THEOLOGY

I have always avoided using the word theology. 

Honestly because it took me a long time to be proud that I studied it.

It had at times felt like a waste, and sometimes it just sounded lame lol. 

Then I realized it was my secret weapon.

Theology does not exclusively belong to a certain god, story, or religious text.
People trying to convince us otherwise are probably paid to do so.

Theology in a systematic sense operates as a trap or loop: picture a snake in pursuit of its own tail.

Imagine being certain in this life about what will happen in the next.
What a fool’s errand. 

When I resigned from being a career Christian in 2017 I wasn’t resigning from my study of theology, or my belief in goodness.

I was simply resigning from chasing my own tail.

Theology has become a set of questions I use to push on boundaries.
It’s not a pursuit of certainty, or to prove old beliefs, but a vehicle to see where we are and where we may be headed.

History repeats itself with our mistakes, but it doesn’t always apply with our successes.

We are at a point in history where our successes may be unquantifiable. 

Our connection, our ability to communicate, and build, only sounds like a doomsday scenario for people who feel trapped.

“Is it just more of this?”

That is a contextual (epistemological) question, a literal place of existence, with its meaning open for infinite interpretations. 

The theological trap is in assuming it only applies to the end result: heaven, hell, eternity, or our existence. 
Few theologians transfer their depraved god to anything useful for modernday humanity. 

If I tell you I see divinity in you, is that too spiritual? Too cooky?

When I reference theology I am not interested in something eternal where we get to see who was right.

I am referencing the notion of reality we experience when we see the stars, hold our kids, hug old friends. The feeling of perfect road trip playlists, the perfect client calling, the anticipation and willingness to embark into newness with an idea of what might happen but secretly hoping the unexpected takes place.

We used a theological framework in the church about being “surprised by hope.” 

I cheekily would think, “Well of course hope would be a surprise, the Christian God sounds like a lunatic” lol.

I am not really interested in hope.

Hope feels like marketing.

Hope feels like an Instagram influencer with a discount code.

Hope is what is sold to us every 4 years from our politicians.

When I held my son for the first time, quit my job, landed my dream client, and ripped my dirt bike through the Eastern Sierras, I wasn’t met with the feeling of hope. 

Those moments don’t need labels for them to be meaningful. 

In each moment, all of my being was present.

No emotion could be used to market my feelings back to me as a problem. 

There were no problems to solve, just new realities to be lived in.

When I reference theology, my study of it, my history with it, and my new goals with it,

I am referencing the divinity that’s inside of you, and inside of me.