Identity – Scribbling Theology

My Story I

07/04/202414/08/2025 scribblingtheologyLeave a comment

“Almost everyone can agree that one of the big differences between us and our ancestors of five hundred years ago is that they lived in an ‘enchanted’ world, and we do not.”
Charles Taylor

If I had to distil my entire life into one thing, it would be the search for ‘magic.’ From an early age, I was fascinated by other and bigger things. I remember running around in the yard trying to dig up fossils, reading books about ancient Egypt, and going to the science centre for my birthday (all I wanted were Pokemon Cards). I loved reading books like Eragon, Harry Potter, and The Chronicles of Narnia. My favourite video games as a kid were anything with a sword or gun, but in particular, it was The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time (OoT), released on November 21 1998, that I loved the most. I played the heck out of that thing. For those who don’t know, OoT is the first attempt at an open-world 3d game and is considered by many to be the greatest video game of all time, scoring almost a perfect score on every gaming website. In the game, you could trek into deep forests, climb high mountains, swim rivers and lakes, visit populated villages, and save princesses. But the most essential element in the game was that the world felt more alive, authentic, and meaningful than the one I lived in.

Now, you can chalk all this up to a young boy indulging in escapism, having a wild imagination, not yet matured. I get that. If that’s the case, I’ve never grown up. Maturity, for me, has been less about searching for the magic in the world and more about realising it was here all along. Western Culture (the Church has a massive role in this) has veritably done away with the world in the wardrobe, the sacred groves in the forests, the transcendent high places that strike awe in the beholder, and traded it in for formulas, fast food spirituality and living—a bland, tasteless existence. Can you hardly blame me then for chasing hedonism in place of ‘magic?’ The moment I was able to, I chased women, started clubbing, and partying in a desperate bid to experience the world afresh. However, much like the Preacher in Ecclesiastes, it was all meaningless. I needed more. I wanted more. I craved something more until, one day, I tasted a bit of that lost ‘magic.’

I would love to tell you that once I met Jesus, everything changed, life got better, and the drudgery of life washed away in a sea of awe and wonder. It didn’t. The decision to follow Jesus has been met with suffering and hardship: death, divorce, broken hearts, depression, and a lot of uncertainty and doubt. Christianity hasn’t made things clearer for me. What it has done, however, is rebuilt me through trials in a way life never would have in and of its own.

When I met Jesus, it was off the back of a failed relationship that had gone through an abortion. I was still interested in something other than life, but ultimately, the decision to try out Jesus was just another day and another choice. There was no voice from heaven, no beam of light, no stirring deep within my soul. I just decided that Jesus probably had some good things to say and was worth listening to. Since then, over the years, slowly but surely, Jesus has peeled back the layers of my disenchanted heart and shown me that what I was looking for was under my nose the entire time. Salvation for me has been a slow transformative process, not a single instant event. The Cross is less about (but not void of) any atonement theory and more about a pathway into the world unified unto God, the created world, and My Self. As I nerded out over theology, the bible, and spirituality, I realised every church and gathering could be a sacred grove. Every door opened could have a Narnia behind it. Every road travelled could be turned into a pilgrimage. I’ve been a Christian for over ten years, and I can say that God hasn’t finished turning this mess into a slightly less mess.

I look forward to where He’ll have me in another ten. For now I will leave you with this quote:

The Christian story of incarnation in the body of a boy- a boy whose ancestors were both famous and infamous – is one that can spur us towards living with the courage that is indigenous to us. To be human is to be in the image of something good, and image comes from imagination. To be human is to be in the imagination of God, and the imagination is the source of integrity as well as cracks. To be born is to be born into a story of possibility, a story of failure, a story of imagination and the failure of imagination. To be born is to be born with the possibility of courage. Hello to courage.
Pádraig Ó Tuama

2022 Mix Up: My Five Favourite Blogs of the Year

02/01/202314/08/2025 Camaron G. W. SmithLeave a comment

Happy New Year!

Scribbling Journal: Entry 1

05/11/202214/08/2025 scribblingtheology1 Comment

The thing about the Christian life is that no one really knows what they’re doing (this is true for most of life). There’s a reason why we have so many different denominations and sects. I’ve met pastors, scholars, and believers from all sorts of churches and traditions, and, apart from Jesus, the one thing we all have in common is that none of us really know what to do with it.

