wearied by theology

Studying theology can be and is so wearying. Sometimes I wish it were more scientific, with black-and-white answers and proven paradigms for interpreting the texts and coming to valid, undeniable conclusions. But as it  is with God, and with religion, there are so many assumptions and presuppositions, so many biases, that one cannot even come to the point of saying, without at least a hint of arrogance, "This is the truth." As objective as we seek to be, the study of theology has subjectivity cutting throughout. And even once you identify your assumptions and presuppositions, and even once you know which barriers to erect to prevent major eisegesis, you come to the reality that the study of theology--and by theology I mean Christian theistic theology--is undercut by the problems and perplexities of the sacred text itself. Textual variants, apparent contradictions, and paradoxes rise from the mist like the monsters from the Book of Daniel. And if we think we can deal appropriately with these, then we have the matter of such varied interpretations. No one agrees 100% with anyone else (unless you're the type to take some theological hero-figure and just conform to his or her theological shape), and there's always the knowledge that you could be wrong and, in some cases, are most likely wrong. As I said: it can all be very wearying, but it's also exciting. I enjoy puzzles in theology (although I do wish girls were black-and-white), but at the same time I wish it were easier. The pursuit of an accurate (as opposed to adequate) theology can drive my energies into the dust where they smolder like Job in the ash-heap, and I'm reduced to the biblical equivalent of cutting myself with broken pottery as I agonizingly pour over various texts. Sometimes I just want to slam all my books shut, turn off my brain, and just shut down for a while. Amidst all of this, I am encouraged and sustained by the words of N.T. Wright on page 81 of his book "Justification", and I believe they're words that all "students of theology" ought to take to heart:

The many-sidedness of Scripture, the grace and power of the Holy Spirit, and God's mercy in answering the preacher's prayers regularly enable genuine understanding, real insight into the love and mercy and purposes of God, to leap across the barriers put up by our faulty and partial understandings. This is just as well, since otherwise, as systematic theologians often point out rather tartly, nobody would be able to do any theology until the great exegetical enterprise had signed off on its final footnote. We all live within the incomplete hermeneutical spiral, and should relish the challenges rather than bemoan the limitations it places upon us.