As humans, we are meaning making beings. Our embodied experiences each day shape the arc of the story we tell about who we are, who God is, what matters most, why we are here, and how we are to live. Our “theology is “a place and a story,” a form of human storytelling about meaning, the world, and the possibility of God.” From person to person, our awareness of the reality of our own constructive authorship varies. Yet, if we choose awareness and intention we have the power to construct a life that tells a story rich with meaning. Will you join me? Here are some markers to find our way together:
Reflect on the stories you have been told. What has matched your experience? Hold onto that. Has anything caused you or others harm? Give yourself permission to grieve, rage, and release. Realize that those stories were given to you by those doing the same work of meaning making you are now. They have done the best that they could with what they knew at the time. The task of constructive theology is not an exercise in hero worship. Theologians, parents, faith leaders, and communities are human. Like you they are both flawed and brilliant, dust and stars. What do you see, feel, sense, or know from your sacred ground today that they could not know? Your contribution is sacred.
You don’t construct theology alone. Like a tree in a forest, you are in an interconnected ecosystem. Through the roots of family and community others absorb the nutrients of the story you tell. Accept God’s invitation to co-creation. What knowing meets you when you slow down and open to “the God in which we live and move and have our being?”(Acts 17:28) Who in your community experiences the world from a different location or way of being? Make space and time to hear their voice. Honor the gift of weaving your sacred knowing with theirs.
Watch for new life. When we construct sacred stories of meaning in community with God we are liberated from the lie of separation. Old patterns of harm are disrupted and are replaced by intention and awareness. Our narrative centers the flow of love.
Your theology is not static. Like a river, life has a current. Change will sculpt and erode your surface. The story told on the shores of our lives will look different season by season. May we count it a blessing when our children too choose awareness and intention. May we celebrate when they take the stories we have told them, the meaning we have made, and hold on to their truth; grieve, rage, and release what has hurt; and construct a living theology all their own.