Popping My Watermelon Head

Yesterday afternoon, in between bites of lunch, I chatted casually with a new acquaintance sitting across the table. One thing led to another, and our conversation took on a more serious turn. “I believe that all people are inherently good,” the friendly woman commented, smiling widely.

A few minutes later, this pleasant lady revealed that she was unconcerned about what would happen to her after she died. She shrugged, “Some questions can never be answered.” Morality is grey, she explained, not black or white. All religions are equally valid. Then she handed the discussion off to her friend, an animated young man in his twenties, who had been listening to snatches of what we were talking about.

He jumped into the conversation eagerly, and we began to discuss Christianity. It was immediately apparent that I was speaking with a highly intellectual and well-read individual. He had perused the entire Bible, to conclude that the Old Testament God was inconsistent with the God of the New Testament. Paul, he claimed, could have very well been a homosexual. And as for Christ? Well, He was certainly an “enlightened being”, but we cannot possibly know if He actually claimed deity. Perhaps, he suggested, the Lord’s Prayer can be interpreted to mean that we are all God. Ultimately, we must each fashion truth for ourselves.

"For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths." 2 Timothy 4:3-4

This is our world. These are the people you pass by on the produce aisle—the cousin at a family reunion—the neighbor next door. And they need answers—answers that require a thorough knowledge of Scripture. Never before has our culture seen so many competing ideologies vying for attention. And yet, beneath all the clamor and chaos, our world is starved for truth.

My friend's father loves to pose thought-provoking questions. As we’re discussing some attribute of God, he always asks, “Now, tell me: how does this doctrine effect your neighbor?” It’s a pivotal question to consider. If we can talk at length about the omnipotence of God, but cannot draw the connection to real life and real people, there is a serious problem.

Why? Because if theology is simply loved and studied for itself, the knowledge is not only futile; it is dangerous.

Like the Pharisees, our heads will swell up like ripe watermelons, as we grow increasingly enthralled—not with God, but with ourselves. Intoxicated with the staggering grandeur of our own high contemplations, we’ll miss the point altogether.

Incredibly, instead of falling flat on our faces in adoration and worship, Christians are easy prey to pride within the enticing web of lofty knowledge. Rather than being unspeakably humbled and awed, we can even have the audacity to approach our Maker as if He is a grand scientific specimen—dissecting His words, toying with them carelessly, and twisting them whenever it suits our theological purposes.

And then, I'm tempted to be impressed. Not with the Holy One, who I examine detachedly, but with my own meager intellect. Astounding, isn't it? Unless our hearts are postured in humility, a dose of good theology will only inflate our egos. Once infested with pride, even the study of theology becomes detestable in God’s eyes. But when theology is studied truly, the very opposite is true. It is impossible to evade being humbled, as the pages of the Bible trumpet the truth about our Lord, and ourselves.

Studying theology is not enough. It must also be studied for the correct reason: To magnify the name of our God, and show others how to join us in doing so.