on the dynamic nature of theology

When we blindly adopt a religion, a political system, a literary dogma, we become automatons. We cease to grow. – Anais Nin

Theology is dynamic: ever-changing, ever-transforming, ever-evolving. Theology is not static: set-in-stone, a rigid apparatus, black-and-white. The theologies we hold—our understandings of God and His workings in the world—are dynamic: ever-changing, ever-transforming, ever-evolving. We are not alone in this; it has been said that the Apostle Paul’s theology changed over time, and the greatest example of this is his eschatology: his eschatology in his earliest letters anticipates Christ to return with swiftness in his lifetime; his eschatology in later letters presupposes that Christ’s return may be delayed. His theology transformed; why do some of us Christians believe that we have everything figured out? “Why did his theology change?” It has been surmised that his theology changed either because of his impending death and its implications regarding the 2^nd coming, or that the vast dying of Christians preceding the 2^nd coming had an affect on him. Whatever the reason, his theology transformed not so much by his reading of the Old Testament scriptures but by the experiences he went through. Our theologies change likewise. Our biases, our opinions, our likes and dislikes, our education, our worldviews, all of this affects our interpretation of scripture and thus affects our theologies. The greatest hinge upon which theology rests, I believe, is experiences. Let me put forth a perfect example.

My sophomore year of college, I met a wonderful girl. I have always been a hopeless romantic, and this girl fit the mold of everything I always wanted in a girl. I believed that God was going to give me this desire of my heart, and so I thanked Him for her when she told me, in all seriousness, “I want us to get married. I want us to make memories together.” The next day she broke up with me, and she soon started dating a friend of mine (they are now engaged). I underwent what is called “cognitive dissonance”: when my perception of reality was thrust against actual reality. My perception of reality was that God was going to give me the desire of my heart in this girl, but the truth was that she was going to end up with someone else. When a person experiences cognitive dissonance, the person undergoes one of two phases: Resignation or Rebuilding. The person who Resigns clings to the old perspective and thus resigns to a life of bitterness over what has taken place; “Why has God not delivered her to me? Am I too sinful? Am I not good enough? Does He hate me?” I at first went through Resignation: I believed God to be a Cosmic Sadist, torturing His creation for His perverse pleasure. I hated this god; I did not hate the real god, but rather I hated the image of God that I had erected in my mind. But resignation does not have to be the end; Cognitive Dissonance can give birth to Rebuilding, as well, and eventually I did so: I went forth and rebuilt my understanding of God and His relation to our hopes and dreams and desires. I came to the conclusion that God does not guarantee anything, and that He gives us the desires of our hearts in the sense that He gives us what we truly want: joy, peace, and contentment (if we truly come to Him for these things). My theology thus evolved and shifted and transformed.

Is this to say that my theology is now static? That I have reached a higher plane of understanding reality? Not necessarily. For in rebuilding, sometimes we rebuild and reach false perspectives; perspectives that are real to us but not in tune with reality as it really is. My understanding of God and His granting the desires of my heart is influenced by my experiences, and though currently set-in-stone, it may undoubtedly be changed. For example, if I meet a wonderful girl, and we fall in love, and we get married, and we have a family, then my understanding will undoubtedly revert to its previous state prior to the girl I dated my sophomore year of college. My theology continues to be dynamic; it ebbs and flows with the gravity exerted by the experiences I go through.

And this is my point: sometimes our understanding of God has less to do with what the Bible says than it does with how our experiences have molded our perceptions. We exclaim, “I just read the Bible to come to my conclusions!” But guess what? Your reading of the Bible is stained—no, not merely stained, but drenched—in your biases, opinions, wants and desires, likes and dislikes, educational influences, and—above all—your experiences. When we sit down and open the Bible and begin to read, we approach the text not from a vacuum but from a bubble where we are drowned in those things we bring to the text. Our reading of the text is shaped and molded from these things. To say, “I just read the Bible, and my conclusion is thus correct!” is ignorant; it would be more accurate to say, “I just read my Bible, and my conclusion is my interpretation influenced by all of those things I bring to the table!” This is why there are so many disagreements and debates among Christendom; no one truly just “reads the Bible,” and the same is true of any biblical scholar. We must acknowledge that this happens, then, and approach the text with humility and advocate our interpretations, likewise, with humility.

My theology is constantly changing. An example of this is a book I wrote in 2004 entitled “The Forgotten Message,” which was a 230-page document detailing my theological beliefs. Five years later, my theology has drastically changed. It could be said that I have come to a fuller understanding of theology, but this is just pretty, laced-up language. My theology has rather been affected by countless experiences and education from a certain perspective. As I continue in life, engaging in ministry and study, in prayer and meditation, in deepening my intimacy with God, my theology will constantly be evolving: perhaps towards a more accurate understanding of reality, or perhaps to a falser understanding of reality. Regardless, I will view it is an accurate understanding of reality. It is the nature of my pride.