Liberal and conservative theology.

If you’ve heard of theology, you’ve likely heard of “conservative theology” and “liberal theology”; of “conservative theologians” and “liberal theologians.” And you might presume you know what those mean: A conservative theologian is probably one who respects tradition and the bible, and a liberal theologian doesn’t.

Roughly that’d be accurate. Very, very roughly.

Properly, liberal theology is the same thing as unitarianism or deism: There’s one God, Jesus isn’t him, miracles don’t happen and never did and are myths (and therefore the bible is pure mythology), and those who consider themselves “spiritual” have gotta find a way to recontextualize Christianity for the present day. So, how you develop liberal theology is by following the present day’s lead: What do the people of today need to hear? What’s gonna make ’em feel spiritual, and feel good about themselves?

But how Christians typically use the term “liberal theology” is simply as a pejorative. Doesn’t always even mean liberal! An arch-conservative Jehovah’s Witness theologian, who interprets bible so strictly it gets ridiculous, who thinks God’s gonna smite everyone in the world but him, would be called a “liberal theologian” simply because he’s heretic. Liberal bad, conservative good.

Everybody’s kinda decided where they are on the theological spectrum. So, some woman might consider herself a theological conservative because she upholds the bible’s authority so very, very much. And most of us would agree, ’cause believing the bible is an infallible theological authority, is what we’d consider theological conservatism. But another person, a sexist man, might insist absolutely not; she’s obviously a liberal theologian. Why’s this? Well, she’s a woman. He insists the practice of doing and teaching theology is only for men, ’cause only men can teach, ’cause bible says so. She’s defying bible; ergo she doesn’t consider it an infallible theological authority, ergo she’s a liberal theologian.

I likewise consider the bible an infallible theological authority. I’d call myself a conservative theologian for this reason. But of course I’ve been called a liberal theologian—for a number of reasons. I believe the scriptures fully support women in Christian leadership, but sexists insist they fully don’t, and I must be twisting them to come to my conclusions; ergo I’m a liberal theologian.

Or I’ve expressed political views which they consider liberal. I was raised by political conservatives (and they’re still conservative), but as I became an adult and followed Jesus further, I chose to adopt a few “liberal” views because I think they’re consistent with Jesus’s teachings, and my former conservative views are not. I’m certainly not “liberal” across the board, ’cause I think my conservative views are likewise consistent with Jesus. It’s a hodgepodge of positions. But to political conservatives, any political heresy—for that’s what civic idolaters consider it—automatically makes me a “liberal theologian,” and untrustworthy when I discuss religion. Their partisanship takes priority over their Christianity. Or mine. Or yours.

Or it’s simply because I’m Pentecostal and they’re not; or because I uphold the ancient Christian creeds and they don’t. And you’d think upholding the creeds would make me considered more conservative than they, not less. But they covet the label “conservative,” and if I’m in any way wrong in their eyes, I get the label “liberal.” That’s my punishment for believing things they don’t.

So yeah—in practice “liberal theologian” means “more liberal than me,” and of course wrong and heretic.

“A man after God’s own heart.”

1 Samuel 13.13-14.

Throughout the books of the Old Testament which we call the “Deuteronomistic history”—’cause their author was showing how ancient Israel didn’t follow the book of Deuteronomy, and this is the reason the Israelis were banished from their land—the kings of northern and southern Israel were all compared with the greatest of all their kings, the third king of Israel, David ben Jesse.

True, Solomon ben David had expanded Israel’s borders and influence to their greatest limit, was ridiculously wise and outrageously wealthy, and had built God a really cool gold-covered cedar temple. But none of that matters to the Deuteronomist. David was his absolute favorite. Every king who followed, either “walked in all the way of David his father,” 2Ki 22.2 or “walked in all the sins” of some other forebear, but certainly not David. 1Ki 15.3 David was the paragon of what Israeli kings oughta be, and if you wanted to be a true “son of David,” you’d be just like David.

But wait: Didn’t David murder one of his loyal soldiers in order to steal his woman? Well yeah, he did do that. The Deuteronomist faithfully recorded the story in 2 Samuel 11. David was also a seriously lousy father; Amnon was a rapist, Adonijah an insurrectionist, and Absalom was both. The character flaws David exhibited would completely disqualify him from Christian leadership—which just goes to show you what an abysmally low bar there was for good kings. Not for nothing did we Americans decide to do away with monarchy. Power corrupts, y’know.

Still, the Deuteronomist loved him some David, and plenty of Christians are big fans too. More than one of my pastors, growing up, did entire sermon series on David. Multiple times! Regularly pointing out that, seriously flawed human being or not, David was bananas for the LORD, and loved him like crazy. David is, they loved to point out, “a man after God’s own heart.” As should we be.

