Words about God
To my fellow theologians,
Does incorrect theology merit death? For Michael Servetus, who slowly suffocated amid a cloud of smoke—flames crawling upward as he shouted, “Lord Jesus, have mercy”—yes, theological accuracy mattered very much. Many prominent fathers of the Reformation approved of such harsh tactics. Would it shock you to know that John Calvin himself issued the warrant for poor Michael’s cruel disposal?
To Calvin, ethical conviction demanded Michael’s death. You might say Calvin could not, in good conscience, allow for any alternate outcome. In the predominantly illiterate world of the Early Church reformers, the fathers of modern theology had to implement every precaution in preserving theological accuracy.Under the chaos of reformation, no Catholic Church held authority to shepherd the people’s beliefs, and one gifted orator could unwittingly sway the peasants to heresy and lose a thousand souls to eternal damnation. So Luther staunchly labelled every dissident group as Schwärmerei and shouted at Zwingli over the elements, and Calvin supported poor Michael’s death—and thus modern theological tradition entered into existence.Orators no longer rule society with pretty poetry—yet still we present our theology with all the solemnity and cheer of a funeral, as if we too, fear Michael’s smoky demise.
Never have we better stewarded accuracy in our words about God, and never has such a study been duller.
What images come to mind when you hear the word theology? Do you see textbooks with scrawling lines of black script? Do you smell the vanilla scent of aged paper stained in archaic ink? Maybe you hear the droning of a weary professor teaching his third class of the morning. I want to know: do these images represent God to you?I see the beauty of God’s creation—the personal relationality of His incarnate Word, and the simplicity of His teaching—and I wonder, how can we better image a beautiful, good, personal God in our study of Him? As faithful stewards ready to give an answer, let us speak living words about our living God instead of a grocery-list of attributes.A reformation of theological methodology begins with proper etymology. For centuries, theologians have referred to their craft as Queen of the Sciences. Even Thomas Aquinas considered theology the foundation from which all physical science sprung. To quote Robert John Russell, director of the Center for Theology and the Natural Sciences, “Natural philosophy and natural theology were so closely tied in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries that the works of Johannes Kepler (1571–1630), Isaac Newton (1642–1727), and others have been called “physico-theology.” In other words, good science starts with good theology.While theology ought to indeed ground science, too often scholars have interpreted the title “Queen of the Sciences” to mean “Foremost of the sciences”—as if theology itself is a science. Is a Queen of the same worth as her subjects or required to perform the same duties? On the contrary, a sovereign dictates the laws which govern all those beneath her. In the same way, theology as Queen of the Sciences, ought to dictate the source from which all science and study of reality springs. As my professor and friend Dr Marcus Johnson says, “Because our Triune God is the fountain and source of all truth and knowledge, all other branches of knowledge, or science, depend upon God for their ultimate rationality.”But theology is more than just Queen of Science. She is the Queen of the Arts, and of Ethics, and of Communication theory, and all reality. Rather than a science, we ought to consider theology as a hermeneutic to translate life. With such a perspective, theology becomes an art and act of continual worship expressed throughout the entirety of every Believer’s life.In accordance with this definition—of theology as an act of knowing God through experience and life as He defines
reality—we break from commonly propagated definitions. Charles Hodge, a leading theologian in the 1800s who served as principal of Princeton Theological Seminary, defined theology incorrectly as the, “science of the facts of divine revelation so far as those facts concern the nature of God and our relation to Him, as His creatures, as sinners, and as the subjects of redemption.” He concluded his definition by saying, “All these facts … are in the Bible.”Hodge speaks repeatedly of “the facts”—as if theology offers merely a collection of true sayings heaped together to construct some hopeful picture of a faraway God. But theology far transcends factual statements. True theology is a relationship based on experience. Dr Johnson responds to Hodges's definition with a simple question: "Are we pursuing mere knowledge of God, or God Himself?"
There is some value in knowing the facts, but no relationship can persist on mere factual knowledge.
