The Five W's of Biblical Context—Plus the Hidden Layers Most People Miss

The Five W's of Biblical Context—Plus the Hidden Layers Most People Miss

Getting the context conviction is a long journey.  This is not a one and done lesson.  Any church that teaches a Sunday sermon on this topic and calls it complete is missing out on the richness of the journey.  There is a reason this is a campfire conversation, wrapping your arms around this is critical.

So what are the five W’s?  I am sure you have answered this already since it is quite obvious.  Who, what, when, where and why are the five W’s.  We should ask this every time we read a scripture.  And I would like to add we should really ask the 5W's in reference to an entire book of the Bible instead of an individual scripture. It's when we cherry pick a scripture that we get into trouble, the bible was never intended to be read that way. It was intended to be read as a book.

So if you choose a book, and ask yourself who's this book written to?  My favorite thing to do is to write it in the beginning of the book right in my Bible this is written to fill in the blank. So often this first W is where we go right off the tracks and start the greatest adventure in missing the point.

First, we’ll break down the Five W’s one by one. Then we’ll add a few key ideas that take biblical context to the next level.

Who: 

Every book of the Bible was written to a specific audience. That matters—a lot. The original audience is the subject, not you. One of the biggest interpretive mistakes we make is assuming the Bible was written directly for us, as if it somehow bypasses time and culture to land perfectly in our modern situation. It wasn’t. That’s not how context works—and honestly, we’re just not that central to the story.

Take the Gospels, for example. Ever wonder why there are four accounts telling largely the same story? It’s because they were written to different audiences, each with unique perspectives, needs, and cultural backgrounds. That’s why each Gospel emphasizes different details. The answers to those differences—and to much of what we misunderstand—are found not just in the Five W’s, but in the deeper layers we’ll explore next.

What:

Asking what is going on here is an excellent way to query the subject of a particular book in the Bible. Something's going on, it could be war, it could be unrest it could unrest, it could be establishment, it could be faith journeys and the list goes on and on. But one thing for sure is there is something that this particular book is about. Again, it's not about you.

Where:

Asking what’s going on here? is one of the smartest ways to approach any book of the Bible. Something is always happening—maybe it’s war, maybe political upheaval, maybe covenant, rebellion, exile, renewal, or a messy faith journey. But make no mistake: each book has a central event or theme driving it. And once again, it’s not about you. The Bible isn’t your personal fortune cookie—it’s about real people, real history, and a real story unfolding long before you came along.

When:

When was this book written? That’s not just a throwaway question—it matters. Timing shapes everything. Was there something significant happening at the time? Often, yes. War, for instance, shows up in the background of many books, and it always leaves a mark. It influences what’s written, how it’s written, and how people process what they’re living through.

But it’s not just war. Themes like marginalization, exile, and being cut off from your community were common. So was Roman oppression—something we casually reference but rarely grasp in full. These weren’t peaceful times. They were turbulent, often violent, and deeply formative. Knowing what was happening when a book was written gives us a critical frame of reference. Without it, we risk reading ancient words through a modern lens and missing the point entirely.  Does that make sense to you?

Why:

“Why?” is one of my favorite questions to ask. Why is this particular book included in the Bible at all? Why is the author speaking to this group of people, in this place, at this specific moment, with that message?

“Why” opens the door to real understanding. It’s not just a curiosity—it’s an invitation to dig deeper into the text. But here’s the catch: we’ve got to resist the modern reflex to say, “Oh, it’s so I can learn a lesson from this.” No. That’s not it.

Once again: this isn’t about you. Or me. The biblical writers weren’t thinking about us when they wrote these words—they didn’t even know we existed. And honestly, that’s a good thing. It means we get to listen in on something real, something specific, something rooted in time and space… instead of projecting ourselves into a story that doesn’t belong to us.

And the bonus:  How (it's not a W)

And then there’s “How.” Sometimes the Bible gives clear, practical direction—how to respond, how to live, how to handle conflict, grief, or injustice. But here’s the mistake we often make: we skip straight to the how and start applying it to our own lives without first understanding the original context. How did the original audience receive that instruction? How did they respond? That matters.

The Five W’s—who, what, where, when, and why—exist for a reason. They anchor the story in its original reality. Only after we’ve done the hard work of context can we responsibly wrestle with the how. Otherwise, we risk twisting the Bible into a self-help manual instead of engaging it for what it truly is—a record of God’s movement through real people, in real places, at real moments in time.

The Hidden Layers Most People Miss ( we call it the "and then some" in the podcast)

Now here’s something worth chewing on: there are major themes in the Bible that get almost no attention—not on the page, and definitely not from the pulpit. And because they’re rarely mentioned, they’re rarely taught. But dig just a little deeper, and you’ll start to see them. These bold, often overlooked themes rise to the surface and carry real influence in how a book is shaped.

This is crucial. If we want to read the Bible with any real accuracy, we need to do more than just follow the plot. We have to tune in to the author’s style, their worldview, their patterns. What do they emphasize? What do they leave out? What literary devices are they using? All of that matters. It’s not just about what they’re saying—it’s about how and why they’re saying it that way.