They’re not wrong! But here’s why I decided to write a Context article about the phrase, “man after God’s own heart”: What they mean by that phrase, and what the scriptures mean by that phrase, are two wholly different things. And whenever Christians preach about being a person “after God’s own heart,” they’re not preaching the biblical meaning. They’re preaching their own idea.

Their idea, which we see all over the place in popular Christian culture, looks like this bit from Albert Barnes’ 1834 book Notes on the New Testament: Necessary and Practical, vol. III, Acts of the Apostles, which you can nowadays find bundled in a massive one-volume edition called Notes on the Whole Bible.

A man after mine own heart— This expression is found in 1 Samuel 13.14. The connection shows that it means simply a man who would not be rebellious and disobedient as Saul was, but would do the will of God and keep his commandments. This refers, doubtless, rather to the public than to the private character of David; to his character as a king. It means that he would make the will of God the great rule and law of his reign, in contradistinction from Saul, who, as a king, had disobeyed God. At the same time it is true that the prevailing character of David, as a pious, humble, devoted man, was that he was a man after God's own heart, and was beloved by him as a holy man. He had faults; he committed sin; but who is free from it? He was guilty of great offenses; but he also evinced, in a degree equally eminent, repentance (see Psalm 51); and not less in his private than his public character did he evince those traits which were prevailingly such as accorded with the heart, that is, the earnest desires, of God. Barnes at Acts 13.22

In more contemporary English: David was a devout, humble man who upheld and promoted God’s will. And when he sinned, ’cause David sinned big-time, he repented big-time. He just loved God so, so much.

In fact the way I’ve heard preachers describe him, David is “after God’s own heart” in that David chased after God’s own heart. He wanted to follow God and his will, so so much; just look at all the psalms he wrote about loving God, and calling upon him, and trusting in him; “the Lord is my shepherd” and all that. Seriously, bananas for the LORD.

I mean, doesn’t this sound like what “man after God’s own heart” oughta mean?

“I don’t know what to pray.”

Every once in a while I’ll hear this from new Christians: “I know I’m supposed to pray, but I don’t know what to pray. I don’t know what to tell God.”

Ridiculously simple answer to this one! Pray the Lord’s Prayer. Memorize a good translation of it, and tell it to God.

Matthew 6.9-13 MEV

9“Therefore pray in this manner:

Our Father who is in heaven,

hallowed be Your name.

10Your kingdom come;

Your will be done

on earth, as it is in heaven.

11Give us this day our daily bread.

12And forgive us our debts,

as we forgive our debtors.

13And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.”

And if reciting this prayer leads you to riff on it—to think, “Oh, here are some specific examples of ‘daily bread’ I’m gonna need”—share that. Or “I wanna apologize for specific ‘debts’ I owe God”—talk about that. Or “I need help forgiving my debtors”—ask for that. The Lord’s Prayer is just a starting point, and if it inspires you to pray other stuff, good!—you’re doing it right.

Okay yeah, sometimes it’s not gonna inspire you to pray other stuff. You’ll whip through these words, and you won’t know what more to tell God. Relax; it happens. Prayer’s a new and tricky thing for you. It’s why the Didache recommended newbies pray the Lord’s Prayer thrice a day. [8.3] ’Cause the more often you recite it—the more comfortable you get with these words—the easier it gets to start thinking about what more you might wanna tell God.

What is “theology”?

THEOLOGY θi'ɑl.ə.dʒi noun The study of God, his nature, and related religious beliefs.

2. One’s religious beliefs and theories, when systematically organized and developed.

[theological θi.ə'lɑ.dʒə.k(ə)l adjective, theologian θi.ə'loʊ.dʒən noun, theologist θi'ɑl.ə.dʒəst noun]

As you can see, theology has two definitions—and I find people mix ’em up all the time.

I talk about theology as Christianity’s collective study of God, and people think I’m talking about their theology, their beliefs about who God is. Or I’ll ask people about their theology, and they’ll respond, “Well it’s not what I believe; it’s what all true Christians believe”—as if other Christians aren’t permitted their own opinions. (Too often, to their minds, we’re not.)

And then there’s how pagans get confused about the word. I talk to them about theology, and they’ll say something like this:

SHE. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don’t do theology.”

ME. “You don’t have beliefs about God?”

SHE. “I do, but I don’t do theology.”

ME. “What do you think theology is?”

SHE. “Dogmas. Doctrines. Whatever you call them. I don’t have those. I don’t do those.”

ME. “Okay. That’s not what I mean by ‘theology.’ Theology is either the study of God, or your own personal beliefs about God. And you do have personal beliefs about God, so you have a theology.”

