Why I’m Now Bringing a Physical Bible to Church (And Maybe You Should Too)

The New Norm

I’m not against using the Bible app on your phone. I love it. Whether I’m chatting with someone after church, opening up Scripture in a counselling moment, or looking up references mid-conversation – it’s incredibly useful.

But lately, I’ve found myself quietly unsettled by what I’ve seen happening with phones in church.

Let me share a few moments that have stuck out in the past few weeks:

• Two teens, sitting side-by-side during the service. One is playing a game on her phone. The other starts watching. By the time the sermon begins, both are fully locked in – not on the preacher, but on the screen.

• Another week, A man scrolling Instagram and liking posts during the sermon. A few rows away, someone else steadily browsing forums, never once looking up.

• The final example tipped me over to writing this post. A man following along with his Bible app, great! But then during one part of the sermon the prophet Daniel is mentioned. The man then switches over to Google to read up on Daniel’s background… and in doing so, he misses a crucial gospel point being made.

Now, let’s be fair: distraction in church isn’t new. I imagine even during temple sacrifices there were people thinking, “The priest’s robe looks a bit unironed today. He probably rushed out the door. I bet he has a lot on his plate… but what does he do again? Oh look, a moth has landed on that pillar…”

Distraction is ancient. But what’s new is how it’s so easily fuelled by the devices in our pockets.

In a world saturated by screens, what I’ve seen lately doesn’t surprise me. It’s not unusual. It’s normal. And that’s exactly what concerns me.

We’re more distractible than ever – even in worship.

So, I’ve made a small shift.

Whenever I’m not the one preaching, I’ve started bringing a physical Bible, a notebook, and a pen. Not because it’s more spiritual. But because it’s helping me recover something I’ve been missing: rest – real, focused, gospel rest.

And maybe doing likewise could help you as well.

The Word of God: Worthy of our Full Attention

Let me take a moment to ground this in something we all hopefully agree on.

When we gather and open God’s Word, we’re not just reading ancient wisdom or good advice – we’re hearing God Himself speak. His Word is living and active, sharper than any sword, and able to cut to the very core of our hearts (Hebrews 4:12).

And because we believe in the clarity and sufficiency of Scripture, we don’t believe it’s reserved for professionals or pastors to interpret on our behalf. It’s for the whole people of God – to read, understand, test, and apply.

That’s what the Bereans model for us in Acts 17:11. They didn’t just take the apostles’ word for it. They listened, yes – but then they opened their Bibles and searched the Scriptures for themselves, to see if what they heard was true and worth responding to.

Which isn’t spiritual suspicion – it’s spiritual maturity.

But to be like the Bereans, we need to have our Bibles open in front of us – not just a verse or two, but the whole flow of the passage. We need space to see, trace, and test what we’re hearing.

As Tim Keller once said,

“The Bible is not so much a book to be read as it is a voice to be heard.”

And that raises a searching issue: are we catching snippets on the fly, or sitting down to truly hear from God?

I want to suggest that a physical Bible helps us do the latter.

And one of the simplest but most significant ways a physical Bible helps us listen better – is by helping us see better.

How Our Physical Bibles Help Us See the Terrain

Here’s where a physical Bible really shines.

Phone Bible apps literally narrow our view. Even on a larger fold-out screen, we’re usually looking at just a few verses at a time – like reading through a keyhole.

But open a paper Bible, and you see the landscape. You can scan a paragraph, trace the shape of an argument, flick back to what came before, or glance ahead to what’s coming next. You’re not just reading lines – you’re reading flow, structure, and context.

There’s also something that just feels different. Scrolling through sentences isn’t the same as turning a page. It’s not just preference – it’s how our minds work.

Research shows that we memorise better when reading on paper. Our brains use spatial cues – where something was on the page – to help store and recall information. When it comes to the Bible, that matters. We start to remember that a verse is in the top right of that page in Romans. Or that the story of Elijah is somewhere in the middle of 1 Kings.

This kind of memory scaffolding makes it easier to revisit those truths, reflect on them, and return to them when needed.

Even more than that, a physical Bible gives us a sense of place within God’s story.

• Open to Genesis or Exodus, and you feel the beginnings – creation, covenant, exodus.

• Land in Psalms or Isaiah, and you’re in the thick of lament, longing, and prophetic hope – in the middle of the Bible and its story.

• Flip to Revelation, and you know you’re reading the final chapters of history.

A screen shows you a few verses. A paper Bible shows you the bigger picture – where you are in the unified story of redemption.

And perhaps most importantly of all: Bringing a physical Bible isn’t just about seeing more – it’s about being more present.

A Quick Word to Pastors

If you're a preacher or Bible teacher, I want to gently encourage you here as well.

It’s good to teach our people the Berean habit – Bible open, mind engaged, eyes on the text. But if your sermons regularly jump across disconnected passages, people stop opening their Bibles altogether. It’s hard to follow, especially for new believers.

When we preach topically too often, people begin to rely on our words rather than learning how to track God’s Word for themselves.

I’m not against topical preaching. But one of the many strengths of regular expository preaching is that it invites people to read along – to see the text, not just hear it. And when they can see it, they grow in confidence to read it on their own.

This Gathering Is Different: Resting From Our Screens

I want to tread carefully here. In the past, some churches have tended to overstate what happens when we gather – using language like “God is especially present here” or “we invite His presence into the room,” as though God hovering outside until we called Him in.

That kind of language, while often well-meaning, can distort our understanding of God’s constant presence through His Spirit and His Word.

But in reacting to that overreach, I wonder if we’ve ended up swinging too far the other way. In our efforts to avoid over-promising, maybe we’ve under-appreciated just how rich, distinct, and significant our Sunday gatherings really are.

