Several important convictions drive Tabletalk magazine just as they have driven the entire history of Ligonier’s ministry. One of these convictions was expressed some five hundred years ago by Martin Luther—who else?

All are theologians; that means every Christian. All are said to be theologians, so that all may be Christians.

But what is theology? And, in particular, what is our theology?

Theology

Theology is God-talk (in the best and highest sense)—thinking and speaking about God in a coherent, logical way. And for the Christian believer, that means a theology rooted in and expressive of the revelation God has given. There is therefore a right sense in which we are called to have a “theology of everything” because in one way or another the entire cosmos—the unfolding of history, the discoveries we make—are all part and parcel of the unfolding of God’s self-revelation in creation, providence, redemption, and consummation. As Abraham Kuyper noted, nothing in the cosmos is atheistic in the absolute sense. Or to cite a higher authority, “From him and through him and to him are all things” (Rom. 11:36). This is why omnes sumus theologi—all are theologians—whether we are nuclear physicists, astronauts, literature-lovers, gardeners, trash collectors, or even for that matter “theologians.” This is the privilege, the challenge, the romance of our lives—in every conceivable calling. Ultimately, to borrow Paul’s words, we are doing only one thing (Phil. 3:13). Was Paul ever doing only one thing? Surely not. But yes, he was doing only one thing but in a thousand different activities. So with ourselves. In all things we are theologians because we know that all of life is for knowing God.

But how does theology work? Perhaps an illustration may help. There is a program on BBC television I enjoy. It is called The Repair Shop, and—in the midst of so much on TV that is depressing or immoral or both—it is the ultimate feel-good show. Ordinary people bring their damaged, decayed, distorted, and well-nigh destroyed heirlooms for repair. They often tell profoundly moving stories—of why the article (which may be of little value in itself) is so important to them because of its connection to a loved one. We then watch the extraordinary skills of craftsmen and -women—experts in woodwork and metalwork, mechanical work and furniture work, musical instruments and mechanisms, soft and hard items—working what seems to be magic. Whereas people like me patch up and hope for the best, they first deconstruct and only then reconstruct and restore the long-lost glory to the precious objects. Then the wonderful denouement: we witness (and share) the various owners’ overwhelming gratitude, their praise, and often their joy as they are moved to tears as the restored object is unveiled in all its finished glory—usually from underneath a very ordinary blanket (how suggestive of a greater restoration).