I used to think struggling with the Bible meant something was wrong with me. Everyone else seemed to talk about Scripture with confidence, like it landed cleanly and clearly every time they opened it. Meanwhile, I’d read the same passage three times and walk away more confused than when I started.
It took me a while to realize the issue wasn’t my hunger for God or my intelligence or my sincerity. It was the way I’d been taught to approach the text without ever questioning the habits I’d picked up along the way.
These aren’t mistakes I noticed from the outside. They’re ones I made myself, often with the best intentions.
Mistake One: Treating the Bible Like a Personal Mood Board
For a long time, I read Scripture looking for a feeling. Comfort, reassurance, motivation, peace. If a passage didn’t give me that, I quietly skipped it or tried to reshape it until it did.
The problem wasn’t that I wanted encouragement. The problem was that I made my emotional response the measure of truth. When something challenged me or disrupted my assumptions, I assumed it must not apply or must need reinterpreting.
I had to learn that Scripture isn’t written to match my emotional state. Sometimes it meets me gently. Sometimes it confronts me. Both matter.
Mistake Two: Reading Verses in Isolation
This one did more damage than I realized at the time. Pulling single verses out of context made the Bible feel sharper and more confusing than it actually is. I’d cling to one line without knowing who said it, who they were talking to, or what was happening around it.
Once I slowed down enough to read passages as part of a larger conversation, things started to soften. Not because they became easy, but because they became honest. Context didn’t erase tension, but it gave it a place to live.
Mistake Three: Expecting Immediate Clarity
I used to believe that if God wanted me to understand something, He’d make it obvious right away. When clarity didn’t come, I felt frustrated and quietly ashamed, like I was missing something everyone else could see.
What I’ve learned is that understanding often unfolds slowly. Some passages don’t open up until life has worked on you a little. Some truths land sideways, through experience instead of explanation.
Faith isn’t measured by how fast things make sense. It’s measured by whether you stay present when they don’t.
If your prayer life feels distracted or dry, Fervent by Priscilla Shirer is a must-read. It’s not fluffy, it’s a straight-up battle plan for getting strategic and intentional in prayer. Practical, powerful, and rooted in Scripture. Highly recommend. Grab it here.
Mistake Four: Replacing Scripture With Commentary Instead of Letting It Support Scripture
I swung between two extremes: either I avoided commentaries completely because I thought they meant I lacked faith, or I leaned on them so heavily that I stopped listening to the text itself.
What finally helped was learning order, that Scripture came first. Confusion allowed. Questions welcomed. Then outside resources, not as answers to copy, but as guides to consider.
When I let Scripture speak before anyone else did, commentaries became grounding instead of overwhelming.
Mistake Five: Assuming Questions Are a Threat to Faith
This might be the most subtle mistake of all. I treated questions like cracks in the foundation instead of signs that something was actually being built. Doubt felt dangerous, so I rushed past it instead of sitting with it.
What changed everything was realizing that wrestling isn’t the same as walking away. The Bible is full of people who questioned God and stayed in relationship with Him anyway. Their faith wasn’t fragile because it wasn’t shallow.
I don’t study Scripture to prove something anymore, I study because God called us to, because I want to know God’s Word.
I still make mistakes and sometimes I close the Bible with more questions than answers. But I no longer assume that means I’m failing.
It usually means something real is happening.
