Along with systematic theology applied to pastoral purpose, history of the Christian tradition as revealed in the diversity of Christian traditions, is a major area of personal and academic research. I dislike theological culture wars where our personal interests, predispositions, prejudices, intellectual tastes are used to disenfranchise other theological styles, approaches and disciplines. You know the kind of thing.
Systematic theology is hopelessly cerebral and abstractly conceptual and with no meaningful reference point to the REAL world. (So some practical theologians).
Practical theology is intellectually soft, inherently pragamtic, and so relativised by context that it has little conceptual constancy other than praxis. (So some systematic theologians).
Historical theology is (this is my daughter’s good natured take on my previous work on James Denney), studying theology written by some bloke that’s deid!
I believe in theology – pretty well all of it. I don’t believe everything theologians write – who does? I don’t enjoy every kind of theological writing, how could you? I can’t keep up with the cataract of theological publishing as I stand beneath the waterfall, but who said I have to drink it all – just paddle, shower or swim in it!
At its worst theology can fall into several categories: needlessly obscure, pretentiously complex, dangerously reductionist, comically naive, worryingly dogmatic, smugly exclusive, intentionally controlling, culpably ill-informed – feel free to add to the crime list.
At its best theology can be impressively relevant, community defining, spiritually creative, healingly illuminating, inconveniently disturbing, satisfyingly or frustratingly provisional, lifestyle transforming, …add to this list too.
The Congregational Puritan Thomas Goodwin wrote important words about theological hospitality:
As for my part, this I say, and I say it with much integrity, I never yet took up party religion in the lump. For I have found by a long trial of such matters that there is some truth on all sides. I have found Gospel holiness where you would little think it to be, and so likewise truth. And I have learned this principle, which I hope I shall never lay down till I am swallowed up of immortanlity, and that is, to acknowledge every truth and every goodness wherever I find it.
I’ve tried to live out that spirit of humble acknowledgement by trying not to restrict my own theological interests by not allowing qualifying adjectives in front of the word theology, to become exclusive claims to what ‘real’ theology is about. Which brings me to my long time conversation with Wesleyan theology in its various Methodist guises, and my interest in the rich legitimate diversity of the Christian spiritual traditions.
David Hempton’s book Methodism. Empire of the Spirit, is not a self-consciously apologetic denominational history. It is a history of one Christian tradition; it is an analysis of rise and decline, of the search for identity and growth in diversity, of the theological style and social significance of a global Christian tradition. Later in this sentence I’m using the word "emerge" in its contemporary loaded sense,- Hempton’s account exposes the importance of social context, adaptability and marketing know-how that enables a new movement to emerge, take root and flourish. But he also shows how such movements in turn accomodate, institutionalise, and zeal and newness fade as revival gives way to routine. Which raises an important historical question – In the early days of the revival, were we seeing the eighteenth century equivalent of emerging church? Yes….and no. More of this anon.
By the way – the photo at the start of this post is Aberdeen city – notice the protruding spires – I can recognise at least four denominations – and I knew as friends those who ministered there in the 80’s and 90’s. Theologically hospitable – as Thomas Goodwin might have said, ‘Way to go’.
