Executing Faith when God Silent

2,850 words, 15 minutes read time.

The silence of God is not an absence of power; it is the ultimate test of your structural integrity. Most men crumble the moment they stop receiving emotional “hits” from their Sunday service or their shallow, sporadic prayer lives. They mistake the quiet for abandonment because they are spiritually infantile, addicted to the milk of comfort and incapable of the meat of endurance. If you are waiting for a voice in the wind to tell you to do what the Word has already commanded, you are a coward looking for a permission slip to stay stationary. Divine silence is a sovereignly ordained vacuum designed to reveal exactly what you are made of. It is the tactical pause where the King observes whether His soldier will hold the line or desert the post. Hope is not a warm vibration in your chest; it is a calculated, cold-blooded commitment to the last order you received. To execute faith when the heavens seem like brass is the mark of a man who has moved beyond the transactional “bless me” religion of the masses and into the realm of covenantal maturity. This isn’t about feeling God; it is about knowing God, and those are two very different metrics of reality. If you find yourself in a season of profound quiet, do not mistake it for divine apathy. It is a summons to the deep. It is the moment where the superficial layers of your “faith” are stripped away by the friction of reality, leaving behind either the bedrock of a true disciple or the dust of a religious pretender. You must understand that God’s promises are not suggestions, nor are they contingent on your emotional state. They are covenantal anchors forged in the fire of divine sovereignty, designed to hold a man steady when the world around him is screaming in chaos. To understand these promises is to stop negotiating with your excuses and start standing on the objective, unwavering Word of God. This exploration dissects the theological mechanics of biblical hope and the structural integrity of divine covenants, stripping away the sentimental rot that has infected the modern church’s view of “blessing.” We are here to exhume the ancient, masculine truth: God’s Word is a weapon for every season, but it only functions in the hands of a man who has killed his pride and submitted to the King.

Systematic Theology of Covenantal Certainty and Biblical Hope

The current theological climate has reduced the promises of God to a series of therapeutic affirmations, yet the Greek concept of elpis—hope—is not a feeling; it is a confident expectation based on the character of the Giver. In the technical framework of biblical hermeneutics, a promise is an extension of God’s immutable nature, meaning it is mathematically impossible for His Word to fail. When Hebrews 6:18 speaks of the impossibility of God lying, it establishes a formal, legal boundary for human existence: if God has spoken it, the reality is already settled in the heavens, regardless of the wreckage you see in your bank account or your broken relationships. You are currently drowning in anxiety because you have substituted the objective certainty of Sola Scriptura for the subjective whims of your own fluctuating moods. The season of struggle does not negate the promise; it tests the man to see if he actually believes the Sovereign Lord or if he is just playing a religious game. You must understand that biblical hope is built on the historical reality of the Resurrection—a hard, physical fact that redirected the trajectory of human history. If the tomb is empty, every promise of God is “Yes” and “Amen,” and your duty is to align your life with that gravity rather than asking God to align His kingdom with your comfort. This certainty is not rooted in your ability to “visualize” a better outcome or “manifest” your desires through some pseudo-spiritual positive thinking. It is rooted in the ontological reality of a God who exists outside of time and space, who has already seen the end from the beginning and has staked His very reputation on the fulfillment of His Word. When you doubt, you are not being “honest about your struggles”; you are being arrogant enough to believe that your circumstances have more power than the decrees of the Almighty. True masculine faith does not require a daily motivational speech from the pulpit; it requires a deep, abiding immersion in the technical reality of the text. You must treat the Bible not as a book of bedtime stories, but as a manual of engagement for a world at war with its Creator. Every time you open those pages, you are reviewing the terms of your enlistment and the guarantees of your Commander. If you haven’t seen a promise fulfilled, it’s not because God has forgotten; it’s because the timing of the Kingdom is geared toward your sanctification, not your immediate gratification. Most men fail here because they lack the spiritual stamina to wait on the Lord, opting instead for the cheap, immediate “wins” offered by the world. They sell their birthright for a bowl of temporary comfort, then wonder why they feel hollow when the real storms hit. You must cultivate a mind that is so saturated with the objective truth of God that the silence of the heavens sounds like a victory march rather than a funeral dirge.

