…Until I Read the Bible for Myself.
I continue realizing how easy it is to inherit beliefs without ever deeply examining them for ourselves. A lot of us inherited versions of spirituality through family traditions, denominations, or even emotional experiences. While those things may introduce us to belief, they cannot replace personal revelation, personal study, or personal conviction.
At some point, our relationship with YAH has to move beyond simply repeating what we were taught and relying entirely on other people to interpret Scripture for us.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with Bible study, fellowship, or learning from teachers— These are gifts— However, there is also something invaluable about opening the Scriptures for yourself, seeking understanding through prayer, and allowing The Father to teach you directly through His Word. That is often where wisdom increases or where questions are answered that no sermon addressed. More often, that is where YAH may be speaking directly to your heart.
Many of us inherit interpretations that have been passed down for generations. Some are sound and rooted in Scripture, others are traditions, assumptions, or doctrines filtered through centuries of human reasoning and Greek philosophy. When you begin reading for yourself, you may discover that some passages say exactly what you were taught—and others may challenge things you never thought to question.
There is comfort (and sometimes pride or even fear) in belonging to a system that already tells you what to think, what to believe, and what to question. Seeking YAH deeply for yourself requires surrender, humility, and the willingness to admit that certain things we defended confidently may not have been rooted in Scripture at all.
I know that discomfort personally.
When I recommitted myself to following YAH, I returned to a church I had grown up in. It felt familiar, it felt safe and it seemed to align with some of what I believed.
Looking back, that word “some” should have caught my attention.
One of the statements on a pledge card instructed that believers should not wear jewelry or makeup. I wrestled with it sincerely and at the time, I genuinely wanted to obey whatever Scripture taught; giving up my jewelry was not easy by any metric.
As I began studying the passage used to support that teaching—
“Your adornment should not be outward – arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on dresses – but the hidden man of the heart, with the incorruptible ornament of a meek and peaceable spirit, which is of great value before Elohim.”
I realized, the verse was being applied in ways that extended beyond its context. As I studied the passages for myself, however, I began to see a distinction. The emphasis of Scripture was not simply about jewelry, makeup, or outward appearance. The deeper concern was the condition of the heart.
Paul writes that women should adorn themselves with modesty and good works rather than placing their identity in outward adornment (Timotiyos Aleph (1 Timothy) 2:9-10). YAH reminds us that while man looks at the outward appearance, He looks at the heart (Shemu'ĕl Aleph (1 Samuel) 16:7).
Ironically, while I eventually concluded that the rule itself was not biblical, I was convicted to stop wearing jewelry and makeup for a season. Not because those things were sinful, but because I had attached part of my identity to them. The issue was not the jewelry— The issue was my heart.
That was a lesson about idolatry, not a universal standard for righteousness.
A person's relationship with YAH cannot be measured by whether they wear makeup or jewelry. Yet many sincere people accept teachings like these without ever examining the Scriptures for themselves—not because they are unwilling, but because they have been taught to trust the institution's interpretation more than their own study.
That was only one example.
Again and again, reading Scripture for myself forced me to confront how much of my understanding had been shaped by church culture rather than by the Word itself. Some beliefs remained—Others didn't survive careful examination. In both cases, my faith became stronger because it was being rooted in Truth rather than traditions.
And that, I believe, is the difference between merely adopting beliefs and truly seeking YAH.
It should be the kind of seeking that keeps reading even when the verses become uncomfortable.
The kind that prays for understanding instead of immediately defending old perspectives.
YAH is not hiding from sincere seekers— He truly responds to those who pursue Him with their whole heart. Perhaps that is what conviction was always meant to do:
Not make us feel guilty, but awaken within us a genuine desire to know Him for ourselves.
