During the Great Depression, the Presbyterian theologian J. Gresham Machen was troubled to find that some Christians were downplaying the importance of teaching the gospel in favor of focusing on people’s physical needs (food, housing, clothing, education, etc.). Certainly, the concern for people’s physical needs is noble, reminding us of the book of James. But Machen realized that, while Christians must care about and seek to meet these various needs, they should realize that physical needs are not primary and to treat them as if they are, is to misdiagnose the human problem.
Machen wrote, “The distress of the world is due to an evil within the soul of man.” For this reason, the root of all human problems is a theological problem. He went on to say, “God has so ordered the course of this world that . . . it is impossible to attain the lower end [dealing with social and political evils] until the higher end has been attained” and that “we have come to be right with God. No emergency can possibly be so pressing as to permit us to postpone our attention to the unseen things.”[1] We must care about the plight of humanity, but we must never let times of emergency or crisis cause us to conclude that mankind’s greatest need is anything other than being reconciled to and delighting in the triune God through faith in Jesus Christ.
Amid our current cultural crisis, some Bible-believing Christians are erring in the opposite direction, arguing all we need to worry about is getting people saved. Certainly, we must care about the gospel message. However, this goal is no reason to neglect robust Christian theology.
What do we mean by “theology”?
One of the oldest descriptions of theology is “faith seeking understanding.” True theology is the reflection of God’s Word and its truth in faith—it is seeking to understand God and the world betters. Alister E. McGrath helpfully defines theology as “reflection upon the God whom Christians worship and adore.”[2] Theology is ultimately governed and guided by what God has revealed about Himself in the Bible. So, theology should be centered on reflecting and meditating on God’s Word. But we might add to this understanding that theology includes reflecting on the created order and engaging the reflections of other believers throughout the world and throughout time.
With this definition in mind, let us consider several reasons why we should care about theology amid our cultural crisis.
Reason #1: There will always be some sort of crisis.
I remember how moved I was the first time I read C. S. Lewis’s little essay “Learning in Wartime.” He was writing to university students during World War II who were doubting the value of devoting their time and energies to higher education during a global conflict. Should they not be doing more important things? Is engaging the life of the mind in this situation not like “fiddling while Rome burns?” Lewis continued, “If we let ourselves, we shall always be waiting for some distraction or other to end before we can really get down to our work. The only people who achieve much are those who want knowledge so badly that they seek it while the conditions are still unfavorable. Favorable conditions never come.”[3] Along those same lines, he said, “If men had postponed the search for knowledge and beauty until they were secure, the search would have never begun.”[4]
Just imagine if the early church, the Protestant Reformers, or seventeenth-century English Baptists had said, “You know, times are tough right now. We better just lay low. We do not have time to think deeply about God, write books, or preach theological sermons. We will wait for a less chaotic time.” Thank the Lord they did not fall prey to this temptation!
So, when we are drawn to conclude that thinking deeply about God and the things of God is just polishing the brass on the Titanic as it sinks, let us remember that human history is filled with crisis. Waiting for good times and ease to give our attention to theology is a mirage. Favorable conditions never come.
Reason #2: Our cultural crisis is a theological problem.
A second reason to give attention to theology is that our cultural crisis is a theological problem. At a fundamental level, people do not understand that we are created by God in His image. The various crises related to sexuality, identity, euthanasia, or abortion—or whatever—are, at their core, theological problems. Christians need thoughtful, Biblical answers to the questions of the day. People are asking: Who am I? What am I here for? Do I have any purpose at all? These problems are theological ones requiring robust, gospel answers.
Christian young people are facing a different world than even the one I grew up in. They do not need us to entertain them or to convince them that Christianity is fashionable. They need us to answer hard questions about the world in which they live, the messaging they encounter from friends and people on the internet. They need us to help them sink their roots down deep in the historic faith and equip them to live and minister to our brave new world.
Dealing with this theological problem requires both evangelism and discipleship that addresses how to survive sustained engagement with the sinister, destructive lies abounding in our culture. We must proclaim the gospel with sincerity, fervency, and clarity. But we must also expose the false claims of our society that seek to undermine the fundamental truths of Scripture. We must counter the false narratives of our day with the unchanging truth—and that is going to require serious theological reflection.