Hermeneutical Integrity and the Structural Mechanics of Divine Faithfulness

True hope requires a rigorous commitment to the context of Scripture, moving beyond the “verse-picking” that characterizes the spiritually immature man who treats the Bible like a cosmic vending machine. The promises of God are often conditional, nested within a covenantal structure that demands a specific response: repentance, obedience, and the crucifying of the flesh. When a man claims a promise of peace while harboring secret sin, he is not exercising faith; he is practicing sorcery, trying to manipulate the Divine to bless his rebellion. The structural mechanics of faithfulness, as seen in the Abrahamic or Davidic covenants, demonstrate that God’s long-term objectives frequently involve the immediate pruning of the individual. This is the “fire” that modern men avoid at all costs. You want the “hope” of a harvest without the “blood” of the plow. You must realize that the “seasons” mentioned in Ecclesiastes 3 are not merely atmospheric changes but are sovereignly ordained periods of testing designed to strip you of self-reliance. Until you accept that God is more interested in your holiness than your happiness, his promises will remain a closed book to you, and your “hope” will remain a hollow shell of wishful thinking that shatters at the first sign of real pressure. This requires a level of intellectual and spiritual honesty that most men are unwilling to provide. You have to look at your life through the lens of divine justice before you can appreciate divine mercy. If you are ignoring the clear commands of God—if you are failing to lead your family, failing to work with integrity, and failing to kill the lust in your heart—then do not be surprised when the “blessings” seem out of reach. God is not your cosmic servant; He is your King. The covenantal framework is not a negotiation; it is an edict. When God promises to be with you, it is so that you can fulfill His purposes, not so that you can feel better about your mediocrity. The technical term for this is Pactum Salutis, the counsel of peace between the Father and the Son, which ensures that all things work together for the good of those who love Him. But “good” in the Greek sense is agathos—it is that which is intrinsically valuable and morally excellent. It doesn’t mean “pleasant.” Sometimes the “good” God has for you is the total destruction of your ego so that His strength can finally be made perfect in your weakness. If you cannot handle the silence, you cannot handle the weight of the glory that follows. A man who cannot stand in the dark is a man who will be blinded by the light. You must develop a hermeneutic of grit—a way of reading the Bible that looks for the hard duties as much as the soft comforts. Only when you have submitted to the “thou shalts” can you truly find rest in the “I wills.”

Practical Pneumatology and the Execution of Spiritual Endurance

The final test of a man’s understanding of God’s promises is his capacity for endurance in the face of apparent silence. James 1:2–4 is not a suggestion for a better life; it is a command to view trials as the necessary machinery for producing “perfect and complete” character. Your current state of spiritual lethargy is a direct result of your refusal to endure. You have been conditioned by a soft, consumer-driven culture to expect immediate results, but the Kingdom of God operates on the timeline of eternity. The promises are the fuel for the long war, not a shortcut to the finish line. If you are waiting for a “feeling” of hope before you act, you have already lost the battle. You hit your knees and do the work because the King has ordered it, trusting that the “hope” promised in Romans 5:5 is a supernatural deposit of the Holy Spirit that only comes to those who have been through the meat-grinder of tribulation and come out refined. Stop looking for a way out of your season and start looking for the strength to dominate it. The wreckage of your life will only be cleared when you stop acting like a victim of your circumstances and start acting like a son of the Most High God, who holds the universe together by the power of His Word. This is the practical application of pneumatology—the study of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is not a “vibe” that makes you cry during a chorus; the Spirit is the Parakletos, the Advocate, the one who stands alongside the soldier in the heat of the fray. If you are disconnected from the power of the Spirit, it is because you have grieved Him with your cowardice and your compromise. Faith is not a static belief; it is a kinetic execution. It is moving forward when every physical sense tells you to retreat. It is speaking the truth when it costs you everything. It is leading your household when you feel like a failure. This kind of endurance is the only thing that produces “proven character,” and character is the only thing that produces a hope that does not disappoint. If your “hope” is disappointing you, it’s because it’s based on your own performance or your own expectations of how God “should” act. Real hope is a steel-toed boots kind of faith. It’s gritty, it’s ugly, and it’s relentless. It understands that the silence of God is often the forge of God. In the silence, He is working on the parts of you that no one else sees, the hidden foundations that will support the weight of the calling He has placed on your life. If you short-circuit this process by seeking worldly distractions or temporary relief, you are sabotaging your own future. You are trading a crown for a trinket. The man who executes faith when God is silent is the man who becomes unshakable. He becomes a pillar in the house of God, a source of strength for others who are still trembling in the dark. He knows that the promise is not a destination, but a declaration of the King’s intent. And the King’s intent never changes.