Once I met a guy who had a family, and he was an avid street evangelist. He would stand on street corners and loudly preach repentance. He was even arrested for it once. It wasn’t long after that, however, that he did a complete 180 and became aggressively antichristian in everything he did. He told me that he changed his mind on everything because we don’t even have the original copies of the bible. This surprised me because I wasn’t aware that we believed there were.

I used to meet regularly with a friend for coffee at a local cafe near the beach when I was a pastor. He was and still is one of the most passionate people about Jesus I’ve ever met. We used to talk about everything “bible.” From miracles to church to science and faith. One morning, as we were discussing science and biblical interpretation, he said that if evolution was true, he could never be a Christian. I was shocked. Here was one of the most lovely, passionate people I’ve met who never backs down from talking about Jesus to people and yet a single potential change in his worldview could lead to his entire faith being undermined.

I meet people like this day in and day out. I’m not saying there aren’t legitimate reasons why one would walk away from their faith. There is. The reasons above are justifiable. I completely get it. What surprises me is how easy it is for these reasons to cause us to walk away from something we’ve placed our entire identity on. Though I doubt and wrestle with God, and I sometimes wonder what life would be like if I didn’t follow Jesus, I’ll never not believe until I’m dead and come face to face with endless nothing. Until then, I’m winging it. I try to attend church, knowing it’s good for me, even if it’s boring. I read my bible, knowing that I am getting to know Jesus more and more, even if most of what it says is either lost on me or it just drags on. I try to pray even if no one talks back. I do good even if there’s not always sense in doing so. My life is based on risk. My life is a gamble. I believe my choices in the here and now will pay off in a potential eternity.

The irony is that if I gave it all up now, I’d be trading one sense of freedom for another and one doubt for the next. If I walked away from Jesus, I’d spend the rest of my life wondering if I made the right choice. What if He is real? What if Hell does exist? I would be wrestling with the God of Nothing, wondering if worshipping at his altar is any better than the last. Would I miss how the biblical story makes the most sense of my existence, or would I ignore the voice at the back of my mind and embrace the meaninglessness that my new God offers?

All this diatribe makes me wonder if Jesus struggled with the same levels of doubt. We’re told that he was tempted in every way we were, yet he was without sin… But did Jesus doubt that God was real (a strange thought given Jesus is God) or that he was imminent or in his corner? When offered the riches of the world from Satan, did he – even for a fleeting moment consider bending the knee? There’s debate within theological circles as to whether or not Jesus could really sin.

On the one hand, some say he can’t because God can’t sin. Others say his temptations couldn’t have been genuine if he couldn’t sin. The answer may depend on how you see the person of Jesus. There’s something comforting in the idea that the humanity of Christ genuinely struggled with doubt, questions and temptations on the same level that we are tempted. He overcame sin not because he was divine but because he was truly human. Which means most of us aren’t truly human. Which begs the question, what does it mean to be human?

I’ve been watching and listening to many of J. R. R. Tolkien’s works lately. The more I get into it, the more I identify with the Hobbits of all people, or I may want to identify with them. Living in the rolling lush green hills of the Shire with its winding creeks and rivers, the Hobbits are reclusive but communal. They’re simple and well-fed, not wanting to stick their noses where it doesn’t belong. Bilbo Baggins cooks, cleans and smokes his pipe. Frodo runs around the Shire and plays as they anticipate festivals and parties. They are living the human dream.

Furthermore, the one ring, perhaps one of if not the most corrupting power in Middle Earth, has a hard time genuinely turning them to darkness. Humans, on the other hand, wage war and consume and destroy anything they get their hands on. They build up their kingdoms, and the ring corrupts them very quickly.

I see the good life in the Shire, but I know it’s currently in the power-hungry cities and wartorn lands of men. I desire the carefree life of Bilbo (before he goes on his adventure), but I try to take it according to my own power rather than wait for the good life to be given to me. I maybe have 50 years-ish left on earth, and as I look back on the last 30 and the world around me, I realise that the thing that defines humans the most is having an idea of the good, striving for it, but in all the wrong ways.

