Most of us like our theology nice and fixed. Thus why the human tendency to create Creeds, Confessions, doctrinal statements, etc. There are those who refuse to create such documents. They like to offer such boasts as "No Creed but Christ", and the like. But (as any careful observer can see) such people have a theology which is just as fixed and exclusive as those groups with formal documents. So, whether formally stated or not the possibility of a fortress mentality is very real all the same.
I have spent a number of years in one theological fortress or another, or another, and have reached a place in my life where theological exploration is more possible than ever. This is not to say I'm with the "post-modernists" in their acquiescence to relativism. I do think there is a truth to every matter. But, that truth isn't always what or where we would like it to be.
Theologian Michael Bauman on his blog "A Pilgrm's Way" well-expresses this theological journey of exploration, in contrast with the fortress theology of many Christians.
Accordingly, I shall mostly write more about ideas which are held by a minority of orthodox and evangelical Christians than about ideas which have predominance. Sometimes these will be things which are old, and are being ignored by the contemporary Church. And, sometimes these will be new (or, seemingly new) ideas which the Church is having some difficulty accepting. Thus, the perspectives "ancient" and "future" (also referenced in the subtitle of the blog itself) are informing concepts to the theme of this blog, just as the concepts of "exploration" and "limits" mentioned earlier. All of these concepts find their pertinance in the process of "Reforming" (thus the title of this post --and the blog itself).
Fortress Theology and the Mirage of Paradox
...I admire those theologians who, once they reach a dead end, back up the bus and try another route. That theologian may find himself in a dead end once again, or he may find the one route that leads out of the maze. That route does exist. God, at any rate, seems to have found it. While it may be that we never will, we ought to continue to try. Some theologians, however, being either unable or unwilling to pursue their quarry any further, become entrenched in paradox.
They learn to tolerate unremedied paradox when unremedied paradox should be shunned. Perhaps they do so because to them the prospect of going back (perhaps even to the beginning) is too unsettling and too daunting. Rather than striking out in a new direction, or rather than pioneering through uncharted territories in search of the doctrinal Northwest passage,3 they hunker down and plant settlements in comfortable valleys, having decided at last that they will never reach the sea, or even continue to try.
They have forgotten that, in this case, it is better to travel hopefully and never to arrive than to settle prematurely. To that extent, then, their theological settlements are a failure of nerve. Fatigue and uncertainty have made it seem more desirable to plant roots than to look around one more doctrinal bend or to climb up and peer over one more theological hill. The spirit of pioneering thus gives way to the spirit of dogmatism.
Once a pioneer becomes a settler, he starts to build fences. Fences are soon replaced by walls and walls by forts. The pilgrimage has become a settlement, and those within the walls become suspicious of those without. Outsiders think differently, talk differently, act differently. To justify their suspicions, settlement theologians begin to think that they belong in doctrinal fortresses. They develop what I call the “Ebenezer doctrine.” “Was it not the map of God — our Bibles — that led us here?" they ask. In one sense, of course, they are right. The Bible did, in fact, lead them this far. But not the Bible only.
Their misreading of it is what led them into the valley of paradox. Their lack of strength and their insecurity led them to settle there and to build a fort. In despair of ever finding their way to the sea, and discouraged by the prospect of going back, they traded their theological tents for creedal tenements and their doctrinal backpacks for dogmatic bungalows. Travelling mercies were exchanged for staying mercies. That is because Fortress Theologians interpret the intellectual security they have erected for themselves as the blessing of God. The perceived blessing of God becomes to them the perceived will of God. “Hitherto the Lord has led us” becomes not only their reason for staying, but also for fighting.
They become the victims of a beseiged mentality nurtured on autointoxication. Those who settle elsewhere, or those who do not settle at all, are perceived to militate against the truth of God. They must be stopped, the fortress dwellers believe. If the settlers had their way, none of us would reach the golden sea. Only there, on that distant shore, should we plant our flag, with an entire continent of theological exploration behind us and the ocean of infinity throwing waves at our feet. Only after we've seen the sun setting beyond a watery horizon, only after we've awaken to the smell of salt air and the sight and sound of sea otters playing on wet rocks, can we cease our theological quest. Lewis and Clark did not gain fame for quitting in St. Louis. Columbus did not turn back at the Canary Islands. Theologians who settle in the valley of paradox do not deserve acclaim.
One of the banner cries of the Protestant Reformation was "Always Reforming". I take that seriously. Some of my readers will say too far. We shall see.
