We are home-schooling our children. One advantage of this is being directly involved in their learning experience. My eldest, almost 11yo, was having a particularly tough time recently doing his maths. He’s intelligent and understands it well enough, but he was not enjoying the process. I can relate.

I remember when I graduated pilot’s course a mentor of mine asked me what I learned from the experience. After some reflection, “I learned how to learn” was my surprising answer. That is a skill I was never deliberately taught through my schooling career, despite having an excellent schooling experience.

So our discussion at the dinner table revolved around the process and point of learning. Because it’s not really about learning to do division with leftovers.

It’s about learning how to learn how to do division with leftovers. In fact, more than that, it’s about learning to enjoy and optimise learning how to learn how to do division with leftovers! The immediate lesson sits inside a bigger one.

Division with leftovers should be considered a happy by-product of the broader goal. After all, life is arguably all about learning; we might as well learn to enjoy it and do it well.

What Are We Really Learning About?

But if life is all about learning, that raises a bigger question. Why does life so revolve around the human learning experience? What is it about learning that is so deeply embedded in our universe? What, after all, are we learning about?

There are of course many answers to this question, but at the most basic level, I posit that we are learning ultimately about God. He is infinite. There is no end to learning about God. His universe is intricate and impressive, and all of it points to Him.

Arguably, humans have never even had an original idea! We are only ever simply rediscovering the amazing latent truths and rearranging pre-existing realities that God built into the universe for our discovery, learning, innovation, and creative endeavour.*

All of the learning experience then is arguably a pursuit of God. When we learn new things we gain some small insight into the mind of God. As Paul writes:

“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities — his eternal power and divine nature — have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” — Romans 1:20 (NIV)

Every field of study, every discovery, every hard-won lesson reveals another small facet of the reality He created. And arguably the deepest and clearest expression of God’s mind is found in the Bible.

Which brings the whole question home.

So Why Do You Read Your Bible?

Is reading your Bible a chore? Do you enjoy the experience? Like my son and his maths, do you understand it well enough but find the process a grind?

Is it just about learning the story of Daniel and the lions’ den? Is it simply about remembering some proverbial truths, memorising a poignant phrase, or being encouraged by the testimony of those who have gone before us in the journey?

It is of course all of these things and much more. But remember the dinner-table principle: the immediate lesson always sits inside a bigger one. So what is the bigger one here? What are we really aiming for when we read?

After all, learning facts about a person is not the same as knowing them. A husband may know his wife’s birthday, favourite colour, and coffee order, but those things are valuable primarily because they serve a relationship rather than replace it.

The goal is not information. The goal is communion.

From Learning to Knowing

That is exactly how Jesus describes eternal life — not as possessing knowledge, but as knowing God:

“Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.” — John 17:3 (NIV)

The stories, doctrines, lessons, commands, promises, and warnings of Scripture are not ends in themselves. They are signposts directing us toward the One who inspired them. Every page invites us not merely to learn something about God, but to know Him a little better.

Perhaps, then, Bible reading is much like learning division with leftovers. The immediate lesson matters. The broader skill matters more. But beyond even that, the ultimate purpose is relationship.

We read to learn. We learn to understand. We understand to know. And we know so that we might love God more deeply and walk with Him more closely. This is, after all, eternal life.

In that sense, every genuine act of learning — from a maths book at the kitchen table to the Scriptures themselves — finds its fulfilment in Him, the only true God, and Jesus Christ his Son, whom He sent.

In Christ,

Paul


* Interestingly, this point is highly relevant in the debate about AI’s supposed lack of “genuine human creativity”…