Don’t Read the Bible on Shuffle

The One Epic Story of the Bible

Have you ever put your music on “shuffle”? Shuffle mode is great for music because most of the time, unless you’re listening to a Broadway musical or something, songs are self-contained. That means you can jump from track 3 to track 17 to a whole different album and not miss anything. But imagine taking your favorite movie, breaking it into minute-long sections, and then playing the movie on shuffle—sixty seconds from the middle, then sixty from the end, then sixty from the opening credits. That leads to nothing but chaos! But why? Well, it’s because a movie isn’t just a collection of unrelated bits. It is a story. It begins, develops, and finally resolves. Themes are developed, characters are introduced, and their lives are traced, and the result is that one minute follows after another until you have a fully developed story.

The Bible is like that. It’s not a random anthology of inspiring bits that you can read in any order. It’s a single, sweeping narrative about how the living God makes and keeps his promises to save sinners. And yet the irony is that, for most Christians, the only way they have been taught to read the Bible is by putting it on shuffle. They read a little bit today from the Old Testament, and then a little bit tomorrow from the New Testament, and always tack on a bit from the Psalms or Proverbs at the end of each day. I am convinced that is part of the reason why so many Christians think the Bible is opaque, or too difficult, or have a difficult time grasping its beauty. It’s because we read it on shuffle rather than as an epic story.

Once you understand, though, that the Bible is one grand story that runs from start to finish, individual passages settle into place. The storyline runs from creation to new creation: God creates the world and puts humanity over it, as his image-bearers, to rule under him (Gen. 1:26–28). Humans rebel against God’s authority (Gen. 3). God promises a deliverer, a coming King who will one day crush the serpent’s head (Gen. 3:15). And then, through the rest of the Bible, God works out that plan, choosing Abraham and promising blessing to all nations through his offspring (Gen. 12:1–3; 22:18), choosing Israel to be his people and promising that a great King and Savior would rise up out of them. Then, in “the fullness of time,” that promised King arrives—Jesus the Messiah—who dies for his people’s sins, rises from the dead, and promises to return to reign forever (Gal. 4:4; 1 Cor. 15:3–4; Rev. 11:15).

Once you grasp that storyline, the Bible comes alive. It is no longer just a collection of fables and wisdom sayings that can help you have a better week. All of a sudden, it is the chronicle of God’s astonishing plan to save the world from its rebellion against him. Even more, within that story, you can trace dozens of themes that develop as the story unfolds. I want to introduce you to two of them, two themes that run like golden threads from the very beginning to the very end of the biblical storyline: Kingship and Substitutionary Sacrifice.

Kingship—Who Will Rule God’s World?

The Bible opens with God giving his newly created humans a royal assignment. He tells them, “Let us make man in our image . . . and let them have dominion” (Gen. 1:26). In other words, humanity is commissioned to rule under God, to reflect his character and extend his wise order through the created world. Therefore, when Adam and Eve sin against God by breaking his law, that is not just breaking a rule; it’s an attempted coup against the kingship and rule of God (Gen. 3). And so for the rest of the Bible, the great question becomes, Who will rightly bear the crown?

God answers that question, though somewhat mysteriously, in Genesis 3:15. Speaking to the serpent, he promises, “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” That’s a promise that reverberates with royal meaning. In time, God would send a new king, one who would do what Adam should have done in the first place–destroy the serpent forever.

From that point, the promise of a saving king drives the story of the Bible. The promises narrow first to a great family and then to a single tribe. So Jacob prophesies, “The scepter shall not depart from Judah . . . and to him shall be the obedience of the peoples” (Gen. 49:10). Centuries later, the promises come to rest in a covenant that God makes with King David: “I will raise up your offspring after you . . . and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever” (2 Sam. 7:12–13). For the next centuries, through heartbreak, rebellion, and exile, the psalms and prophets keep that hope alive: “I have set my King on Zion” (Ps. 2:6); “Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end . . . on the throne of David” (Isa. 9:7). Even when Israel’s monarchy collapses and the people are carried away into slavery, the promise doesn’t fail. The King is still coming—righteous, humble, and saving: “Behold, your king is coming to you” (Zech. 9:9).

