redefining my theology

It’s been a while since I last posted. I’ve been reading. Two books in particular seem to resonate with me at this time: David Dark’s The Sacredness of Questioning Everything and Free For All by Tim Condor and Daniel Rhodes.

I’ve been questioning my beliefs for the past 20 years, but have only recently begun to question the subtle ways foundationalism and my early years in a fundamentalist, KJV-Bible, dispensationalist theological environment have affected the lens through which I have, up to recently, viewed all theology.

You see, I began while I was still in High School questioning the authority of my parents in matters of faith. While I was away at university I made my own personal faith commitment, a first step in recognizing my own responsibility before God. I then started studying theology (albeit the ‘systematic’ theology of the Baptist school I was attending). While this started to strike a chord within me, I felt all along something still wasn’t right. Questions about personal salvation, the efficacy of prayer, God’s wrath vs God’s love, and the belief in an inerrant Bible nagged at me.

All during this time (around 20 years) I towed the line, completed my studies, pastured a small congregation, and put my doubts in the back of my mind. After all, I assumed that if I were to reveal my questions to my parishioners and family, there would be no future for me down the path I had chosen.

I took a sequence of seemingly unfortunate events to wake me up: my own marriage nearly ending, my church crumbling amidst irreconcilable differences and unreasonable expectations, and my employment in crisis. Into this my two children were born, and I had to do something before my own personal turmoil affected them in their fragile, formative years.

So in 1997 I left my congregation, found a new job in sales which led to a career in Administration, started spending more time with my family, and devoured a huge number of books which in some way addressed my doubts and weaknesses.

I had little encouragement to rethink my theology, but I perceived that hiding my questions wasn’t helping. So I started asking. I asked my pastor and elders why baptism by immersion was required for church membership, why women weren’t allowed to preach or be ordained in our church, why God would expect us to put on a show for him on Sundays and then allow us to live the rest of the week in guilt and hypocrisy, why it was more important to have a great building for our church than to have a church full of hearts that were warmed and drawn together in love. . . . And the answers I received (and the ones, unspoken, which I received loud and clear) haunted me, frustrated me, and confounded me. I culminated in a conversation with our pastor about foreign missions, poverty and justice. His conclusion to my burning questions was simply (paraphrased), ‘They made their choice by worshipping other gods and God has stopped blessing them. Why should we put effort into work that, because of this, will be futile?’ (I had wondered why the few ex-missionaries and mission-minded folk had left our church, and now I knew why.)

All this time, although unknown to me, my theology was being reshaped, and my questions were being answered—but with other questions, tensions, and paradoxes. But what I learned through this was that this kind of tension was OK. I really could live with it if I kept God at the centre of my life and my being.

From where I was then, it seems like a long journey. I’m not the man I once was. My mind does not even think the same way as that man anywhere. That is good. I don’t want to be back in that bondage. I believe differently—maybe not rightly by anyone else’s standards, or perfectly, just differently.

This is my ever-evolving Creed, an affirmation of who I am and where I am at this moment:

I believe in a God of love, grace and peace.

I believe God reveals himself to humanity in many ways, and that the Bible is not necessarily all fact, but that it is all true and through it–in its pages, its message, and in community with others–God speaks to me.

I believe in equality of all before God and in relationship to one another. I believe love which comes from God renders all barriers of race, gender, age, religion, culture, or orientation invalid and powerless.

I believe in God’s creation and know he has plans for its future that include my active participation and effort.

I believe in God’s people, not confined to a church or to a set of prescribed doctrinal beliefs, but at large in this world, joining God where he is already at work, anywhere and everywhere that may be.

I believe that God wants to bless all with joy and peace, despite any circumstances.

I believe in God’s goodness to provide our needs, but not necessarily our wants.

I believe in living humbly, loving mercy, and doing justice in my world.

I believe Jesus came so that we might have the life of the ages, here and now.

And I believe one day, because of Jesus, God’s kingdom will come, and his will will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

My theology is continually being re-defined. I may look back in a few years and see things much differently. That’s OK. I’ll accept that possibility and look forward to seeing how it all pans out.