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Why the Bible Seems to Contradict Itself — and How It Doesn’t

Why the Bible Seems to Contradict Itself — and How It Doesn’t

The Bible is a remarkable book. It speaks with authority, it speaks with tenderness, and it speaks across thousands of years of history. Yet, for many, it also seems to speak with contradictions. One page tells us, “Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy” (Exodus 20:8), and another says, “Let no man therefore judge you… in respect of… the sabbath days” (Colossians 2:16). One verse commands, “An eye for an eye” (Exodus 21:24), while another urges, “Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also” (Matthew 5:39). If we are honest, these differences can leave us puzzled. Has God changed His mind? Is the Bible inconsistent? Or is there something deeper we have not yet understood?

The answer is not that God has changed, nor that His Word is flawed, but that He has spoken to different people at different times under different arrangements. The apostle Paul gives us the key when he writes, “Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15). Rightly dividing means recognising the distinctions God Himself has placed in His Word — understanding who is being addressed, when they are being addressed, and under what covenant or dispensation they stand. Without this, we end up blending law with grace, Israel with the Church, prophecy with mystery, and the result is confusion, misapplication, and often a quiet frustration in the Christian life.

Romans 15:4 tells us, “For whatsoever things were written aforetime were written for our learning.” Every verse in the Bible is for us, but not every verse is to us. That is a vital difference. Noah was told to build an ark — we can learn from his obedience, but we are not called to gather gopher wood. Israel was commanded to bring animal sacrifices — we can see the shadow of Christ in those offerings, but we are not under that system. Jesus told His disciples not to go to the Gentiles — we can understand the purpose of that restriction in its time, but it is not our commission today. When we confuse what is written for us with what is written to us, we end up claiming promises that were never made to us and trying to obey commands that were never ours to follow.

Everything changed at the cross. Before it, Gentiles were, as Paul says, “aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of promise” (Ephesians 2:12). After it, “ye who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ” (Ephesians 2:13). The law was fulfilled, the veil was torn, and the middle wall of partition was broken down. God revealed something that had been hidden from ages and generations — the mystery of the Church, the Body of Christ, made up of Jew and Gentile alike, saved by grace through faith alone. This was not a continuation of Israel’s prophetic programme; it was a new administration, a dispensation of grace (Ephesians 3:2).

Even the gospels themselves show this shift. In His earthly ministry, Jesus preached the gospel of the Kingdom — good news for Israel, rooted in prophecy, law, and earthly promises. His message was, “Repent: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matthew 4:17), and He sent His disciples only to “the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matthew 10:6). Paul, however, preached the gospel of grace — good news for all nations, rooted in the finished work of the cross and revealed as a mystery. His message was, “Christ died for our sins… and that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day” (1 Corinthians 15:3-4). Same Saviour, but different commissions. Not contradiction — dispensation.

This is why we do not keep the Sabbath, tithe to the temple, or offer animal sacrifices today. These were holy and good commands in their time, given to Israel under the law. But Colossians 2:16-17 calls them shadows, pointing to Christ, and now that the substance has come, the shadow is no longer binding. We are not under the law, but under grace (Romans 6:14). Understanding this frees us from the exhausting task of picking and choosing which Old Testament laws to keep, and instead allows us to walk in the liberty of the dispensation God has placed us in.

Rightly dividing is not about cutting the Bible into pieces; it is about fitting the pieces into their God-given place. When we do, the fog lifts, the so-called contradictions vanish, and the Word becomes not just a book we read, but a map we can follow with confidence. It is the difference between wandering in circles and walking with purpose. And it is not a skill reserved for scholars — it is a calling for every believer who wants to be “approved unto God” and unashamed in their handling of His truth.

So here is the challenge: the next time you open your Bible, ask one simple question — “Who is this written to?” Let that question guide your reading. Let it protect you from misapplication. Let it draw you deeper into the grace in which you stand. And as you begin to see the distinctions God has placed in His Word, you will also begin to see the unity of His plan, the beauty of His timing, and the certainty of His promises.