Being Human

17/02/202214/08/2025 Camaron G. W. Smith3 Comments

The glory of God is man fully alive, but the life of a man is the vision of God.

– Ireneaus

The French theologian John Calvin once wrote, “Without knowledge of self, there is no knowledge of God.” It seems that even the great Protestant reformers who were famous for their emphasis on God’s sovereignty in history and salvation never intended for us to lose understanding of what it meant to be human. John Calvin seems to go even a step further as he stressed the importance of understanding ourselves to understand the Grand Creator of the universe. To me, this is a fascinating notion. All the theology and doctrine about God only make sense if we first understand who we are. This means, for the Christian, that we need to be deliberate in 1. knowing what it means to be human and 2. what it means to be “you” specifically. In this post, my goal is to reflect on these ideas and perhaps together, we can come to understand what it means to “John Doe the Human” and, in turn, catch a glimpse of the Creator Himself.

To Be Human

I already feel like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. The doctrine of man, understanding and defining humanity is an enormous endeavour that philosophers, theologians, anthropologists, psychologists, and biologists have sailed for many years. Unfortunately, these disciplines rarely get along. Notably, within conservative evangelical circles, there is a distrust of the sciences in a bid to uphold and champion sola Scriptura. However, hermeneutics and the doctrine of scripture is not the topic of the blog. We will not get into age-old debates on science vs religion (many of you by now should know where I sit on these issues). We are here to reflect on what it means to be human, and as someone who has studied theology, that’s where my mind goes to when I begin to make sense of who we are (and I think it’s a pretty safe bet).

Over the last century or two, science, particularly in human biology, has made a lot of progress in what makes up a human materially. However, what makes up a human (cells, bones, tissue etc.), and what it means to be human are related but separate issues.

In Genesis 1, we have God creating the cosmos, and on day 6, He creates humanity “in His image and likeness (Gen 1:26).” There’s much to be said about the image of God. However, one doesn’t need to be a high theologian to know that something about humanity is tied up in the person of God. Human’s were “very good.” I can imagine God sitting back as He looks upon the male and female completely wrapped up in His very good creation as He eagerly awaits their flourishing. In turn, I can imagine humans walking with God in the cool of the day and then going out into the world to extend God’s loving, transformative presence into the natural world. One scholar understands the image of God as humans having been “put in the world to mediate God’s presence.” This, I believe, get us to the meaning of what it means to be human. Wherever we go, whatever we do, we are to bring God’s presence into our spaces, transforming the world around us. Therefore, to be human means to be so caught up in the person of God that you bring God’s presence into the world around us. Being human is functional, not just an ontological thing.

Jesus, The Human

If bringing God’s presence into the world is at the heart of what it means to be human, then we need to look no further than Christ Himself to find a man fully alive. The Scriptures tell us that Jesus was the cornerstone of the new living temple (John 1:14, 1:51, 2:18–22 and 4:20–24), a place in the ancient world where heaven and earth come together. Instead of a temple made of stone, this would be made of flesh and spirit. Jesus would be the First Stone, and His Church would be the living stones built upon the First (1 Corinthians 6:19-20; Ephesians 2:19-22; 1 Peter 2:4-7). Jesus acted. Jesus was about bringing the Kingdom of God to earth. Jesus did this by telling people to turn from their idols and sin (Matthew 4:17, 6:19-24), forgiving sin (Matthew 9:1-8; Mark 2:1-12), healing the sick (Mark 1:41-42), ministering to the marginalised (Matthew 19:14; Luke 4:14-30, 10:27-37), and dying so that we can be reconciled to God (2 Corinthians 5:18-21; Romans 5:8-11). This is a hard act to follow, perhaps. Jesus is a pretty amazing human (I have anxiety just thinking I could match up to this). However, here’s the point. Jesus, through His Spirit, is creating a new kind of humanity free from the burden of sin (Romans 6), but He hasn’t finished (we live in what’s called “the now and not yet”). The brokenness, sinfulness, and failure that still corrupt us is something God anticipates as He, over time, conforms us to the image of Jesus (Romans 8:29). The fully alive human is Jesus, and we become fully alive in Christ when we’re in step with His Spirit (Galatians 5:16), and while this is something we strive for, it isn’t a perpetual state of being on this side of eternity. Sanctification is a process, and becoming like Jesus takes time, and so does bringing God’s presence into the world. Remember, the Kingdom of God is a mustard seed that slowly grows and blooms. You play a significant part in nurturing that growth and inviting others to rest upon its branches, just don’t expect it to reach maturity today or perhaps even tomorrow.

