For most of history, poetry held a primary place in people’s lives. In largely pre-literate cultures, bards functioned as the great entertainers and keepers of knowledge and story. Their performances at feasts were something like the first blockbusters, as they performed epic poems about heroic deeds that captured the history and identity of their people.

Even once writing became widespread, poetry did not disappear. People continued to write long-form poems as well as shorter ones. Poetry continued to hold a prominent place in people’s hearts, especially through song.

Today, however, many no longer see poetry as what Samuel Johnson called a universal language; instead, we see poetry as utterly unnecessary. Of course, if one happens to come across a pleasant poem, it certainly brightens one’s day. But poetry today is somewhat like fudge or caramel drizzle on ice cream. It can be nice to have, but the ice cream is just fine without it. So it is with poetry.

Yet that mentality becomes a problem whenever we come to Scripture because God purposely spoke in poetry. Hosea 12:10 declares this plainly:

I spoke to the prophets;
it was I who multiplied visions,
and through the prophets gave parables.

Visions and parables are poetic forms, and that verse itself is written as a part of a particular kind of poetry called the oracle. Thus, God explicitly tells His people that He speaks to them poetically.

And indeed He does! Roughly one-third of the Bible is written in poetry. While there is New Testament poetry, the bulk is found in the Old Testament. Of the thirty-nine books that comprise the Old Testament, Hill and Walton note that only seven “contain little or no poetic material”, which are Leviticus, Ruth, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, Haggai, and Malachi.

But even then, while there may be little formal poetry in those books, we have seen the great poetic structure of Leviticus over the past several months, and who can argue that the most famous statement in Ruth is, at the very least, highly poetic:

Where you go, I will go.
Where you stay, I will stay.
Your people will be my people,
and your God will be my God.
Where you die, I will die,
and there I will be buried.

Here, then, is the tension that I am trying to highlight: a significant portion of the Bible is written in poetry, yet many of us today approach poetry as optional and unnecessary. Especially since we will spend much time in biblical poetry in the coming year, strive to answer the following question this morning: Why did God write so much poetry?

Why did the infinite God, who spoke to us in the finite space of His Holy Word, choose to communicate roughly one-third of the time in poetry?

God has spoken. He has multiplied visions before us. Through His prophets, He has written to us in parables and poetry. How are we, then, to read what God wrote?

The shape of our study will be simple. We will aim to answer two questions and then we will turn our eyes fully upon Christ. First, we will ask: What is poetry, especially Hebrew poetry? Second, what is the purpose and function of poetry in the Bible?

WHAT IS POETRY?

Before we dive directly into the first question, we should make a distinction in the terms poetry and poetic. Poetry is a genre, a wholistic style of writing. Whenever we say that something is poetic, however, we mean that it contains elements of poetry, even if it is not poetry properly.

You see, the Bible contains many genres of writing. Poetry is one of the largest. Other major genres include narrative (which tells stories and history) and didactic (which consist of laws, instructions, and teachings). Leviticus and Paul’s epistles are examples of didactic literature. While narrative, didactic, and even apocalyptic writings do certainly have poetic elements; they are not poetry, which is its own form of writing.

This distinction matters because some argue, for example, that Genesis 1 is poetry and, therefore, should be read symbolically rather than literally. But Genesis 1 is plainly narrative. It is not poetry, even though it is beautifully written and certainly uses poetic techniques. It is important for us to know when a text is poetry and when it merely uses poetic devices.

What then is poetry?

Edgar Allan Poe’s definition is one of my favorites: “poetry is the rhythmic creation of beauty in words.” I also appreciate how Mortimer Adler approaches the subject. He offers a general way of defining poetry but ultimately concludes by saying:

If we tried to state precisely what the central core of poetry consists in, we would probably get into trouble, so we will not try. Nevertheless, we are certain that you know what we mean. We are certain that nine times out of ten, or perhaps even ninety-nine times out of a hundred, you would agree with us that X is a poem and Y is not.

In other words, you often know poetry when you see it. Of course, that is true for English and even languages that are related to English, but Hebrew poetry is more difficult for us. So, how can we identify Hebrew poetry and know when the Old Testament is speaking to us in poetic form?

Many commentators point to three broad features that characterize biblical poetry: terseness, parallelism, and imagery.

