Who's Story is it? Karl Barth and the Theologian's Call

As you may have guessed based on my last blog post (that is, if you are a regular follower of the blog), I am currently reading through Karl Barth's Evangelical Theology: An Introduction. This book was recommended to me as an introduction to Barth's work, someone who I am supremely fascinated by. 

In the seventh chapter of his book, Barth pens a section on what draw someone to the study of theology. Rather than writing an expository section on this text, for today I just want to leave you with Barth's words, because of how much they struck me as my own story, if Barth was writing about my own entrance into the study of theology:

When a man becomes involved in theological science, its object does not allow him to set himself apart from it or to claim independence and autarchic self-sufficiency. He has become involved in theology, even if his reasons for such involvement may have been very superficial, or, indeed, utterly childish. Certainly, he never knew beforehand what a risk he was taking, and he will certainly never fully grasp this risk. But at any rate he has taken this step. He is a theologian because he finds himself confronted by this object. His heart is much too stubborn and fearful, and his little head much too weak, but he cannot merely dally or skirmish with this object. The consequences can no longer be avoided. This object disturbs him--and not merely from afar, the way a lightning flash on the horizon might disturb one. This object seeks him out and finds him precisely where he stands, and it is just there that this object has already sought and found him. It met, encountered, and challenged him. It invaded, surprised, and captured him. It assumed control over him. As to himself, the light "dawned" on him, and he was ushered up from the audience to the stage. What he is supposed to do with this object has become wholly subordinate to the other question about how he must act now that this object obviously intended to have, and already has had, something to do with him. Before he knows anything at all, he finds himself known and consequently aroused and summoned to knowledge. He is summoned to re-search because he finds himself searched, to thinking and reflection because he becomes aware that someone thinks of him, to speech because he hears someone speak to him long before he can ever stammer, much less utter a coherent sentence. In short, he finds himself freed to be concerned with this object long before he can even reflect on the fact that there is such a freedom, and before he has made even an initial, hesitant, and unskilled use of it. He did not take part in this liberation, but what happened was that he was made a direct participant in this freedom. When he dipped even the tip of his toe into the waters of this Rubicon or Jordan (or whatever the river may be called), he was already both compelled and allowed to pass through to the other side. Perhaps frowning, confused and shocked, and definitely altogether incompetent, he is all the same on the other shore from which there is no return. The fact is now: Tua res agitur, the matter concerns you!

- Karl Barth, Evangelical Theology: An Introduction, 75-76.

Let God out of the Box: Re-establishing Wonder as a Spiritual Discipline

Modernity did a lot of great things for humanity. It brought us technology, cars, books, and a whole host of other things that are essential to our quality of life. But post-enlightenment rationality has also caused grave problems for the church. Modernity demands a rational or scientific explanation for everything, while one of the essential characteristics of God's being is that he is ineffable (he cannot be described by words). 

With Modernity, the church has seen a rise of Christian apologetics, especially throughout the 20th century. People have established cases as to why God has to exist, and in their effort to explain our need for God, often end up ruling out any room for wonder in our belief.

20th-century German theologian Karl Barth recognized the loss of wonder that the church was experiencing. In his introductory work Evangelical Theology--a series of lectures delivered on a visit to America--Barth devotes one of his chapters to the idea of wonder.

For Barth, God's ineffability necessitates the need for wonder in all of theology. He writes, "If such astonishment is lacking, the whole enterprise of even the best theologian would canker at the roots. On the other hand, as long as even a poor theologian is capable of astonishment, he is not lost to the fulfillment of his task." For Barth, if we are to properly speak about God, we must possess a deep sense of wonder.

For many people, the fact that we cannot explain God causes feelings of uneasiness. It can even be a stumbling block to one's acceptance of the crucified and risen Christ (cf. 1 Cor 1:23). However, one of the problems that occur when we begin to think that we can wholly understand God is that we think that we can control God. We begin to speak of God in reference to humanity rather than humanity in reference to God. We become so closed minded that ecumenical discourse is all but forgotten and everyone who disagrees with us must simply be wrong. 

If we give up wonder, we give up a lot of tenets central to the Christian faith. Without wonder, there is no possibility of miracles. Without wonder, the sacraments become nothing more than empty acts. Without wonder, we cannot come to terms with the miracle and the sacrament, Jesus Christ. 

Sometimes all that we as Christians have to hang onto is a sense of wonder. When the world is telling us no, we can say yes, not because of a scientific formula, but because of wonder. It becomes alright to not be able to exhaustively explain the existence of God because faith is not something we achieve but something we live into. 

"In theological wonder", argues Barth," it is a sheer impossibility that [we] might one day finish [our] lessons, that the uncommon might become common, that the new might appear old and familiar, that the strange might ever become thoroughly domesticated." As Barth understands, wonder allows us to experience God anew every day. It allows us to continue to learn more and more about the God who our soul longs to be in relationship with. It allows us to recognize that this God who is worthy of all honour and worship is much bigger and greater than we could ever imagine.

Do me a favour, would you? Let your God out of the box. Hold your presuppositions out with an open hand. Allow for the possibility that God may be far bigger than you ever imagined. You may be surprised by what you find.