How many times have you seen an image like this on Instagram?

Ok. I’ve had experiences that match this picture.

But sometimes when I read the Bible, it feels like I’ve been stabbed with a mess of porcupine quills.

That’s what I want to discuss: how do we respond to feeling stabbed by the Bible?

In case you aren’t familiar with these fierce rodents, here’s how one site describes porcupine quills (emphasis added)!

The reason that these quills are so dangerous becomes obvious at the microscopic level. The tips of each quill are incredibly sharp and able to pierce through skin more easily than an 18-gauge hypodermic needle (about the same size of the quill). Once it has entered the skin, its microscopic backward-facing barbs prevent the quill from being removed without causing significant pain and damage to surrounding tissues. To make matters worse, the quill tip breaks off easily so that it remains in the attacker, and it can work its way deeper and deeper into the skin over time with each muscle contraction or movement.

Thinking of the Bible like a porcupine quill gives me a renewed appreciation for a verse like Hebrews 4:12-13:

For the word of God is living and effective and sharper than any double-edged sword, penetrating as far as the separation of soul and spirit, joints and marrow. It is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. No creature is hidden from him, but all things are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give an account.

I’m a bit removed from the threat of being sliced up by a Roman centurion wielding a double-edged sword, but I suppose that also sounds unpleasant.

Stepping back a bit, it’s an unusual way to describe a divine revelation. But I’m grateful for the honesty because it matches my experience.

Consider, for instance, the woes pronounced by Jesus in Luke 6:

But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your comfort.

Woe to you who are now full, for you will be hungry.

Woe to you who are now laughing, for you will mourn and weep.

Woe to you when all people speak well of you, for this is the way their ancestors used to treat the false prophets.

How do you interpret these verses?

Plainly, this perspective doesn’t fit well with American evangelicalism. Our most influential pastors and leaders are wealthy, pampered, and popular.

Are they not? Just name one poor saint whose humble service is despised — and that you admire and seek to imitate.

So here are the default responses I see:

We spiritualize them. Jesus meant this in a metaphorical way, but not literally. It’s about our hearts, but not our circumstances.

We downplay them. Surely Jesus was exaggerating for rhetorical effect. So to understand it properly, we need to reduce the force of his point to something that’s more palatable.

We skim them. That’s weird, but let’s keep going: I need a verse that will encourage me today.

We defy them. We’ll even pray, “Jesus, please give me a good paycheck, good food, good times, and a good reputation.” But we hardly pray, “Jesus, make me more eager to obey your word and follow your example.”

I want to suggest that we consider another option:

We struggle with them. By no means am I even struggling well with these verses. But perhaps my greatest spiritual need is to hear and respond in faith to the uncomfortable verses.

Or as our Lord explained it in Mark 8, “For what does it benefit someone to gain the whole world and yet lose his life?”

Porcupine quills hurt. Sometimes the Bible does too. So consider this an invitation to wrestle with these verses together.