How We Got the Bible and Why It Still Matters

I recently finished reading a concise but insightful book on how we received our Bible. It traces the formation of the biblical canon, offers a sweeping (though not overly detailed) thousand-year history, and gives an accessible overview of the development of Bible translations. While it wasn’t a technical deep dive, it provided a valuable broad picture of how the sacred texts we now read and quote came to be compiled, preserved, and rendered in the languages of everyday people. You can check it out here: Know How We Got Our Bible by Ryan Matthew Reeves & Charles E. Hill

Having studied this topic before through more comprehensive works—such as The Canon of Scripture by F. F. Bruce, A Brief History of English Bible Translations by Laurence M. Vance and James R. White’s The King James Only Controversy—this book felt like a helpful refresher. And yet, it also reignited old questions and reflections, especially concerning modern translation debates and the complex emotional terrain some people bring to them.

The Bible: A Library, Not a Book

One of the most important takeaways from the book is a point too often overlooked: the Bible is not one book. It is, rather, a collection—a mini-library of 66 distinct books, composed by at least 40 different authors over a span of thousands of years, across multiple continents, languages, and cultural contexts. To treat it as a single, monolithic text is to misunderstand its very nature and risk misinterpretation.

Historical Milestones

The book also explores the role of major historical moments in shaping how the Bible has been received and interpreted. The development of the printing press in the 15th century was revolutionary—suddenly, Scripture could be mass-produced and made accessible to ordinary believers. This democratization of the Word contributed not only to the Reformation but to sweeping societal transformations.

For instance, the use of the Latin Vulgate, translated by Jerome in the 4th century, became a flashpoint during the Reformation. While Protestants sought to return to the earliest Hebrew and Greek texts, the Roman Catholic Church clung to the authority of the Vulgate for centuries. As the Council of Trent (1546) famously declared, the Vulgate was to be held as “authentic” for public readings and doctrinal teachings.

Likewise, the American Revolution helped establish an anti-authoritarian ethos that valued individual reading and interpretation, helping the Bible become a deeply personal text in the American religious imagination. This trend continued into the 19th century, when a growing anti-intellectualism among certain Christian circles emerged as a reaction to academic criticism and scientific advancement. As Mark Noll famously lamented in The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind, “The scandal of the evangelical mind is that there is not much of an evangelical mind.”

These cultural currents—technological, political, and ideological—have profoundly shaped the Bible we read today. And they continue to influence the versions we trust and the ways we engage with them.

The Canon

The canonization process of the New Testament, in particular, is often misrepresented. Contrary to modern myths fueled by sensationalist documentaries and “lost gospel” narratives, canonization was not an arbitrary power grab or political conspiracy. Rather, it was a formal recognition of the writings that were already in regular, authoritative use across the churches of the Greco-Roman world.

By the time formal canon lists were being articulated (such as Athanasius’ Festal Letter in 367 A.D. and the Synod of Hippo in 393 A.D.), the core of the New Testament—especially the four Gospels, Acts, the Pauline epistles, and most general epistles—had been long recognized and used. The early church fathers, from Irenaeus to Clement of Alexandria, quote from nearly every book of the New Testament, with only a handful of verses unreferenced. This usage testifies to a practical consensus that predated formal ratification.

Canonization served, in large part, to combat the rise of late, pseudonymous writings, such as the Gnostic gospels. These texts, often dated to the second or third century and never widely used in the early Church, sought to rewrite the Christian story with speculative cosmologies and esoteric theology. They were not excluded because they were threatening, but because they were inconsistent, late, and theologically alien.

As F.F. Bruce put it in The Canon of Scripture, “The New Testament books did not become authoritative for the Church because they were formally included in a canonical list; on the contrary, the Church included them in her canon because she already regarded them as divinely inspired.” (276)

In short, the canon was not controversially created—it was acknowledged. Despite the noise from modern critics, the canonization of the New Testament was remarkably unified and not nearly as contentious as is often claimed. The books we now call Scripture were those that resonated with apostolic authority, theological coherence, and widespread acceptance.

The King James Only Question: A Matter of Faith or Fear?

A friend of mine holds firmly to the belief that the King James Version (KJV) is the only valid translation of Scripture. This belief, known as King James Onlyism, has a surprisingly strong emotional undercurrent. Rational discussion is often thwarted by sentimentality or deeply entrenched assumptions. There’s a palpable reverence for the KJV—almost as if questioning it is tantamount to questioning the Bible itself.

But this devotion to the KJV is not without its historical and ideological context. Much of it can be traced back to a broader movement of anti-intellectualism that swept through parts of the church in the mid-19th century. Faced with a rapidly changing intellectual climate—marked by Darwinism, higher criticism, and modern science—many Christians began to distrust scholarship altogether. This reactionary movement birthed a particular strain of fundamentalism that we still encounter today, especially in American Christianity.

As D.A. Carson notes in The King James Version Debate: A Plea for Realism, “The ‘King James Only’ position… is a symptom of something deeper: a fear of change and a nostalgia for a simpler past, even if that past never quite existed” (97). The refusal to engage with new translations is often not theological but psychological—a fear of losing control over the familiar rhythms of sacred speech.

