#constructive theology

Conservatism as a thought process is inherently reactionary, by which I mean, it is done in reaction to perceived changes or threats. I like to call it “Fortress Cathedral” theology. Imagine, for the sake of argument, that there is a city in which there is a cathedral, and around the city is a fortress wall. Within the city are the only true believers in the world, and their cathedral is the only true church in the world. The cathedral has always been there for as long as anyone in the city remembers. Outside the city are other people who worship the same God—or at least they claim to. However, there are some differences between how people outside the cathedral worship, and how people who regularly go to the city cathedral worship. The people outside, well, they have some different ideas about how God works, and who is authorized to come and worship God, and how they worship God. Instead of learning from or communicating with the people outside the city, the people inside the city grow angry—how dare those people mock our God! How dare they worship differently, or just let any person worship God in whatever way they want to! There are rules that need to be enforced. There are boundaries that need to be maintained. Because of that, they see the solution not in understanding but in building up the other thing that the city is famous for: the wall. The wall needs to be secured! We must protect the sanctity and holiness of our God! Whereas the people outside the city see no need for such walls, and are surprised at the negative reaction that the city-dwellers are displaying. And so it goes, the solution is to cut the problem out entirely: seclude the city away from those who would threaten our way of life, and build the wall. 

Now, this is an imperfect metaphor, and perhaps I’m building a strawman—completely valid critique. However, the approach and methodology is the most important part of the analogy. The conservative-evangelical theological landscape is one that is defined by its need to protect and defend—in a word, conserve—the tradition of the church, to the exclusion of any and all alternative approaches or methodologies. The tradition is perfect, and we need to change ourselves to fit the mold that was cast long before we were born so that people long after we die can do exactly the same thing.  

Don’t get me wrong, tradition absolutely has its place in theology and religion. I’m a Methodist after all, apostate as I might be currently. Scripture, tradition, reason, and experience are essential aspects of how I do theology currently, and that won’t change anytime soon. However, there is a delicate balance to the big four. Scripture and tradition are the foundations, to be sure, but always interpreted with our reason and experience, and through the reason and experience of others.  

I’m a constructive theologian by nature. It's the methodology by which I’m most comfortable with, and that’s the approach that makes the most sense to me. I’ll explain with another metaphor. Imagine that you have a building, one that is very, very old. You have been tasked with upkeep and maintenance of the building. However, because of the age of the building, there are going to be some issues with it; any person who has been tasked with maintaining an old building will tell you this. The building, if it is going to last into the future, will need repair. As you investigate further and deeper into the structure, you find that not only will it need repair, it will need actual renovation. You'll need some analysis on the foundations. You'll need some inspection of the walls, the building materials inside and out, the roofing, the flooring, the plumbing, the wiring, the HVAC system, and so forth. The more you investigate, the more you realize that though the foundation is mostly good and needs relatively little updating, there are some rotten walls, warped floorboards, holes in the roof and all the plumbing, wiring and HVAC are in desperate need of replacement. However, there is still some good material in there. The bones of the house are good! But there’s going to need some major updating if it’s going to last another ten years, let alone another hundred. So, you take out or address that which needs addressing, reinforce it with things that need some updating, do your best to make sure that the structure is more solid, if not perhaps any more outwardly different than before.  

That is theology, to me. You take out the rotten wood and broken bricks, and you replace it with better materials. It might be costly in some ways, but better and longer lasting in the long term.  

--excerpted from my substack:

This is a love letter – a curiosity, a hope towards our freedom.

Dear siblings, I am trying to find out what we mean. I know I won’t know it for all of us. And I know I won’t know it alone. I am only ever myself, in my body. And I believe you about your bodies too. I know lots of people don’t. And no one wants to tell the story differently. Because the story we have already feels so precious. But I think maybe the story isolates us from each other. We pick it up as the Narrative That Matters, because it is the first one that kind of fits.

Like the first time you put on that dress. The first time you squeezed into that binder. The first time there was eyeliner.

We were so certain we all looked good. And we did. And we’ve grown since then.

I hope for a theology for the guys who all go camping, huddled in the van before breakfast, tenderly administering each other’s shots so that we don’t have to be in charge of stabbing ourselves one more time.

What I want to do in my work is simply to administer the shot. To reflect back on our dosage. To be in charge of the sharps for a minute, so you can take off the binder and revel in the sunshine the way we never do at the beach because the surgery is too expensive, or we want kids first, or we’ve actually always hated our bodies, and dysphoria was just another word we gave ourselves, or they gave us.

I’m writing for the women whose dysphoria has gotten worse as the other pieces click into place. Maybe that is what I feel – dysphoria about the imago dei. People keep saying I’m in the imago dei, and I don’t know what they mean. Or I do, and I don’t think that’s how it really is. I like the idea, I can perform the apologetic, but I don’t feel like that. Or I do feel like that, and I wonder what it is I’ve signed on for. I worry about the masculinity. I worry about the passing.

But, you may ask, why does it matter? Don’t we have theological arguments about that? Aren’t we all imago dei - made in the image of God?

It matters because Alexis killed herself. It matters because Stephanie has days where all the imago dei in the world won’t quiet the dysphoria. It matters because Mason is still dealing with their pronouns being fucked up, and by people who claim to love and care about them. It matters because all the imago dei in the world isn’t making Medicare pay for Ryn’s chronic pain medication, or Aiden’s anxiety, or Crystal’s allergies and respiratory issues, or Daryl’s eating disorder, or Moira girlfriend, whose job security relies on hernot  publicly dating a trans woman, or Brian’s sobriety, or August’s sobriety, or Caryne shaking and crying in their car as teenagers surround the vehicle pounding on it. Imago dei isn’t thick enough to get my friends through another winter without killing themselves. It doesn’t give Scout back hir home or hir childhood. It doesn’t un-institutionalize Leo for those 18 months. It doesn’t get Janice out of jail.

And I am so tired of the story. 

Review: Jonathan Edwards among the Theologians

  Jonathan Edwards among the Theologians, Oliver D. Crisp. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2015.

Summary: By comparing Edwards writing on various theological themes, Crisp underscores Edwards work as an original thinker and constructive theologian, building on a Reformed base, but even pressing the limits of orthodoxy in some of his work.

It has been more and more common to read statements about…

in the mail: T.F. Toarrance’s ATONEMENT

The good folks at Intervarsity Press have sent me a free copy of Thomas F. Torrance’s Atonement: The Person and Work of Christ. I am really really excited to receive this book, and I do plan on engaging this work.