Terseness

Terseness refers to the use of short, concise statements. Hebrew narrative and didactic, in contrast, is often intentionally repetitive and expansive. Remember many of the laws in Leviticus as examples of this. Biblical poetry, however, tends to move much more quickly, for it compresses meaning. It takes a multitude of words and condenses them into a concentrated form.

Genesis 1:27 is a great example, which is a verse of poetry embedded within the narrative of creation:

So God created man in his own image;
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.”

That three-line poem serves as a terse summary of what is expanded on in Genesis 2, where the creation of Adam and Eve is described in detail. The poetry condenses the theological core of the narrative into a brief, potent statement.

Parallelism

The second major feature of Hebrew poetry is parallelism. We see a triple parallel in Genesis 1:27, where the three lines work together to express one large idea.

Another triple parallelism is Psalm 1:1: “Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers.” The images of walking, standing, and sitting build upon one another, each expressing the same core idea but each with a different flavor. The next verse, however, gives us a more typical two-line parallelism: “His delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night.” The second line expands and clarifies how his delight is expressed.

This kind of parallelism is the dominant structure of Hebrew poetry. Almost all of the Proverbs are written in these two-line parallels. For example, Proverbs 15:22 says, “Without counsel plans fail, but with many advisers they succeed.” Notice that the two lines of the proverb parallel by contrast. The first line presents one scenario, while the second line presents another, opposite one.

Parallel lines may repeat the same idea in different words, expand an idea further, reflect it from another angle, or give its opposite. Even Jesus made use of this structure in His teachings. Parallelism is the backbone of Hebrew poetry.

Imagery

The third major feature of Hebrew poetry is imagery, specifically the use of metaphors, similes, and other figures of speech. Such imagery is why parables are themselves inherently poetic, for they are ordinary images that communicate larger truths. Proverbs is filled with such images. Notably it personifies wisdom and folly as two women calling for our attention.

Let us also consider some other uses of imagery by thinking of Jesus’ warnings: “if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off” or “if your eye causes you to sin, gouge it out.” This is poetic imagery, not a literal command to cut off your hand or gouge out your eye. We know this because your right hand or your eye cannot actually cause you to sin. We direct our eyes toward sinful sights and our hands toward doing sinful deeds. Thus, Jesus is clearly speaking poetically, using vivid imagery to communicate a deeper truth, which is that we should do whatever is necessary to put sin to death. It better to lose some as precious as your right hand or eye than to be cast in hell.

Jesus also uses poetic imagery of Himself. “I am the vine; you are the branches.” “I am the door.” “I am the light.” These are metaphorical statements, poetic ways of speaking that communicate deep truths about who Christ is.

Rhythms of Sound & Thought

So, Hebrew poetry is marked by its terseness, parallelism, and imagery. Another helpful way of summarizing this is offered by Hill and Walton. They say that Hebrew poetry is defined by rhythms of sound and rhythms of thought.

Rhythms of sound refer to the ways that poetry was meant to be heard. One great example of such rhythms is acrostic poetry, where each line or stanza starts with a letter of the alphabet. Psalm 119 and Proverbs 31:10-31 are two such examples.

Alliteration and assonance could also be used. Alliteration is the repetition of consonant sounds. The first verse of Song of Songs is alliterative: Shir ha-shirim asher li-Shlomo. Can you hear the repeated ‘sh’? Assonance is a similar technique but with repeated vowel sounds.

Rhythms of thought include structures like parallelism, repetition, and chiasms. These patterns shape how ideas relate to one another. Again, even though there is no technical poetry in Leviticus, we saw this past year its intricate poetic structure.

I mention all of this simply to help us better identify what Hebrew poetry is. Thankfully, most English translations now mark the poetry visually, but it is still important to understand how the translators made those decisions.

WHAT IS POETRY THERE FOR?

Now that we have discussed what constitutes biblical poetry, let us turn to our second question: What is the purpose or function of poetry in the Bible? What is it there for? And what is it doing?

We will consider three answers. Poetry is for meditation, affection, and cultivation.

Meditation

First, poetry is for meditation. One of the simplest reasons God gave us poetry is that it is easier to memorize, which is the first step to meditation. Psalm 119 is clear example. Most scholars believe that it was written, at least in part, for children. It contains 176 verses arranged into 22 stanzas that correspond to the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet. Thus, it likely functioned as a kind of ancient ABC song that taught children to love God’s holy Word.

