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<h5 style="padding-left: 330px;">Photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/geishaboy500/">geishaboy500</a></h5>
I've never been a fan of the Old Testament.

I guess that's why I've never read the entire Bible—I can't seem to discipline myself to get through the endless recitation of family lineage, the long line of cruel kings, the blood and revenge, the famines and plagues, the inexplicable supernatural occurrences, and the wrathful anger of God.

For the most part, not knowing every last detail about the Old Testament has seemed acceptable to me. After all, the most important aspect of what I believe is focused on Jesus—who he was and is, how he lived and treated others, and how I can strive to be more like him.

I was raised in a church where it was important to know OT Bible stories, and to understand what they teach us about God, but we weren't expected to know the Bible, inside and out. There weren't races to find certain passages, or Bible trivia competitions. It was pretty low-key.

Then I went to a Christian college, an experience that took me by surprise in many ways. <strong>One of the things I realized about myself, very quickly, was that I didn't really know the Bible.</strong> Where the heck was Malachi, anyway? And why had I never heard of Nahum? I was at a disadvantage, but it's one I've never been very motivated to overcome.
<h4>Getting over my distaste for the Old Testament (and practicing scales)</h4>
A couple of weeks ago, our small group from church wrapped up one study and started talking about what we wanted to read and discuss next. A few people expressed interest in studying a minor prophet. Gulp.

<strong>Not only did the idea not appeal to me at all, I was intimidated by it.</strong> Jason and I lead our group's studies, and I feel ill-equipped to provide any leadership at all in this area. I also felt embarrassed by my general distaste for the bulk of the Bible, though, so I silenced my naysaying thoughts (secretly hoping someone else might shoot down the idea).

No one did, so on Wednesday evening, our small group began digging into the first chapter of <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Habakkuk">Habakkuk</a>, in which the prophet asks God the biggest of all questions, of all time: If you are an all-powerful God, why do you let horrible things happen in the world? (Good question, eh?)

I've been thinking more about my avoidance of the OT, and suddenly it hit me. I know what it reminds me of: playing scales. <strong>For me, the Old Testament is the equivalent of a musician learning and practicing scales.</strong> More specifically, reading the OT makes me feel like a kid who's been told she has to sit down and practice her scales for a solid 20 minutes. It feels rote and dull, not satisfying or rewarding. I'm always tempted to skip right over it and get to the parts that draw me to music in the first place.

<strong>But the scales are the foundation of everything that comes next—everything is built on it. From that drudgery comes the music, and everything that soars and sings. </strong>Scales teach you how to move you fingers, strengthening them and making them nimble. You learn how the notes go together, and how they don't, and what the extremes sound like, and how each possibility makes you feel. Scales prepare you.
<h4>Why I can't avoid the ugly, even though I'd like to</h4>
As it turned out, our Habakkuk discussion Wednesday evening was really engaging. I bet you knew I was going to say that I'm liking Habakkuk. It's sort of a Hollywood-style turn of events, isn't it? But still, I'm surprised. I thought I might warm to the <em>idea</em> of studying Habakkuk, but that I wouldn't <em>really</em> enjoy it.

<strong>Here's what I'm realizing about all of the horrible things that happen in the OT: These stories do not represent a bunch of rules we're supposed to follow.</strong> It's not a guidebook to help us wreak havoc in the world. (And I'm not a Bible scholar, so this is just what occurred to me, not what I've learned in some deep, theological study.)

The OT is a collection of historical stories that demonstrate how messed up we are, as people. <strong>Ultimately, it shows me how desperately the world needed—and still needs—Jesus, to show us how to bring some harmony, peace and love to a messed up world.</strong> I <em>think</em> (but let me know if I'm way off) that even people who don't believe Jesus is the son of God are able to see how his life is a model for overcoming all that is bad in the world, and ushering in all that is good.

<strong>To ignore or avoid the Old Testament is </strong><strong>like denying the bad stuff in myself.</strong> It would be like refusing to tell the less-than-pretty stories about my own life—to pretend that I never got a divorce, that I've never hurt anyone, I never fail, and everything is always shiny and happy and perfect for me. If I ignore all of that, then my own redemption stories and signs of new growth and life ultimately mean nothing.