This is Father Jared Cramer from St. John’s Episcopal Church in Grand Haven, Michigan, here with today’s edition of Christian Mythbusters, a regular segment I offer to counter some common misconceptions about the Christian faith.

I know when I was growing up as an evangelical Christian, I never really considered where the Bible I carried around with me came from. I knew that I was taught that it was the Word of God, divinely inspired, and I got a sense that the Holy Spirit whispered in the ear of the authors.  It was almost as though it fell from heaven, leather-bound and printed, with chapters, verses, and even gold gilding on the pages. But here’s the truth: that neat image doesn’t reflect the messy, human, Spirit-filled process through which the Bible actually came to be.

The Scriptures weren’t handed down all at once as a miraculous gift. Instead, the Bible is the product of centuries of life with God, woven together from the testimonies, prayers, and experiences of God’s people.

So this week I thought I might try to break the myth of how we got the Bible in the first place. 

The Hebrew Scriptures, what Christians call the Old Testament, grew out of Israel’s worship, history, and struggles. Some books are poems, others recount wars or defeats, still others thunder with prophetic calls to justice. The books often don’t even agree with one another, reflecting how Israel’s understanding of God and faithfulness evolved.

The Torah—the first five books of Moses that tell the stories of the creation of the world and the most ancient history of Israel—was established by the 5th century BCE, likely during or just after the Babylonian Exile, when Ezra and other scribes emphasized its role in worship and community. The Prophets, including Isaiah, Jeremiah, and the Twelve Minor Prophets, were recognized by the 2nd century BCE. But the Writings—Psalms, Proverbs, Esther, Daniel, and others—remained fluid for centuries. By the late 1st century CE, Jewish teachers debated which texts carried scriptural authority. Some point to Jamnia around 90 CE, though modern scholars note that no single council “set the canon” of Jewish Scripture.  It was gradual, shaped by worship and teaching. So, when Christianity emerged, Jewish communities were not yet unanimous about their Scriptures, and that diversity shaped how the first Christians read them.

Early Christians, in turn, produced new writings. Four gospels eventually rose to the center—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John—but other gospels circulated. Some read the Letters of Clement (the fourth bishop of Rome, who served in the late first century. Others valued the Shepherd of Hermas and the Didache. Letters attributed to Paul were copied, shared, and debated. It took centuries before consensus began to take shape. Leaders asked: Which writings bore witness to the apostolic faith? Which were used across the Church? Which aligned with the rule of faith, that early summary of Christian belief?

Even then, agreement was never complete. In the East, Revelation was distrusted; in the West, it was affirmed. Hebrews took time to gain acceptance. To this day, Christians don’t all read the same Bible. Roman Catholics, Anglicans, and Orthodox Christians include Tobit and Sirach, which many Protestants label “Apocrypha.” The Ethiopian Orthodox Church includes still more. So the Bible you hold depends, in part, on which Christian tradition handed it to you.

Some people find that unsettling. They want a book that is clean, simple, and certain. But the truth is better. Scripture grew through a very human process—and that’s part of its beauty.

Because the Bible is not a flat, uniform text. It’s a library of voices, each with its own style and context. That diversity is a gift. It allows Scripture to speak across cultures and centuries. It invites us to wrestle with God, to hear voices that comfort and voices that challenge, to enter into a faith that is not static but alive. When we open the Bible, we encounter not just divine inspiration but also the human response to God—people trying to make sense of what it means to live faithfully. And in that space between divine word and human struggle, the Spirit still speaks to us today.

That’s why the Bible is not less trustworthy because it came through human hands—it is more trustworthy, because it bears witness to the God who has always chosen to work through human lives.

Thanks for being with me. To find out more about my parish, you can go to sjegh.com. Until next time, remember, protest like Jesus, love recklessly, and live your faith out in a community that accepts you but also challenges you to be better tomorrow than you are today.