Last Thoughts

G. K. Chesterton once wrote that “every man has forgotten who he is. One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star.” A significant theme in the Scriptures is how humanity has forgotten themselves and who they’re supposed to be. We have forgotten our God, we’re separated from Him, and therefore, we’re subhuman. However, Jesus invites us to be united to Him once more. I can think of no better definition for the Christian journey than to, as the ancient Greek maxim says, “know thy self” as we look at the face of Christ (2 Corinthians 3:18).

Deconstruction and Reconstruction: Questioning the Faith

09/08/202114/08/2025 scribblingtheology7 Comments

This is the sixth and final part in a series on apologetics that I’ve written with my friend Doug Espie over at Bride and World. To view earlier articles in the series, click on the following links

Part I: What is Apologetics?

Part II: People and Apologetics

Part III: Christianity and the Questions of Right and Wrong

Part IV: Reflections on Why the Biblical Story Makes Sense

Part V: The Historical Evidence for Christianity

and this is Part VI on Deconstruction and Reconstruction. Enjoy!

Deconstruction is the scary and sometimes liberating process of taking apart traditional theological ideas and seeing if they hold up under scrutiny. Reconstruction is the reformation of those ideas, and where they end up are sometimes different and sometimes the same. For me, a big de-reconstruction was around the age of Earth and debates on Genesis 1-2. When I first became a Christian, I was told by many people around me that the Earth was roughly 6000 years old. Genesis 1-2 was a proof text that God created the universe out of nothing in 6 literal days, with a literal Adam and Eve being our first two parents and that no one else existed until they had Cain and Abel. I attended seminars and was taught that evolution was one of the biggest enemies that the Church faced. We had to protect the Church and future generations from this scientific and biblically false worldview. There were nights during street evangelism where I would spend hours debating atheists, agnostics, and people with an evolutionary/Darwinian worldview believing that if I could poke holes in their arguments just enough, it’d save them from Hell. Unfortunately, in my time during those arguments, I never succeeded in converting anyone to Christianity. I went home week after week feeling deflated and frustrated that these people couldn’t see the world as I could. Eventually, I stopped debating with atheists and others from outside of the Faith. Instead, I endeavoured to learn more deeply about my own, to grow in wisdom and knowledge so that I could know more about the God I claimed to worship, myself, and the world around me.

In 2014 I entered into the wonderful world of biblical studies. I knew right away that my experiences at bible college would profoundly affect me in ways I wouldn’t even anticipate. My academic and spiritual mentors, coupled with other influences like the Bible Project (and books I was reading and podcasts I was listening to), unravelled an entirely new world of thought and personal development that I thirsted for. It was scholars such as Tim Mackie, John Walton, Tremper Longman III, John H. Sailhamer, Walter Brueggemann, J. Richard Middleton and even classic giants like Augustine of Hippo made me realise that Genesis 1-2 wasn’t so cut and dry as I had once been taught. Some of these scholars were evolutionary creationists (or theistic evolutionists) and trusted in mainstream science. Organisations such as Biologos facilitated collaboration with these faithful biblical scholars and Christian evolutionary scientists. Needless to say, my world was turned upside-down. Slowly, reluctantly, but surely, I began to embrace that a faithful reading of Genesis 1-2 didn’t need to be at odds with anything mainstream science advocated for. All in all, I fell head over heels in love with Genesis and after much wrestling, reading and praying, I finally settled on two things. 1. Genesis 1-2 isn’t a scientific retelling of the material origins of the universe. Instead it’s a theological narrative that makes sense of the purpose and meaning of the world the author was in. 2. Eventually, and even somewhat unwittingly, I became convinced that evolution made the most sense of the scientific data.

