WHY VERSES SEEM TO DISAGREE
You’ve seen it happen. The same Bible verse used to argue completely opposite things. One person quotes a line to make a point. Another sends that same verse right back in the other direction.
And somewhere in the middle, a question surfaces: How can the same words mean two different things?
At first, it feels confusing. But if you sit with it long enough, another thought emerges. Maybe it’s not just about what the verse says. Maybe it’s about how it’s being used. Most people don’t approach Scripture trying to twist it. We approach it trying to make sense of our world. And that distinction matters.
Because the world we’re living in moves fast. Information comes constantly. Opinions, headlines, reactions. So our minds adapt. We take shortcuts. We look for ideas and patterns that feel familiar. We gravitate toward what confirms what we already believe. That’s confirmation bias. It may not begin as outright rebellion. Sometimes, it begins as survival. But when we bring that instinct to Scripture, something subtle yet dangerous happens.
We don’t just read the text. We begin to read ourselves into it. A verse gets lifted out of its setting. Disconnected from the people it was originally addressed to. And without realizing it, we supply a meaning.
There’s a word for that: eisegesis. Eisegesis reads meaning into the text. And when we do that, the Bible can be made to say almost anything. Not because the words are unclear, but because they’ve been removed from the place where meaning actually lives. The faithful approach is called exegesis. Exegesis draws meaning out of the text. Imagine receiving a single message: “That’s not what I meant.” Without context, you can’t know what it means. Because meaning doesn’t live in isolated sentences. It lives in context. The same is true of Scripture. Context isn’t extra information. It is where meaning becomes clear. And Scripture helps interpret Scripture.
That doesn’t mean truth is trapped in the past. Context doesn’t limit meaning. It anchors it. Before a passage can speak to us, it meant something to them.
And once we understand what was said then, we can understand what it means now. Context doesn’t remove application. It protects it.
Consider a familiar line from Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” It’s often used as a statement of personal achievement, as if it were a promise that we can accomplish whatever we set our minds to. But in its original setting, it was about endurance through both abundance and lack. Not achieving more. Remaining steady.
Or consider Jesus’ words in Matthew 7:1: “Do not judge, or you too will be judged.” It is often used to shut down disagreement. But Jesus goes on to address hypocrisy. Not discernment itself, but the posture behind it. The call wasn’t to abandon discernment. It was to pursue it honestly.
In both cases, the meaning doesn’t disappear in context. It becomes clearer. And this doesn’t just affect how we read Scripture. It shapes how we see each other. Because once we attach our meaning to a verse, it’s easy to assume anyone who disagrees is wrong. But what if they’re working from different assumptions? We would do well to acknowledge that. Understanding someone’s perspective doesn’t mean you have to agree. But it does change how you respond. It replaces frustration with a measure of compassion.
Jesus often stepped into moments like this: “You have heard it said… but I say to you…” Not to win arguments. To bring clarity. Because clarity is kindness. That invitation still stands.
Slow down. Resist the urge to pluck a verse from the quiver. Sit with the passage long enough to understand what was actually being said before deciding what it means for you. Because meaning doesn’t live in isolated lines. It lives in context. And in a fast-moving world, choosing clarity may not be easy. But it is faithful and kind.
Carry The Fire,
SCOJO
