When Does Theology Go Bad Part 1-Defining Correct Theology Version 1.1

What seems like a very long time ago, I posted part one of a series called "When Does Theology Go Bad?"  I had wonderful intentions of posting part two, but I never got around to it.  So, I am going to attempt to at least post part two sometime in the near future.  Meanwhile, since many of you have probably forgotten what I posted, here is the original post with some slight formatting changes and clarifications:

I was theologizing this morning in the shower (the best place to theologize). My thought was, “When does theology become bad?” To say that is becomes bad simply because it is incorrect is not going far enough because so-called good theology can become bad when it is applied wrongly. It is true that incorrect theology will lead to bad theology. So maybe it is best to define our terms at this point.

How does one define correct theology? I think there are at least three ways to determine this:

1. For theology to be correct, it must be correct biblically. In other words, the theology must not violate Scripture. I also that this is the most important criteria for determining correct theology.


2. For theology to be correct, it must also be historically accurate. In other words, is this how the church has historically defined this issue? This can be a tricky one, because many denominations have historically defined some doctrinal issues differently, but on the essentials of Christianity (I define the essentials as those listed in the Apostles’ Creed with a relational[1] emphasis) the church has generally had one historic interpretation. An example of where theology can go wrong historically is the doctrine of the Trinity. Historically, the Trinity has been defined as one God in three persons, but certain sects of Christianity, Oneness Pentecostals for example, teach that it is God in three forms, not persons. This is historically incorrect and thus leads to incorrect theology.


3. For theology to be correct, it should generally fit neatly into your system of theology. I have often viewed theology as a head of hair (ironic, don’t you think?). On one extreme, you can have George McFly hair, flawless and slicked back. At the other extreme, your theology can be like Alfalfa from Our Gang with that one large portion of hair sticking straight up in the air. It is not necessary that your theology fit into a neat box. Pre-packaged Christianity is not what we are after. Even the best theologians can be rough around the edges. But if part of your theology sticks out as inconsistent with the rest of your theology, it is most likely incorrect and can become very bad if you do not address it.

 

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[1] My concern here is to point out that to merely acknowledge and intellectually agree with the Apostle’s Creed is not the definition of a Christian.  One must accept Christ, meaning that they understand that they are sinful, that their only hope of salvation is Christ and His work on the cross, and repentance, meaning that they must accept Christ’s forgiveness and turn from their sin unto the abundant life that God calls us to.

Emptiness Vs. Hope

There is a sense, as I write this…of emptiness.  I have wanted to write for a couple of days on my reaction to new health care legislation passing.  But after fuming on Monday, I am left…well…empty.

I have been following the health care debate for some time.  I knew that the bill was supposed to be voted on this past weekend, but a Saturday filled with “honey do” projects and a Sunday filled with going to meet Dog the Bounty Hunter at a book signing, it had slipped my mind.  Monday morning, as I put on my socks, I clicked over to Google news and lo and behold, there was the announcement.  I finally got to work, quelling my anger, having to go in early because I had to be with my wife for a medical procedure that she was having.  At 7am, I had to try and put whatever was going on in my head to the side and concentrate on how boxes were stacked on pallets.

At some point in the morning, someone made me mad.  I guess it is inevitable when a temp has to tell a supervisor that something needs to be changed.  But I didn’t really ask to be a temp, nor did I need the pushback.  Not that day.  I ran out the door at 11am to be with my wife for this procedure.  I got there, only to find out that despite the fact they had told her to be there at 11am (her Mom had dropped her off), they had not taken her back yet, and it was almost 11:30.  Finally, at some point before 11:45 (I’m not really sure because I didn’t check the time) they took her back.  I asked how long the procedure would take and they said half an hour and then an hour of recovery from the anesthesia.  I settled down with my book and I waited.  Around 1pm, I began to suspect that they would be calling me soon, but they never did.  1:30 came and went and I was fighting impatience.  Finally, at 2pm, I walked back to the nurses desk to find out what was going on.  “You must be looking for Kandice, right?” the nurse asked.  When I replied in the affirmative, she told me that the doctor had been late and that she would be out soon; they were doing the procedure right now.  I returned to the waiting room and waited some more.  2:30 came and went.  3:00 came and went.  Finally, at 3:30, after an hour and a half of being told that it would be “soon” and after almost four hours since my wife had left the waiting room for her procedure, I walked back there again.  I saw my wife, sitting up on a gurney, looking very pleasant.  The nurses took the pager that had given me, which had never gone off, and as they led me to the seat beside my wife, I told them, nicely but firmly, that they needed to do a better job of keeping the family in the waiting room informed of what was going on.  We then had to wait yet another hour because the doctor wanted to speak to us about the results of the procedure and he was conducting another procedure.

Finally, around 4:30pm, the doctor came to see us.  “I don’t like what I see,” he said, and went on to explain that something was inflamed that should not be and it could mean that my wife’s initial diagnosis of Ulcerative Colitis was incorrect, or that the pouch that had been created surgically was infected.  Not really good news.  We left the hospital with little hope.  I was tired from waiting and she was really tired from the anesthesia.  After we stopped for dinner, I returned home to find a few responses on Facebook from my status update about the health care bill and after a day of being angry, my words were probably more blunt than normal.  To be honest, I’m really not wanting  to talk about this health care thing anymore, suffice to say, I don’t really think that it is going to do what the Democrats want it to do and the economic ramifications of it will be, in my opinion, devastating.  For the record, that is not a prophecy, it is an opinion.  I could be wrong.  I hope I am.

After two additional days of partial-brooding, I am left where I have been many times.  I have never been one of those people that walk around with a perpetual smile on my face (at least, I don’t think).  The truth is that even though I am a Christian, I really do not expect life to be hunky-dory.  Life is tough, but God is good, as the saying goes.  I will say though that I have fallen victim to putting my hope in something other than God which is sin.  I have had to ask forgiveness for that.  It’s a lesson that I have to be continually reminded of over and over.  Where will be this landmark health care reform take us?  What will the result of my work situation be? What will the prognosis be for my wife? I really do not know, but I cannot put my hope and trust in something other than the One who offers ultimate hope and trustworthiness.  It only leaves emptiness and despair.

Now that I have written this, putting it in writing, I am left…hmmm…what am I feeling?  I don’t think its emptiness…acceptance, maybe?  I think that may be it.  And while I must confess that I feel far from hopeful, I think that acceptance may lead to hope.  And that hope, in the Ultimate Giver of health care (ok, that may have been a little cheesy) is something that I can hold on to.