Consider the example of my sister, Kristin. I could tell how she is five foot six inches. She loves to joke around and tease. She works at a home for senior residents and develops sweet caring relationships with the old people there. These are the facts.But for you to really know my sister would require so much more than facts. You’d have to spend time investing in a relationship and sharing meaningful moments. Without personal experience knowing Kristin, you wouldn't recognize her snarky laugh when she successfully pulls a clever prank or learn to be wary of her mood swings when she works too much and sleeps too little. You wouldn't understand why she cares about being exactly five foot six and not an inch taller or shorter. This example offers a Kristin-ology or a study of my sister, and the same applies to theology. A study of God involves much more than a mere list of facts no matter how accurate.If theology is more than facts about God and transcends the confining definition of science—manifesting itself as a living breathing, artistic expression of worship—then certainly we must arrive at a better method for knowing God. He offers relational intricacy. Let's not transform this relationship into didactic textbooks and lectures.I want to look specifically at three ways we can improve our theological texts. The written word provides an amazing channel for sharing information. Many of our current theological suppositions already reside in various textual forms. Naturally, it follows that a reformation of theological methodology should start with literature—by writing with attention to proper writing style, including illustrative examples, and incorporating storytelling.Primarily, in our textbooks and liturgies, let us write well. Anything poorly written automatically rejects serious, meaningful consideration. Why then, are so many of our theological texts so poorly constructed? More care goes into selecting the words and images marketing academia than goes into academic expression itself.Consider the following excerpt from God is Love, the primary systematic theology textbook used in one of my program's core theology classes:“God’s willingness to preserve the fallen spiritual creatures in spite of their rebellion is matched by his desire to keep the human race in being. This is a mystery that can be explained only by his deep love for his creatures. Looked at in a purely rational light, it would not have been surprising if God had decided to wipe us out and start again. A master potter does not tolerate a flawed vase and will either smash it or rework it. The Bible reminds us that we are pottery in God’s Hands and that he has made us without consulting us first. After the fall of Adam and Eve, it would been natural for God to have concluded that his experiment had gone wrong, and that it was best to terminate it.”I didn’t handpick this passage. Rather, this is the first paragraph our professor assigned the class to read at the beginning of the semester. All my excitement to peruse the intricacies of a thought-provoking theological text dissipated as my eyes trudged through this dry, sleepy passage. The concept is marvelous! But the authors loses his audience amid passivity, indefinite pronouns, and even missing words. I want to know, is this the best we can do?Consider the following rewrite of the passage from God is Love:“God's willingness to preserve fallen spiritual creatures, despite their rebellion, matches His desire to sustain humanity—a mystery that manifests His deep love for His creatures! God could rationally wipe us out and start again. Should a master potter tolerate a flawed vase? On the contrary. He ought to either smash or rework it. Scripture refers to us as pottery in God’s Hands that He formed without consultation. When Adam and Eve fell, He could have regarded His creation as an experiment gone wrong that He had every right to terminate.”The difference between these two paragraphs is subtle but present. One centers around passive verbs with no action and excessive language. The second cuts the passivity. I implemented strong verbs wherever I could to give the reader action to envision such as preserve, sustain, and terminate. These verbs already resided in the paragraph. I merely made them the central action in each sentence. In addition to prioritizing active verbs, I varied the syntax, cut out indefinite pronouns, and incorporated a rhetorical questions.Such changes are simple and easy to incorporate if you know the tricks, but not all theologians have mastered the art of writing. Theologians, though, shouldn’t be alone in writing theology. Writers and creatives who aspire to produce God-honoring literature ought to work with those who have devoted their lives to a detailed study of God. Such collaboration is God-honoring as it allows individuals to exercise fully the gifts and desires He blessed them with.
Theologians shouldn’t write theology alone.
Beyond mere writing style, we can also improve theological texts through the use of illustration. Perhaps a concept does require purely technical syntax and pedantic language. Such precision of speech shouldn't be sacrificed. In such
a case, consider implementing an illustrative story or analogy alongside the technical writing to offer insight and an example grounded in reality. This adds the benefit not only of making the writing more interesting but also of offering an alternate perspective to help the reader better understand.I had a friend in youth group named Branwell. He was freckly, funny, and very dramatic. Every Friday night, he would engage wholly, entertaining his peers with a dramatic retelling of his week, and then proceed to check out during the youth leader’s lesson. He would sit with eyes glazed over, staring into space and daydreaming, absently while playing with the blanket fringe on the youth pastor’s couch.Eventually, in an effort to engage his audience, the youth leader started incorporating stories with his lessons to illustrate key points. Any narrative language immediately snatched Branwell’s attention like the clicking of a trigger. He learned to listen for the stories and could tune in—from spacey, blanket-fringe fondling to eyes glued on the pastor—with startling abruptness.Providing illustration amid didactic dialogue offers more than an example—it opens doors for people to tune in and renew their attention span. Amid heavy theological language, an illustration provides the added benefit of room to breathe and reflect.
