A Day in the Life
There is a moment in the ministry of Jesus Christ that unsettles me every time I return to it. Standing before the religious leaders, men who had devoted their entire lives to Scripture, He says, “You search the Scriptures, for in them you think you have eternal life; and these are they which testify of Me. But you are not willing to come to Me that you may have life” (John 5:39–40). The tension in that statement is striking. They knew the Word, but they did not know the Word made flesh. The Greek verb ἐρευνᾶτε (ereunaō), “you search,” suggests a diligent, almost investigative effort. These men were not casual readers; they were relentless students. Yet their study had become an end in itself rather than a pathway to relationship.
As I walk through this passage, I cannot help but picture another scene from the life of Jesus—the road to Emmaus in Luke 24. Two disciples are walking, confused and disheartened, and Jesus joins them, though they do not recognize Him. “Beginning at Moses and all the Prophets, He expounded to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself” (Luke 24:27). Here is the contrast: Scripture rightly understood always leads to Christ. The Pharisees studied the text and missed the Person; these disciples encountered the Person and finally understood the text. It is a sobering reminder that Bible knowledge alone does not transform; it is the encounter with Christ through the Word that changes everything.
I have seen this tension play out in my own life and in the lives of others. It is possible to become deeply engaged in spiritual disciplines—reading, studying, teaching—and yet remain distant from the very One those disciplines are meant to reveal. The Pharisees loved the Law, but they resisted the Lord. They could quote the promises of God, yet when the fulfillment stood before them, they rejected Him. D.A. Carson once noted, “The Scriptures point to Jesus, but they do not confer life apart from Him.” That insight forces me to examine whether my study is leading me into deeper surrender or simply deeper knowledge.
The danger is subtle because the substitutes we embrace are often good things. Serving in ministry, reading Christian literature, participating in church life—none of these are wrong. In fact, they are commendable. Yet they can become replacements for intimacy with Christ if we are not careful. The apostle Paul’s words in Philippians 3:8 echo with clarity: “Yet indeed I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord… for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish.” The Greek word σκύβαλα (skubala), translated “rubbish,” refers to something discarded, even offensive. Paul is not diminishing the value of good works; he is elevating the incomparable worth of knowing Christ.
There is an insightful observation from A.W. Tozer that has stayed with me: “To have found God and still to pursue Him is the soul’s paradox of love.” This is the invitation Jesus extends. He is not asking for mere acknowledgment but for relationship. When He confronted the Pharisees, it was not their knowledge He rebuked but their unwillingness to come to Him. The issue was not intellectual deficiency but relational resistance. They knew the promises but refused the Promiser.
So I ask myself, and I invite you to consider with me: am I satisfied with knowing about Jesus, or am I pursuing a living, growing relationship with Him? It is a question that surfaces in the quiet moments of the day. When I open the Scriptures, am I looking for information or transformation? When I pray, am I reciting words or engaging with the One who hears? These are not questions of condemnation but of invitation. Jesus is not standing at a distance, waiting for us to get it right. He is actively drawing us, just as He did those disciples on the Emmaus road, opening our understanding and revealing Himself through His Word.
The life of Jesus consistently demonstrates this priority. He did not call His disciples to a system; He called them to Himself. “Follow Me,” He said, not “Study this.” Study is essential, but it is always secondary to relationship. The Pharisees had the Scriptures but missed the Savior. The disciples had the Savior and came to understand the Scriptures. That order matters more than we often realize.
As I move through this day, I want my spiritual disciplines to serve their true purpose—to lead me into deeper fellowship with Christ. I want my reading to become a conversation, my study to become surrender, and my service to flow out of love rather than obligation. The invitation remains open, as it was in John 5: come to Him and have life. Not just knowledge, not just activity, but life—ζωή (zōē)—a fullness that only He can give.
For further reflection, consider this resource: https://www.biblestudytools.com/commentaries/matthew-henry-complete/john/5.html
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