Is God a Bird? Is the Bible Literal? Maybe We’re Asking the Same Question
I walked a bit of a theological tightrope the other day and nearly convinced an intern I was a heretic. The topic? Whether we should take the Bible literally. He’d grown up in a Bible church tradition and confidently affirmed, “The Bible is literal.” And to be fair, I don’t think he was wrong. Not exactly.
What I realised in the moment was that we weren’t using the word literal the same way. What he meant was that the Bible is true, trustworthy, and the authority — and I’m with him on that. What I heard was “flat, word-for-word surface meaning at all times,” which I can’t get behind. So I reassured him, “Don’t worry. I think we actually agree.”
I’ve been in his shoes before — earnest, sincere, trying to hold tightly to Scripture without yet knowing how to hold it well. I remember what it felt like to be caught off guard by conversations like this, to get defensive before I even knew why. Thankfully, this young man was more gracious than I would’ve been at his age. He didn’t get triggered. He just asked good questions and listened well — which meant we had a genuinely kind and fruitful conversation.
But it did get me thinking.
We’ve started using trigger warnings for emotional health. They help us name where things might land too hard, too fast, for someone not ready to face them. And rightly so. But I wonder — maybe we need the same kind of care in theological conversations too.
Because that question — “Do you take the Bible literally?” — it’s a grenade. Maybe not always, but often enough. You can feel it. The temperature in the room shifts. People get nervous, braced for a fight. Someone shuts down. Someone else walks away. Or someone pulls out their doctrine checklist to see if you still qualify as safe.
The question itself isn’t the problem — it’s just rarely the best place to start.
What Are We Really Asking?
In literary terms, to read something literally means you don’t account for metaphor, imagery, or figures of speech. You just take it at face value. The words mean what they say — no more, no less.
But if you applied that across the board to Scripture, you'd end up with some very strange theology.
Take Psalm 91:4:
“He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge…” (NRSV)
Read that literally, and you’ve got a feathered deity. A God with wings. Possibly a beak. It’s not just odd — it’s wrong.
Because this isn’t biology. It’s poetry. The psalmist is describing what God is like — not what God looks like. The image is maternal, tender, protective. Not avian.
And the Bible affirms this:
“God is spirit” (John 4:24, NRSV) — not a bird.
“We are made in God’s image” (Genesis 1:27, NRSV) — not the other way around.
When God chose to take physical form, He did so in Jesus — fully human (Philippians 2:6–8, NRSV).
Even Jesus said, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings…” (Matthew 23:37, NRSV).
That’s not poultry. That’s pastoral compassion.
So no, God isn’t a bird.
But He is the kind of God who would shelter you like one.
That’s what metaphor does — it connects truth to the soul.
“I Have Been Speaking to You in Figures of Speech...”
Jesus knew the power of figurative language — and He used it often.
He even said so:
“I have said these things to you in figures of speech...” (John 16:25, NRSV)
“Now you are speaking plainly, not in any figure of speech!” (John 16:29, NRSV)
Earlier, John tells us:
“Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand…” (John 10:6, NRSV)
That’s the risk — and the beauty — of metaphor.
It’s not about cleverness. It’s about depth. Jesus didn’t hand out textbooks. He told stories. And sometimes, the people missed the point by clinging too tightly to the wrong kind of meaning.
The Bible Is a Library, Not a Leaflet
The Bible isn’t a single-genre document. It’s not a manual, a dictionary, or a flat Q&A. It’s a library — full of letters, laments, wisdom, prophecy, parables, apocalyptic vision, narrative, law, and more. If you try to read poetry like law, or apocalyptic vision like biography, you’ll lose the heart of it.
Psalm 23 isn’t a map — it’s a poem.
Revelation isn’t a newspaper — it’s a vision.
Proverbs aren’t contracts — they’re wisdom.
Reading without paying attention to genre is like using a fork to eat soup. You can try — but you’re going to miss most of it.
What Faithful Reading Actually Looks Like
Paul encouraged Timothy this way:
“Rightly explaining the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15, NRSV)
Not flattening the word. Not forcing it. Rightly explaining it.
That means we ask better questions:
What kind of writing is this?
Who was it written to?
What’s the author trying to say?
What truth is being revealed here — and how?
It’s slower. More careful. But it's faithful.
Because when we force the Bible to be “literal” in places it was never meant to be, we don’t honour it. We mishandle it. We treat a masterpiece like a memo.
Literal Isn’t the Goal — Jesus Is
John tells us:
“And the Word became flesh and lived among us...” (John 1:14, NRSV)
God didn’t send a bullet-point list. He gave us a Person.
And all of Scripture — metaphor, law, lament, story — is there to point us to Him.
So when someone asks me if I take the Bible literally, my answer is still:
Sometimes. But not always. And that’s okay.
Because reading the Bible faithfully is far more important than reading it literally.
Let the Word breathe. Let it speak in its own voice.
And if you do — you’ll find yourself not just holding truth.
You’ll find yourself held by Jesus.
Book Recommendation
If you want to go deeper into this, I highly recommend:
How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth
by Gordon Fee and Douglas Stuart
It’s readable, thoughtful, and helps you navigate the Bible's many genres with wisdom and care.
Final Thought
So, is the Bible literal?
Sometimes. But maybe that’s the wrong question.
A better one might be:
Am I reading it the way it was meant to be read?
Because when you do — you don’t just find clarity.
You find Christ.
And that changes everything.