbert, Greg

Leseproben

Introduction

As the plane descended toward the city, I didn’t see any mountains out the window. At some level, this was disappointing, because that was why I’d come in the first place. But on the other hand, when your plane is landing in a driving rainstorm, your primary emotion usually isn’t disappointment of any kind but rather just relief to feel the wheels land, the brakes kick in, and the plane slow down enough that your body slumps back down in the seat again. I dropped my head back and grinned. For a year, I’d been planning this trip, and now I was here, in Kathmandu, Nepal, about to set off on a two-week trek to the South Base Camp of Sagarmatha, better known as Mount Everest.

I was excited, and more than a little nervous. For whatever reason, I’ve always been fascinated by mountains, and through the years I’ve seized every opportunity I could to be in and among them—skiing the Rockies in Colorado, hiking the Green Mountains in Vermont and the White Mountains in New Hampshire and Maine, even spending a week in the utter wilderness of Alaska at a working gold mine, just for the fun of it. So when the time and opportunity opened up, I jumped at the chance to trek into the tallest, most dramatic mountain range in the world, the Himalayas, and set foot at the base of the tallest mountain on Earth. That’s where the excitement came from.

The fear came from reading online about other people’s experiences on this Base Camp trek. For the most part, what I had signed up to do was relatively easy and safe—no technical climbing, no crampons or elite winter gear or oxygen tanks required. This was Everest for Dummies for sure, not Everest the movie! And yet, it wasn’t a walk in the park, either. By the end of the trek, we would finally top out at an elevation of 18,200 feet, high enough (I was told) that if a helicopter took you there immediately from sea level, you’d be unconscious within fifteen minutes due to the lack of oxygen. Of course we were planning to do all kinds of acclimatization, but still, I’d read the blogs. It was no sure thing that those measures would work for any given person. You can do everything right to get yourself ready for high altitudes, only to get halfway up into the Himalayas and realize suddenly—and sometimes catastrophically—that your body just doesn’t have the necessary hardware. Your brain begins to swell, your lungs fill up with fluid, and within a few hours you find yourself being medevacked back to a Kathmandu hospital—that is, if the weather on the mountain is conducive to a rescue. Beyond that, there were other dangers, too: falls, broken bones, getting knocked off the mountain by a yak—you know, the usual kinds of things I have to think about in Louisville, Kentucky!

So as the plane pulled up to the gate at the Tribhuvan International Airport, Nepal’s only international airport, I pulled my passport out of my backpack and turned to the page where my Nepali visa was pasted. I checked all my information again: name was spelled correctly, dates correct, vaccinations all up to date—a bunch of facts I’m sure I had confirmed probably a hundred times on this flight already, but excitement makes you do funny things. I shoved the passport back into its special pocket on my backpack and locked it in. I’d read on several websites that you can’t be too careful in the Kathmandu airport terminal. Besides the normal threats like theft of money and documents, I’d also been told of a terrifying scam in which the customs agents will sometimes “neglect” to stamp your visa as you pass through, and then when you show it to the next set of agents, you’re immediately placed under arrest for “invalid documentation.” From there, the scam is to get as much money out of you as possible. You’re given a choice—you can either spend a month in prison, or you can pay an exorbitant fee to be driven over the course of a few days to a bureaucratic office to “get it sorted out.” If you choose the latter, you pay up front and then—unbeknownst to you, of course—you’ll be told at various points along the way that it’s going to cost you even more money to get any further. Finally, after a week or so and a few thousand dollars, you return triumphantly to Kathmandu Airport with your newly “sorted out” visa.

Was any of that actually true? I have no idea. But you better believe I watched the customs agent like a hawk as he examined my passport. And I got that stamp, baby!

