Temperamental Theology

There is a small group of teachers in my staffroom that often finds itself back at school after all other teachers have left. We don't plan it that way. We just all work late. But something happens, when we notice that it's just us left. Slowly at first, then more vigorously, the big theological questions come out. We talk reformed theology without needing to worry about offending anyone.

Of course, I'm making it all sound very clandestine, mostly because it amuses me to do so. It's just that, in a Christian school, it's important to focus on what unites us, rather than thinking about what divides us. Since we're united on the essentials, we are able to put aside other differences without too much concern. And yet, when we do talk theology more freely, we find ourselves getting quite passionate about those topics that we cannot discuss as openly with everyone. We care greatly about what the Bible has to say, and how we can know that we are interpreting the Bible accurately. These things do matter to us, and we wonder sometimes, I suppose, whether these matters that we discuss are what Paul would call "disputable matters" or if instead they are matters of...well...fact.

Yet it has made me wonder also about what factors lead to different people taking different theological positions. Naturally, everyone will say, "I believe this teaching because that's what the Bible says," but quite obviously more is going on than just that, otherwise the same Bible passage couldn't be used to justify two or more utterly different, and quite incompatible, positions. Certainly, some positions are justified when particular passages, and only those passages, are read in a fairly questionable way, in isolation from the rest of scripture, while other positions come from a more holistic reading. And I'm not going to say that "everyone has their own interpretation" as a way of avoiding the issue altogether. But it does make me think about the way that our experiences and personalities can, to an extent, be seen to dictate the theology that we end up espousing.

Look, for instance, at someone who is more melancholic, and see which books of the Bible they will most naturally relate to. They will probably appreciate Lamentations and Job. They will find great solace in Psalm 51. They will almost certainly keep returning to Romans 7. Then take an optimist, and watch them gravitate to the parts of the Bible that most uphold their generally positive view of human experience. (Notice that I'm clearly not an optimist. I can't even think, offhand, of what texts such a person would gravitate to!) Certainly, systematic and careful reading of the Bible can do much to counteract these kinds of issues of temperament and inclination. But I quite simply can't see myself becoming a triumphalist. My experiences of disappointment and pain at the hands of God are hardly going to make me preach about the constant, ongoing victory of the Christian walk. Part of this is because I don't think that's a doctrinally right position to take. But part of me just doesn't think that way. I doubt I'd be a triumphalist of any kind, whether or not I'd ever read the Bible.

And so thinking this brings a new dimension to how I feel about those reformed discussions we have in the A1 staffroom after school. Yes, I do feel that there are Bible passages that support our views. Yes, I think they are consistent with the whole of Scripture. But it reminds me of something important: that I am to give my whole person up to all of God to be transformed by all of Scripture, not just the parts that confirm my worldview. And there are triumphant parts just as there are pessimistic ones, and the same God inspired them both. Here's hoping I remember that next week, and the week after, and the week after that.