The election of President Trump, as well as rightward movements in Europe, are prompting US conservatives to speak of the death of socialism. This is abject blindness. It is socialists that are being rejected, not socialism.

America has already embraced socialism in the forms of public education, social security, and even healthcare, where we choose between the socialism of Obamacare on the Left and the socialism-lite of Trumpcare on the faux-Right. Our President is a pragmatic populist, not a principled conservative. Hence, when he ran for office he named conservatives to his cabinet because his base wanted them, but once in office has embraced socialism in healthcare because the electorate at large wants it. As for the philosophical differences between the two, they don’t matter to a self-styled dealmaker-in-chief.

Our nation’s political choices mirror the people’s mood, not their convictions. That’s because mood has replaced conviction, just as celebrities have replaced heroes. Our worldviews—and Christians have been lambs to the slaughter in this regard—are shaped, not by books and reading, but by videos, short social posts and the like. In turn, this enables demagogues, from Trump to Sanders, to disrupt our elections, if not our entire culture.

A sleeping man never sets his own alarm, hence cold-water posts like this one. American Christians had better awaken quickly. Facebook prayer requests accompanied by pictures of Jesus’ arms wrapped around President Trump are the Velvet Elvis of evangelicalism. They’re not merely corny—they’re offensive, because they portray both bad theology and bad taste. Did we post such requests for President Obama? Nope. But why? Was it latent racism? Contrary to the sincere beliefs of many African America Christians, (whose worldviews, as sloppily formed as those of their white brothers, but by different forces) the answer is another Nope. It wasn’t brown skin but the pink politics of Barack Obama that offended the intuitive, blind sensibilities of politically conservative Christians, whereas President Trump merely dulls those sensibilities. But Novocain is never a good subsitute for an alarm clock.

Want to hear the alarm? Ring, ring: it was Bernie Sanders’ popularity amongst the young, not Trump’s election by aging Boomers, that portends America’s future. And American Christians had better start putting a sharp scriptural lens to politics, economics and a host of other subjects if we want to avoid the paradise that used to be the Soviet Union and is now Venezuela.

It’s time to put the flag back in its stand and pick up a Bible.

There’s no point in hinting around. Studying the Bible isn’t optional, but most Christians find it taxing to establish a routine. Consequently, they either restrict their time in God’s Word to some little promise book, or they just put it off altogether. Naturally, the promise book is good, but it no more substitutes for serious reading than a donut and coffee take the place of a balanced meal. How can the Holy Spirit guide us into “all truth” if we just consider truth a snack food?

We’re a generation that has grown up on websites, magazines, tv, movies and 12-minute YouTube shows, so we find it difficult to read more than a chapter or two in a sitting … or a week … or a month. Frankly, a lot of us just won’t read anything unless it’s published twelve times a year in color or easy to find on Google. But don’t be depressed. There are understandable reasons why you don’t read your Bible like you should. If you’re the typical Christian:

• You read the Scriptures for “spiritual guidance” rather than practical instruction.
• No matter how much you read, you just don’t understand a lot of it.
• You have no idea how much Bible knowledge is “enough,” so you’re defeated right out of the gate.

The important thing is to get into Scripture as a manual for living, not just to find “proof-texts” for defending your faith. So, to that end here are six rules—I don’t really like the word “rules,” but we’ll use it—that will help you to see the Scriptures as the practical guide it was meant to be.

Rule Number One: Read the Bible like today’s news

The Bible is intended to give you practical information that concerns the real world. Quit looking to achieve some inner glow; this is news you can use! For example, the Fifth Commandment says to “Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you” (Exodus 20:12). You can meditate all day long on that verse, searching for warm fuzzies of enlightenment and inspiration. But it is actually an important, practical commandment, with a wonderful promise attached for those who obey it, and a cold, hard warning implied for those who don’t. Read it again. It simply shows that a long and blessed life begins with honoring those who gave you life. Enjoying the future begins with respect for the past. It could just as easilyhave been phrased, “Do unto your parents as you someday would have your children do unto you.” The flip-side? The man who fails to honor his parents will likely also fail to teach his children to do the same. That’s just misery on a lay-away plan.

