Theology

3 In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, 2 “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” 3 This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,

“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

‘Prepare the way of the Lord,

make his paths straight.’ ”

4 Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. 5 Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, 6 and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

7 But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? 8 Bear fruit worthy of repentance. 9 Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 10 Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

11 “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12 His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

Matthew 3:1–12. (NRSV)

Theology can be problematic.

One thing that was etched into my psyche growing up is that anything could become an idol, anything could divert our worship and attention away from God if we let that thing rule us. In the context I learned it, we were usually talking about sin, relationships, and material items, but I think the idea applies here as well.

Theology can become the object of our worship. When this happens, this study of God, this thinking and pondering and ruminating about God becomes problematic… but not for the reasons we might think.

I say this as someone who loves theology, who has spent twenty-plus years studying, crafting, and rethinking theology over and over again. These words are spoken within a context of understanding the need, the place, and the goodness of theology.

I am the last person to try to convince you that theology is unnecessary or useless.

Yet…

Theological certainty, relying on our theology to give us spiritual security, being sure we have the answers in our theology, this will create a household god out of theology. And this is when theology becomes problematic.

The true problem lies in how we act when theology is our god.

The religious elite coming out to see John the Baptist are our mirrors here. In them, we see ourselves when theology takes precedence over God.

We see that we become dangerous.

John calls them—maybe us—a “brood of vipers.” They were dangerous people. Elsewhere in the gospels, Jesus tells us, “They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them. They do all their deeds to be seen by others; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long. They love to have the place of honor at banquets and the best seats in the synagogues, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have people call them rabbi.” (Matthew 23:4–7, NRSV). The problem Jesus had with the religious elite of the day—at least one of the problems he had with them—was the face that their sureness of their theology led them to believe in the rightness of themselves, and that certainty led them to elevate themselves and bask in their own greatness.

This made them dangerous simply because the certainty of their rightness told them they deserved power and respect, and when power and respect are absolutely demanded, they absolutely corrupt.

I see this in me.

Whenever someone begins talking about Christian theology, there is a part—it’s not a small part—of me that thinks, “I know more than you.” In its smarmy voice, wheat that part of me is really asserting is, “I am better than you.” I have to work to keep this impulse in check, to stop myself from becoming enamored with my own cleverness and certainty that I am right.

I don’t want to be a viper. I don’t want my words to drip with venom. I don’t want to cause harm because that is how I assert and defend myself. I don’t want my theology to be problematic, and I don’t want myself to be a danger to anyone.

Yet…

How often has my theological certainty resulted in someone feeling belittled?

How often has my theological certainty led to my demanding of respect?

How often has my theological certainty become my god and falsely elevated me above everyone else in the room?

The certainty that I am right has harmed people.

I have been a viper.

I still can be a viper.

Yet, being convinced of my rightness keeps me secure, warding off fear and self-reflection.

Especially growing up where I was constantly told about an eternal tormenting place in hell for anyone who got their theology wrong, having my theology right was the way I kept myself from existential dread. I was convinced I was one of the true people of God. I wasn’t false because I believed the right stuff.

I grew complacent in my spiritual growth—still do, as a matter of fact—because I was convinced I had all the answers.

I was just like the religious elite going out to be baptized by John. They were confident in the reality that since they were descendants of Abraham, they were already God’s chosen people.

John throws stones—maybe literally, after all he was a weird prophet—at their complacency.

In my complacency, I need to remember that God can raise up his people from the stones in the ground. I’m not assured a place at the table because I get my theology right, because my family is Christian, because I go to church, read my Bible, do all the things a good, important Christian theologian does. None of that liberates me. None of that helps me liberate others.

John told the religious elite that God wasn’t interested in complacent positions of respect and authority. God was interested in the fruit of actions, in what happens as a result of how we act because of what we believe.

In truth, what I believe reveals my heart and is the fruit of the kind of life I cultivate.

When my theology is used as a weapon, I have to ask why I want to wi religious belief in a way that harms others?

When I look for respect and honor because of the theology I know, it would behoove me to find out why I crave that authority.

Orthodox Bishop Kallistos Ware says in his book, “The Orthodox Way,” “God is not so much the object of our knowledge as the cause of our wonder.” When I lose that wonder, when God becomes just the object of knowledge I study to be right, I have to look inside and wonder, why am I in such need of being right?

If God can raise up a people for Godself from the very rocks of the earth, I am not special just because I can pass a theological test to a specific tradition or two.

God is interested in the fruit of my actions. My theology is the fruit of the heart, but it lacks harvest without the actions that display its goodness or rottenness. It is up to me to act because of the theology I have crafted over the years.

More and more and more, the theological framework I am coming to rest in is a framework of love. My actions should display that; otherwise, my theological idol is hollow, and then how easily can I become a viper. This framework of love is the guiding tracks for how I can join the Spirit in her work of liberation of all people… not theological correctness. If God is to be the cause of my wonder, then I can see God in the wonder I feel towards all creation. In my neighbor, in the trees, the birds, the rivers, fields, and beaches. Anywhere that wonder is cultivated, there I can find God.

And where there is no wonder, where the machine of empire comes crushing, grinding, and destroying the objects that raise me up to wonder, that’s when I can choose to work towards wonder, put my effort towards reclaiming, reseeding, and redeeming what empire tries to destroy. And what is more wondrous than liberation?

John’s message of vipers and stones, of axes, roots, and fire, is a message to me. Not as a warning against hell, but as an admonishment to cease the idolatry of theology worship and repent, turn, reorient myself towards that source of wonder that is the divine, and then let the fruits of that wonder bloom.

That is how theology ceases to be problematic. That is how I keep thinking from being the security blanket and idol that sucks out my soul. That is how I keep with the fruits of repentance. That is how I work for liberation.

The beauty of freedom and the wonder of liberation are not things we can harness and master. They are experiences we take part in.

***

You are the cold,
sharp frost
on the blade of
soft spring grass;

I ruin your beauty
every time
I touch you.

I am in the process of becoming a community chaplain with The Order of Hildegard. This program is designed to help form people into spiritual leaders that lead and serve from the margins. It’s for the people who don’t quite fit with the traditional church because of trauma, disability, or identity. If you, as my community, would like to help me fulfill the financial obligation this chaplaincy program has, you can give at the link below. Thank you for the myriad ways you support me.

If you’re aching to listen for God in the real stuff of life—grief, wonder, doubt, desire—I offer spiritual direction as a space to breathe and be heard. We listen together for the Spirit moving in the ordinary, the hidden, the in-between. No fixing. No formulas. Just presence, honesty, and room to be fully human before God.

If that sounds like what your soul needs, I’d love to walk with you