Is the Bible True? It's More Complex (and Richer) Than You Think

"Is the Bible true?" This is an important question that Christians should grapple with, especially when we encounter stories that seem a bit weird—like Adam and Eve, the Flood, Jonah and his whale, David and the giant, Daniel in the lion's den, and, of course, Jesus rising from the dead. So let's examine what biblical experts say. 

John Stott

To say the Bible is true is not merely to assert that it is factually accurate, but to enter into a posture of listening, trust, and transformation. English theologians like John Stott and J.I. Packer emphasised that Scripture is God's self-revelation, authoritative and trustworthy because it comes from a trustworthy God. But they, along with American pastor and writer Eugene Peterson, insist that the Bible’s truth is not simply in what it says but in what it does: it forms, shapes, convicts, and renews. Packer calls it “God preaching,” and Peterson urges us to resist treating Scripture as a flat source of information, instead inviting us into a long, slow conversation with God. The Bible is true not because it gives us control, but because it draws us into communion. Its truth is not a system to master but a reality to inhabit.

C.S. Lewis saw biblical truth as something richer than literalism. He wrote of the Bible as a "divinely inspired library"—a collection of books, genres, voices, and centuries, all bearing the marks of human authorship and divine intention. Truth in Scripture, for Lewis, often came veiled in story, poetry, and symbol, not to obscure reality but to awaken the imagination to truths too deep for plain language. 

Eleanor Stump

Eleanor Stump, a philosopher and theologian, explores this more philosophically. She argues that the truth of Scripture must be grasped not only cognitively but personally—through narrative knowledge, emotional resonance, and lived experience. Her reading of the story of Job, for instance, shows how Scripture addresses the heart’s suffering not by offering propositions, but by inviting readers into a deeper knowledge of God through shared narrative pain and consolation. 

Marilynne Robinson, in a more literary-theological voice, reminds us that biblical truth often unsettles before it clarifies. The Bible is not tidy. It is not easily explained. But it tells the truth about the human soul with devastating clarity and relentless hope. It names sin without flinching and grace without sentimentalism.

In his elusive and poetic way, Bob Dylan has long revered the Bible—not as a book of abstract doctrine, but as a living source of truth that pierces the soul and names the world’s brokenness and hope. In interviews, Dylan has said things like, “The Bible is true. The Old and New Testaments—they’re well put together. And it’s all true.” But true for Dylan does not mean tidy or systematic—it means resonant, gritty, and alive. His lyrics are soaked in biblical allusion, not to prove a point but to echo a vision of reality where sin is real, justice is coming, and grace is unexpected. Like the prophets and psalmists he seems to channel, Dylan sees the Bible as truth that sings—sometimes in riddles, sometimes in protest, sometimes in weary lament—but always with the weight of eternity. For Dylan, the Bible is true because it names what matters, and because, in a world full of deception and illusion, it still cuts through with unflinching light.

Together, these voices resist simplistic claims about biblical truth. They affirm inspiration and authority, but they also cherish the Bible’s wildness, beauty, and depth. The truth of the Bible, they suggest, is not best proven but perceived, like a light that slowly illumines the contours of our own lives. It is the truth that surprises us with joy, confronts us with mercy, and dares us to believe in a reality more solid than our doubts. The Bible is not true because it is easy. It is true because it is alive—with the living Word of God, speaking still.

The Literal Problem

To consider the question of the Bible’s truth, it's worth understanding that the whole debate about the Bible being "literally true" is a fairly recent phenomenon, particularly prominent in North America over the last couple of centuries. The English Bible scholar NT Wright explains that this emphasis came partly from the Reformation's focus on the Bible's authority and an 18th-century Enlightenment strain of rationalism. People felt that if they were challenging the authority of the church or the Pope, then the Bible had to be true; otherwise, we don't know what to believe.

Genre

We should consider the question “what do we mean by true?” One of the biggest misunderstandings comes from not grasping the genre of the biblical text you're reading. If you have the wrong genre in mind, you'll misunderstand what you're reading.

So, what exactly is genre? It's about the conventions writers and readers use to make meaning in specific situations. If you get the literary genre wrong, you get into trouble pretty quickly and will become confused. Genre dictates the rules and social purposes of a text. It's not just how something is written, but "what is it for?"