The Ontological Reality of Divine Presence in Desolation

We must confront the lie that spiritual “success” is marked by a constant sense of God’s presence. Some of the most significant work in the history of redemption was done in the pitch blackness of divine withdrawal. Consider the “dark night of the soul,” not as a poetic metaphor for depression, but as a strategic operation of the Holy Spirit to kill off your idolatry of religious experience. If you only serve God when you “feel” Him, you aren’t serving God—you are serving your own dopamine levels. You are a spiritual junkie looking for a fix, not a disciple looking for a cross. The ontological reality of God’s presence is not dependent on your sensory perception. Psalm 139 makes it clear: if you make your bed in the depths, He is there. The silence is a tool to determine if you love the Giver or just the gifts. This is the “meat-and-potatoes” logic of the faith: God is who He says He is, regardless of how you feel on a Tuesday morning when the bills are overdue and your body is failing. To execute faith in this state is to affirm the supremacy of God over the material world. It is a declaration of war against the nihilism of the age. Every day you choose to obey in the absence of an audible confirmation, you are dealing a death blow to the pride of the enemy. You are proving that the Word of God is sufficient. You are demonstrating that the covenant is unbreakable. This is where the “righteous anger” comes in—not at God, but at the weakness within yourself that wants to quit. You should be furious that you are so easily swayed by the shifting shadows of your own mind. You should be disgusted by how quickly you turn to screens, food, or status to numb the ache of the silence. That ache is a gift. It is the hunger pang of the soul, reminding you that you were made for a world that you haven’t fully seen yet. Instead of trying to satisfy it with garbage, use that hunger to drive you deeper into the disciplines. Fasting, prayer, study, and service—these are not “options” for the super-Christian; they are the survival gear for the man who wants to stay alive in the wilderness. If you are sleepwalking through a mediocre existence, the silence of God is His way of shaking you awake. He is stripping away the noise of your distractions so that you can finally hear the heartbeat of the mission. The mission doesn’t change because the weather does. You have been given your orders. You have been given the promises. Now, you must find the gutless-free resolve to execute them until the King returns or calls you home.

The core thesis of this life is simple: God’s promises are the only objective truth in a world of lies, and your failure to trust them is a failure of your own character. There is no middle ground. You are either standing on the rock of covenantal certainty or you are sinking in the sand of your own ego. The urgency of this moment cannot be overstated. You are running out of time to be the man God commanded you to be. Take the steel of these promises and hammer them into the foundation of your daily existence. Stop whining about the season you are in and start asking God for the discipline to survive it and the wisdom to learn from it. The hope of the Gospel is not a safety net; it is a war-cry. If you claim to follow Christ, then live like His Word is more real than the air you breathe. Get off the sidelines, kill your excuses, and start walking in the authority that was bought for you with blood. The silence is not an exit; it is an entrance into a deeper level of command. If you can’t hear Him, it’s because He’s already told you what to do. Now go and do it. The King is watching, and the clock is ticking.

