When the Bible Feels Like a Mystery We Can’t Solve

We’re working our way through the book of Revelation right now, and if I’m honest, I find myself wrestling with it. The imagery—the beasts, the numbers, the trumpets—can feel like a language I don’t fully understand. I read the words, I study the context, and still I sometimes find myself scratching my head, wondering: What does this really mean?

For a long time, I thought understanding the Bible was about mastering it—figuring out every symbol, every story, every connection. But lately, I’ve been learning that maybe the point isn’t mastery at all. Perhaps the point is the struggle.

The ancient rabbis described the Torah as a fifty-faced gem: hold it up to the light, and it refracts in countless directions. Each turn reveals something new. That image has stayed with me. Scripture is like that—rich, layered, endlessly deep. It refuses to be conquered, but it invites us to keep turning it over in our hands, to keep wrestling with it, to let it shape us in the process.

This has been humbling for me. It reminds me that faith isn’t about having all the answers, but about staying open to what God is revealing—even when it surprises me, even when it confuses me.

Maybe that’s the gift of Revelation. Not that we solve it, but that it keeps us seeking, keeps us humble, keeps us listening for the voice of God in the mystery.