I hear you and appreciate we simply have a different understanding and narrative around the NT.
What I've been coming to realize in my search for understanding these differences in understandings, I've come to appreciate that it is more than just simply different understandings. It's actually a different paradigm, or underlying premises as filters through which we approach things like understanding scripture.
You can have difference of understandings taking place within a certain common framework, such as you might see in evangelical circles disputing interpretations of scriptures. But all those disputes are all taking place within the single underlying assumption that scripture is God's Word protected by the Holy Spirit. That I would agree is, simply differences in understanding.
When it comes to using a different paradigm altogether, that's more like a different set of eyes through which everything is held and read. An example of this would be the shift from a Ptolemaic model of the cosmos, versus a Copernican heliocentric model. The latter shifts everything that is understood, once that underlying assumption shifts.
That changes everything, much more than simple disputes within a common framework. It calls into question how one sees and interprets what is seen or experienced. And this is true far beyond simply biblical hermeneutics, but it touches everything in the world with it. The whole of reality is approached and held through a different set of underlying assumptions. It is the mode of perception itself which shifts, and everything is understood differently. We can experience one of more of these paradigm shifts in our lifetimes, or no shifts at all.
A Preterist view waters down scripture IMHO. Like many things the disciples struggled to understand what Jesus meant and genuinely believed He would Return within their lifetimes. He clearly did not.
I would not agree with this however. It might watering it down, for you but not for others. It may actually be opening up scripture to a deeper, more illuminating understanding for them. It is not simply a matter of not getting what Jesus meant about spiritual principles. That is something true for everyone of us. No one can really understanding the depth of spiritual teachings, unless they have the context of personal experience or "revelation" in order to see them.
But a belief in the Bible as God's Word protected by the Holy Spirit, does not fall into that category, nor does understanding it through the lens of modern higher criticism. Those are predicated on different things, and while spiritual experience may play a factor in opening those modes of perception up, they generally do not change the underlying interpretative assumptions. Those shifts may happen with or without spiritual experience.
Seeing the Gospels as being Divinely Inspired and protected by the Holy Spirit doesn't detract from at all from its metaphor and allegory.
I would agree with this, up the point that when one does encounter something in scripture that doesn't reconcile easily with their underlying assumptions. Now, that conflict can result in seriously detracting from its metaphor and allegory. Insisting Adam and Eve were literal historical figures, in order to deny science's challenge to our mythological understandings of man's origins, definitely can detract from the metaphor.
I come back to this essay I first encountered a couple decades ago, which still speaks this truth as well today. I think it's worth reading through the whole thing to get a feel for what I'm saying, how that to insist on literalizing scripture, to read it as a literal scientific explanation of man's origins, will definitely detract from its metaphors. The title of the essay says so much:
Biblical Literalism: Constricting the Cosmic Dance – Religion Online
A brief excerpt:
Our situation calls to mind a backstage interview with Anna Pavlova, the dancer. Following an illustrious and moving performance, she was asked the meaning of the dance. She replied, “If I could say it, do you think I should have danced it?” To give dance a literal meaning would be to reduce dancing to something else. It would lose its capacity to involve the whole person. And one would miss all the subtle nuances and delicate shadings and rich polyvalences of the dance itself.
The remark has its parallel in religion. The early ethnologist R. R. Marett is noted for his dictum that “religion is not so much thought out as danced out.” But even when thought out, religion is focused in the verbal equivalent of the dance: myth, symbol and metaphor. To insist on assigning to it a literal, one-dimensional meaning is to shrink and stifle and distort the significance. In the words of E. H. W. Meyer-Stein, “Myth is my tongue, which means not that I cheat, but stagger in a light too great to bear.” Religious expression trembles with a sense of inexpressible mystery, a mystery which nevertheless addresses us in the totality of our being.
The literal imagination is univocal. Words mean one thing, and one thing only. They don’t bristle with meanings and possibilities; they are bald, clean-shaven. Literal clarity and simplicity, to be sure, offer a kind of security in a world (or Bible) where otherwise issues seem incorrigibly complex, ambiguous and muddy. But it is a false security, a temporary bastion, maintained by dogmatism and misguided loyalty. Literalism pays a high price for the hope of having firm and unbreakable handles attached to reality. The result is to move in the opposite direction from religious symbolism, emptying symbols of their amplitude of meaning and power, reducing the cosmic dance to a calibrated discussion.
One of the ironies of biblical literalism is that it shares so largely in the reductionist and literalist spirit of the age. It is not nearly as conservative as it supposes. It is modernistic, and it sells its symbolic birthright for a mess of tangible pottage. Biblical materials and affirmations -- in this case the symbolism of Creator and creation – are treated as though of the same order and the same literary genre as scientific and historical writing. “I believe in God the Father Almighty” becomes a chronological issue, and “Maker of heaven and earth” a technological problem.
I have no problem at all in someone believing literally that Jesus walked on water, so long as they are getting the basic metaphor behind it. But once that becomes a discussion of how this can be validated by science, that a scientific understanding can believe in it too, if the right kind of evidence can be presented (Creationism is a perfect example of that), now the metaphor is not heard at all. It's like trying to argue "proofs" for God, in order for a modernist to "believe". I have no issue with a modernist believing in God, as I would fit that category more or less. But to make it contingent upon that mode of thought, that the metaphors are literally true, I reject as inaccurate and untrue.
So if in doubt, I do not assume the Gospel writers got it wrong, rather what what did Jesus intend when He spoke during this critical time leading up to His crucifixion.
I would not frame it as "they got it wrong", per se. I'd start with the premise that they were humans trying to understand God and their experience of Jesus of Nazareth and his teachings. I would acknowledge they were "inspired" to be sure, but that inspiration does not translate into technical details. It does not translate into "inerrancy", any more than a great inspired work of music that touches lives is.
Again, it's that underlying premise, that paradigm, that takes words like 'inspired' and translates that to mean without error, or that there must be a single truth to be understood within the texts. And that's a functional system up to a point. But it's the point where it hits a critical eye of modernity and beyond, where now the metaphor, or the meaning of the symbol, runs into a point of conflict. At which point, that meaning becomes disrupted. A resolution can be found by shifting the paradigm itself, until that no longer serves us anymore either.