Illustrations provide space for reflection and open the door for others to tune in.
Scholars and professors might revel in abstraction and technical language, but theology should be written for the common person as well.As a writer, I continuously receive feedback on my work from various clients—many of whom are not writers. My boss and I often share the same joke when a piece returns to our desks for revision. "I don't see the need for this revision," we'll quip, "But for the weakness of others, I suppose I can make these changes."Some of us in the academic world are gifted with great intellectual stamina and can digest heady theological suppositions easily. But theology shouldn't be written merely for theologians—or, even better, you could say theology should be written for all varieties of theologians, since every child of God is engaged in knowing Him.For the weakness of others then—or perhaps, the alternate strengths of others—let us write to engage a variety of audiences. Illustrations can assist by opening the conversation up to others who, like Branwell, might otherwise lose interest. Incorporating analogy to explain a theological concept provides the added benefit of grounding complicated subjects in reality, thereby giving context for everyday theologians.
Illustrations ground the abstract in reality.
Finally, the third method for improving theological texts is the most challenging as well as engaging. To understand the full validity of this method, you must fully understand what it means to know .
What does it mean to know God? Ancient Hebrew expresses the action of knowing through two verbs. Lada’at denotes possession of head knowledge, as gleaned from facts and constructed pieces of information. Layadat means to possess experiential knowledge, produced by personal, relational experience. This second verb, layadat, requires the subject to know another through an immersive experience.Storytelling seeks to replicate experience through the retelling of events, and thus offers a medium through which humanity can communicate knowledge of God in an immersive, personal, and relational way. As a storyteller recounts his narrative. He invites the audience to step into an experience with him and see through the lens of imagination a fabricated reality where God's qualities take on life. Like children learning through experience, storytelling offers a natural and familiar method to subconsciously glean habits, lessons, and ideas.For millennia, humankind has centered around stories—from small ditties to extensive ballads—as an informative medium. Consider revolutionary war sayings such as, “A stitch in time saves nine.” The message is simple, and the short narrative illustrates it beautifully in a way that sticks. Other historical periods boast far more intricate narratives such as the epic of Beowulf, a far-flung poetic masterpiece that teaches such themes as courage and bravery. Quite clearly the quality of communicating through storytelling is centric to humankind as well as engaging and informative. So why does academia persist in resisting narration as a means for communicating theology, and moving forward, how can we change?Specifically, how can we begin to utilize this amazing didactic tool of storytelling to share words about God? In some sense, presenting an intricate theological concept through straight transmissional text offers a challenge, and attempting to weave it in through narrative requires artistry and intellectual proficiency. But quality requires effort, and perhaps our dry transmissional methods are in fact, a form of laziness? Perhaps also, academia ought not to complicate theology according to popular tradition.
Should theology be complicated?
Scripture offers a number of simple examples for how to communicate theology through narration. Foremost among these is the parable. Jesus presented many lessons through parable. Many of His didactic stories taught sweet, simple theological principles outlining the Father’s care for His children. A story needn’t attempt to explain all the intricacies of the Trinity in its full mystery and majesty. Consider His story of the lost sheep or the woman who searched for her coin in Luke 15. Each of these parables teaches one very simple point, God pursues His own without ceasing.The content is personal and engaging and the principle reveals vital qualities of God’s nature. From these parables the listener can deduce without effort or excessive intellectual ability the persistence with which God cares for His own, the security of those who belong to Him, the one-sided nature of God’s pursuit of His children, His goodness in not simply offering relationship, His dedication in pursuing such a relationship, and His joy when he does bring home His own.This method of teaching through parables offers a very simple form of didactic storytelling, but not everyone seeks simplicity. For those who require more depth, consider the work of C. S. Lewis, one of our current age’s most renowned theologians.In his book Voyage of the Dawn Treader, one of Lewis’s main characters Eustace Clarence Scrubb—a boy whom Lewis describes as so awful that he deserved his name—transforms into a dragon. This transformation indicates a deeper message on the nature of mankind. To quote the book directly, “He had turned into a dragon while he was asleep. Sleeping on a dragon's hoard with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart, he had become a dragon himself” (6.32).In this pocket of story, Lewis demonstrates a basic biblical theme. The horridness that Eustace harboured on the inside eventually manifested itself outwardly. While most people don’t turn into dragons, the state of their heart—whether for better or worse—eventually shows itself outwardly. In the words of Scripture, “For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks” (Matthew 12:34).In addition to offering a personal opportunity to experience pursuing knowledge of God, narrative theology can open doors across culture, age ranges, and traditions. Consider the following example of the power of storytelling to traverse culture.