Rule Number Two: Read the Bible by the authors’ division points

Forget the chapter and verse partitions the translators later added. These scholars often started or ended passages in odd places. For example, Ephesians 5:22 through 6:9 is a complete section about families, which easily could be considered its own chapter. Read it that way, and you’ll see what I mean. Several newer editions of the Bible have dealt with this problem by grouping verses into naturally flowing paragraphs. Get one.

Rule Number Three: Look for Jesus in every book

Always be open to the big picture—life in Christ—when you read God’s Word. Don’t let yourself get lost in Exodus or numbed by Numbers. They were written to reveal to you His character, and to establish you in His ways. The overarching theme of the Bible is God’s covenantal relationship with man. This means that even those musty old laws in Leviticus and Deuteronomy ultimately were written as practical instruction on Christian living. The apostle Paul was confident enough of this fact to claim that a passage about oxen was really a lesson to Christians about proper payment for services rendered.

For it is written in the Law of Moses: “Do not muzzle an ox while it is treading out the grain.” Is it about oxen that God is concerned? Surely he says this for us, doesn’t he Yes, this was written for us, because when the plowman plows and the thresher threshes, they ought to do so in the hope of sharing in the harvest. (1 Corinthians 9:9-10; see also 1 Timothy 5:17-18 regarding Paul’s claim that good pastors deserve bigger salaries.)

Never forget what Paul knew so well: The Old Testament is all about the New Covenant.

Rule Number Four: Don’t “claim” every scripture you read

Don’t individualize every scripture you read. The Bible was written to a people, not a person. So many Christians get tripped up trying to individually appropriate promises that were written to God’s people as a community. For example, Joe Christian sees God’s promise in Deuteronomy 28:13 to make His people “the head, not the tail,” and takes it as God’s will that a promotion is inevitable at work. Then, after he’s been laid off, he’s not only worried about his financial future, but he’s also plagued with accusations that his faith must be defective.

In truth, that Scripture, like so many others, was written as a promise of corporate blessing for corporate obedience to God’s commandments. In other words, when faithfulness becomes a social trend, blessing multiplies. Likewise, when disobedience is the cultural rule of thumb, widespread suffering is sure to follow (often even afflicting the few good people who may live among the wicked majority). Psalm 150 says to praise God with stringed instruments, flute, and trumpet, but that doesn’t mean everyone has to take lessons. It simply means somebody should.

As you study, keep in mind that you’re one member in a whole body. You’ll never understand every word, any more than you can fulfill every prophecy or claim every blessing. Which leads us to our last rule …

Rule Number Five: Don’t try to walk in light you haven’t seen

Don’t worry about what you don’t know. Just be confident in what you do know, and honest when you don’t. Don’t be afraid to say, “I’m stumped,” when you’re stumped. And keep reading.

Remember, only God knows how much knowledge is “enough,” because the answer is always changing as you grow. The “path of the just” is getting brighter and brighter like the rising sun, as the Holy Spirit transforms us day by day. Sure, the world could use a few more good theologians. But a mail clerk who can intelligently comment on the Ten Commandments is as valuable to the cause of Christ as any wise man hunched over a Hebrew manuscript in some light-deprived library.

Rule Number Six: Who you know is more important than what you know

None of the first five rules count if you don’t grasp this one: Who you know is ultimately more important than what you know. Abraham’s rock-solid faith was stated this way: “I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able…” It wasn’t what Abraham believed but whom he believed.

Ditto Mary and Martha. The last few verses of Luke 10 show Jesus and his disciples arriving unannounced at the home of Mary, Martha and his good friend, Lazarus. Naturally, Martha wanted to be a good hostess, so she got up and started busying herself with serving Jesus (the most fitting use of that term ever). Meanwhile, Mary just sat at his feet listening to him talk.