I happen to own a facsimile edition of the original 1611 King James Bible—a hefty volume containing photographic reproductions of every page from that first printing. It’s a beautiful artifact of literary and religious history, but let’s be honest: almost no one reads the original 1611 version today, nor could they without serious difficulty. The archaic typesetting, inconsistent spelling, and linguistic shifts make it nearly unreadable for modern audiences. In fact, the King James Version has undergone numerous revisions—over a dozen between 1611 and the late 18th century—culminating in the Oxford and Cambridge standard editions most people recognize today. So when someone insists on the authority of the “King James Bible,” a reasonable question follows: Which version do you mean? And why should any English translation—produced in a specific historical and political context—be regarded as God’s definitive word for all people in all times? That seems more like linguistic nationalism than theology. For those who champion sola Scriptura, it’s worth asking where Scripture itself ever elevates a particular translation to infallible status. The New Testament authors quote from a range of sources, including the Septuagint, a Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures. The early Church functioned without the King James Version, and so can we. The King James Only position, in light of historical, linguistic, and theological reality, simply isn’t tenable.

The Textual Basis: Closer to the Originals

One of the core ironies is that the KJV, while a landmark literary achievement, was translated in 1611 from a relatively late collection of manuscripts. Since that time, thousands of older and more reliable manuscripts have been discovered—many of which are closer to the original autographs, the first writings of the biblical texts. These discoveries have informed modern translations that are arguably more accurate than the KJV ever could have been.

There is a fascinating example in the Psalms that illustrates how modern translations are improving as our access to earlier manuscripts increases. One particular verse—Psalm 145:13b—was long absent from most biblical translations. Scholars noticed something peculiar: Psalm 145 is an acrostic poem, with each verse beginning with a successive letter of the Hebrew alphabet. But one letter—nun (נ)—was missing, disrupting the otherwise perfect sequence. This suggested that a line had been lost over time. The missing verse was later found in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in some Septuagint manuscripts, confirming what scholars had long suspected. Modern translations like the ESV and NIV now include this restored line: “The LORD is faithful in all his words and kind in all his works.” Far from corrupting the text, newer translations are refining it—bringing us closer to the original words as they were written and preserved. As manuscript discoveries continue to emerge, our translations are not deteriorating—they’re becoming more accurate, more faithful, and more complete.

Modern translations such as the NASB, ESV, and NIV rely on critical editions of the Hebrew and Greek texts that incorporate these earlier manuscript findings. It’s important to remember that the doctrine of inerrancy, as understood by scholars, refers to the original autographs—not to any single translation. We no longer possess those autographs, but scholars agree that our current Greek and Hebrew texts preserve more than 99% of the originals’ content.

In addition, some translations—especially the more recent ones—exclude certain verses that appear in older English Bibles, or add foot notes to indicate the earliest text do not contain these passages. This is not a sign of doctrinal bias, but of academic rigor. These verses are typically absent from the oldest and most reliable Greek manuscripts. Their exclusion is not about erasing scripture but about being honest with the data we now have.

Personally, I don’t limit myself to one translation. I regularly consult multiple versions to cross-reference and explore different renderings. I often turn to the NIV, NASB, Amplified Bible, ESV, or the Holman Christian Standard Bible. Comparing translations side-by-side can illuminate textual nuances that a single version might obscure.

Translation and Culture: Lost in Lexicon

One often overlooked issue in translation is the cultural and linguistic distance between source and receptor languages. Translating is never just a matter of words—it is an act of cross-cultural communication. A Hebrew phrase from the Iron Age, a Greek idiom from the Hellenistic world, or a poetic metaphor rooted in agrarian life doesn’t always map cleanly onto modern English—or any other language.

Imagine translating the phrase “kick the bucket” into another language without cultural context. Would a literal rendering preserve its meaning? Or consider the Greek word sarx, often translated as “flesh.” Does it mean skin, sinful nature, mortality, or humanity? Context matters deeply.

This is why translators must navigate between formal equivalence (word-for-word) and dynamic equivalence (thought-for-thought). The KJV leaned more toward formal equivalence but lacked access to the manuscript evidence and linguistic scholarship available today. Paraphrases like The Message take a dynamic approach to bring emotional and conceptual clarity but sometimes drift further from textual precision.

Translation is thus a balancing act. As Eugene Nida, pioneer of dynamic equivalence, once said: “The ultimate goal of a translator should not be to translate words, but to translate meaning.” (159)

Inclusive Language: A Debate Without Substance?

One lightning rod issue in translation is the use of inclusive language. Critics argue that gender-inclusive terms distort the original meaning. But the truth is more complex. The Hebrew word adam (man) and the Greek anthropos can also refer to “humanity” in a collective sense. When the KJV says “God created man,” it was understood at the time to mean humankind. The original audience would not have inferred male exclusivity, nor do we today.

Modern translations that render such terms as “humankind” or “people” are not “changing the Bible”—they are clarifying its intent for contemporary readers. Even the King James Version itself uses inclusive language when the context demands it.

As theologian N.T. Wright observes, “The point of translation is not to freeze a moment in time, but to allow the living Word to speak again” (89).