Fully sorted out diplomatically, I walked across the terminal to the pickup area, scanned the drivers holding signs with various people’s names on them, and finally found my guy, complete with a bright blue hat that read “Ultimate Expeditions.” Once in the van with two or three others, I finally relaxed and let myself revel in what was happening. I was in Nepal, about to hike to Mount Everest—not up it, no, but even hiking to Everest, I figured, was pretty amazing.

The plan for that evening was pretty straightforward. The driver would take me and the other passengers to our hotel, we’d have a little while to rest in our rooms, and then we’d gather in the hotel restaurant for dinner and what was being called “the briefing,” a presentation in which our guide would explain, before we ever took the first step, what we were about to experience.

The briefing wasn’t long. The guide started by showing us a video depicting an aerial flyby of the trail we were going to hike, then a fly-around of the whole Everest massif—a U-shaped trio of mountains including Lohtse (the fourth-highest mountain in the world), Nuptse (the twenty-second), and of course Everest itself. He told us about the places we’d visit through the course of the trek and explained the fascinating aspects of each one—the Lukla airport, commonly said to be the most dangerous in the world; the mountainside town of Namche Bazaar, gateway to the high Himalayas and home to the highest and remotest Irish pub on the planet; the little village of Khumjung, which displays what the monks there claim is a real yeti scalp but which the villagers themselves will tell you is just a yak butt; Tengboche Monastery, built over a hundred years ago on a ridge that provides hikers with breathtaking panoramic views of the Khumbu region; and Base Camp itself, a tiny village of brightly colored tents huddled at the foot of the massive Mount Everest and inhabited by the tiny group of (let’s be honest) slightly crazy people who would be headed to the summit on the very days we were there.

I listened with utter fascination not only to my guide’s descriptions of these fantastic places I was soon to see, but also to the smaller asides he made throughout the meeting. “When we land at Lukla, notice how the plane doesn’t really descend; the runway is at ten thousand feet, so the plane will just kind of hit it.” “You need to eat carbs and drink water like crazy, because they help with acclimatization.” “When we’re passing through the rhododendron forests, look for children hiding up in the trees; it’s a game to them, and they like to give flowers to tourists who notice them.” “Respect the Sherpas who pass by us with enormous loads on their backs; essentially every item needed for human survival in the high Himalayas has to be brought in on foot, and to huff it all in on their backs is how these people make a living.”

When the briefing was finished, I was stoked for the trek to start. I didn’t sleep all night. I just lay in the bed with images and words from that meeting rolling around in my mind’s eye. It was an incredible presentation, hyping the trip and giving vital information. But I’ll be honest—looking back on it now, I had no idea just how important the briefing would turn out to be for shaping the entire experience. What the guide conveyed—the information, the maps, the geography, the images, the history and cultural background of the region—threw the entire two-week trek into 3D for me. At any given moment, I knew where I was on the trail, and I knew where we were going. When we got to Namche Bazaar, I understood why that town was so important, and I was able to appreciate it all the more because of it. When I saw a sign for Khumjung, I smiled because I remembered, “Oh, this is where I’m supposed to look for the yeti scalp!” Even more, I avoided making mistakes: I ate carbs and drank water; I made way for heavy-burdened Sherpas and took a silent moment to respect them for making human civilization possible this far up in the Himalaya. The briefing hadn’t been long, but it had been crucial. It changed and deepened and enriched my experience of the Himalayas in ways I never would have guessed.

You probably didn’t pick up this particular book because you have an interest in mountaineering. But I tell you that story about the briefing in that rain-pelted hotel in Kathmandu because that’s essentially what I’m aiming to do with this book—give you a briefing about what you’re going to see, what you’re going to experience, what you should look for and look out for as you set off on the long trek of reading the entire Bible.

A trek. That’s exactly what it is when you decide to read the entire Bible. After all, it’s sixty-six different books with thirty-some different authors, written over the course of a millennium and a half. And it’s long—almost 1,200 chapters and three-quarters of a million words, meaning that if you decided to read the entire thing aloud, all at once, it would take you just under three days to do it—about seventy hours...