Martha accused her sister of being lazy, and I have to admit, the first time I read that passage I took Martha’s side. There was work to be done, and Mary just wanted to start a “bless me” club. Of course, I quickly realized that this position put me on the opposite side of Jesus—never a good thing when you’re in professional ministry.

Then it hit me: Martha was so busy serving Jesus that she didn’t have time for him. And neither I.

Bottom line: Don’t be so busy being a student of the word that you forget to enjoy being a child of God.

All around the world, there are tens of thousands of Passion-themed blog posts have been published this week, some showing more profound insight than others, but nearly all of them written from hearts and minds wanting to honor Jesus’ unthinkable suffering for our sins. I wish I could write one too, but…

It’s not that I have nothing to say. After 48 years in ministry, I doubtless do have insights worth sharing. Yet, right now, for some reason, they seem worth less—worthless—rather than worth more. I suppose the easiest way to explain is to quote the late Corrie ten Boom:

“The more I get to know God, the less I understand Him, but the more I trust Him.”

I was privileged to meet and host Corrie ten Boom a couple of years before she passed away at age 91. It didn’t take long to see that there was no pretense about her. When this stoop-shouldered, tiny giant of the faith said something that wowed us all, she wasn’t attempting to be profound; she was just being honest. Likewise, I just want to write something honest here.

I saw Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ” on its opening day, 1994, at an IMAX theater in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and my most vivid memory of the experience is what happened after the movie had finished. The credits started to roll, but no one rose to leave. Nobody talked or even made a sound, save for some stifled sniffles of emotion. It was only as the screen finally went blank and the lights came up that we started to file out and head to the parking lot. Even outside, as people headed in all directions towards their cars and SUVs, there was silence.

What could we say? Like Ms. ten Boom, now we knew more, so we understood less. And really, the only people with a lot to say seemed to be those who knew nothing but thought they understood. Hence, effete movie critics, Hollywood’s self-appointed moralists and the Professionally Offended class all pronounced the film anti-semitic, which is like accusing the reporter who covered the Hindenburg airship explosion of being an arsonist.

I bought the movie as soon as it was released on DVD, primarily because I wanted to show it someday to my daughter, who was only two when it debuted. And so the disc sat shrink-wrapped on a shelf for a dozen or so years, until this week when our family sat down and watched it together.

The main reason we waited until now is that she is what most folks would call a “young” fifteen. Naïve. Innocent. Sheltered. Sheltered is an interesting word to me, because it should be a compliment, but most people employ it as a slight insult. The truth is, she’s a young fifteen by today’s standards only because her generation has been largely left unsheltered, from chatroom to schoolroom, and exposed to tons of junk that render them an old fifteen by traditional standards.

Yep, she’s sheltered, and with the exception of a radio station we recently banished from her clock radio, as well as the occasional damn or hell she might hear from the likes of Basil Fawlty or George C. Scott’s Patton, her mind has remained relatively unsoiled. (Losing screen privileges for a week has also worked great on occasion as a spot remover.)

We finally watched The Passion together because we want to make sure our daughter truly owns her faith in Jesus, so that it’s based on more than a prayer she repeated as a child, or because she wants to please her parents or fit in at church. We wanted to get a glimpse of what goes on in the deeper recesses of the mind and heart of a girl whose perpetually sunny disposition threatens to keep her in the shallow end of life.

It’s not an easy movie to watch, especially when the scourging of Jesus goes on and on…and on. She looked away more than once, but I reminded her that it’s time now to watch and see, and that Jesus didn’t turn away so neither can we. And so she watched.

Was there a payoff? Did she shed tears or ask us to pray? I would have been happy with either, of course, but she did neither. (Besides, I’d have had a hard time praying anything appropriate.) Instead, she was silent. Just like I was —like we all were—at the theater in 2004. She was silent because now she knew more, but understood less.

I’m fine with that.