What We Assume About Beliefs Impacts How We Approach Theological Change
Preparing to teach at Highland Baptist in January, I considered the basics of theological change: What is it? How do we experience it? How do we talk about it?
My initial interest in theological change was mainly about our letting go of and leaving behind beliefs that wounded, shamed, and condemned me. But for the past few years, I have focused on creating and claiming beliefs that help move faith forward. The current throughout it all is theological change—the metamorphosis and transformation of our beliefs about God that shape our identity, belonging, and purpose.
While the case studies have explored what theological change looks like in one specific person’s life, I hadn’t yet tried to name just how much our assumptions about theological change impact how we approach spiritual growth. What we assume about beliefs and how they function impacts how we treat ourselves and others when going through a spiritual transition of beliefs.
What is a belief? I offered several images to the class as possible ways of understanding beliefs to hear which image they’re most drawn to when thinking about a belief. In light of what image, how does it function within us? What does theological change look like? How much impact can a change in beliefs have?
A Beliefs Library
Some people identified beliefs as books on our bookshelves. Beliefs abide within us, each contributing to the more extensive library we carry as we live, accessing and applying them when relevant to the particular moment we find ourselves.
When a belief is a book on a shelf, theological change doesn’t necessarily significantly impact the bookshelf of beliefs. We take a book off the shelf and get rid of it, or perhaps move it to a less prominent place. If that belief takes up whole volumes of books on your shelf, then theological change will look like searching for new books that feel genuine to your life’s learning trajectory. You’re on a learning journey, shuffling books around as you go, but the bookshelf remains intact as a stable foundation as life changes.
The Lens Through Which We See
Others identified beliefs as pairs of glasses you wear to see better what’s happening. We might have a few different pairs, according to the moment, but we have some mainstay beliefs through which we interpret the world around us and find ourselves better able to read the lay of the land.
When a belief is a pair of glasses, theological change can be disorienting and make us nauseous and disoriented. With blurry eyes, we might have to grasp around to find another pair to try on. Theological change can be slow, in this way, as we have to try on different lenses to find the one through which we can best see and discern what is ours to do, ours to say, and ours to care about.
A Believing Machine
Others identified beliefs as gears within a machine, allowing the whole of our believing selves to move through the world, relate to others, and live out our faith. Our faithful actions are the grist in the wheels, churning and turning. Beliefs are interconnected, affecting one another (for example, showing mercy is deeply connected with our ability to receive mercy).
When a belief is like a gear in a machine, theological change can paralyze any sense of movement, as one gear breaking down impacts the rest of the machine’s operation. Changing one belief ends up affecting other beliefs. We might experience a season of stasis and stillness when we no longer believe a particular thing. With that belief stalled or missing, the whole believing apparatus comes to a halt, and we find ourselves unable to believe - which complicates our lives, especially when we go through a crisis. Going through a challenging life season with stalled believing gears means we grieve emotionally and existentially.
A Believing Journey
Others felt drawn to the imagery of a spiritual journey. Through that lens, beliefs could be the vehicles you’re operating: they help you move through the journey, carrying you toward your destination. Beliefs could be your conversation partners, accompanying you and seeing the sights alongside you. Beliefs could be the road signs guiding you or the headlights lighting your way.
Any of these circumstances would impact the journey. Changing beliefs might mean changing your destination, grieving the loss of a companion, or learning a new way of traveling. It could also mean breaking down on the side of the road and learning how to move through the world differently.
I’m curious: Which image are you most drawn to? When you’ve gone through theological change, has it felt like an internal rearrangement (like books on a bookshelf) or a full-system paralysis (like gears in a machine)?