And this is where our journey naturally leads us next — because if rightly dividing is the key to understanding, then we must also ask how to apply that key in our daily study. How do we move from simply knowing that there are divisions in Scripture to actually reading, teaching, and living in light of them? That is where we turn now…

How do we rightly divide?

If we are to handle the Word of God faithfully, we cannot stop at merely knowing that divisions exist — we must learn to read, teach, and live in light of them. Rightly dividing is not a theory to admire; it is a discipline to practise. It changes the way we approach every passage, every promise, every command. It teaches us to slow down, to ask questions, and to let the Bible interpret itself.

When you open the Scriptures, begin by asking, “Who is speaking?” and “To whom are they speaking?” The voice might be God Himself, it might be a prophet, it might be an apostle — but the audience matters. A command given to Israel under the law is not the same as an instruction given to the Body of Christ under grace. The words are equally true, but their application is not the same. This is not about picking and choosing what we like; it is about honouring the context God has placed His words in.

Then ask, “Where am I in God’s timeline?” The Bible is not a flat book; it is a progressive revelation. God has dealt with mankind in different ways at different times — not because He changes, but because His purposes unfold. There was a time of innocence in Eden, a time of law under Moses, and now a time of grace revealed through Paul. Each dispensation has its own stewardship, its own responsibilities, and its own revelation of God’s character. To ignore these distinctions is to blur the very lines God has drawn for our understanding.

This is why Paul’s letters are so vital for us today. They are not the only part of the Bible we read, but they are the part written directly to us, the Body of Christ, in this present dispensation. They explain the mystery that was hidden from ages past — that Jew and Gentile would be united in one Body, blessed with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places, and sealed by the Spirit until the day of redemption. Without Paul’s writings, we would still be trying to live under Israel’s covenants, waiting for promises that were never ours, and measuring our standing by a law that could only condemn.

Rightly dividing also guards us from the subtle danger of mixing messages. Many sincere believers live in a constant confusion — they rejoice in grace, yet feel bound by laws that were never given to them. They claim the blessings of Israel’s kingdom promises, yet wonder why their lives do not match the earthly prosperity those promises describe. They read the Sermon on the Mount as their personal marching orders, yet struggle under its impossible demands. The problem is not with their sincerity; it is with their framework. Without division, there is tension and confusion. However, with right division, there is clarity.

And clarity brings freedom. When you know where you stand in God’s plan, you stop striving to earn what has already been given. You stop fearing the loss of what God has sealed. You stop measuring your spiritual life by shadows when the substance has come. You begin to read the Old Testament with fresh eyes — not as a rulebook to keep, but as a rich testimony of God’s faithfulness, pointing forward to Christ. You begin to read the Gospels with understanding — not as a contradiction to Paul, but as a record of God’s dealings with Israel, leading to the cross that would open the way for all.

This is not a cold, academic exercise. It is deeply devotional. It magnifies the grace of God, because it shows us just how much has been given to us in Christ. It deepens our worship, because we see the unity of God’s plan across the ages. And it strengthens our witness, because we can present the gospel clearly, without mixing it with works or conditions that belong to another dispensation.

So let the Word dwell in you richly. Read all of it, love all of it, but handle it as God instructs. Ask the questions. Notice the distinctions. Let the context speak. And as you do, you will find that the so-called contradictions dissolve, the difficult passages make sense, and the Bible becomes not a puzzle to solve, but a revelation to rejoice in.

The call is simple: take up the workman’s tools. Open your Bible this week and read with fresh eyes. When you come to a command, ask if it is yours to obey. When you come to a promise, ask if it is yours to claim. When you come to a passage that feels heavy with law, remember the liberty of grace. And when you come to the cross, remember that it was there God changed the administration — not His character, not His truth, but His dealings with man.

“Study to shew thyself approved unto God…” (2 Timothy 2:15). That is not a suggestion; it is a charge. And it is not for the scholar alone — it is for every believer who longs to walk in truth without shame. May we be found faithful in that calling.