SHE. “Personal beliefs about God? What, I have a theology and you have a theology?”

ME. “And everybody else has a theology. Which may or may not line up with some church’s doctrines or dogmas.”

SHE. “I don’t think that’s what anybody else means by ‘theology.’ ”

ME. “Check a dictionary. I’m going off the dictionary definition. If people believe ‘theology’ means something else… well that’s their theology.”

You’ll notice this hypothetical pagan is kinda wary about doctrines and dogmas, and it’s because most of the pagans I encounter are the “spiritual, not religious” type—they don’t wanna be told what to believe, and think “theology” is all about doing that.

And okay, figuring out what to believe is indeed the purpose of theology. We’re studying God because every single one of us is wrong about him, and wanna correct that, and are studying God so we can fix our theologies.

There are a number of ways we go about that study. First, we pick a religion. Usually it’s the one we grew up in; I grew up Christian, so I went with Christianity. Sometimes it’s the one we adopt later in life—I didn’t grow up Pentecostal, but I was going to a Pentecostal church, and figured if I was gonna study theology it should be at a Pentecostal seminary, so off I went. (And, as it turned out, all their theology professors were Calvinist, so I wound up learning a ton about Jean Calvin’s theology, which is mighty useful even though I myself am not Calvinist.) For some people they don’t pick a religion; they’re just fascinated by religious anthropology, and try to study them all. In so doing they often become religious: They like one religion better than the others, and become that. But just as often, they remain either theist or agnostic—but appreciative of all religions; or they join a religion which tries to include all the other ones, like the Unitarians or Baha’i.

Next we determine what, in that religion, is authoritative. For some it’s the leadership, or the current heads of the religion. For others there are traditions and scriptures. In Christianity, the current head of our religion is Christ Jesus. (He’s not dead, you know!) We gotta follow him—and there are scriptures containing his teachings; plus the writings of the apostles he trained; plus the prophets who wrote their own God-experiences, provided Jesus his cultural background, and of course foretold him.

And, depending on your sect in that religion, there are various traditions which influence how you understand things. My Pentecostal traditions admittedly, definitely affect how I understand the scriptures. Other traditions—fr’instance a cessationist or dispensationalist—is absolutely gonna spin the scriptures differently than I do, and make it consistent with their traditions. I would argue their traditions are making ’em read the scriptures wrong… and they would argue my traditions are making me read the scriptures wrong. And now you see why we’re in different sects.

Different kinds of grace.

GRACE greɪs noun. God’s generous, forgiving, kind, favorable attitude towards his people.

2. A prayer of thanksgiving.

[Gracious 'greɪ.ʃəs adjective.]

Had to start this article by reminding you of the definition of grace.

Yeah, plenty of Christians are gonna insist grace means, and only means, “unmerited favor.” But I consider that definition insufficient. I knew a dad who’d let his daughter get away with loads of stuff… and not out of grace; out of apathy. He didn’t care enough to check up on her, and he really should have—she was spending an awful lot of his money on stupid stuff! It may not have occurred to you that apathy can also be a type of unmerited favor. But it lacks love, and the most profound component of God’s favor is his love—exhibited by his favorable attitude. God is gracious because God is love.

When Christians talk about God’s grace, every so often one of us starts listing and detailing different types and kinds and forms of grace. Fr’instance I’ve written on prevenient grace. Other Christians are gonna talk a whole lot about God’s saving grace. And his common grace. Or preached grace, provisional grace, sustaining grace, enabling grace, serving grace, and miraculous grace. Or God’s justifying grace, his sanctifying grace, and his glorifying or eternal grace. There’s more than a dozen of these types of grace.

Except there aren’t really a dozen types of grace. There’s just grace. There’s only God’s generous attitude towards his people.

Since there are dozens of effects of God’s generous attitude, people regularly think it makes God’s grace into multiple graces. Theologians call ’em “kinds of grace.” But they’re not. God’s attitude is consistently the same. He still loves us, still forgives us, still does for us, still offers us his kingdom. It’s just sometimes we notice, “Hey, when it comes to salvation, God’s grace does [THIS COOL THING]… so I guess that’s what ‘saving grace’ is!” Nah dude; you’re just noticing different facets of the same infinitely valuable gem.

God’s grace is superabundant. It’s in way more places than we realize. When we find it in a place we weren’t expecting, sometimes we’ll foolishly think, “Oh this is a different kind of grace for this particular circumstance!” And again: Same God. Same love. Same grace. Different circumstances don’t turn it into a new thing.

