Why I Miss Discussing Theology: Duane W.H. Arnold, PhD

Why I Miss Discussing Theology

I miss discussing theology.

I do not merely miss arguments over doctrine, debates over liturgical preferences, or the familiar disputes over ecclesiastical identity. Those things have always existed and, in one form or another, always will. I miss something deeper. I miss the experience of engaging, either on a blog or in person, with people in pursuit of truth, with the assumption that there was something larger than ourselves to discover.

There was a time when theological discussion carried with it a sense of pilgrimage. One entered the conversation not simply to defend a position, but to learn. One could disagree vigorously and still emerge with friendship intact because the purpose was not conquest. The purpose was understanding. There was a common assumption that all of us, regardless of our training or convictions, stood before mysteries greater than ourselves.

Perhaps I remember it through the lens of nostalgia. Memory can soften the rough edges of the past. Theology has never existed in a vacuum free from politics, ambition, or rivalry. The history of the Church itself demonstrates this clearly enough. The controversies surrounding Nicaea, the debates of the Reformation, and the disputes that shaped Anglicanism all carried political dimensions. Human beings inevitably bring their own ambitions and fears into the life of the Church.

However, something seems different now.

Politics has not simply entered the room. Politics often appears to have become the room itself. Discussions that begin with Scripture, doctrine, liturgy, or ethics frequently end as contests over ideology, identity, and tribal allegiance. The language remains theological, but the substance often feels political and often toxic. One may speak of the Church while actually speaking about power. One may speak of doctrine while actually defending a social tribe. One may invoke Scripture while really seeking ammunition.

The result is exhaustion.

Theology, at its best, should enlarge our vision. It should remind us that God is infinitely greater than our systems, our assumptions, and our certainties. Theology should create humility because every genuine encounter with divine truth reveals how limited our own understanding remains. Instead, many discussions now seem designed to reduce rather than enlarge. They narrow reality into opposing camps. They demand immediate loyalties. They insist upon victories.

I miss the conversations that allowed uncertainty. I miss the people willing to say, “I had not thought of it that way before” or, “I might be wrong”. I miss the long evenings in which one could wander through Augustine, Athanasius, Michael Ramsey, or Rowan Williams and discover that the journey itself mattered as much as any conclusion reached at the end.

I miss wonder.

That may be the thing I miss most. Theology once felt like standing at the edge of the sea. One could spend a lifetime examining its depths and still know that much remained unseen. There was joy in that realization. There was freedom in admitting that mystery existed beyond the reach of human language.

Today there often seems little room for mystery. Everything must be immediate, categorical, and decisive. Every question requires a side. Every conversation risks becoming a battlefield.

Perhaps this is why I miss discussing theology. I do not miss winning arguments. I do not miss the machinery of controversy. I miss the pursuit itself.

I miss entering a conversation believing that truth mattered more than triumph.

Moreover, I miss believing that people sat down together not merely to defend what they already knew, but to encounter something they did not yet understand.

I still believe such conversations are possible. However, they may require us to recover an older posture: one marked less by certainty and more by reverence. Theology was never meant to be merely a weapon or a badge of identity. It was meant to help us know God.

That pursuit, I think, is worth missing.

Duane W.H. Arnold, PhD