When I was young, I opened a bottle of vitamins, and out fell a small silica gel pack with the warning: “Do not eat.” Grateful for the heads-up, I tossed the entire bottle and thanked God for the blessed soul who had thought to save my life with that little note.
For weeks, I was convinced I was one wrong move away from becoming a victim of vitamin pharmaceutical terrorism. It wasn’t until much later that it dawned on me — the warning was for the silica packet, not the vitamins, and I could let my guard down and trust my Flintstones gummies again.
In my youthful and overly literal misunderstanding, I applied the warning meant for the small packet to the entire bottle and ended up missing out on the benefits the vitamins were meant to provide.
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This laughable anecdote, flawed as it may be, offers a parallel to how we sometimes treat Scripture. Individual texts, much like the silica gel packet, often serve to preserve and protect the integrity of the whole. They aren’t intended to be consumed in isolation; some pieces, in fact, can be toxic when done so. Yet some Christians often fixate on isolated passages while ignoring the broader message, causing us to miss the richness, wisdom, and life-giving nourishment Scripture is meant to provide.
Handling Scripture requires interpreting it with wisdom, humility, and maybe even a bit of humor about our own misunderstandings. It requires us to deliberate with others, and it means holding the tension between a few verses and the full message, applying it in ways that bring healing, understanding, and growth to the people around us.
While I do not wish to conflate the scholarly discipline of biblical hermeneutics — the science of interpreting the Bible — with the practical ethic I’m speaking of here, it’s always vital to ask how we apply Scripture with wisdom and care to those around us in a way that embodies God’s character as revealed in Jesus Christ, ensuring it reflects His love and grace in our interactions with others.
In my work as a mental health professional who works with Christian women and families, I have often observed that the attempt at doctrinal accuracy — a noble goal but an ideal no human can fully claim — wreaks havoc. Absent discernment, it’s much like wielding a sword without caring who it cuts.
Consider the wife enduring a painful marriage who seeks guidance and support from her church or fellow believers. Too often, she is told, “You need to die to yourself,” citing Matthew 16:24: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (NIV). This harsh misapplication of a passage intended to describe the journey of discipleship — not a response to someone facing mistreatment — ignores the broader mandate to comfort, protect, and bind up the brokenhearted. Instead of offering hope and relief, it compounds her suffering.
Indeed, operating with an ethic of humility compels us to ask hard questions of our practices.
For example, just because physical healing is shown in the Bible, is it ethical to tell everyone that they should or will be healed? Just because women were often subordinate in biblical times, is it ethical to endorse their subjugation today?
Just because we’re told to “make disciples of all nations,” is it ethical to impose an Americanized Christianity around the world? Just because ready-made sermons exist online, is it ethical for pastors to rely on them instead of preparing their own?
Or how about when the Bible describes times when people were disciplined or ostracized for sin, is it then ethical to shame or publicly rebuke others? These are important questions to reflect on, among many others.
I would not suggest that Scripture be rewritten to make it more comfortable or shy away from applying specific verses to our lives. The Bible is both deeply personal, historically significant, and serves as the plumbline for all matters of faith and practice. Those who treasure it understand that it is meant to challenge and convict (Hebrews 4:12-13). But that cutting work of Scripture belongs to the Holy Spirit, not us. Our knowledge, unlike His, is finite and limited.
Approaching Scripture with an ethic of humility bridges the gap between what Scripture says and what it calls us to do in a way that reflects Jesus’ love, care, and justice — a fuller demonstration of the Gospel in action. If we never move beyond the words of Scripture to their lived application, we risk missing their meaning.
The mindful application of ethics reminds us to prioritize doing no harm (nonmaleficence) while actively seeking to benefit others (beneficence). It calls us to examine what we believe and the most loving and beneficial way to share that belief with others while giving them room to do the same. In this way, ethics becomes a life-giving guide that brings life, grace, and healing to the world around us. It invites us to work together in drawing out loving and thoughtful applications for our shared lives.
It’s love — standing at the doorstep of humanity, ready to enter.
Stacey March is owner of Restore Family, LLC, a mental health professional, coach, and mentor whose work centers around stabilizing practices that calm our lives and honor our stories. Stacey holds degrees from East Texas Baptist University, Stephen F. Austin State University, and Liberty University (M.A. Human Services Counseling & Executive Leadership), is a Certified Facilitator of Nurturing Families, and the author of Chosen: The fire of intimacy with the Lord of the harvest. She lives in Culpeper, VA. You can connect with Stacey on FB, IG, and at staceymarch.com.
