In an age when biblical illiteracy is rampant, a deep love for Scripture is not only admirable—it’s necessary. But even good things, when elevated above their proper place, can become dangerous. This may sound strange to some, but it needs to be said: you can fall in love with the Bible and still miss Jesus.
The Bible is not God. It points us to Him. It reveals His nature, His plan, His commands, and His promises. But the ultimate goal of the Bible is not just knowledge—it’s transformation through relationship. The Pharisees in Jesus’ day knew the Scriptures inside and out. They memorized the Torah, debated it endlessly, and lived meticulously by its laws. And yet, Jesus told them plainly:
“You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about Me, yet you refuse to come to Me that you may have life.”
—John 5:39–40 (ESV)
Let that sink in.
These men revered Scripture so much they tied it to their foreheads, yet the Son of God stood in front of them—and they didn’t recognize Him. Why? Because they worshipped the words on the page instead of the Living Word they were meant to lead them to.
This isn’t a call to lessen our love for the Bible. On the contrary—we must treasure it. But our reverence must be rooted in a desire to know, love, and follow Jesus Christ. If reading the Bible doesn’t lead us into deeper surrender, humility, obedience, and worship, we’re not reading it right. We’re reading it like a textbook instead of a love letter.
Some today are guilty of what I’ll call bibliolatry—the elevation of Scripture to the status of a divine end in itself. They can quote doctrine, debate theology, and split hairs over Greek and Hebrew, yet their lives are cold, prideful, and fruitless. They know about God but don’t walk with Him. Their knowledge has puffed them up, not built them up in love (1 Corinthians 8:1).
This happens subtly. It’s not usually about someone slamming the Bible on an altar and bowing to it. It happens when the pursuit of biblical mastery replaces intimacy with Christ. When someone defends Scripture more passionately than they live out its commands. When Bible knowledge is used as a weapon instead of a wellspring of wisdom and grace. When a person’s identity is wrapped up in being “right” instead of being righteous.
Jesus didn’t die to make you a Bible expert. He died to make you His own. The Word became flesh—not paper. He walked among us, not just to teach us, but to rescue us. The Bible is the lamp (Psalm 119:105), but Christ is the Way (John 14:6). The Bible is the sword, but Christ is the Captain. The Bible is our food, but Christ is the Bread of Life.
And don’t misunderstand—every page of Scripture is God-breathed. But without the breath of the Spirit breathing through it, we risk turning it into a lifeless idol. The early church didn’t have full Bibles in their hands. What they had was the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, the teachings of Jesus, and a living relationship with their Savior. They turned the world upside down—not by merely quoting the Word, but by living it in power.
So let this be a sobering reminder:
Don’t fall in love with the Bible more than you fall in love with its Author.
Read the Word. Study it. Memorize it. But above all, let it lead you to your knees in worship of the One it reveals—Jesus Christ, the risen Lord, the Lamb of God, the King of kings.
Anything less is empty religion.
Anything less is dangerous deception.
Anything less is missing the point.
Closing Charge:
Men and women of God, it’s time we stop flexing Bible facts and start walking in resurrection power. Let your knowledge of the Scriptures fuel a deeper love for Jesus, not a spiritual ego trip. Don’t just be hearers—or even studiers—of the Word. Be doers, lovers, and followers of Christ Himself.
He’s not looking for scholars. He’s looking for sons and daughters who know His voice and follow Him.
