I suspect we have all seen (and even been) people whose theology is on point, but whose lives are a living contradiction to the truths we espouse. We strained at theological gnats, whilst being a spitting, bellowing camel ourselves. Heads buried in dusty tomes, or in the flickering screens of discussion forums, expatiating eruditely on abstruse themes whilst failing to love our wives as Christ loved the church, and regularly exasperating our children.

New Year—a time for starting reading plans. Plans to read through the bible, plans to read a set number of books from different categories, or perhaps, for some, plans to read though       one of the large works of systematic theology.

A fellow RP Pastor (Bob Hackett) posted this comment on Facebook recently:

“Young men, take your parenting and family life as seriously as you do your systematics.”

I commented in agreement: “How you love your wife and parent your children shows what your systematic theology really is.”

Perhaps as some look to what new book(s) of theology they are going to read in 2021 it would be timely to reiterate Bob’s comment and expand on mine.

I suspect we have all seen (and even been) people whose theology is on point, but whose lives are a living contradiction to the truths we espouse. We strained at theological gnats, whilst being a spitting, bellowing camel ourselves. Heads buried in dusty tomes, or in the flickering screens of discussion forums, expatiating eruditely on abstruse themes whilst failing to love our wives as Christ loved the church, and regularly exasperating our children.

And I’m sure we seen the opposite—men who couldn’t tell you what Amyraldianism is, or if they are infra or supralapsarian, but whose lives are deeply shaped and marked by the truths they profess.

So I say, “Don’t kid yourself—How you love your wife and parent your children shows what your systematic theology really is.”

They are not two disparate things. A man can be good at theology and poor at car mechanics. One is not intrinsically connected to the other. But what we believe about God and ourselves is woven into the very heart of who we are and how our relationships function.

What you actually believe (and not simply know) will be seen in how you husband and parent.

We are what we believe.

Let’s tease this out a bit—much more could be said, but to start the ball rolling:

What is Our Doctrine of God?

If God is knowable, then our families will see that we spend time with him, not simply in books about him.

If God is incomprehensible, we won’t act like we understand everything, we will be marked by awe, wonder and humility.

If God has communicable attributes, our families should see those in us. As fathers what sort of portrait are we painting of God to our children? Stern, harsh, foreboding? Or holy, just, loving, tender, slow to anger, abounding in love? Sometimes even preachers need to be told, “You’re very good at preaching about the gracious love of God as a Father, maybe work on showing it at home.”

If you believe that God providentially orders every creature and all their actions, then that will be seen by your children when you get a flat tyre, or the computer crashes, or whatever else goes wrong. You want to cry “I don’t need this!”, but clearly you do, otherwise it wouldn’t have happened. Does our trust in God’s sovereignty percolate down to the details?

If your doctrine of providence includes a Father who puts daily bread on the table, does your attitude to work and money show that you trust God to keep his word?

What is Our Doctrine of Man and Sin?

Whilst you are called to paint a portrait of God, you need to remember that you are not God. You are a sinner.

You know that, I know that, but when was the last time your children heard you repent? Are we functional perfectionists? (A fancy term for ‘hypocrite’). Our children need to see repentance in action. Otherwise they will grow up to be hypocrites.

Do you believe that man is made from the dust of the earth? Good. But do you remember that your children are dust? That they have dusty frames, and dusty minds, and limitations according to their age. We must remember it, otherwise we will exasperate them. God remembers you are dust—your daily existence depends on it. Think to yourself, “Where would I be if my Father in heaven reacted to me, as I am about to react to my child?”. That’s systematic theology applied.

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