Additional reading and confirmation:
Hebrews 1:1-2, Galatians 3:23-25, Ephesians 3:1-6, Romans 16:25, Colossians 1:25-27



Doctrine and Discernment (Part Four): Stewarding Truth and Love in Ministry

Doctrine and Discernment (Part Four): Stewarding Truth and Love in Ministry

There’s a quiet danger in mistaking method for maturity. We often lean on formulas to help us communicate spiritual truths, and rightly so—they offer clarity, structure, and consistency. But the formula is not the substance. It’s a scaffold, not a sanctuary. True spiritual discernment comes not by rigid application, but by yielding to the Spirit’s wisdom. We study, we rightly divide, we prepare—but then we walk.

To help us walk wisely, we’ll explore a five-point framework—people, matter, fruit, motive, and method. This is not a checklist for performance, but a compass for understanding. It’s a way to receive knowledge and begin discerning how to minister God’s Word with balance—avoiding the extremes of Berean rigidity and Romans 14 leniency, and instead walking the Spirit-led middle path of truth and love.

PEOPLE — Who Are You Speaking To?

Not every believer is in the same place spiritually, and the Spirit calls us to discern that difference with care. Some are strong in faith, able to receive correction, digest meatier truths, and engage in doctrinal clarity without stumbling. Others are still growing—needing gentleness, patience, and protection from overload. To minister wisely is to recognise this spectrum and respond accordingly. A hard truth spoken to a soft heart can wound more than it heals. Likewise, withholding clarity from a mature believer can hinder growth. The Spirit leads us to match tone and depth to the hearer’s capacity, not out of compromise, but out of love.

Doctrine and Discernment (Part Three): The Spiritual Summary of Romans 14

Doctrine and Discernment (Part Three): The Spiritual Summary of Romans 14

In this series, we’ve been tracing the spectrum of how believers steward scripture. Part 1 began with the Bereans—those noble searchers who examined the Word daily with precision and care. They represent the extreme left: doctrinal accuracy, scriptural testing, and intellectual rigour. Part 2 took us to the opposite end—Romans 14, where Paul speaks of accommodation, leniency, and the grace required in disputable matters. Now, in part 3, we remain in Romans 14, but we shift from the practical to the spiritual. This is the summary of the chapter. This is the heart of the matter.

The body of Christ is not a physical institution—it is a spiritual entity. Our walk is not defined by meat or holy days, nor by outward rituals or religious customs. The kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. These are the spiritual markers of a believer. These are the things that matter. Our focus must be heavenward. Our minds are to be set on things above, not on the disputable matters below. True service to God is not found in external observance, but in yielding to His Word and walking in the Spirit. That is what pleases Him.

Yet Paul does not leave us in the clouds. He brings us back to the ground—to our horizontal relationship with our brother. The middle portion of this passage reminds us that liberty must be tempered by love. We are to accommodate the weaker brother, not by diluting truth, but by sacrificing our freedoms for his sake. We do not flaunt our convictions. We do not provoke offence. We seek peace. We pursue edification. We lay down our rights so that he might stand. This is not compromise—it is compassion. It is the quiet strength of spiritual maturity.

Pleasing God in the Right Dispensation: A Contrast of Hebrews and Romans

Pleasing God in the Right Dispensation: A Contrast of Hebrews and Romans

Many Christians today are sincere but sincerely confused. They read Hebrews and Romans as if they’re saying the same thing to the same people. But they’re not. These two epistles are foundational—but for different audiences, in different dispensations, with different instructions for how to walk in a way that pleases God. Before we get into comparing 'what pleases God' between the two letters, let me start with a generalisation of Hebrews versus Romans. 

