40 Questions - Discussion - Part 3B - Genres Primarily in the Old Testament

Paul Sheffield

Alright, here we are in the Family Church Residency channel, Hermentutics for You. Welcome back everybody! You know, Kelly, I was thinking back to when our oldest was born, and someone told me—kind of earnestly—to “claim the promise” of Proverbs 22:6. You know, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he won’t depart from it.” And, well, at the time, it sounded like this ironclad promise from God: parent right, everything turns out fine. But that’s, uh, not how life works, right? I’ll be honest, I learned the hard way that most biblical proverbs are more like general truths—they assume exceptions, not guarantees.

Kelly Ann Marino

Yeah, and I think so many of us, especially parents, bump into that one. I mean, I hear from people all the time who struggle with guilt or anxiety because their child makes, you know, hard or even rebellious choices. And they wonder, “Was it all on me? Did I mess up the formula?” But that’s not, like, really the point of a proverb. It’s more this—picture of how things normally work, not a contract with God. I love, Paul, that you’re willing to admit wrestling with this. I did too—just in a totally different context, obviously. But before we get too far, do you want to tell your food drive story?

Paul Sheffield

Oh, right, yeah! So, years ago, back in Kansas, I organized this massive food drive, and... let’s be honest, I was hanging on to those proverbs about hard work and trusting that, if we just did “the thing,” God would bless our efforts. Like that one—“Lazy hands make a person poor, but diligent hands bring wealth.” Proverbs 10:4. But there were years when we worked tirelessly and barely had enough beans to hand out. Reality didn’t always line up neat and tidy. And that’s exactly what proverbs are getting at—they’re not formulas, they’re wisdom for real life. Sometimes the lazy get lucky, and sometimes the diligent struggle. There’s injustice and unpredictability. I think the big difference, though, is that biblical proverbs are divinely inspired. They approve what God approves, call out what God condemns—set to a much higher, moral standard than, say, American or even Confucian proverbs, right? I mean, some non-biblical sayings can even go off the rails morally.

Kelly Ann Marino

That’s so true. Like, most cultures have these little sayings that probably made sense in their context, but only the biblical proverbs are grounded in God’s character. Some of them don’t have exceptions at all—like those about who God is, holy or just. But the ones about daily life? They make space for the mess. And I think sometimes we treat proverbs, or verses, as predictions instead of wisdom for complex situations. Do you find, Paul, that people want Scripture to tie up life’s questions a little too tightly?

Paul Sheffield

Oh, absolutely, Kelly. There’s almost a longing for certainty that just… isn’t what proverbs promise. And, like, even within Scripture, you find two proverbs side by side that seem to contradict each other, right? “Don’t answer a fool… or you’ll be like him” and then, boom—“Answer a fool… or he’ll be wise in his own eyes.” Discernment is baked into the genre. Hermeneutics is all about recognizing that context. To me, Proverbs invites us to faith and obedience, not rule-following. They nudge us to act, not just recite. Kinda like what we discussed before—finding meaning isn’t about formulas; it’s about faithfully wrestling with the text, and sometimes with God himself.

Kelly Ann Marino

So let’s ease into poetry, because—honestly—it’s everywhere in the Old Testament. Not just Psalms or Proverbs, but even woven right through historical narratives and prophecies. I remember, as a kid growing up around neighbors from Vietnam, Mexico, Somalia—and listening to their families read poems in their own languages, sometimes over dinner. Even when I couldn’t understand a word, I could sense what mattered. That’s sort of how biblical poetry works too, right? It’s about rhythm, memory, and emotion, not just symmetry on a page or, like, a rhyme scheme.

Paul Sheffield

That’s a great point, Kelly. Most English speakers—myself included—think poetry is about rhyme. But Hebrew poetry, it’s more about parallelism and structure. And honestly, you’ll see it in the layout of any modern Bible. There’s synonymous parallelism, where two lines echo each other, sometimes clarifying the first line—like in Psalm 52:8: “But I am like an olive tree… I trust in God’s unfailing love.” The second line kind of unlocks the first.

Kelly Ann Marino

I always mix up the types! But, let’s see—there’s antithetical parallelism, too, right? Where the second line pushes back against the first—like, “The Lord brings down rulers but lifts up the humble.” And the “synthetic” form adds something new, not just repeating or opposing, but expanding.

Paul Sheffield

Exactly. You also see that “x, x+1” list thing—like, “There are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable.” It’s not bad math, it’s just a poetic device to make things stick. There are also acrostics, where each line starts with a new letter from the Hebrew alphabet. Oh, and chiasms, where ideas kind of mirror each other, A-B, B-A—Mark 2:27’s a good example in the New Testament: “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.”

Kelly Ann Marino

I love that. And, you know, I think part of why recognizing the form matters is that biblical poetry uses hyperbole, metaphor, wordplay—all these tools that, if we read them like instruction manuals, we kind of miss the point. I mean, we talked in a previous episode about being careful not to press figures of speech literally. Same goes here.

Paul Sheffield

Right, and imagery in poetry is there, not to trick you, but to move you—to make you pause, remember, or feel. Like I said, it’s not just about intelligence; it’s about affect. The authors wanted their words to last—and to hit deep, not just sit on the surface.

