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Theology technically means the study of God. Wikipedia expands it out to “the systematic study of the nature of the divine and, more broadly, of religious belief.” That’s fine, but I prefer to define theology as “humanity’s pursuit both of knowledge of, and communion with, God.” As someone who believes the meaning of life is connection–with God, with other people, and with the natural world–I love theology. It’s about passionate curiosity. Think of it like the new romance of a young couple who want to know everything possible about one another. It’s faith seeking connection.
Once upon a time I got in trouble for saying this during a seminary discussion, but I still think anyone who abuses the theological discipline by treating it like a competitive sport is a complete douche. Turning the genuine pursuit of God into an intellectual pissing contest is contrary to the purpose of the whole thing. It’s perfectly fine to hash out ideas and wrestle back and forth like the best of the liberal arts tradition, but it should be fueled by cooperative love rather than competitive ego. That’s why so many professional and amateur students of theology vex my soul.
At the same time, I feel spiritually stymied in most local churches. I find it utterly exasperating that it’s quite nearly impossible to find other Jesus followers who are willing to theologically go deeper than what I experienced freshman year at Bible college, which for me, as a grown-ass man of 38, now would mean 2 decades of spiritual regression. Where is that passionate curiosity for new ideas? Where is that soulful longing for transcendence? Where is the deep-seated hunger to grow, heal, explore, and mature through a deeper sense of connection in the divine dance?
There now exists a deep tension in my faith. As I survey an American church landscape that often includes uncritical loyalty to Christian nationalism, the prosperity gospel, an obsessive gun fetish, expressive individualism, and many other idolatrous disasters, I’ve become convinced that reasoned theology is more important than ever to our healthy spiritual journeys, including both individually and collectively. Yet I’m equally convinced of its limitations. Theology in isolation contains the answers to literally none of our deepest and most longstanding spiritual questions.
The original beatniks were known to be pugilistic. They valued creativity, created controversy, and deliberately made people uncomfortable. In my view, Christian theology both should and shouldn’t follow their example. Is there such a thing as humble punchiness? Can we maintain a spirit of ongoing experimentation while respecting the hard-earned wisdom of tradition? Can we vigorously pursue answers without removing all mystery? I hope so. That’s precisely the sort of passionate curiosity that’s needed to pursue both knowledge of, and communion with, God.