They’re not ordinary.

They interrupt the rest of our lives with something far more real and restful:

“Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28).

Yet often, we arrive burdened not just by the week, but by the digital world we carry in our pockets. And slowly, without meaning to, our habits in church start to look like our habits everywhere else: phone in hand, screen glowing, attention split between heaven and wifi.

And this is the heart of what I’m trying to say:

I’d love us to bring our physical Bibles to church as a way to rest from our screens.

We spend six and a half days scrolling, swiping, and syncing.

Let the gathered people of God be different. Let it feel slower. Quieter. Thicker with meaning.

What happens on Sundays is a holy interruption. A moment of rest in Jesus, with His people, under His word.

Sunday isn’t magic – but it is meaningful. There’s something profoundly different about the way we hear, rest, and respond when we come together under His Word. We’re not just learning – we’re slowing down.

Slowing down from the endless scroll, from multitasking, and from the self-curation of our social media feeds.

Just imagine: for two hours a week, you’re free from push notifications, vibrating pockets, or the temptation to Google which minor prophet wrote Nahum. (It’s Nahum by the way. Just saved you a few seconds. Boom!).

Instead, you open a Bible. You hear God's Word read and preached. You lift your eyes. You sing. You pray. You lean in.

And in that moment, you’re not curating a persona – you’re just you, receiving grace alongside others doing the same.

Bringing a physical Bible – and maybe even a notepad – isn’t about being impressive. It’s a small act of resistance and a small step into gospel rest.

The weight of the Bible in your lap reminds you: this moment matters, this story is ancient, these words are trustworthy, and I’m here to listen and then encourage others.

That’s why I’m pushing back against the screen in my own life.

Not because a paper Bible is more holy. But because it helps me be more present.

And when we put the screen away, we don’t just find rest – we become more available:

to God,
to His Word,
and to one another.

Resting From The Screen: Being Present

We all know what it’s like to be with someone who’s sort of there – but mostly somewhere else. Their eyes are on you, until their phone buzzes. Their mind wanders. They nod and smile – but you can tell they’re gone.

I say that without judgment – because I’m guilty of it too. I’ve lost count of how many conversations I’ve paused to “just check something quickly.” The phone is always within reach… and somehow always reaches back!

Which is why Sundays have become something sacred for me – not just spiritually, but physically.

Putting the phone away – really away – and opening a physical Bible is a small but powerful act of presence. Not just presence of body, but of mind and spirit.

There’s something about flipping pages, scribbling in the margins, underlining a phrase, or just sitting still with the Book open on your lap. It’s hard to do that and not be there.

And the benefit isn’t just emotional – it’s neurological.

One Tokyo study found that people who take notes on paper not only retain more information, but remember it more deeply and efficiently than those using digital tools. There’s something about the physical interaction – pen on paper, book in hand – that helps truth sink in more deeply. (this study has made me rewind tablet work for sermons as well).

Now, the presence of being in the moment, and the physical presence of a Bible and notepad, doesn’t just affect you – it also gently shapes the people around you too.

Resting From The Screen: Says Something Beautiful to Others

Peer pressure usually gets a bad rap. And fair enough – most of us think of it as something negative: getting dragged into things we don’t want to do, just to fit in. But not all peer pressure is bad. In fact, some of it is beautifully sanctifying. When you’re in good company, peer pressure can quietly nudge you toward good habits. It reminds you that you’re part of something bigger – that your choices ripple outward.

And nowhere is that more true than in church.

When we gather, we don’t just sit as isolated individuals. We sit together. And people notice what’s normal. Kids notice. Teenagers definitely notice. Newcomers looking around the room take it all in.

So what do we want them to see?

A Bible open on your lap – even if you're not underlining anything or following along in Greek (ha!) – sends a clear, quiet message:

“This moment matters. This gathering is worth my undivided attention.”

In a world enslaved to fomo and digital tethering, this is a refreshing gospel resistance.

Of course, none of this means that screens are inherently evil. But they’re not neutral either.

Resting From The Screen: Freedom From Notifications

The phone and tablet aren’t necessarily bad, but let’s be honest: they are portals to a thousand diversions. Even with good intentions – like the gentleman Googling a prophet during the sermon – it’s easy to get derailed. The ping telling us that a friend has commented on your latest post, the message about dinner plans, a push notification from Google about a story you’ve been reading up on. One notification, one click, and you’re no longer in church but the digital realm.

Not because you meant to leave, but because your screen became a portal to a parallel world.

A Bible doesn’t do that. There’s no ping, no buzz, or temptation to multitask. It just waits for you to open it. Invite you to run your fingers along the text and peel over to continue the story. Even better if it’s a new Bible – the aroma of fresh printed pages is… intoxicating. (let the reader understand)

And before you know it, you’re enjoying a freedom that maybe you haven’t felt in the week: the freedom from notifications.

So, what would happen if you tried it? Not forever – just for a few weeks?

A Gentle Invitation

Give it a go. Try it for just a few weeks. Bring your Bible (and for those at SLE Church, come see me if you want to buy one!) and notepad, hold it, and open it. Let it help you rest, listen, and be full here.

I’m not going to guilt anyone if you continue to use your phone or tablet. I’m not putting in a hard and fast rule at church.

But I do want to offer a gentle, hopeful nudge:

What if putting your phone away for just a couple of hours helped you become more present to God, more open to His Word, and more attuned to the people sitting beside you?

But I’d love for all of us to gently step into deeper presence and less distraction. Not because you have to, but because it might help you hear His restful, assuring, and sometimes challenging voice again.

And maybe, that’s the moment you realise:

This really is different.
And it’s exactly what I needed.