Paul Sheffield

Alright, Kelly, let’s dive into the Psalms—one hundred and fifty songs in the Bible’s own hymnal. Sometimes I’m amazed how folks just see them as background music for worship, but there are so many subgenres—lament, praise, thanksgiving, celebration, wisdom, penitential, and, well, those challenging imprecatory psalms. Each has a different job. Laments, for example, give voice to pain—nearly a third of all psalms! Praise psalms lift up God’s character and saving acts; thanksgiving psalms respond to answered prayer. Celebration psalms gather the community to remember God’s faithfulness to a king or a nation. Wisdom psalms are like songs that teach, and penitential psalms—think Psalm 51—confess sin with raw honesty.

Kelly Ann Marino

And those imprecatory psalms—Psalm 137 is a big one—they’re the toughies. People sometimes really struggle with those passages that ask God to judge enemies or bring justice in violent terms. But, as you said, they’re meant as cries to God, not private permission to vengeance. They hand the pain over, not justify getting even. It’s so important, I think, to recognize that many psalms aren’t just one thing or another—there’s overlap. Sometimes it’s hard to choose a category!

Paul Sheffield

Exactly. And in teaching, one guideline is always—know the subgenre you’re in, check if there’s a superscription or heading, note the structural flow. Sometimes the poet gives us a clue—like in Psalm 51, we’re told it’s David, after Nathan confronts him about Bathsheba. The context adds such depth to the words. Or, in Psalm 137, the setting of exile gives weight to the anguish. Structure also matters—look at stanza breaks, repeated lines. And the poetic language itself—if we try to flatten it to doctrinal statements, we risk missing both its heart and its artistry.

Kelly Ann Marino

Honestly, teaching families I’ve worked with to read and pray the psalms, especially laments, might be the closest thing I do to “spiritual first aid.” We need those words when life feels unspeakable. But I always worry I’ll over-simplify—like, that if I just say, “God is with you,” it’ll feel hollow if I don’t sit with the raw edge, like the psalmist does—naming grief, even protesting. Lament isn’t a lack of faith. It’s faith daring to speak up when hope is hard.

Paul Sheffield

That’s so true, Kelly. I remember a season when our small group prayed through the psalms together—those words, ancient as they are, gave people language for things we couldn’t name otherwise. The Psalms teach us prayer itself—how to be both personal and deeply communal. They build a kind of spiritual muscle for life’s heavy seasons. And—maybe more than any other book—they invite our real emotions into the presence of God.

Kelly Ann Marino

So, here’s our transition to real-life practice. I always tell people—if you want the Proverbs and Psalms to shape you, try keeping a journal. Write down what hits you, track situations where a proverb made sense, or record prayers inspired by a psalm. Over time, you start to see patterns, and you sort of notice your own growth, even in fits and starts.

Paul Sheffield

Yeah, and memorizing—people sometimes think it’s just for Sunday school kids, but honestly, having a few proverbs or lines from a psalm tucked away can be such a comfort. It won’t change your circumstances, but it changes you. I mean, Psalm 23 alone—how many hospital rooms or funerals have I stood in where just those six verses brought strength to everyone present?

Kelly Ann Marino

Oh, for sure. And you can make it a family thing—choose a Psalm of the day, read it together at breakfast, or pray through it before bedtime. It’s not about being polished or perfect; it’s about making space for honest conversation with God. The consistency matters more than anything else. That habit opens up a place for hope, even on rough mornings or long nights.

Paul Sheffield

Small rituals like that invite us to emotional honesty. It’s not just reading words, it’s giving voice to joy, sadness, repentance—whatever’s in the room. It doesn’t take a seminary degree to practice this stuff. Simplicity is enough.

Paul Sheffield

So, as we wrap up, let’s talk about what living out this wisdom looks like in, you know, everyday life. Proverbs calls us to discernment—to seek out wise counsel, weigh our relationships, make decisions that honor God and neighbor. None of us get it right every time, but the goal isn’t perfection—it’s faithfulness along the way.

Kelly Ann Marino

Totally, and for Psalms—don’t just read them, but let them shape your prayer. If you’re in a joyful season, pick a psalm of praise. If you’re feeling lost or angry, maybe turn to a lament, let those words become yours. Even just repeating a single line might be enough on a hard day. Psalms are like this language library for our whole emotional and spiritual life.

Paul Sheffield

And that emotional honesty leads to resilience—we learn to stand, and to hope, when circumstances don’t make sense. Biblical wisdom roots us, but psalmic prayer gives voice to our longings and doubts. Especially in tough seasons, coming to God with our truest selves is a kind of faith. Like we’ve said in earlier episodes, it’s about humility, community, and patience—for ourselves and others.

Kelly Ann Marino

So whether you’re a parent, a poet at heart, or just really trying to grow—let these books steep into your daily rhythms. Start small if you have to. It’s a journey. Paul, as always, thank you for sharing your stories and steady wisdom.

Paul Sheffield

Likewise, Kelly. I always appreciate your warmth and clarity, and—well—all the honest questions you ask. For our listeners, we hope today’s episode helps you unlock these beautiful, challenging texts just a bit more. We’ll be back soon to keep wading through hermeneutics, so hang with us.

Kelly Ann Marino

Alright, talk to you next time, Paul. Take care, everyone.

Paul Sheffield

See y’all soon.