But memorization is only the beginning of meditation, for meditation goes much deeper. In Hebrew thought, meditation is related to the idea of chewing. Think of a cow chewing the cud. When we meditate on Scripture, we chew it over and over again in our minds, thinking constantly about it.

Poetry is especially well-suited for this because metaphors can contain far more breadth of meaning than straightforward commands are able. Now, I am not saying that they are more true than direct commands. “You shall not make a carved image” communicates truth. But we saw two weeks ago how Psalm 115 poetically reflected on that command. The poetic imagery of becoming like the idols we create gives a lifetime of material for meditation.

Or consider Psalm 23. We could simply say, “God will take care of me and provide what I need.” True. Or we could say, “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.” That simple image has generated volumes of reflection and analysis.

And the Psalms are filled with these verbal pictures. Yahweh is my rock. His name is a strong tower. “The LORD God is a sun and shield.” What do all of those images mean? Roll them over and over in your mind. That’s the point.

The images can also be of us. We could say, “The one who trusts in God will be steadfast.” Great. But Scripture says, “He is like a tree planted by streams of water, that yields its fruit in season, and its leaf does not wither.” And then we have the contrast: “The wicked are not so, but are like chaff that the wind drives away.” Can you picture the threshing floor? Can you see chaff scattered into nothingness?

Poetry invites us to meditate. Think of Proverbs 15:22 again: “Without counsel plans fail, but with many advisers they succeed.” That short proverb can occupy your thoughts endlessly. Indeed, that is the point. We should turn those words around in our minds and ask ourselves: When have I acted without counsel? How did that go? When have I sought counsel from others? Whose counsel do I trust?

Affection

Poetry is also for affection. Christopher Ansberry notes that poetry “is a medium that awakens the senses, arouses the emotions, stimulates the mind, and inspires the imagination.”

Douglas O’Donnell offers a wonderful illustration of this. He says that “there are things only poetry can do for the human heart and imagination. There is a difference between saying,

‘She walks in beauty, like the night
of cloudless climes and starry skies;
and all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
Thus mellowed to that tender light
which heaven to gaudy day denies.’

and saying,

‘A woman in a black dress with shiny beads looked pretty when she walked by.'”

We immediately sense the difference. Good poetry is something like a verbal polaroid, grabbing (however vainly) at the feeling of a particular moment and freezing it in time. Poetry is naturally about affection, that is, it affects us. It stirs our emotions. It awakens our loves (or, even, our loathings).

We see this clearly in Scripture’s poetry. The New Testament repeatedly tells us not to be surprised by trials and tribulations. As followers of Christ, we ought to expect suffering. But the laments within the Psalms do not merely warn us of suffering; they sit with us in the midst of it.

Psalm 13 cries out, “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” Psalm 42 says, “My tears have been my food day and night… All your breakers and your waves have gone over me.” Have you ever felt like that, like wave after wave of God’s bitter providence was crashing over you?

Or think of Psalm 137: “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and wept, when we remembered Zion.”

Didactic teaching tells us plainly that suffering must come. Poetry, however, gives us words to pray while we are suffering. It gives us language when our hearts are too heavy to speak.

But poetry affects beyond lamentation. It also teaches us what to love and hate. It shows us what is beautiful and hideous. Read the book of Ezekiel. Some of its imagery makes us recoil in horror. Yet God used such language to force His people to face the horror of their sin and its consequences.

Poetry stirs the affections both positively and negatively. After God delivered Israel from Egypt, He gave His people their first psalm. Here is the language that is used:

 In the greatness of your majesty you overthrow your adversaries;
you send out your fury; it consumes them like stubble.
At the blast of your nostrils the waters piled up;
the floods stood up in a heap;
the deeps congealed in the heart of the sea.

God gave His people poetry so that they could remember His deliverance affectionately, not simply intellectually. Indeed, that is why God’s redeemed always sing to Him. Poetry and music are the best methods of expressing joy in our salvation.

Cultivation

This leads us to the third purpose of poetry: cultivation. Instruction teaches us what is true, but poetry teaches us to love what is true. Again, Exodus 14 tells us plainly that God destroyed Pharaoh and his army in the sea. Exodus 15, however, summons God’s people to rejoice in God’s complete and total victory. Exodus 15:1-3 says,

I will sing to the LORD, for he has triumphed gloriously;
the horse and his rider he has thrown into the sea.
The LORD is my strength and my song,
and he has become my salvation;
this is my God, and I will praise him,
my father’s God, and I will exalt him.
The LORD is a man of war;
The LORD is his name.