Hebrews is written to Israel, specifically to Jewish believers preparing to endure the coming tribulation. It speaks from the framework of law and prophecy, calling them to hold fast, to resist apostasy, and to demonstrate their faith through visible obedience. It warns against returning to temple sacrifices—especially when the Antichrist reinstates them—and speaks of “the world to come” (Hebrews 2:5) and “the day approaching” (Hebrews 10:25), pointing clearly to prophetic fulfilment. Christ is presented as the true High Priest, replacing the Levitical system, and Israel is called to come “without the camp” (Hebrews 13:13), echoing the flight from Jerusalem in Matthew 24:15. This is not Church doctrine—it is tribulation instruction for Israel under law and prophecy.

Romans, by contrast, is written to the Body of Christ, and it operates under grace and mystery. Paul, the apostle to the Gentiles (Romans 11:13), lays out the believer’s spiritual identity in Christ, centred on justification by faith, sanctification, and the renewing of the mind. Romans reveals the mystery that was hidden in ages past (Romans 16:25), and though it addresses both Jews and Gentiles, it does so within the context of the Church—not national Israel. It teaches us to walk in the Spirit, not striving for acceptance through performance, but resting in the finished work of Christ. Our salvation is not dependent on the law but is entirely under grace (Romans 6:14).

When Grace Is Not Enough

When Grace Is Not Enough

We speak often of grace. We sing of it, preach it, post it. But if we’re honest, many of us treat grace like a soft cushion—something to fall back on when we stumble, rather than a foundation to stand on and build from. We receive it, yes. But do we respect it? Do we respond?

Paul’s letters are not shy on this point. Grace is not just a theological comfort—it’s a spiritual responsibility. And if we mishandle it, we don’t lose salvation, but we do lose clarity, fruitfulness, and the joy of walking in step with the Spirit.

Let’s walk slowly through three ways Scripture warns us not to mishandle grace. Not to condemn, but to awaken.

1. Frustrating Grace: When We Try to Help God Out

There’s a quiet danger in trying to help grace along. We don’t mean to, of course. But somewhere between our zeal for holiness and our fear of falling short, we start adding scaffolding to the cross. A little law here, a little self-effort there. Before long, we’re measuring our spiritual health by how well we perform, not how deeply we trust. Paul saw this tendency and wrote plainly: “I do not frustrate the grace of God: for if righteousness come by the law, then Christ is dead in vain” (Galatians 2:21). That’s not just a doctrinal correction—it’s a relational one. When we try to earn what was freely given, we’re not just miscalculating; we’re dishonouring the very heart of the gospel. Grace doesn’t need our help. It needs our surrender.

From Carnal to Spiritual (Part 6): Liberty and Responsibility

From Carnal to Spiritual (Part 6): Liberty and Responsibility

We’ve come a long way in this series, and it’s worth pausing to take it in. Each part has been a step—not just in understanding, but in spiritual posture. We began by recognising the carnal mind for what it is: natural, unrenewed, and unable to receive the things of God. That was Part 1. Then we saw that renewal isn’t just about adding truth—it’s about forsaking what shaped us before. That was Part 2. In Part 3, we were reminded that growth is measured by movement, not by flawlessness. The spiritual mind is formed gradually, and every step matters. Then came Part 4, where we saw that doctrine isn’t dry—it’s the very substance that renews the mind. Truth rightly divided gives structure to our thinking. And in Part 5, we brought that renewal into daily life. Walking in the Spirit isn’t mystical—it’s practical. It’s how we respond, how we think, how we live.

Now we arrive at a quiet turning point. Not a new lesson, but a reminder. A moment to breathe and consider what all of this means—not just inwardly, but outwardly. Because the renewed mind doesn’t exist in isolation. It begins to shape how we carry ourselves, how we speak, how we serve. And that’s where liberty comes in—not as a concept to admire, but as a reality to steward.

Paul wrote to the Galatians, “Only use not liberty for an occasion to the flesh, but by love serve one another” (Galatians 5:13). That verse doesn’t come with pressure—it comes with perspective. Liberty in Christ is a gift, but it’s also a trust. It frees us from the weight of law, yes—but it also frees us to walk with purpose. The spiritual mind doesn’t treat liberty as a personal escape. It sees it as an open door to serve, to build, to edify.