There are parts of Scripture we return to often—verses that feel familiar, steady, and easier to speak about. And then there are others we tend to move past more quietly. Not because they are hidden, but perhaps because they don’t sit as easily within the way we’ve come to understand things.

Peter Hiett reflects on this in a thoughtful way, pointing to what he calls “Bible Verses Banned by Bible Believing Believers.” Not banned in any formal sense, but often left in the background. These are not obscure texts. In fact, they are surprisingly clear—speaking of the reach and depth of God’s grace in ways that can feel almost too expansive to hold.

Verses that speak of restoration, of all being drawn to Christ, of all being made alive, of all things reconciled—these are not tucked away in corners. They are written plainly. And yet, many of us have learned, perhaps without realizing it, to step carefully around them.

That realization invites a quiet question: why?

It may be that these passages don’t easily fit within the frameworks we’ve inherited. Or perhaps they press gently against assumptions we’ve carried for a long time. They ask us to consider whether fear is meant to sustain us, or simply to begin something that love is meant to complete.

Scripture does speak of fear—but it also speaks of love that casts fear out. Holding those together isn’t always simple. And yet, as we grow, it may be that what once guided us in the beginning is not what is meant to carry us to the end.

There is also the reality that much of the world—including, at times, the church—operates on systems of reward and consequence. Those systems are familiar. They make sense to us. But grace, especially when understood as something that transforms rather than merely restrains, can feel unsettling. It shifts the focus from control to renewal, from managing behavior to changing the heart.

Underneath all of this may be a quieter question of trust. Do we believe that God truly desires to save—and is able to do so? Or do we find ourselves placing more weight on human response than on God’s initiative?

These are not easy questions, and they’re not meant to be answered quickly.

What Hiett seems to be inviting is not a rejection of Scripture, but a fuller reading of it. Not setting aside the difficult passages, but also not setting aside those that speak of grace in its widest sense.

Perhaps the invitation is simple:

To read the whole of Scripture, patiently.
To sit with what doesn’t resolve right away.
And to allow even the passages we’re unsure about to have a voice.

Not to force conclusions, but to remain open.

In time, it may be that what once felt difficult begins to feel like something else—less like a problem to solve, and more like a glimpse into a larger story we are still learning to see.