Storytelling transcends culture.
I recently talked with a woman named Katie who serves as a missionary in Jordan in the Middle East. Katie and her husband share a passion for working with Muslims. They moved across the globe specifically to pursue their passions and yet still struggle to find opportunities with Jordan's Muslim community.
Jordan is a free religious state, allowing its citizens to choose their own methods of worship. Because of the surrounding war, many refugees from Iraq and other countries have fled to Jordan, and these refugees often don’t come from a tradition of religious freedom. The women are commonly forbidden from talking with any strangers or associating even with friends outside of their husband’s permission.In the back alley of her street, Katie often encountered an Iraqi woman. After a few such encounters, Katie initiated conversation and at their next meeting, the woman invited Katie over to meet her husband. As a small, unassuming white woman, Katie managed to gain the husband’s favour and permission to meet with his wife.There in the dingy streets of the city of Amman, Katie shared her first story with the Iraqi woman. The air smelled of city traffic and sunlight filtered in through the window lighting up dust particles as they spun lazily in the air. The Iraqi woman, as a proper hostess, shared a glass of bitter green tea with Katie and the two sat to socialize and chat.“Now you must tell me a story,” the woman said after exchanging polite discourse. Women from her tradition often gathered to swap stories for entertainment amid their work.So Katie, wary and yet eager to share hope with the woman, told the story of Ruth. The woman identified with Ruth who worked so diligently, and Katie rested often on the Christological themes of redemption displayed by Boaz.“This is the best story I have heard!” The woman exclaimed as Katie finished. “I must have you share with my friends.”So they started an unofficial Bible study. The woman and her friends knew that Katie shared her stories from the Bible, and yet they justified their interest since Katie shared only stories and didn’t forcefully attempt to convert them. Today the Iraqi woman and her whole family have accepted Christ and continue to host other refugees, sharing biblical stories of redemption with their neighbourhood.This shows just one example of the power of storytelling to transcend culture, offer relatable experiences to people, and introduce biblical and theological themes in a way that isn’t intrusive.Most of us in academia don’t live in Jordan or adhere to strict religious laws. For our society, storytelling and theology might look somewhat different. And yet we can utilize this strong, beautiful tool of narration just as simply as Branwell’s youth leader or as effectively as Katie in Jordan.
We often joke about how the literature of C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tokien are go-to Christian examples to support theological claims. Perhaps this is the case because we lack quality depictions God in our literature. This is a problem—not a joking matter.Communicating the intricacy of who God is and how He interacts with the world is challenging, and trying to weave that depth into narrative while retaining accuracy increases the challenge. Should we shy away from such difficulty? As children of God, chosen in Him before the creation of the world, we steward the most important message ever communicated. Let us make every effort to proffer knowledge of God with quality and joy that accurately reflects the holy, triune God.As you pursue knowledge of God and share the relationship and joy He offers with those around you, try weaving in illustration to ground abstract principles, imagery to give depth and colour, and stories to bring theology into reality. Let us stop speaking of God as a subject for study and instead, let us know Him.
Works Cited
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (Chronicles of Narnia, #3), C.S. Lewis, New York: Macmillan,©1952The Holy Bible, New International Version. Grand Rapids: Zondervan House, 1984. Print.Johnson, personal communication, November 2018Anderson, personal communication October 2018The Moody Handbook Of Theology: Revised and Expanded, Paul Enns - Moody Publishers, 2014God is Love, Gerald Bray – Crossway 2012 Print.