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Smart but Foolish? Why Emotional Intelligence Matters in Theological Education
July 3, 2025
by Kees van der Knijff
Analysts across the spectrum agree: all over the world polarization is rising, both politically and socially. You are either with us or against us. If two persons disagree on anything, they belong to different “camps”. Everyone quickly gets a label, and often it is not a positive one.
The same unfortunately happens within churches and within the field of theology all around the world. We abound in unhelpful categories. Orthodox and liberal, conservative and progressive, those who accept the authority of Scripture and those who don’t. I guess almost everyone working in the church has used some of those labels or has been labeled with them.
Depending on where we are located in the worldwide church and what the most pressing issues are in that context, the polarization can focus on different topics. The focus can be on developments in the Middle East and whether we are Zionist or antisemitic. Or whether or not we accept female leadership in our churches. How we think about creation in light of Genesis and modern evolutionary theory. Many divisions nowadays are based on differences of opinion on gender and sexuality. In some places divisions within the church follow wider political divisions within society. There is no shortage of “hot topics” that cause polarization and division in our churches.
One major result of this polarization within the church is fear. Fear that, if we honestly express our theological convictions or even our questions, we will lose trust and be judged. Fear that we will be ridiculed because of our outdated, conservative theological convictions. Fear that we will be labeled liberals because we no longer agree with some convictions in our church tradition. Fear that we will no longer be taken seriously by the people we are trying to serve.
In light of all these burning issues and the polarizations they cause, the temptation never to speak out is real. I am afraid many pastors, theologians, and even institutions experience the tension. I, myself, most definitely do. But the question is: Is hiding our convictions the best response to polarization? Is it what the church needs? Is it what we are called to as servants of God in the church? I am increasingly becoming convinced the answer is no. Especially in times of polarization, the church needs fearless, bold theology.
But that statement needs explanation. What do I mean by fearless, bold theology? Let me first state what I do not mean. Bold theology is not the kind of theology that necessarily takes a stance towards the extremes of the spectrum on any issue. As I have argued before, neglecting complexity on theological issues is never a solution. Most theological issues are not as black and white as they are portrayed in the polarized debates. When I speak about bold theology, I am not talking about theology that increases the polarization and pours oil on the fire. Bold theology is not necessarily outspoken, loud theology.
Let me try to explain what I mean by bold theology in five brief statements.
- Bold theology adopts the posture of a conversation partner, not a debater or judge. Being a good conversation partner requires at least three things: respect for the other person or persons that take part in the conversation; real curiosity that is interested not only in their “views” but also in the underlying arguments and motives; and having one’s own robust theological perspective.
This last element might be the most surprising. We cannot be good conversation partners if we do not bring in our own opinions and convictions. That is one of the problems with fearful theology: We cannot expect to have real theological conversations if we are hesitant to voice our own convictions. The other deserves something to relate to.
- Bold theology is open to challenge and change. In its posture as a conversation partner and its emphasis on the dialogical nature of theology, bold theology can never be fixed theology. When we encounter good arguments, receive critical pushback, or come across fresh perspectives, we should welcome these as opportunities for growth. Changing our convictions, even when these are theological convictions, is not a sign of weakness but of strength. The experience is not necessarily easy, but in the end we will be enriched by it.
- Bold theology does not suspend judgment indefinitely. I previously emphasized the importance of recognizing complexity. But recognizing complexity has one important pitfall: we might tend to suspend judgment on important topics because they are so incredibly complex. This is something we have heard a lot over the last two years especially. One thing that is always said in conversations about the situation in the Middle East is that it is so incredibly complex. And it is, no doubt about that. But the moment we hide behind that complexity and are not willing to take a stand on issues of truth and justice, fear is crippling our theological witness. Like in life, in theology we often have to make decisions based on a limited understanding. Many of our convictions are necessarily provisional. But going without convictions is not an option.
- Bold theology is comfortable with taking middle positions. The previous point about taking a stance does not mean we necessarily end up in the extremes of the spectrum. In times of polarization, the most courageous position is often taking a middle position. The middle position risks to be critiqued from two sides by trying to understand and do justice to both. But what both society and church need most in times of polarization are people who have that courage. The courage to see that not everything is black and white, that often there are good arguments for various positions, that differences of opinion are not always problematic, and that we are not all enemies or threats.
- Finally, bold theology is Spirited theology. It is not detached and dry theology, but warm-blooded, confessional in nature. It is aware that any healthy theology and any fruitful ministry require the presence of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit that empowers and emboldens. The Spirit that leads into all truth and at the same time teaches humility (John 16, Gal. 5). The Spirit that sanctifies us, not least on the level of our thinking. Sanctification is often treated in terms of overcoming sinful actions. But it should also include overcoming wrong thoughts. Because bold theology acknowledges its own limitations and welcomes the sanctifying work of the Spirit, it cannot be surprised if it has to change its convictions and arguments from time to time.
