A Plea for Theological Literacy

Reprinted with permission from Dan Miller’s book Spiritual Reflections. The text appears here verbatim.

I was born in Minnesota, and this great state has been my home for many years now. But I was raised near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and I am not slow to acknowledge that growing up in one of the most history-rich regions in America has deeply influenced me.

An exceptional Junior High history teacher was pivotal in the nurture of my affections for history. But my interest was also fueled by repeated visits to the very sites I read about in the history books. These places were more to me than abstract concepts found in dry books. They were locations where I played and picnicked and listened on warm summer days to guides retell the fascinating stories of important people and key events from our nation’s past.

My family picnicked routinely on the banks of the Delaware River near where George Washington crossed to defeat the Hessians on that memorable Christmas night in 1776. I spent more than one summer afternoon running across the rolling fields of Valley Forge where General Washington’s troops lodged in crude log huts during the long winters of 1777-1778. I have toured Washington’s headquarters at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, and his home at Mount Vernon, Virginia. I have visited our nation’s capital, looked often through the crack in the Liberty Bell, and sensed the ghosts of Franklin and Jefferson as I stood in the room where the Declaration of Independence was signed. I have visited the Old North Church, Betsy Ross’ house, and stood by the bed where Stonewall Jackson died in 1863. I have hiked through the fields of Gettysburg and stared in wonder at houses still scarred by bullets from the pivotal conflict waged there in July of 1863.

From Boston to D.C., I have been privileged to visit many of the places where American history happened. Among other reasons, I love American history to this day because as I read about past events I can see in my mind’s eye where they took place. I have been there and so the stories come alive as I read them.

Familiar theological places

I say all of this to propose that it would be commendable if a similar experience were pursued by those who attend churches where the Bible is taught. Bible teaching becomes far more engaging when basic theological themes are familiar “places” to us. When a church-goer has “visited” a certain doctrine in personal study, when a parishioner has read up on a theological theme or considered an interpretive issue, a biblically based sermon can explode with significance because, in part, you have “been there.” By contrast, when a person brings little or no experience to the scene, a biblical sermon can predictably prove less than titillating.

Living as we do in a culture where biblical literacy is in steep decline, churches are forced to bridge the chasm between the Bible and the parishioner. As I observe this phenomenon, it is disappointing that the movement is so one-directional. Sermons are dutifully simplified, shortened and stripped almost clean of theological weight in order to “put the cookies on the lowest shelf.” Lonely indeed are the dissenting voices calling upon the hearers to do a little sightseeing, as it were. Rather than yielding to the downgrade, church-goers should be challenged to nurture their theological literacy and pastors encouraged to reward such diligence with substantial biblical content in their sermons.

To those who listen to biblical sermons week after week, you might do well to think of theological reading as visiting a historical site. Then think of the Sunday sermon as a history book which aids you in better understanding what you saw. Do a little reading on your own and you may be thrilled to see sermons come alive. The preacher will consider theological themes such as the baptism of the Spirit, substitutionary atonement, depravity, redemption, etc., and you will say, “Hey, I’ve been there! I’ve considered the debate between Pelagius and Augustine concerning human depravity. I’ve visited the site of Luther’s view of the Eucharist and compared it with Calvin’s. I’ve stood at the place where martyr blood opened the door for ‘such and such’ a doctrine.” And you may well discover in the process that theology is not a dry, meaningless discipline, but a most thrilling and relevant enterprise.

A few words then to those who deliver sermons. Yes, I realize biblical literacy is at an all-time low and I also realize people do not rush into church longing to learn more about the Moabites or lapsarianism. But I also think we need to take seriously our job to improve our flocks rather than confirming them in their ignorance.

I’ve read the books. I know we are told by the experts to preach 20-minute sermons peppered with human-interest stories, heavy on practical application, and sprinkled with affirming sentiments. But what about systematically teaching a church the “whole counsel of God” (Acts 20:27)? What about consistently and effectively feeding the flock God’s truth (Acts 20:28)?

I’m all for relevance. I believe the Bible is the most relevant, practical book ever written. But I also believe that relevance flows from deep theological truth (John 17:17; 2 Timothy 3:16-17). There is nothing in life that has proven more helpful to me in dealing with finances, marriage, child raising, suffering and death than the doctrines of Scripture. If it is God’s Word, it is utterly relevant. If we do not see this relevance in the doctrines of the Bible, it is not the Bible that has missed the mark, it is we who have failed to see the transforming power of God’s truth.

I also think we need to realize that while people may not be asking for deep theology at the front door, this does not mean they are incapable of developing a taste for it over time. And this, in the end, is our job (Acts 20:28), and not at all a thankless one.

A case in point

I formulated a lecture recently for our adult class that described a theological battle over the doctrine of human sinfulness which was waged in the fifth century between a chap named Pelagius, and a theologian named Augustine. As I prepared, I worried. It was an intriguing topic to me personally, but I feared it might not be well received by the church. It did not exactly meet the popular criteria for “practical relevance.” I was pleasantly surprised, however, by the very positive response. After receiving confirming feedback, I was thrilled to realize, “Hey, we can do this!”

Certainly, not every church attender will respond favorably to theologically oriented teaching and preaching. But in the final analysis, may we who are biblical preachers and teachers not be found guilty at the bar of God for contributing to the biblical illiteracy of our day by simply meeting expectations. May people open their Bibles during our sermons because they actually need to! May we not merely “put the cookies on the lowest shelf where all can reach them,” but may we invite the flock up to the table where there awaits a substantial and nutritious meal—week in and week out. And may we also grow in our personal love for biblical theology to the end that the sermons we preach are alive within us as they pass with power from us to the flock of God.