Wearing the wrong sandals

For much of my Christian life, I had the bad habit of inserting myself in the leading role of a Bible story. After all, the Word of God was supposed to apply to my life, right? So during a severe trial, I identified with Hezekiah in Isaiah 36. My antagonists were Rabshakeh and Sennacherib, and my situation was a metaphorical siege. Another time, I put myself in Elizabeth's place and believed that my daughter had been regenerated in the womb like John the Baptist. But what right did I have to step into Hezekiah's or Elizabeth's sandals and think that what God did for them applied exactly to me?

Here is what Graeme Goldsworthy has to say:

Is it in fact true that if God took care of baby Moses, God will take care of me? Such application simply assumes that what applied to the unique figure of Moses in a unique situation applies to all of us and, presumably all of time. But why should our children be privileged to identify with Moses rather with the other Hebrew children at the time who may not have escaped Pharoah's wrath? The theological significance of Moses and of his preservation is all but ignored in this case...

Rather we should identify with the ordinary people of God, with the soldiers who stand and watch the battle fought on their behalf [David and Goliath narrative]. The same point may be made about the lives of all biblical characters who have some distinct office bestowed on them by God. If their achievement is that of any godly man, the lesson is clear, but if it is an achievement of a prophet, a judge, or the messianic king, then to the extent it no more applies to the people of God in general than does the unique work of Jesus as the Christ.

Bingo. I had all but ignored the theological significance of Hezekiah, Elizabeth, and other biblical figures whose sandals I tried to wear. They weren't just characters in an allegory in which to plug myself. They were real people who lived in a specific time and place with unique roles in God's plan. Yes, one can say that God demonstrates His faithfulness in their stories, but I should be very careful about making a direct one-to-one correspondence between God's specific dealings in their situations and mine. Hezekiah was an ancestor of the promised Messiah, whose preservation was necessary for the fulfillment of God's promise. Elizabeth was the mother of John the Baptist, the forerunner of Christ. I am none of those things, and my daughter certainly isn't another John the Baptist.

I'm breaking this bad habit, but I can't help but regret my self-centered approach to the Bible. It would have been saved me a lot of foolishness and unlearning if I had been taught that the Word is first and foremost about God, His plan, and His ways, not about me and my spiritual journey. Thankfully God is sovereign over my growth as believer, even the times it was stunted, and this gives me great comfort, but Goldsworthy's words are still worth heeding.

So be careful about wearing the wrong sandals. It can lead to hermeneutical blisters that affect your spiritual walk.

The Goldsworthy Trilogy: Gospel and Kingdom, Graeme Goldsworthy, Paternoster Press, 2011, pp. 27-28. (emphasis mine)