Finally, in a backwater town in the north of Israel, an angel announces that the time has come. Speaking to a young virgin named Mary, he says, “And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”

When Jesus begins his public ministry, he announces, “The kingdom of God is at hand” (Mark 1:15). And then in his words and works God’s royal rule breaks in—the blind see, storms still, demons flee. He is David’s greater Son (Matt. 1:1), and yet he does not seize his kingship by force. He obeys where Adam and Israel failed. He is humble where they were arrogant. That paradox reaches its center at Calvary when the governor fastens a sign to his cross that reads, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews” (John 19:19). Of course, the governor meant his sign to be a mockery, but it actually spoke the truth. Jesus was the king, and yet he was dying.

The Bible tells us that on the third day after his crucifixion, Jesus rose from the dead and declared, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matt. 28:18). No longer subject to human laws and violence, he ascended not to retire but to reign until the day when all his enemies—including Satan, that serpent of old—will be put under his feet (Ps. 110:1; 1 Cor. 15:25). Thus the Bible’s story ends with the world openly acknowledging what is already true of him: Jesus is “King of kings and Lord of lords” (Rev. 19:16).

Do you see the point here? If you read the Bible with this developing theme in mind, then the kings and kingdoms you meet are no longer isolated episodes. Saul’s height, David’s heart, Solomon’s failure, the fracture of the kingdom, the pain of exile—all of it pushes the question forward: Where is the promised King? The answer is Jesus, and every royal scene is either preparing for him or contrasting with him. Either way, the whole Bible speaks of him.

Substitutionary Sacrifice—How Can Rebels Be Redeemed?

If the theme of kingship answers the question of who will rule, the theme of sacrifice answers the question, How, though, can guilty people be forgiven and included in that rule instead of crushed by it? The pattern begins early. After Adam and Eve sin against him, God clothes them with “garments of skins” (Gen. 3:21). For the very first time, a creature with the breath of life in its lungs dies so that the guilty may be covered.

We see the same pattern on Mount Moriah, when Abraham offers Isaac but God provides “a ram . . . instead of his son” (Gen. 22:13). In Egypt, judgment falls on the land, but wherever the blood of the spotless lamb marks the door, the angel of death passes over: “When I see the blood, I will pass over you” (Ex. 12:13).

Once God constitutes the nation of Israel, he also institutes a sacrificial system that dramatizes this same logic. Sin deserves death, but it does not have to be the sinner who dies. God accepts a substitute. So the priest lays hands on the animal, symbolically transferring guilt, and blood is shed so that sinners may remain near to the presence of God (Lev. 1:4–5; 16:21–22). That system, though, was also limited by design. It had to be repeated every year, over and over again. As Hebrews says, “It is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins” (Heb. 10:4). Even so, those ceremonies taught Israel little by little the importance of substitutionary atonement.

That theme develops and expands throughout the rest of the storyline of the Bible. Isaiah speaks of the Servant who will be “pierced for our transgressions” and upon whom “the Lord has laid . . . the iniquity of us all” (Isa. 53:5–6). When John the Baptist sees Jesus, he points and says, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29). Jesus himself explains his mission in substitutionary terms: “The Son of Man came . . . to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45). The apostles interpret the cross the same way. Paul said, “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21). And Peter put it like this: “Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God” (1 Pet. 3:18).

All the strands of the sacrificial thread are gathered up by the book of Hebrews. Jesus, our high priest, enters the holy place “by means of his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption” (Heb. 9:12). His offering, unlike that of the priests, is “once for all” (Heb. 10:10). And thus the shadows give way to the reality. Substitution isn’t a late idea; it’s the Bible’s consistent answer to how a just God can justify the ungodly (Rom. 3:26).