The truth is, when you read any text, you already have a genre in mind, even if it's unconscious. You automatically adjust your expectations when you pick up a parking ticket versus a novel. The challenge with an ancient book like the Bible is that we're dealing with a different culture and literary world, so we must slow down and be explicit about our assumptions.

Local scholar Andy Judd (and brother of our Steph) suggests a "boomerang test" for biblical literature. If you try reading a text as a certain genre (e.g., Genesis as a scientific account of the creation of the universe), and the text gives you back nonsense, that's a red flag that you might have the wrong genre. If you change your reading approach, try another genre, and the text makes more sense, that's good evidence that you're probably on the right track. 

This understanding of genre allows us to appreciate the Bible's diverse literary forms—poetry, law, prophecy, history, parable, epistle, wisdom and apocalyptic literature—all working to convey profound truths about God, humanity, and the cosmos. 

Let’s consider some actual Biblical stories.

Adam and Eve 

The story of Adam and Eve in Genesis is central to Christian theology. It explains humanity's origin, the introduction of sin, and the need for redemption. However, its interpretation, particularly regarding its "literalness," varies significantly even among scholars who affirm the Bible's authority.

For some, like Oxford Professor John Lennox, the historicity of Adam and Eve as a biological first pair is paramount. He argues that Jesus's references to Adam and Eve in the New Testament necessitate their literal existence, forming the foundation for core Christian doctrines like atonement and original sin. Denying their historical reality, in this view, undermines the entire message of salvation.

In contrast, other scholars prioritise the theological significance of Genesis over a strict scientific literalism. They believe Adam and Eve's "realness" lies not necessarily in a modern scientific sense, but in the profound theological truths they embody. Wright suggests Genesis 1 is "poetic," conveying multiple layers of meaning. He interprets the creation narrative as establishing a cosmic temple, where God creates a dwelling place to co-exist with humanity. This reframes Genesis 1 as a theological declaration of God's role and purpose in creation, rather than a scientific account. 

Tim Keller, the respected New York Presbyterian pastor and theologian, distinguished between the genres of Genesis 1 and 2-3. While he agreed that Genesis 1 might not be a scientific account, he proposed that Genesis 2 and 3 could be "historical prose narrative," allowing for a different level of literal interpretation. Notably, he even took the talking snake literally, highlighting the diverse approaches to interpretation even among those committed to biblical veracity.

These diverse perspectives demonstrate that even among prominent scholars who uphold the Bible's full authority, there's considerable debate about what parts of Genesis are meant to be taken "literally" in a modern, scientific sense. The "truth" conveyed in the Adam and Eve narrative is not necessarily scientific, like a laboratory report. Instead, it offers profound theological truths about humanity's relationship with God, the origin and pervasive nature of sin, the fractured state of creation, and humanity's ultimate need for divine redemption. These discussions underscore that a robust engagement with biblical texts requires careful consideration of genre, historical context, and the overarching theological message, rather than a monolithic approach to "literalism." The ongoing dialogue among scholars enriches our understanding of these foundational narratives, revealing the Bible's depth and its capacity to convey multiple layers of truth about God's plan for humanity.

Myth, History or Something Else?

The question of whether stories like Noah’s flood, the Exodus, David and Goliath, or Daniel in the lions’ den “really happened” pushes us to reflect on how the Bible communicates truth. Scholars such as Tremper Longman III, John Walton, and Kenneth Kitchen agree that Scripture is “God-breathed” (2 Tim 3:16). Yet, they also emphasise the importance of reading it according to its literary genre. Genesis 6–9, for instance, reflects ancient Near Eastern flood traditions but reframes them to proclaim God's judgment and mercy. Walton suggests Noah’s story is theologically shaped memory, not just history. 

Similarly, while Kitchen and James Hoffmeier defend the historical plausibility of the Exodus, they acknowledge that the story has been theologically framed to reveal God’s saving power and covenant faithfulness, not simply to document events. The truth of these stories lies not only in what happened but in what they reveal: a just and merciful God who hears the cry of the oppressed, preserves life, and acts powerfully on behalf of his people.