Call to Action

If this study encouraged you, don’t just scroll on. Subscribe for more bible studies, share a comment about what God is teaching you, or reach out and tell me what you’re reflecting on today. Let’s grow in faith together.

D. Bryan King

Sources

• Lumen Fidei (The Light of Faith) – Holy See, 2013
• The Theology of the Covenants – Monergism, 2021
• Strong’s Greek 1680: Elpis – Bible Hub, 2024
• The Nature of Biblical Hope – The Gospel Coalition, 2020
• What is a Covenant? – Ligonier Ministries, 2018
• The Immutability of God – Faith Baptist Theological Seminary, 2015
• God Cannot Lie – Desiring God, 2019
• What are the promises of God? – Got Questions Ministries, 2022
• What is the Abrahamic Covenant? – Crossway, 2019
• Encyclopedia of the Bible: Hope – Bible Gateway/Zondervan, 2010
• The Covenant of God with Abraham – Answers in Genesis, 2017
• The Meaning of Hope in the Bible – Biola University, 2012
• What does it mean that God is faithful? – eBible, 2023
• The Power of Hope – Dallas Theological Seminary, 2014

Disclaimer:

The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author. The information provided is based on personal research, experience, and understanding of the subject matter at the time of writing. Readers should consult relevant experts or authorities for specific guidance related to their unique situations.

The Debt Settled: Why the Cross was the Only Way

1,670 words, 9 minutes read time.

Stop looking at the polished, gold-plated cross hanging in your air-conditioned sanctuary and look at the hill. Good Friday wasn’t a religious ceremony; it was a state-sponsored slaughter that smelled of copper-rich blood, stale sweat, and the stench of a man’s bowels failing as his body was systematically dismantled. As a man, you need to understand that Jesus didn’t die because of a “tragic mistake”—He died because you are a spiritual bankrupt who committed high treason against the King of the Universe. This was a forensic execution, a calculated transaction where the currency was the shredded muscle and spilled life-force of a Man who stood in the line of fire so you wouldn’t have to. The cross was the only way because your debt wasn’t something God could just “overlook” without ceasing to be Just; it was a mountain of filth that had to be incinerated, and the God-Man chose to be the furnace.

The Raw Anatomy of a Forensic Execution

When you analyze the crucifixion from a forensic perspective, you see the terrifying math of the Fall: an infinite offense against an infinite God requires an infinite payment. You, as a finite man, have absolutely nothing in your pockets but the counterfeit currency of “trying your best,” which is useless in a court governed by absolute holiness. This required a Substitute who was man enough to represent your failure and God enough to survive the weight of the verdict. Jesus didn’t just “suffer”; He absorbed the concentrated, undiluted wrath of the Father that was legally earmarked for you. Every groan He uttered was the sound of the Law being satisfied, and every drop of blood that hit the dirt was a payment on a ledger that you had no hope of balancing. The cross was the only way because it was the only theater of war where God could remain the perfect Judge while becoming the Savior of the very rebels who spat in His face.

The grit of this reality is a gut-punch to the male ego because it demands you admit total, pathetic helplessness. We like to think we can “man up” and fix our mistakes, but you cannot “man up” your way out of a death sentence handed down by the Creator of the stars. As an observer of this Divine transaction, I see a King who stripped off His crown to put on a crown of thorns, stepping into the executioner’s circle to settle a debt He didn’t owe for men who didn’t even want Him there. This was the legal necessity of the Cross—without the shedding of blood, there is no remission of sin, because in the economy of God, the cost of treason is life itself. The cross wasn’t a “nice gesture”; it was the violent, sweating, agonizing liquidation of your debt, stamped “Paid in Full” with the broken body of a King.

