One man's theology is another man's belly laugh. -Robert A. Heinlein
I think that a theology that happens in a vacuum is a primitive one. So often we begin our understandings of the scriptures in a narrow setting that teaches us one way to read and interpret the Bible. Even if the teacher says there are other ways to understand a passage they hone in on one.
Consequently we grow up spiritually hanging on to an 'ism'. As time goes on we unknowingly build fortresses around many of our newfound beliefs. And when we hear a different perspective we quickly dismiss it before we understand it. Then life happens.
I think that integrating a narrow theology into life can be hard when our life experiences don't seem to align with what we believe. At first we tend to blow it off. But over time it begins to wear on us. And we begin to be open to new ideas and approaches.
This was my story. I remember that day in 1990 when my 39 year old wife Ellen had heart and kidney failure. I recall the 10 weeks that she was in the hospital. I held on to my theology. I believed in healing and prayed daily for a miracle for Ellen. In 1994 she died.
When she died my theology began to crack. My two kids and I watched her die for four years. We were all broken. Yet I tried to hold on to my theology. I held onto the old cliches. My theology had to stay in tact. If not for me, for my kids. I tried to be strong for my kids.
I think that integrating a narrow theology into life can be hard when our life experiences don't seem to align with what we believe. At first we tend to blow it off. But over time it begins to wear on us. And we begin to be open to new ideas and approaches.
This was my story. I remember that day in 1990 when my 39 year old wife Ellen had heart and kidney failure. I recall the 10 weeks that she was in the hospital. I held on to my theology. I believed in healing and prayed daily for a miracle for Ellen. In 1994 she died.
When she died my theology began to crack. My two kids and I watched her die for four years. We were all broken. Yet I tried to hold on to my theology. I held onto the old cliches. My theology had to stay in tact. If not for me, for my kids. I tried to be strong for my kids.
The crazy thing about life is that it goes on. I married Ann in 1995. I began to feel whole again. The four year nightmare was over - or so I thought. The kids still struggled with their mom's death but I stayed 'strong' in my faith. I lived out a theology that was not integrated into my suffering.
Of sure, I processed my grief by writing a booklet about Job. In it I applied my narrow theology to Job's grieving process. Yet my observations were shallow and simplistic. My rigid theology would not allow me to go where I needed to go. My ego held me captive.
Of sure, I processed my grief by writing a booklet about Job. In it I applied my narrow theology to Job's grieving process. Yet my observations were shallow and simplistic. My rigid theology would not allow me to go where I needed to go. My ego held me captive.
Then in 2002 something horrible happened. Ann had an operation and 3 days later had what appeared to be a stroke. She was paralyzed on her right side and struggled to get back to 'normal'. Which she did after months of therapy. She would spend the next 5 years relapsing and relearning to walk.
My rigid theology began to break. I began to integrate my pain into my theology. My beliefs seemed to embrace a more inner, heart filled, focus. Yet so much of my theology remained intact. Even so, I began questioning the fundamentalist roots of my beliefs.
During this time, I read a book by Adam Hamilton titled, Seeing Gray in a World of Black and White. I think that something broke in me as I read through the pages. I started to envision a less rigid faith and theology. It began a to release something wonderful in me.
As I began to change, I sensed a spiritual and theological integration happening inside of me. I became comfortable with questions that I had for a very long time. As I opened my mind to new possibilities, I began to see the answers in places I never dreamed of.
Sometime, in the middle of it all the change, something wonderful happened. I found Bob. I discovered my own voice. It was like I was being born anew. I became comfortable in my own skin. The integration was proceeding and I was moving forward. It was a beautiful thing.
Sometime, in the middle of it all the change, something wonderful happened. I found Bob. I discovered my own voice. It was like I was being born anew. I became comfortable in my own skin. The integration was proceeding and I was moving forward. It was a beautiful thing.
I think the problem with a theology that is not integrated into one's life is that you lose yourself. But not for Christ. For something else. Perhaps for the religious ego? Might be to conform to a religious community. Or even worse, fear can lead us to strange places.
Fear. I hate that word. I lived with it for so much of my life. I was bullied as a kid. There were bullies in the Army. And in church I experienced fears. It is really hard to explain. I think that it was the fear of being wrong. And certainly, I had fear around church leaders.
I think that fear can put us in bondage and keep us there. It keeps us from being open to new things. It prevents us from changing. And it certainly keeps us in old theologies that no longer work for us. I guess that is the message. Freedom will lead us to an integrated theology.
... this devotion is part of a series on my spiritual deconstruction. Click here to read more.
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