The same holds for Goliath’s towering height or Daniel’s miraculous survival. Scholars note that ancient texts sometimes use symbolic exaggeration to highlight theological meaning—David’s victory isn’t about size, but trust in God’s strength. Daniel’s courage in the lions’ den, whether literal or stylised, testifies to God’s faithfulness in exile. Even if archaeology or science cannot confirm every detail, these narratives are not diminished—they are inspired testimonies shaped for faith formation. The Bible is true not because every scene reads like a modern report, but because it reveals the living God through a rich variety of literary forms. To read the Bible faithfully is not to erase mystery or insist on modern definitions of fact, but to hear God's voice speaking through story, history, symbol, and Spirit.

Historical and Moral Truth

It should be noted that sometimes the Bible can be historically true, but not morally true: in other words, the narratives are not always meant to be moral examples for us to follow. This crucial distinction often eludes contemporary readers who approach ancient texts with modern sensibilities, leading to misinterpretations and the propagation of what amounts to a "category error." The often peddled furphy about Biblical sexual ethics promoting polygamy comes directly from this erroneous assumption: “Solomon had 700 wives and 300 concubines, so how can we say marriage between one man and one woman to the exclusion of all others is ‘Biblical marriage?’” This line of reasoning, while seemingly logical on the surface, fundamentally misunderstands the nature of biblical narrative and its pedagogical intent. 

In actual fact, many of the characters in the Bible, even the really famous ones like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, were far from perfect. Abraham, Isaac and Jacob owned slaves, but that doesn’t mean the Bible is advocating for slavery. If the patriarchs were around today, they'd probably be cancelled. We're talking about acts of deception, family betrayal, and some pretty questionable decisions. Think about Abraham repeatedly trying to pass his wife off as his sister, or Jacob tricking his blind father to steal his brother's inheritance. These stories aren't in the Bible to show us ideal behaviour. Instead, they paint a realistic picture of human flaws, even among those chosen by God.

And then there are parts of the Bible that are frankly disturbing, like the horrific account in Judges 19. Reading that chapter as a moral example would lead to deeply twisted conclusions, like blaming the victim. It simply isn't meant to be a guide for how we should live. Instead, Hebrew narratives often operate like a good film: they show, rather than tell. They present events, dialogues, and outcomes, allowing the reader to grapple with the consequences and discern the deeper meaning. The moral lessons aren't always found in the actions of the characters themselves, but in the broader themes of justice, covenant, and God's ultimate plan, which often stands in stark contrast to human failings.

Jesus' Resurrection

Sometimes, however, the historical truth of a biblical event is not just important—it is essential. This is nowhere clearer than in the case of the resurrection of Jesus. While many biblical narratives carry theological weight, whether as historical reportage or literary theology, the resurrection is the linchpin of Christian faith. Tim Keller puts it simply: he believes Jesus actually rose from the dead, not symbolically, not metaphorically, but bodily and historically. This belief is essential for anyone who takes the Bible’s authority seriously. Keller joins the long line of Christians across centuries who have staked their hope, not on a vague spiritual uplift or a mythic metaphor, but on the concrete claim that a dead man walked out of a tomb in first-century Judea. The resurrection is not merely a powerful story with existential resonance—it is, if true, the most crucial fact in history. And if it is not true, then, as Paul bluntly declares in 1 Corinthians 15:14, "our preaching is useless and so is your faith."

The resurrection is unique among biblical claims because it bridges the gap between mystery and materiality. It is both an article of faith and a claim about space-time history. The New Testament writers insist on this over and over: Jesus ate with his disciples, invited Thomas to touch his wounds, and appeared to more than five hundred people (1 Corinthians 15:6). These are not the embellishments of ancient myth but the insistent testimony of people who believed they had encountered the risen Christ in flesh and glory. The explosive transformation of the disciples—from frightened deserters to fearless witnesses—and the birth of the Christian church amid fierce opposition, stand as enduring evidence that something happened that cannot be explained by grief, hallucination, or mere inspiration. The resurrection was not wishful thinking. It was an invasion of a new creation into a dying world.

