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July 4, 2024
Reading Apocalyptic in the Context of the Middle East: Fueling Conflicts or Urging Justice
August 1, 2024by Kees van der Knijff
From time to time, at the end of a course or even upon graduation, a student sighs: “I have ended up with more questions than I had when I started to study.” Apparently, studying for several months or even years has not resulted in fewer questions. What conclusion should we draw from such a sigh? Are we doing something wrong as a seminary or as teachers? Are we failing in our key task? Or is it just a sign that this student has not been diligent enough? The last answer is definitely mistaken. The most likely students to say something like this are often excellent, diligent students.
Since I am convinced that at ABTS (and at many other seminaries in the region and around the world) we are not doing everything wrong, what could be behind those students’ remarks? I think we touch on something crucial here: good theology should lead to an increasing awareness of the complexity of our world. And a good theological education should teach students to see that every answer leads to new questions.
Increasingly, I am becoming convinced that one of the key aims of theological education in our world and in our time must be to resist simplification. Why? Because like the world around us, many in the church are tempted by the clarity and certainty that simplistic answers offer. Being able to divide everything along lines of good and evil, black and white, liberal and conservative, right and wrong gives us a feeling of control. It makes life much easier than continuously having to navigate uncertainty, shades of gray, and nuance.
But reality is much too complex, and the Christian faith and its tradition much too rich, to just accept such simplification. At times, I fear we will end up in a church where it is no longer possible to disagree on anything without being anathematized. Where everyone is directly placed into a “camp”: either with us, or against us. Where the richness and polyphony of Scripture is completely silenced by official church positions, especially concerning ethical issues. And perhaps worst of all: where we have completely lost our sense for the graceful mystery of the Triune God and the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Now what do I mean by complexity, and why do I think it is important to acknowledge it in our churches and theology? Let’s start with an example close to home. In Psalm 19, the poet sighs: “But who can discern their own errors?” Human nature is incredibly complex. Our lives are full of contradictions, and often we are not able to sift out even our own motives. We are a mixed bag of good and evil, high and low, blameworthy and praiseworthy. Or in short: “Who can understand the human heart?” (Jer 17:9).
But when we look around, two interesting things seem to happen with regard to our human complexity. First, even when we are willing to acknowledge our complexity before ourselves and before God, we don’t like to show it to other people. We don’t want them to see our weakness, our doubts, our mixed motives, our uncertainty. Most of the time, we like others to see us as stable persons, with opinions that are based on careful reasoning, who never second guess our decisions, with pure motives most of the time. Why is it so hard for us to show ourselves as who we are?
Perhaps the second point is even more fascinating (and disturbing!): even if we are aware of our own complexity, we often deal with the people around us as if they are flat characters. All the more so if they tend to differ from us or hold opinions that we disagree with. Before we know it, the other has been classified as conservative or liberal, and hence no longer worthy of our attention. Before we know it, we see negative intentions behind everything the other does or says. Before we know it, we have closed ourselves off and are no longer able to have a meaningful dialogue, let alone learn anything. Why do we so easily forget about the incredible complexity of people around us?
The above is just one example of the dangers of simplification. We could easily add other examples. But for now, it serves to emphasize one point: simplification is not something to embrace in the church, but something to resist. It might be the only way to help us move beyond all the debates where half the church thinks the others are “outdated” and the other half thinks the others are no longer submitting to the authority of Scripture. In our complex reality, neither of these assumptions is true most of the time.
One of the most important challenges for theological education in the coming decades might be continuing to resist such simplification. But the crucial follow-up question is: How? What can we do as institutions, teachers, pastors and authors to resist simplification? This deserves extended conversations, and this blog is much too limited. But let me offer some suggestions.
First, a key aspect of any theological training should be the ability to ask good questions. As teachers, this means we do not always present our students with answers, but model for them how we engage the questions and acknowledge their complexity. Even though the experience is not always welcomed, we should be glad to notice forms of deconstruction and reconstruction in our students and should be more than willing to walk alongside them in this journey.
Second, we should give ourselves, our students and the youth in our churches the space to explore where those questions lead. A lot of contemporary evangelical theology seems to be driven by fear: “Once you go that way, everything will come crashing down.” Do we really believe the Christian faith is that vulnerable? Do we really believe reality is that simple? We should resist the fear of the slippery slope and seek to do theology from a basis of trust, not fear.
Third, we might have to preach (and teach students to preach) less thematic sermons and more sermons that are based on a specific Biblical passage. The ability to struggle with a text and listen for its specific voice and message often leads to a more transformative reading than finding texts to support one’s theme.
Fourth, we have to think very carefully about the kinds of books we write (and translate!). Some of the most popular books among evangelical Christians offer clarity and answers. I am not convinced the church needs more of: “What the Bible really says about…” Those publications only confirm what people already think. Instead, we need books that make people think, that invite reflection, and that embrace complexity and mystery.
Finally, and most importantly, we need to teach ourselves and everyone in the church to listen. To listen and suspend judgment. Many of today’s hot topics will not be resolved with clear answers. The way forward is to acknowledge complexity, ask for arguments and motives, and then listen to others’ answers with humility. I hope I’ll keep hearing those sighs of students. Because the church desperately needs leaders who resist simplification and dare to embrace complexity.
Kees van der Knijff is assistant professor of Systematic Theology at ABTS and Graduate Programs Lead. On an ongoing journey of theological discovery himself, he loves to travel alongside students and colleagues in their journeys.






4 Comments
Once again, another great post from ABTS, as it puts its finger on a live and important question, especially for us evangelicals who, indeed, like it straight and simple. In our attempt to honour the text as authoratative we can be in danger of using a ‘crow-bar’ on the Bible to make texts fit things which they were never meant to address, which is indeed a violation of the text. However, this also makes me wonder about the place of, as some people say, ‘simplicity beyond complexity’ which I have always taken to mean a place of dependent (child-like) faith, even after exploring all the questions. What place too for Barth’s response to the question about the most important truth for him, simply ‘Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.’
Thank you Ashley. Yes, I believe there is a legitimate place for “simplicity beyond complexity,” and often those who truly embrace complexity are masters at that. But my point is: I am afraid in the evangelical world we rarely arrive at that point because of our fear for complexity.
Good points, Kees. I appreciate your pointing out the necessity of complexity in theological education. Complexity is part and parcel of our world. As you point out, the tendency to categorize an interlocutor as “conservative” or “progressive” is a quick way to kill theological reflection and lock ourselves in an echo chamber. Thank-you.
Thank you Mike!