Last night and the night before I had the distinct pleasure of conversing with an extrememly intelligent (and might I say handsome) young man on the various impacts the current United States theology makes on both local and global churches.
Words that nary have graced some ears, such as "hermanutic" and "theological sophistication" were copiously used.
As we pondered the solutions to such matters as the problem of upper-middle-class disconnect with the reality of the Old Testament prophetic speeches on financial justice and the issue of localized ethics being more necessary than general "Christian Ethics" (note: as said young man put it: "What has happened when a pastor finds himself repenting to his congregation for an affair? Which small choices led to that?" to which I responded, in agreement, "It's the little foxes that spoil the vine.") I was charmed to the core. Even though our topics grim, my heart smiled and my face showed it. I know because I immediately headed to Community Group! after the conversation, where it was quickly and loudly announced that I was "glowing."
I insisted it was the sticky summer sweat, but inside I knew I had been caught.
Then it hit me, like a ton of bricks: I am totalty enamored by men who can talk practical theology and politics and philosophy and interpretation and church history and, well, all things intelligencia.
To charm me, just mention Pinnock with a whisper or contextual ministry with a smile.
Discuss the meaning of life as a person of powerlessness in a traditionalist society.
Talk dirty politics to me.
Dang.
That means I am dork.
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