The opposition to inclusive language often reveals not exegetical rigor, but emotional and ideological commitments. If someone claims “man” obviously includes women—then objecting to “humankind” is logically inconsistent.

Why It Still Matters

These debates are not trivial. They go to the heart of how we engage Scripture. Is our faith rooted in truth or tradition? Are we willing to be intellectually honest about the evidence we have? Or do we hold onto sacred nostalgia at the expense of clarity? Let’s be clear: no English translation is inspired. They are tools. Valuable tools. But the goal is not to venerate a translation—it is to understand the Word of God as fully and faithfully as possible.

Much of the modern debate over Bible translations—and the sheer number of English versions available—is driven less by linguistic necessity and more by theological bias. Many translations arise not from a neutral desire to render the original texts faithfully, but from a desire to subtly (or not so subtly) reinforce particular doctrinal emphases. I’ve even seen this firsthand: a friend once insisted on translating a key Greek term in a way that clearly aligned with his own theological position, despite more neutral alternatives being available. This isn’t uncommon. Translation, after all, is not a purely mechanical act—it involves judgment, interpretation, and inevitably, bias. That’s why it’s essential for us to remember that while human translators are fallible, we are not left alone. If we believe what Jesus said—that the Holy Spirit leads us into all truth (John 16:13)—then we must approach Scripture not only with diligence, but with humility. We should be still, listen, and discern. Every translation is a human effort, and thus bears the marks of its makers. But the Spirit can work through even our imperfect tools to reveal divine truth to those who seek it.

Final Thought: The Gift of Many Versions

Rather than fearing the diversity of Bible translations, we should see it as a profound blessing. We live in a time of unprecedented access to Scripture. I regularly read from several translations—the ESV, NASB, NIV, Amplified Bible, and the New Living Translation. Each brings a unique voice, tone, and nuance to the text. With modern tools like Logos Bible Software, comparing passages across versions has never been easier. I do have my favorites, but I also recognize the value of consulting others. Often, when I notice a subtle difference in phrasing, it opens a window into what the original author may have intended. In these moments, I find that my cup truly runneth over.

Reading multiple translations isn’t about picking the one that agrees with me—it’s about challenging my assumptions and digging deeper. It’s about humility. I ask the Holy Spirit to guide me, to strip away my biases, and to open my ears to truth. I even keep an Orthodox Study Bible on hand, which incorporates the New King James Version and draws from ancient traditions often unfamiliar in my context. Occasionally, its commentary or perspective shines a light on a passage in a way I hadn’t considered, deepening my insight.

My study approach often includes a more literal, word-for-word translation like the NASB alongside the Amplified Bible, which expands the Greek into fuller English expressions. These aren’t easy to read devotionally—the language is dense, sometimes awkward—but they’re invaluable for serious study. For devotional reading, I prefer the New Living Translation, which communicates with warmth and clarity.

And you know what? Across all these versions, I’ve found that the main point still comes through. The message remains consistent, the truth endures, and grace is not lost in translation. The diversity of Scripture’s expression is not a threat—it’s a gift. Let’s use it well.

Excerpt

Many trust one Bible translation without realizing the complexity behind how we got the text. From canonization to translation debates, this post explores why reading multiple versions—old and new—offers deeper insight, challenges our assumptions, and invites the Holy Spirit to guide us beyond bias and into truth.

References

• Know How We Got Our Bible by Ryan Matthew Reeves & Charles E. Hill
• The Making of the New Testament: Origin, Collection, Text & Canon by Arthur G. Patzia
• A Brief History of English Bible Translations (1993) by Laurence M. Vance
• A History of the English Bible by Jonathan Underwood (1984)
• A History of the Bible: An Introduction to the Historical Method by Fred Gladstone Bratton
• Essential Guide to Bible Versions by Philip W. Comfort (2000)
  • And previous work, The Complete Guide to Bible Versions by Philip W. Comfort (1996)
• Rose Bible Basics: Why Trust the Bible? by Timothy Paul Jones
• The King James Bible, Making a Masterpiece, National Geographic, December 2011
• The Inclusive Language Debate by D A Carson
• The King James Only Controversy: Can You Trust Modern Translations? by James R. White
• The King James Version Debate: A Plea for Realism by D. A. Carson
• King James Onlyism: A New Sect by Dr. James D. Price
• The Canon of Scripture by F. F. Bruce
• Center for the Study of New Testament Manuscripts https://www.csntm.org/
• Eugene Nida, Father of Dynamic Equivalence, Dies at 96
• Robert Gundry on N. T. Wright’s Translation of the New Testament
• The Question of Canon: Challenging the Status Quo in the New Testament Debate by Michael J. Kruger
• Toward a Science of Translating: With Special Reference to Principles and Procedures Involved in Bible Translating 2nd Edition by Eugene A Nida
• The Last Word: Beyond the Bible Wars to a New Understanding of the Authority of Scripture by N.T. Wright
• Klingon Language Version of the World English Bible https://sites.google.com/klingonword.org/klv/klv
• Religious Text Translation Project https://www.kli.org/religious-text-translation-project/