In a polarized world and a polarized church, we need bold theologians. I hope and pray our ministry at ABTS will contribute to this. And I hope the church will give its young people the space to experiment, ask, and change without immediately suspecting or alienizing them. We need a bold church in order to train bold theologians.
Kees van der Knijff is assistant professor of systematic theology at ABTS and Graduate Programs Lead.
5 Comments
Thanks for this, Kees. I appreciate your call for a bold theology. It’s critical. I also appreciate your five points which carefully nuance your call. One thought I had while reading it is probably implicit in what you are saying. Still I wanted to mention it and ask for your thoughts. Would you agree that all theology must derive from a careful engagement with the Bible? Much of what we see today is convictions that are not engaging critically with Scripture but are driven by our cultural or political time and place. I realize there will be differences in how we interpret Scripture and that we bring our own cultural and theological lenses to the task of interpretation. Still, should we not affirm that Scripture is to be the final arbiter and that we must discover how to faithfully interpret the inspired text for answers to our cultural, social and political quandaries?
Thanks again for your call to “bold theology.”
Hi Mike, thanks for your thoughtful reply. And yes, a key assumption that I didn’t make explicit was the importance of thoughtful engagement with Scripture. I didn’t elaborate on that because that was not the key point I was after. One key thing I would want to stress is that thoughtful engagement with Scripture is not an easy task. Therefore, I would perhaps be a bit hesitant using the word ‘arbiter’ for Scripture’s function in theology. But thanks for bringing this important assumption out in the open.
Thanks for sharing this reflection, Kees. I do believe if we let fear decrease so that boldness can increase, then we can gain for ourselves a life-giving theology. But isn’t the fifth point, for the lack of a better word, irrelevant for an argument? Amid the cacophony of incongruent Christian theologies out there, does anyone actually claim to hold theological positions that are not Spirited?
Something in the discussion that I believe is worth adding is how bold theology serves as a pathway, not a destination. One can apply the points presented (except point 5, perhaps) and yet boldly defend or deny something as grave as the genocide taking place against Palestinians. This should color the discussion on the inherent value of boldness, no?
Could a continuation of your argument claim that, beyond bold theology, what we truly need is good theology? Of course, this leads us to another quandary: “what is good theology?” (Fortunately, Jesus has given us a collection of subversive stories for figuring that out.) I found your points about bold theology do help us arrive at good theology—though I’m more and more convinced that good theology comes at a cost, which is oftentimes financial, and few things stoke fear like the idea of losing money. Perhaps we would do well theologically to evoke a father’s confession to Christ long ago: Lord, I am bold; help my lack of boldness. That could be Spirited.
Dear Brent, thank you for your reflections on my post. A few brief remarks.
If you use my five statements as criteria for how to ‘evaluate’ someone else’s theology, then I have to agree with you about the fifth point. It cannot be used to settle an argument. However, my aim was slightly different and perhaps more reflective in nature: urging the reader to apply them to their own views and convictions, and also the way they voice them. I would not claim my own theological ideas to be Spirited in any kind of discussion.
With regard to bold theology as pathway: I think I am basically saying the same when emphasizing the provisional nature of many of our theological views. I always remember a quote I read: “All our theology is only preparation for embarrassment in heaven.”
Finally: yes, we do need good theology. But who decides what is good theology? If my post on bold theology serves to further that conversation or elicits reflections on the nature of good theology, I would be more than happy.
Thanks, Kees.
I admit I did indeed read your post more with a lens of systematic theology than reflective theology, which did lend to a type of reading for me. Perhaps I did so because I do recognize how momentous our times are (particularly here in the Middle East), and I confess that I am becoming more and more aware of my zealous appetite to see how bold theology actually delivers clear moral judgment about the critical issues of our moment. There’s so much going on every day, truly matters of life and mass death, yet it feels like the theological discourse gets caught up in talking more about theologies of theology and the complexity of complexities than about gospel truths that can cut through the joints and marrow of our pressing ethical matters.
You ask, “Who decides what is good theology?” I ultimately believe it will be history that decides as future believers (and nonbelievers) assess the events of our time and judge if we were good or not in our theology. This is what we do with Christian thought of past times as Christians moved in a world of institutionalized slavery, ethnic cleansing, and holocaust, no? But even here I’m concerned that such a question does more to provoke fear and seed doubt about our abilities to determine who has the validity to make the theological conclusions that carry the water of truths. I think we’re better off not wondering who decides good theology but rather seeking out good theology wherever it can be found. That may in fact lead us to some surprising people and places.
Thanks for the further remarks.