Yep, this is yet another instance of us humans overcomplicating something that’s really not complicated. It’s a case of Christians thinking, “Wow, lookit all the different kinds of grace!—and how wise of me to know about each and every one of them.” Don’t get too full of yourself, chum. You didn’t really learn anything new about God; you only learned he applies grace in more places than you thought. And y’know what? He applies grace in way more places than even that. Like I said, superabundant.

The other problematic thing about compiling a big ol’ list of types of grace: You might lose sight of the fact grace is God’s generous attitude, and start thinking of grace as a substance which can be separated from the God who has it. Like magic dust which you can sprinkle on things to make ’em forgiven. Grace is not that; it can’t be divorced from the person who grants it. Divine grace without God behind it, ceases to exist. Human grace without a generous person making sure it’s effective, likewise ceases to exist—“What do you mean Dad canceled this credit card? No, don’t cut it up!” Any “type of grace” always has a grace-Giver at its center, and we should never take him for granted.

The prayers of repentant sinners.

Far too often I hear Christians claim God doesn’t answer the prayers of sinners.

I’ve read loads of books on prayer, and I find this is a recurring theme in just about all of them. For some of the writers, it’s their favorite theme: “The reason people don’t get their prayers answered, no matter how much they pray, is they won’t stop sinning. You gotta stop sinning!”

For proof, they quote verses like this one:

Isaiah 59.1-2 CSB

1Indeed, the LORD’s arm is not too weak to save,

and his ear is not too deaf to hear.

2But your iniquities are separating you

from your God,

and your sins have hidden his face from you

so that he does not listen.

Or this one:

Proverbs 15.29 CSB

The LORD is far from the wicked,

but he hears the prayer of the righteous.

Or this one:

Micah 3.4 CSB

“Then they will cry out to the LORD,

but he will not answer them.

He will hide his face from them at that time

because of the crimes they have committed.

Or this one:

John 9.32 CSB

“We know that God doesn’t listen to sinners, but if anyone is God-fearing and does his will, he listens to him.”

There are loads more, and I can easily go on, but you get the gist. It’s not at all hard to find bible passages which straight-up say God refuses to heed the prayers of evildoers.

There is, however, a vital element to all these scriptures which authors and preachers routinely skip. Some of ’em do in fact point it out. More often they just don’t. It’s the fact that when the writers of the bible say God won’t listen to sinners, they always mean unrepentant sinners. People who sin, expect to sin again, and never intend to stop.

Not people who sometimes sin, but strive to sin no more. You know, repentant sinners. Like every saint in the bible. Like you—I hope!

Jesus and divorce.

Matthew 5.31-32, 19.3-11, Luke 16.18.

The Fundamentalist churches I grew up in, didn’t believe in divorce—because, they claimed, Jesus doesn’t believe in divorce. Their proof texts are usually today’s passages:

Matthew 5.31-32 KWL

31“It’s said, ‘Whoever divorces his woman:

Give her a divorce document.’ Dt 24.1

32I tell you²:

Everyone who divorces his woman,

apart from a matter of unchastity,

makes her adulter.

And whoever might marry a divorcée,

adulters.”

Luke 16.18 KWL

“Everyone who divorces his woman

and marries another, adulters.

And one who was divorced from her man:

One who marries her, adulters.”

Hence most Fundies are pretty adamant that there’s one, and only one, reason for divorce: Πορνείας/porneías, unchastity. The KJV translates it “fornication,” and the NIV “sexual immorality.” Depending on your favorite bible translation, there are plenty of ways Fundies have found to spin what porneías means.

For most, it’s any and all nonmarital sexual activity. Sex before you’re married—porneías. Sex with anyone else while you’re married—adultery of course, and porneías. Pornography both before and during marriage: You’re looking at another person lustfully, adultering with that person in your mind, Mt 5.28 and Jesus bluntly forbids that, so that’s porneías too. Yep, porn is considered valid grounds for your spouse to divorce you. Doesn’t matter if your spouse is watching it with you.

Okay, but is our cultural definition of “sexual immorality” what the scriptures mean by unchastity?

Well, if you’re looking for me to say, “Nope!” so you can get away with stuff, I’m gonna disappoint you. Our cultural definitions, of course, aren’t the same. But they’re similar. Similar enough for there to be a bunch of overlap.

The people of Jesus’s day were still operating with a patriarchal idea of relationships between men and women. It’s an idea which in many ways is wholly inappropriate for Christians, ’cause it inherently turns women into second-class citizens, into the property of their patriarchs, and Jesus means for men and women to be equals in his kingdom. Husbands are not the masters of their wives, and any man who says so is usurping Christ Jesus’s rightful authority over his wife.

But in his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus isn’t teaching that particular lesson. He’s dealing with the culture as it was. Which isn’t our culture! So we gotta understand where they were coming from, before we can see just how this teaching applies to us.