God, elaborate...

As I see it…
Ravi Zacharias tells of the time he was taking senior exams (if I remember correctly) in theology. His first question was: “God, elaborate.” I’m not sure what his grade was, but Ravi indicated that he felt like he could write for hours on the topic. Then I wondered to myself, if I were asked such a question, what would be my response? Then there was James Boice, who stated at a Bible conference once that (his multiple academic accomplishments notwithstanding), he had turned down several invitation to teach at the seminary or college level. His reason? He believed that his congregation needed good theology. And, as far as he was concerned, he was his congregation’s resident theologian. He remained in that position until the Lord took him. I’ve thought of each man’s comments recently. There are very few of his on this planet that have the brilliant mind of Ravi or the meticulous devotion to the Word of God like Boice. However, by virtue of their presence in and impact upon the Christian world, they have collectively raised the standard by which we should measure our ministry, at least our teaching ministry. Being a country preacher, until recently, I hadn’t thought much about my measure as a theologian. Then it occurred to me that ultimately each counseling session (formal or informal), each phone call from a troubled friend, each contact with a person in a hospital room, each funeral service, each and every wedding and baptismal service, indeed, each and every message I preach brings theology into focus. Every time the Lord calls upon me to minister to someone’s life, theology is the “maid in hand” that I bring along. Conscious or not of her presence, she is the aroma of doctrinal perfume that tints the air. Theology is the study of God. If, as a minister of the Gospel, I do not allow her accompaniment to my conversations, her confirmation to my prayers and her life to my living, I am no better than a mere philosopher. I have forsaken the God of my spiritual fathers and left my audience, singular or plural in number, with a verbal vacuum. Then each of us, audience and I, has a latter end worse than our first. We will become of all men, most miserable. So now I ask you to fill in the blanks: “God, elaborate!” How did you do?