The Physics of the Flagrum: Stripping the Substitute

Before the first nail touched His skin, the Roman flagrum—a whip weighted with lead balls and jagged bone—had already plowed the muscle off His back until His ribs were visible. This wasn’t a “beating”; it was a biological dismantling designed to induce hypovolemic shock, leaving the Man leaking life onto the stone pavement while His heart raced to keep His shredded frame from collapsing. The smell of iron-rich blood and the stinging heat of salt-heavy sweat were the atmosphere of this sacrifice, as a Man who had never known a single second of moral rot allowed His own body to be turned into a raw landscape of agony. This physical destruction was the outward manifestation of the spiritual weight He was carrying—your pride, your cowardice, and your secret filth being crushed into a single human frame that refused to break until the work was done.

Every second on that cross was a conscious, violent choice to endure a respiratory nightmare, as the weight of His body hanging by His arms forced His lungs into a state of permanent inhalation. To catch even a single, agonizing breath, the Man had to push His entire weight upward against the iron spikes in His feet, scraping His shredded back against the rough, splintered wood of the beam. This repetitive, guttural struggle for oxygen ensured that the wounds were never allowed to close, turning the act of breathing into a visceral battle against gravity and Divine justice. This was the price of your settlement—a total physiological and spiritual surrender that shows you exactly what your “minor slips” actually cost. It wasn’t a peaceful exit; it was a brutal, sweating, agonizing payment that bought a freedom you could never earn and a peace you don’t deserve.

The Context: The Bankruptcy of the Human Moral Effort

The average man walks through his life with the delusional confidence that he can eventually balance his own books, as if a few years of “turning things around” or a lack of a criminal record constitutes legal tender in the court of the Almighty. This is a fundamental misunderstanding of Divine Holiness, which does not function as a soft-hearted suggestion but as an immovable, jagged wall of absolute reality that incinerates anything less than perfection. When we look at the “debt” through a forensic lens, we see an infinite obligation incurred by finite beings who have committed high treason against the source of Life itself; you cannot pay off a billion-dollar fine with pocket lint, a firm handshake, and a promise to do better tomorrow. Your “goodness” is a counterfeit currency, a series of hollow, self-serving gestures that won’t buy a single second of peace in the presence of a King whose standards are as high as the heavens are above the earth.

The reality of your condition is not one of “struggling” but of total, pathetic spiritual bankruptcy; you are not just short on the payment, you are destitute, incapacitated, and dead in your transgressions. Every attempt you make to be a “good man” apart from the Cross is like a beggar trying to buy a kingdom with photocopied money—it doesn’t settle the debt, it only compounds the fraud of your own self-righteousness. God’s justice is an exacting force that does not negotiate with rebels, does not compromise with rot, and does not accept partial payments from a tainted source like your own willpower. This is why the Cross was the only way; it was the only theater of war where the full, terrifying wrath of an offended God could be poured out onto a Being of infinite value, ensuring that the Law was upheld to the letter even as you, the criminal, were granted a full pardon you didn’t earn.

The Conclusion: Living in the Shadow of a Closed Case

Because the debt has been settled in blood and iron, the man who stands at the foot of that cross no longer lives under the crushing weight of an unpaid invoice or the paralyzing fear of a looming judgment. Good Friday is the day the cosmic books were slammed shut, the verdict was rendered in the affirmative for the guilty, and the price of treason was paid in full by the only Man who didn’t owe a single cent to the Law. You don’t walk in a vague “hope” that you might eventually be good enough to pass inspection; you walk in the objective, brutal, and bloody reality that Jesus Christ was enough on your behalf. The sacrifice was sufficient, the transaction is complete, and the record of your debt has been nailed to that splintered timber, leaving nothing for you to carry but the weight of a gratitude that should change every fiber of your being.

