I had expected to find a break between low-church Bible reading and Catholic practice. Instead, I discovered one of the clearest continuities in my own story: the daily habit, the slow reading, and the posture of listening to Scripture all remained, even though the ecclesial framework around them changed.
The Devotional Book That Did Not Disappear
When I first set out to write about the discipline of Bible reading, I assumed this would be a story about loss—about how a strict low-church reading plan had been replaced by a looser Catholic practice. But as soon as I began thinking through my own history, I realised that the premise did not fit me.
I have never followed a Bible reading plan in the strict sense. What I have had, continuously throughout my adult life, is something else—and perhaps something even more common in low-church spirituality than the reading plan itself: the daily devotional book.
A Habit, Not a Plan
The first devotional book I remember owning was Hvil eder litt by Fredrik Wisløff—not to be confused with Carl Fredrik Wisløff, whom I have mentioned previously on this blog. Two different authors, both named Wisløff, both read by me at different stages of my life.
This kind of devotional book consisted of a short reading for each day, usually connected to a Bible passage, and was meant to be read day after day, year after year. It was not really a Bible reading plan. But it was a habit I followed faithfully.
The Years with Øivind Andersen and the One-Year Bible
Later, Ved kilden by Øivind Andersen became my regular daily reading, for several years in succession. What was characteristic of Ved kilden was that Andersen did not primarily want to offer religious reflections alongside the biblical text. He described the devotionals himself as “mini Bible studies”. The purpose was for the biblical word itself to speak and to accompany the reader through the day.
This also says something about why the book fitted so naturally into the kind of Christian life I knew: the daily habit was not merely to read something edifying, but to let a biblical text continue working in one’s thoughts.
For a period, I read Ettårsbibelen (“The One-Year Bible”), in which the entire Bible was arranged as a devotional book with readings dated from 1 January to 31 December. If one followed the plan, one had read through the whole Bible in a year. I did this, probably a couple of times, before moving on to something else.
So even though I never thought of it as a “Bible reading plan” in the sense in which we use the term today, that was in fact what I was practising—only wrapped in the form of a devotional book rather than presented as a separate reading schedule.
Through the Ears as Much as the Eyes
Another element that belongs in the picture is how much of my Bible reading, in practice, came through my ears. The series Veien gjennom Bibelen (“Through the Bible”) with Øyvind Brakvatne was broadcast on local radio for many years, and I was a faithful listener. Later, I followed Vindu mot livet (“A Window onto Life”) with Ola Bjorland just as regularly.
The daily or weekly discipline therefore did not consist only in opening a book. I also allowed myself to be guided through biblical texts by voices I had come to trust.
The Transition: The Same Form, New Content
After becoming Catholic, I spent a period reading daily selections from the Catechism of the Catholic Church on a mobile app. Today I read the Daily Readings in the Katolsk app, and occasionally the Saint of the Day.
What strikes me, when I look at the whole picture, is how little the form itself has changed. The ecclesial framework around the reading has changed—from Lutheran devotional literature and Bible teaching to the Catholic catechism and the Church’s daily Mass readings. But the faithful daily habit of setting aside time for a short text has continued uninterrupted through the entire transition.
A Posture That Did Not Change
There is one further point that has remained completely unchanged, and it may be the most important of all: Øivind Andersen said that he did not want to speak of having a particular “view of the Bible”. To have a view of something can suggest that one stands outside it and judges it. In relation to the Bible, the fundamental posture, in his understanding, should instead be to listen to what God says.
This is a posture I recognise deeply in myself and have tried to live by both before and after becoming Catholic. Perhaps this is the deepest theological continuity in the whole story: the ecclesial framework changed, the form changed very little, and the fundamental posture toward the text itself did not disappear.
Lectio Divina – A Surprise
When I later became familiar with lectio divina, the ancient Christian tradition of prayerful Bible reading, I recognised something of its rhythm: reading slowly, pausing over the text, and allowing it to work in one’s thoughts before moving on.
I would not say that I had therefore been practising lectio divina without knowing it—prayer and contemplation have a more explicit place in that tradition than they did in my old reading habits. But I discovered that its slow, listening posture was not as foreign to me as the name had first made it seem.
Not Everything in a Conversion Is a Break
I had expected to write a post about loss—about how the low-church discipline of Bible reading had disappeared or weakened when I became Catholic. Instead, I found the opposite: one of the clearest lines of continuity in my whole story.
The habit continued. The posture toward the text continued. Only the ecclesial framework around the daily reading changed, from a Lutheran to a Catholic context.
Perhaps this is a reminder of something I had not really considered before I began this blog: not everything in a conversion is a break. Some habits continue, but find new sources and a new ecclesial home. And some attitudes turn out to have travelled the whole way with us.
For me, this may be the most important of them: the Bible is not primarily a text over which I am to stand and pass judgment, but a word under which I am to place myself and listen.