Reason #3: Theology can deepen our love of and longing for God.
Maybe you have heard people refer to seminary as “cemetery”—as if Christian college or seminary is the place where spiritual fervor goes to die. The idea that a deeper understanding of God could lead to a deeper love of and longing for God is difficult for some people to imagine. Some are prone to think that knowing more about God will necessarily lessen our love of and longing for God. That notion simply is not the case. When we read the Bible and good books on theology for the purpose of loving and obeying God, theology can deepen our longing for God.
Let us consider two examples: one from the Bible and one from my own experience. Maybe the last time you read through Romans, you realized that some of what Paul says in that letter is hard to understand. But hopefully you do not read Romans and say, “Man, this is boring.” Paul certainly did not intend that reaction as he explored the depth and width of God’s wisdom, knowledge, and love. His theological reflection in Romans does not lesson his sense of longing for God and the things of God. If you doubt that, just read Romans 11:33–36 or 16:25–27.
Let me give you a personal example from reading good theology books. In 2014, I read Augustine’s Confessions as I sat at my library carrel in the Boyce Library at Southern Seminary. Two features of the book often come to mind for me a decade later. First, I was moved by Augustine’s account of the pervasiveness of human sin. In Confessions, Augustine goes back to his youth and traces the presence of sin throughout his life. He offers a well-known account of stealing pears from a neighbor with some childhood friends. As he reflects on this act of theft, Augustine considered the depravity of the human heart. He did not steal the pears because he was hungry or in need. He stole them for the sake of stealing. He confesses, “I stole things I had much more of, and much better. I wanted the stealing, not the thing stolen. I wanted the sin.” He continued, “The act was ugly, and that is what I loved in it.”[5] Augustine’s Confessions transformed the way I understood the depths of my own sin.
But Confessions also deepened my sense of awe at God’s work in saving me. In many ways, Confessions is a sustained reflection of God’s pursuit of Augustine from the earliest years of his life. It is as if Augustine was looking at his life in the rearview mirror. After his conversion, he saw everything that came before in a different way. The Lord had always been present and at work, even when Augustine did not realize it. The Lord was drawing Augustine to Himself all along, but now, with eyes of faith, he saw the Lord’s providential hand. When I read that, I was reminded of the Lord’s consistent pursuit of me. I considered all the ways in which I had resisted Him throughout my youth, but through faithful believers, preaching, and the convicting work of the Holy Spirit, the Lord brought me to repentance and faith.
Conclusion
So, what does caring about theology look like amid our cultural crises? It looks like spending time reflecting and meditating on Scripture. It looks like reading theology books with a group of men or women in your church. It looks like answering the most pressing questions of our day for the youth of your church with the depth and breadth that Scripture provides. Instead of avoiding the hard questions, let us do our best to take them on with the unchanging truth of the Bible.
Caring about theology amid cultural crisis looks like preaching doctrinal sermons on things like sanctification, glorification, election and predestination, the second coming, substitutionary atonement, vocation, the deity and humanity of Christ, and so forth. It looks like using the Free Will Baptist Catechism to instruct your children or the children in your church. It looks like singing rich theological songs during gathered worship.
If we are going to meet the needs of our age, if we are going to answer the questions of our children and our community, we must have our hearts enflamed by the truth of God and our minds equipped through deep reflection on the Word of God.
[1] J. Gresham Machen, Things Unseen: A Systematic Introduction to the Christian Faith and Reformed Theology (Glenside, PA: Westminster Seminary Press, 2020), 8–9.
[2] Alister E. McGrath, Christian Theology, 5th ed. (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011), 102.
[3] C. S. Lewis, “Learning in Wartime,” in The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses (New York: Harper Collins, 2001), 60.
[4] Lewis, “Learning in Wartime,” 49.
[5] Saint Augustine, Confessions, trans. Garry Wills(New York: Penguin, 2006), 32.
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