The case is closed, the debt is settled, and the stench of your death has been replaced by the breath of a new life that was bought at the highest possible price. For the man who understands the grit of this Gospel, there is no more room for the games of religious moralism or the hiding of secret shames, because every foul thing you’ve ever done was already exposed and dealt with in the shredded body of the Substitute. You are called to stand in the reality of a finished work, living not to earn a favor that has already been won, but to honor the King who walked into the fire so you wouldn’t have to. The only question that remains for you is whether you will continue to offer the counterfeit coins of your own pathetic effort or finally surrender to the reality that the debt is settled, the war is over, and the way home has been paved with the blood of the God-Man.

TAKE ACTION

Stop hiding in the shadows of the sanctuary, watching from the sidelines while another Man pays your tab. If you’ve got the guts to step into the light and show how you’re building a life on the wreckage of your old self—the one that died on that hill—then drop a comment below. Don’t just lurk; own the debt that was settled for you

D. Bryan King

Sources

• The Medical Aspects of the Crucifixion – Dr. Robert Bucklin
• The Theological Significance of the Death of Christ – TGC
• The Doctrine of Substitutionary Atonement – Monergism
• Strong’s Greek: 5048. teleó (Tetelestai) – Bible Hub
• The Necessity of the Atonement – Ligonier Ministries
• The Glory of the Cross – Desiring God
• What is the Substitutionary Atonement? – CARM
• G5048 – teleō – Blue Letter Bible Lexicon
• What did Jesus mean when He said “It is finished”? – GotQuestions
• On the Physical Death of Jesus Christ – JAMA (via JSTOR)
• The Necessity of the Atonement – Norman Geisler
• The Westminster Confession of Faith – Center for Reformed Theology

Disclaimer:

The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author. The information provided is based on personal research, experience, and understanding of the subject matter at the time of writing. Readers should consult relevant experts or authorities for specific guidance related to their unique situations.

Here's an essay exploring systematic theology as the organizing center of Christian doctrinal studies. It shows how biblical, historical, and philosophical theology converge to form a coherent framework of belief.

https://terraphilosophica.substack.com/p/a-case-for-systematic-theology-a #Theology #Christianity #SystematicTheology #Philosophy

Three preliminary thoughts:

First, I never thought that there would be a text that would pick up the mantel left by Christine Helmer at the end of her “Theology and the End of Doctrine.” But there is. It’s Hanna Reichel’s text, “After Method.” And much like Helmer’s text, the title is both misleading and spot on: doctrine and method are not bad, but calcified doctrines and methods can be—to summarize bluntly. If I had the opportunity to build an “Introduction to Theology” course, I’m quite certain I’d frame that course around these two texts. I’ve yet to encounter any text that could rival the clarity and depth provided by Helmer and Reichel.

Second, if you have ever read a theologian who seemed to be “straying from the pack” and “doing her own thing,” Reichel’s text gives you the reason why. I want to place this text *before* all Dorothee Sölle’s texts because I see deep kinship in what Reichel proposes and what a Lutheran theologian outlier–like Sölle–did. I read Reichel’s book and felt a wave of vindication for someone like Sölle. “See!” I wanted to holler at all the historical nay-sayers, “THIS! This is what she was doing.”

Third, I was so burnt out on Althaus-Reid from the way cis-het, white, men had treated the material that I was turned off by the idea of diving in as deep as Reichel wanted me, too. However, here Reichel demonstrates that they themself are trying to be the theologian demanded of in this text. They represented the material to me, recast the lighting, pointed out different aspects I was unfamiliar with, critiqued and praised the work, and in the end gave me something new. Like restoring something to original form what was disfigured due to abuse, Reichel demonstrates their God-given theological and professorial talent and skill. (They do the same for Barth, too! I felt a refreshing invigoration urging me to take up, once again, some of those big Barth tomes!)

