I used to feel guilty for being a pastor and not caring more about theology. I mean, isn't that what Christian leaders are supposed to care about? It sure seems that way sometimes with all of the turf wars, interdenominational conflict, and guys like Mark Driscoll calling every one and their mom a heretic. (Mark, I still love you, "just not in an episcopalian type of way.") But alas, no matter how hard I try, I just can't get all that jazzed about theology.
Then one day it hit me: maybe it's not that I don't care enough about theology, but perhaps too many people care a little too much about it. It's not that theology isn't important, it is. It just that it is sort of like seeing Paris Hilton's name in the news for the umpteenth time. After a while, you come to realize that some things will never change and that you might as well start talking about something more substantial.
Every now and then I hear people say things like, "That [church] or that [denomination] or that [Christian leader] has great theology." I don't think there is any great theology out there. I think there is good theology, and there is definitely bad theology, but I'm not convinced that any of us have great theology.
I've heard Brian McClaren quoted as saying that he believes that roughly 20% of his theology is probably wrong. The problem, he says, is that he's not exactly sure which is the 20%. Now I know I just lost most of my conservative readers for using the words "Mcclaren" and "theology" in the same sentence without wielding a large, heavy rock above my head, but they would miss the point of what I'm saying. I'm not saying I agree with Mcclaren's theology, I'm just saying that I resonate with the heartbeat of that statement. As Christians, we need to have the integrity and the humility to admit that we just might be wrong when it comes to some of our finer points of theology.
How do I know if I am wrestling with a fine point of theology? It's like this, if there is a good number of Christ-followers that disagree with you on an issue, people that you generally agree with on most everything else, chances are that you are dealing with a fine point of theology. If you and your spiritual community are wrestling with something that contradicts what most other Christians believe, then be sure not to drink the red KoolAid.
Don't get me wrong, searching the scriptures for clarity and understanding on any issue is an honorable endeavor. And arriving at a place of personal conviction is also honorable. But don't assume your personal conviction should necessarily be everyone's corporate conviction. At the end of the day, unity is more important to our message and calling than distinction. As followers of Christ, we need to be willing to agree to disagree on the finer points in order to unite around the message of the cross.
I will admit that there are certain beliefs explicitly communicated in the scriptures that are foundational to our faith. But those foundational truths are few. The message of Jesus was beautifully simple and overwhelmingly accessible.
The best way I can explain it is this: The message of Jesus is like an onion. (No, not because it stinks. Sinner.) It is like an onion in that it is simple, easily identifiable and easy to understand. Even a young child can look at an onion and understand that it is an
onion. He doesn't need a degree in botany to "get it." A child
doesn't need to study the life cycle of the onion, the chemical makeup
of its innards, or the process of photosynthesis to know essentially what an onion is. It tastes like an onion. It smells like an onion. It feels like an onion. It is an onion.
The gospel of Jesus is the same way. It ought to be just as simple as it is identifiable. Jesus essentially said, "I am God's son, sent to you because God loves you. Put your trust in me. Love God. Love people." He said more than that, of course, but if the Gospels had a subtitle, that'd probably be it. It is that simple. That is the message that every Christian should be able to unite around.
(And just to beat this metaphor into the ground,) the beauty of an onion, is that it has many, many layers. This is what makes following Christ a life-long journey of discovery. We can always learn more, observe more, see more and experience more. But at the end of the day, it is still just an onion.
So when it comes to theology, for the sake of us all, keep it short and simple.