Among Christians, there’s a question that never quite goes away — sometimes whispered, sometimes argued at full volume:
“Was the Bible written directly by God, or is it a collection of inspired writings from men?”
Depending on who you ask, the answers vary, layered with passion, scholarship, and centuries of debate.
I used to think this was a critical question to answer — that settling it would somehow unlock a deeper, truer faith.
But somewhere along the way, I realized something surprising:
It doesn’t matter.
At least, not in the way I used to think.
Because whether the Bible was dictated word-for-word by the voice of God, or penned by inspired men striving after Him, one thing remains absolutely clear:
Jesus trusted it.
Jesus loved it.
And if my Rabbi loved it, I should too.
That thought hit me like a stone dropping into still water.
The ripples spread quickly, reshaping everything around it.
If my Rabbi — the one I claim to follow — held the Scriptures close, quoted them in times of trial, taught from them with authority, leaned on them in prayer, and fulfilled them with His life, then my relationship to Scripture isn’t first and foremost about how perfectly I understand its origins.
It’s about trust.
I trust the One who trusted it.
And that simple trust sets me free.
It frees me from the pressure to solve every mystery or win every argument.
It turns faith from an academic exercise into something far more personal, far more alive.
It’s no longer about proving the Bible is perfect to skeptics.
It’s about loving what my Rabbi loved.
Jesus and the Scriptures
When Jesus stood in the wilderness, tempted and hungry, He quoted Scripture:
“It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”
(Matthew 4:4)
When He stood in the synagogue, announcing His mission, He opened the scroll of Isaiah:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He has anointed Me to proclaim good news to the poor…”
(Luke 4:18, quoting Isaiah 61)
When He faced the cross, the words of the Psalms were on His lips:
“My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?”
(Psalm 22:1 / Matthew 27:46)
He lived and breathed the words of Scripture — not out of cold obligation, but out of deep, living trust.
He didn’t nitpick its historical construction.
He lived its heart.
And so should I.
What This Changes
This realization didn’t just change how I see the Bible — it changed how I see everything.
If my Rabbi loved mercy, then mercy should be my heartbeat.
If He loved justice, then justice should drive me.
If He loved truth, humility, courage, sacrifice — then those aren’t just virtues to admire from a distance.
They are banners I’m meant to carry into my own life.
Where I Stand
I don’t need to have the perfect argument for every question.
I don’t need to dissect every uncertainty before I can act.
I just need to stay close to Him.
To love what He loved.
To walk the road He walked.
Theologians will keep debating.
Scholars will keep wrestling.
And that’s okay.
But as for me, I know where I stand.
I stand beside the Rabbi who loved the Scriptures.
I stand beside the Rabbi who loved sinners.
I stand beside the Rabbi who loved His Father with every breath of His being.
And because He loved these things —
I love them too.
For You
Maybe you feel overwhelmed by questions.
Maybe you wonder if your faith needs to be stronger, smarter, sharper.
Maybe you’re tired.
I understand.
Stay close to the Rabbi.
Love what He loved.
That’s where life begins.