And yet, the resurrection also stretches our understanding beyond what can be empirically verified. It is history, yes—but it is also more than history. It is a divine act that disrupts the normal patterns of life and death, a sign of God's power to make all things new. To believe in the resurrection is to embrace both a firm historical claim and a mysterious promise: that death is not the end, that sin has been defeated, that Jesus is Lord, and that we too will be raised. This is not dry dogma—it is living hope. It means that even the most broken parts of the world are not beyond redemption, despair is not final, and the future is unimaginably good. In a world haunted by death and doubt, the resurrection is God’s thunderous “Yes” to life, to love, and to the renewal of all things. The stone was rolled away—not just from Jesus' tomb, but from the heart of a world locked in fear.

Trustworthiness, Not Just "Infallibility"

NT Wright prefers to say that the Bible is "trustworthy" rather than "infallible" or "inerrant," arguing that these "I-words" often trap people in a defensive, rationalist mode that the Bible doesn't want. For him, the Bible is the book God wanted us to have, exactly as it is.

The Bible isn't a modern instruction manual or a scientific textbook. It's meant to be lived within, and its trustworthiness isn't about possessing a "commodity" of truth but about being driven by its story out into the world to do what God wants. Its purpose is to transform lives, reveal God's character, and guide humanity towards flourishing.

Importantly, Wright reminds us that the primary "word of God" isn't the Bible itself, but Jesus, the Messiah. The Bible "witnesses to Christ," and its authority is God's authority, "vested in Jesus, exercised somehow through this book." This emphasises that the Bible serves a higher purpose: pointing us to the living Word.

The Bible isn't a mere transcript or a video recording. God works through the authors’ personalities and styles, by His Spirit through the human beings. The Psalms, for instance, are God's Spirit causing love poetry of God and God's people to bubble up from the psalmist's heart. This is God and human beings working together: the beautiful mystery of inspiration. This means we don't have to erase human elements (cultural context, literary style, individual perspective) to affirm the divine origin.

Truth in Relationship

Ultimately, "Is the Bible true?" leads us to the heart of Christian understanding: a relational truth, not merely an intellectual one. The Bible is true because it reliably reveals a true God who desires a true relationship with us. It's not a static object of study but a dynamic encounter with the living God.

When we approach the Bible with intellectual humility, recognising its diverse genres and ancient context, we find that its truths are richer, deeper, and more transformative than a simplistic "literal" reading might suggest. It's about letting the text speak on its own terms, rather than imposing ours. This nuanced approach does not diminish its authority but enhances it, allowing its profound theological, moral, existential, and, where intended, historical truths to resonate powerfully.

So, is the Bible true? Absolutely. But understanding how it's true requires us to be good travellers in its ancient world, to cultivate curiosity, and to discern its genre and purpose. It's not about being stubborn and forcing the text to fit our modern expectations. When we do this, we often find that the Bible's "truth" is richer, deeper, and more transformative than a simplistic "literal" reading might suggest. It's about letting the text speak on its own terms, rather than imposing ours. Give it a try!

To affirm the Bible’s truth is to trust that it faithfully bears witness to God, even when we do not fully understand every detail. Christians confess that the Scriptures are “God-breathed”, meaning they are trustworthy and authoritative for teaching, correcting, and guiding. But that doesn’t mean every question has a clear or final answer. The Bible invites us into a relationship of faith, not just a catalogue of facts. When we encounter stories like creation, the flood, or Daniel in the lions' den, we’re invited not merely to ask “Did this happen exactly like this?” but rather, “What is God showing us about Himself and about what it means to be human?”

Embracing the Bible’s truth means embracing mystery. Many parts of Scripture resist being nailed down with certainty. This is not a flaw but a feature. Mystery does not mean confusion or irrationality; it means that the depth of God’s reality goes beyond our limited categories. As theologian Karl Barth wrote, “The Word became flesh—not an idea, not a system.” God's revelation is personal and relational, not merely informational. We live in a culture that often demands certainty and proof, but biblical faith grows in the soil of trust, patience, and awe. Embracing mystery in the Bible is not a retreat from truth but an encounter with a truth that is deeper and more alive than we can control.