Now, “After Method”…

Reichel brings together two unlikely dialogue partners and demonstrates their compatibility without destroying their distinctions and differences. Never once did I think that Reformed Theology following Barth ever eclipsed Queer Theology following Althaus-Reid. In the process, Reichel demonstrates her thesis to the reader that “Better Theology” is not a retreat into archaic dogma, standing on the shore of “safe” and “traditionalism” nor is it a complete jettisoning of all that has come before and diving headfirst into the deep waters of the “just not that!” Rather, it’s a willingness and maturity to step into the void caused by the collision of the history and tradition of Systematic Theology and creativity and curiosity of Constructive Theology. It’s an exhortation to hear backwards and forwards because in hearing backwards and forwards we have something to say in the present and that then guarantees our mutual future together with bits of the past and bits of what is to come. Reichel’s book demands theologians to grow up! and get to the good and hard work of their hands to do theology and method for the wellbeing of others (ref Ephesians 4)

Throughout the text, the demand to do “Better” theology takes on pastoral and professional implications. To be/do better in this theological space will have tremendous impact for the world; better theology is not static but dynamic, it is not solid but fluid, it is not stuck but liberated and moving toward others–whoever those others are. In all of it I couldn’t shake an image from my moments of being a stay-at-home parent with my littles. I’ll share that image because I think it does better to some up what this text asks of us for the sake of the world:

When my eldest (now threatening to turn 18) was little, he would spend his waking hours playing and exploring (as toddlers do) by dragging everything out: toys, shoes, pots and pans, cans from the pantry, bottles form the fridge, essentially whatever he could get his hands on. At some point, I wearied from picking up everything after him all the time. I decided to just let the chaos reign! What I didn’t know then—which was only an action of desperate surrender rather a stroke of brilliant parenting—was that by letting him get *everything* and *whatever* out, he would blend into one many different things. Legos, train tracks, and a chutes and ladder’s game; pots, lids, and many DC figurines; finger paints, markers, and whatever was inside that sandwich. He learned that *a* toy or *a* pot didn’t have *a* use only to be put back in a box and tucked away again and never retrieved until that *use* was necessary. He learned that many different things worked together, even if it meant that I was on my hands and knees at 9pm hunting down that last puzzle piece or figurine from under the couch. The mess was absolutely necessary for him to play *better* and *bigger* and to give his little world something new…

I think Reichel is encouraging us to play with all of our toys! And, having read Barth’s “Ethics,” I assume that idea isn’t far from their mind. This book dares its reader to find joy again in the task of doing theology—joy *and* fun! It’s an exhortation for us to get all our toys out and to see what new things can be made—the good ones we push forward and the bad ones, well, we should take them down. There’s creativity and flexibility that can define the theologian that has been held hostage by fear and anger; Reichel does well to recover this creativity and flexibility and give it back to their reader. Thus, the text very much does what it sets out do.

The only question I have is of the structure of the book, I wonder if using the reformed, three uses of the law-works to further the thesis of the text or does it end up subverting all of it to the reformed, systematic order. Does the structure do what the text does so well? I may have decided on a daring two uses while allowing the end to be that “new” terrain undefined by a this or that use of a law or defined by both given the demand and the situation. Even with that question, the point is taken well. Under the goodness of method conceived so creatively holding on loosely to what was and what will be, I can return to method in a new way with a new relationship without fear and condemnation, using it as a well decorated teacher.

https://laurenrelarkin.com/2024/08/16/hanna-reichels-after-method/

#AfterMethod #BetterTheology #BookReview #ConstructiveTheology #Creativity #Curiosity #HannaReichel #Method #Play #QueerTheology #ReformedTheology #SystematicTheology #Theologian #Theology

We really go out of our way to defend our systems, even when those systems are proving to be a failure to those who potentially could most benefit. Or we try to force processes like grief to fit a non-existent order of operations and end up hurting people further in the process.
#systematictheology #grief #movingforward

https://open.substack.com/pub/jeremyzerbycoaching/p/system-failure?utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web

proof(s)!

#theology #AfterMethod #systematicTheology #constructiveTheology #QueerTheology #NewBook #Theologidons