Here is a very brief list of some of the things I want you to think about: (Bonus: over time, we will release a seperate blog post study of each)

• Mountain top experiences
• Cultural references that are taken for granted
• Hyperbolic overstatements
• Tension
• Journey experiences
• Famine
• Implicit versus explicit problems
• Literary structure
• Oppression elementary teachings
• Symbolic narrative
• Imagery
• Reputations
• Redemption language
• Belonging language
• The boot of Empire
• Things that feel neutral to you
• Parables
• The spice trade and big business
• Number sequences
• False witness
• Exodus Language
• Genealogy

When we read out of context there is a very good chance we are not taking these points into consideration.  One of my favorite examples is the one of hyperbolic overstatements. This was a common tactic that Jesus used when he was making statements to the Pharisees. He was trying to be bold, direct and somewhat shocking to the super religious Pharisees. This was done to get their attention.  It was one of Jesus’ many teaching styles.  If we don't realize that the culture in this time frame tended to be towards the super religious and confusing teachings, we would miss this.

It can feel contradictory at times—Jesus speaks with bold confrontation to one group, and then turns around with deep gentleness and generosity toward another. But instead of sitting with that tension, we often rush to turn His words into some kind of obedience-based teaching that misses the point entirely. This happens every single Sunday. Yet no one says the words “hyperbolic overstatement.” Imagine how different things would be if we simply started a sermon, a Bible study, or even a personal conversation with that disclaimer—it would change everything.

Another good example are the subjects of unique experiences. Again we kind of gloss over these unique experiences as something that's normal in everyday account. They're not, it's the “when” and the “where” and the "why" of a conversation. Not everyone goes to an actual mountain, climbs up it and has an experience with God.

Explicit problems are very clear problems that everyone knew or understood because they were very obvious.  Sometimes it was some sort of disfunction that was easily understood on the surface level.  A good example would be the fact that certain cities were known for certain things such as good water, excellent craftsman (not a problem) rich resources, dangerous roads or evil practices such child sacrifices.  People knew this, there is not much to dig out to get the facts. 

Some people label them as contradictions, but I see them as invitations—chances to dig deeper and think critically. Take King Solomon, for example. It took him longer to build his own house than it did to build the temple. Why does that matter? Is that an implicit problem? Absolutely. Now go wrestle with it.

Another great example is genealogy. The Bible gives a lot of space to lineage—who came from whom—but very little explanation as to why it matters. That’s because, in the ancient world, everyone already knew. Your ancestry wasn’t just background info—it shaped your identity, your reputation, and your social standing. Who you married—and what family they came from—could elevate or ruin your place in the community.

Today, we think differently. We celebrate personal choice and individual rights, posting them across headlines and defending them with laws and hashtags. That’s very explicit. But in the biblical world, the consequences of certain choices—like marrying into the wrong family—were often left unsaid, even though they were deeply felt. The silence doesn’t mean it didn’t matter. It just means the audience already knew what was at stake.

Finally, we have to talk about literary structures, symbolic narratives, and imagery—techniques that certain biblical authors, like John, used intentionally. These symbols made perfect sense to their original audience. They were explicit, even obvious, to those living in that cultural moment.

But for us? Not so much. Modern readers often find themselves confused or overwhelmed, trying to decode what these images mean and how they apply today. Here’s the reality: you can’t force that connection—and you’re not supposed to. These literary choices weren’t made for you. They were part of the author’s style, crafted for their specific audience, for a reason.

The book of Revelation is a prime example. It’s often misread today, usually through a lens of fear, because we’ve lost sight of the context it was written in. But when we slow down, breathe, and approach it with the right framework, clarity begins to emerge.

So take the time. Go back through the examples we’ve covered. Start building your own understanding—not by inserting yourself into the story, but by letting the story speak for itself.

The Response

Let me start by saying this: adjusting our approach to Scripture with context in mind is a massive shift. In fact, I’d argue it’s the single most important change the modern church needs to make. I’m not just sounding the same old alarm or beating a dead horse—this is an epidemic. And if we ever do make this shift, it could be one of the most significant turning points in church history.

Here’s the tension: we love the way we already do things. We love our traditions, our familiar interpretations, and our close-knit faith communities—and there’s nothing wrong with that. But we also love being told what to think, how to feel, and what to believe based on surface-level readings. It’s simple. It’s safe. It doesn’t rock the boat.

What we don’t love is change. And that resistance is slowly killing us.

We’re suspicious of anyone who challenges the system. It’s labeled as heresy, arrogance, or unnecessary deconstruction. But the real issue? Changing our minds takes work. It’s uncomfortable. Honestly, it hurts. But when we finally start reading Scripture in proper context, we’re faced with a sobering reality: some churches are built on foundations that were never solid to begin with. And now, those foundations are cracking.

So what do I mean by all this?

I mean there are churches—entire denominations, in fact—that have built their faith structures on misinterpretations of Scripture. Some are large and institutional, others are small and self-declared “different,” but both often fall into the same trap: ignoring context.

And I’ll be honest—context is hard. Taking a stand for it is even harder. I’m telling you this straight from the heart: what are you willing to stand up for? How serious is this, really? Serious enough that entire lives, entire belief systems, are being shaped—often mis-shaped—by the questions we refuse to ask.

So here’s my challenge: start asking the Five W’s—of your faith, your theology, your church, your journey. And don’t stop there. Add in the “and then some”—the deeper questions about culture, genre, symbolism, literary structure, worldview, and author intent. These aren’t bonus features; they’re essential tools for understanding truth.

And here’s the good news: people are waking up. They’re connecting the dots. They’re listening to different voices and finding the same patterns. One of my favorite examples comes from the ancient rabbinic teaching method. A rabbi would offer a phrase or a passage—and then send the student away to wrestle with it. No spoon-feeding. No “here’s the secret answer.” It was like a parent tossing their kid into the deep end to learn to swim. Tough love—but it worked. You figure it out when you have to.

So the real question is this: do you have to? Or do you want to?

Either way, the fire is lit. Pull up a seat.

Enjoy the campfire conversation.