Pulling the Threads Together

The Bible’s unity, the fact that it is one epic story from beginning to end, shows up no more gloriously than in the intersection of these two themes: The King is the substitute. And perhaps no biblical text brings this home more beautifully than Revelation. John hears a voice declaring in the throne room of heaven, “Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah . . . has conquered.” But then he looks and sees not a resplendent king, but “a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain” (Rev. 5:5–6). The King is the substitute. The Lion is the Lamb. The royal victory comes by sacrificial death.

Once you understand this, it resolves the two deepest problems introduced in Genesis 3. Humanity’s rebellion created a governmental crisis—Who rightly rules?—and a moral crisis—How can the guilty be forgiven? A mere strongman would be insufficient to fix the second problem, and a mere sacrifice can’t solve the first. But in Jesus, God provides both. The crucified and risen King is himself the very one who bears sin, dies in the place of his people, and restores rule.

That is why the cross stands—and must always stand—at the center of the kingdom message rather than off to the side. If the kingdom had come without atonement, it would be bad news for us rebels. But because Jesus is not just King but the suffering King (because he dies as a sacrifice in the place of sinners), the coming of the kingdom is indeed good news. We are offered forgiveness and new life under a righteous and ever-living Ruler.

The King is the substitute. The Lion is the Lamb. The royal victory comes by sacrificial death.

How This Changes Everyday Bible Reading

1. Read in sequence, not on shuffle.

There is value in memorizing individual verses, but don’t train yourself to hear the Bible as disconnected stories and sayings. Keep asking, Where am I in the story? Keep a roadmap of the story in mind: creation (Gen. 1–2), fall (Gen. 3), promise (Gen. 12), exodus and covenant (Ex. 19–24), kingdom and temple (2 Sam. 7; 1 Kings 8), exile (2 Kings 25), promise of restoration (Isa. 40–66), the King’s arrival (Gospels), the church’s mission (Acts), life under the King (Epistles), and final renewal (Revelation).

2. Track the crown.

When a king appears in the Old Testament, don’t just ask whether he’s “good” or “bad” and therefore look for “life lessons” from him. Ask how he relates to the promise to David (2 Sam. 7). What is he teaching us about God or his promised King? Let Psalm 2 and Isaiah 9 tune your expectations. In the Gospels, listen for Jesus’s royal claims (“The kingdom . . . is at hand,” Mark 1:15; “All authority . . .” Matt. 28:18). In Acts and the Epistles, notice how the apostles preach the risen Christ as the enthroned Lord (Acts 2:36). In Revelation, watch the crown light fully and forever on the brow of Jesus (Rev. 11:15).

3. Track the temple.

When you read about sacrifices, ask what they say about sin and grace. Passover announces protection by blood (Ex. 12:13). Leviticus shows guilt transferred and cleansed (Lev. 16:21–22). Isaiah 53 interprets the Servant’s suffering as substitution. The Gospels present Jesus’s death as the fulfillment of those patterns (Mark 10:45). Hebrews ties the bow (Heb. 9–10).

4. Hold the threads together.

If you trace kingship without the cross, you may shrink the gospel to power politics. If you trace the substitution without the crown, you may shrink it to a private transaction. Scripture refuses both reductions. The King died, and the Lamb reigns.

Let me say it one more time: don’t read the Bible on shuffle. It’s a story—one story—about God’s promise to put the world right through his King who gives his life for sinners. Keep the two threads of kingship and substitution in view, and all the parts will click into the whole. You’ll see why Judah’s “scepter” matters (Gen. 49:10), how David’s covenant shapes the unfolding plot (2 Sam. 7:12–13), why Isaiah’s servant had to be “pierced for our transgressions” (Isa. 53:5), why Jesus could say both “the kingdom . . . is at hand” (Mark 1:15) and that he had come “to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45). You’ll understand why the song in heaven celebrates the Lamb who ransomed a people so that “they shall reign on the earth” (Rev. 5:9–10).

Ultimately, that is the Bible’s epic story—standing astride history, centered on Christ, and moving unstoppably toward the day when every knee will bow and every mouth will confess that “Jesus Christ is Lord” (Phil. 2:11).

Greg Gilbert is the author of The One Story Bible: Tracing the Thread of Redemption Through God’s Word.

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