Poetry, like all art, is formative. It is always shaping us, for better or worse. Just as those who make idols become like them, so do we become like what we meditate, memorize, sing, or simply rejoice in. We are a poetic and musical people. We will saturate ourselves in poetry and metaphor. The only question is: what kind of poetry?

Even though we tend to reject formal poetry as academic and intellectual, we listen to more music than any other people in human history. Those lyrics are poetry. If we look at the top songs being listened to today, we are looking at the poems that are shaping and forming our society around us. Again, the poetry that we sing, repeat, and internalize is forming us far more deeply than we realize.

And that is why God gives us so much poetry. He gives us story because we are shaped by stories. He gives us poetry because we are cultivated through poetry. As the LORD spoke through Hosea, “I spoke to the prophets; I multiplied visions, and through the prophets I gave parables.” God speaks to His people in a form that they can understand, in a way that affects their emotions, and in a way that cultivates their loves.

THE WORD BECAME FLESH

But here is the problem. Poetry alone is not enough. The Old Testament is filled with law and poetry, which are both gracious gifts, but neither was sufficient to change the human heart entirely. No matter how many times we meditate on Psalm 1, we simply cannot become the blessed man on our own. We are wandering sheep.

That is why the New Testament is such good news. Jesus entered our story. As we have seen, Jesus certainly spoke poetically. The Beatitudes, for example, are clearly structured for memorization and meditation. But most importantly, Jesus is the Word made flesh. He is the Logos that came to dwell among us. The poet stepped into His poem.

Like the law, poetry was always mean to direct our eyes to Christ. We cannot become blessed by meditation alone. We could not become wise by following Lady Wisdom’s call perfectly. So, God Himself entered the story. He took on flesh, stepped into the very words that He spoke at the beginning of time, and lived in our place.

That is the work that Christ accomplished. He bore our sins against God, but He also gave us His righteousness in return.

But the beauty of the gospel does not stop there. Here is Paul’s description of the gospel in Ephesians 2:1-9:

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of the this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience–among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ–by grace you have been saved–and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.

That is the gospel, the good news of our salvation, that Christ as accomplished fully for us. But verse 10 then gives us the purpose for which Christ saved us. Here is what the gospel is producing in us:

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

Each of us was created by God. And in Christ, we have been recreated into new creations for the purpose of doing good works. We are God’s workmanship. The Greek word for ‘workmanship’ here is ποιημα. We are God’s poem, created by Him for good works. We are God’s living, breathing poetry.

Christ came to accomplish what poetry itself could not do alone. The embodied Word of God came down and did it for us. Thus, we now look to Christ, the embodied Word, through His Scriptures, the written Word, as He shapes us into the people that are following after Him.

Indeed, we are now actually empowered by the Holy Spirit to truly be cultivated and shaped by the poetry of the Bible. So as we spend more time in His Word, meditating upon Christ, the more our affections will be cultivated in Christ’s likeness.

As we come to the Table this morning, we should notice that even this is poetic, which some branches of Christianity fail to recognize. At the Last Supper, our Lord held up the bread and cup, saying, “This is my body, which is broken for you… This is the blood of the covenant.” Is this literally the body and blood of the Lord? No. This is physical poetry, a symbol and a sign. These elements give us a real picture of the body and blood of Christ.

As we take the bread, it is a tangible poem. We get to hold in our hands, taste it with our tongues, and as crush it with our teeth, we remember that Christ was crushed under the wrath of God in our place.

And as we hold the cup and sip of it, we remember the blood of Christ that was spilled for us, sprinkled upon the heavenly altar so that we can enter into the holy place. We remember Christ holding out the cup and offering us His life.

This bread and cup are not the literal body and blood of Christ. They are poetry, symbols and signs. And as we come to them, may the Lord use them to do what the poetry of the Bible does in us through the power of the Holy Spirit. Why did God write so much poetry for us? For the same reasons that He has given the Lord’s Supper and ultimately Christ. God gave us poetry so that we would meditate on Him, set our affections upon Him, and be cultivated into His likeness—until the day we see the Poet Himself face to face.