It’s a little strange for some; I suppose to end a series on apologetics by seemingly advocating for evolution. To be clear, I’m not. Evolution may come and go, and I’m definitely not a scientist. My point in this is that there are good deconstruction stories out there. Just because someone takes a different position on these ideas doesn’t mean they’ve abandoned the Faith. Yes, some do. Too often, we hear stories of once faithful Christians rejecting the Faith and even ferociously attacking it. These stories break my heart. My experiences with deconstruction (and I’ve had a few) have only deepened my faith and love for God. I would eventually become committed to reconstruction rather than letting the doubts and questions destroy everything I loved and held dear. Deconstruction can be a friend to the Christian, not a scary foe. During your time with serious apologetics, many questions that might challenge your faith will come your way. So here are some of my suggestions around dealing with deconstruction.

Embrace the doubt. Don’t run away from doubt or use it to fuel some crusade against any particular brand or tradition of Christianity. List down your questions, and make sure they’re logical and concise. It is essential to know what it is you’re wrestling with and deconstructing. Don’t let abstract feelings and ideas cloud what it really is you’re wanting answers to. Do you struggle with the idea that people will burn for eternity in Hell if they reject Jesus? Great! List it down. Let the question sit with you. Don’t let your emotions around the idea (many of which may be valid) lead you to dismiss anything before seriously considering it.
Research! Read widely and deeply. Listen to podcasts. Go to a bible college or seminary. Books are your friends. Don’t just Google it and find a random blog on the idea by some theological hack (ironic, I know). Go to reputable sources on both sides of the debate and weigh them. Give them time to work through you. A single question might take months or years to properly work through. That’s ok.
Meditate on the Word. The Scriptures are the foundation for everything. It’s how we know who God is and what the Gospel is. “Blessed is the one who… delights in the law (teachings) of Yahweh. That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither…” (Psalm 1). You may have questions about the Bible, about how to interpret it, about its validity. Good! You probably wouldn’t be human if you didn’t at some point. The Bible is meant to be wrestled with throughout your whole life. So sit with it. Let your questions bounce off the Scriptures and give it time to work. God is not afraid of your questions.
So pray. I’m not very good at prayer. There’s something about talking into the air that feels unnatural to me. Nevertheless, some of the sweetest times of prayer I’ve ever had have been me looking back at when I felt God wasn’t there, but in hindsight, I saw Him working even when I couldn’t at the time. Suffering, pain, and brokenness often cloud our experiences of God (I’d also say so can joy and excitement). Yet, often they are the times when God does His best work.
Time. I can’t stress this enough, time is your friend here. It can be very tempting to allow your frustrations and angst to get the better of you. “Idiots! how can they not see what I see? are they blind?” Probably, but you could be too. The best advice is, to be honest with yourself, allow the questions to sit with you, and let God do His work. Treat everyone around you as though God is using them to teach you. Slowly, with grace and love, ask questions with those around you whom you can trust. Go to your pastor and let God use the church to sanctify you (that’s its job, after all). Don’t have a point to prove or an agenda but let time do its thing. Let this be a season of growing in wisdom rather than a season of growing in bitterness and rejection of the beauty of the Gospel.
Friends and pastors, chill out! In my experience, the most isolating experience in the world is having those who love you, the church God has called to grow you, push you away because you’re asking a few scary questions. The absolute worst thing you can do is dismiss and reject the deconstructing person. The church should be the safest place for these things to occur, not the enemy (as it is often perceived). These doubts and questions don’t happen in just a rebellious vacuum of heresy. They’re real people with genuine reasons and stories behind these burning doubts that they’re wrestling with.
Commit to reconstructing. Pushing through the doubt (that never really leaves you – that’s fine) and reconstructing will, and I promise you this, leave you with a more robust and deeper faith than you ever had. It might take some time for you to get here. That’s to be expected. I can say without a doubt that I am more Christian than I have ever been on this side of my experiences, and I thank God for every one of them.

Apologetics is about defending the Faith and giving good reasons why we believe what we believe. One cannot defend a Faith that they haven’t genuinely wrestled with themselves. For those of us who wrestle harder then others, it’s my prayer that your deconstruction would be fruitful and Spirit led.

A faith without some doubts is like a human body with no antibodies in it. People who blithely go through life too busy or indifferent to ask the hard questions about why they believe as they do will find themselves defenseless against either the experience of tragedy or the probing questions of a smart skeptic. A person’s faith can collapse almost overnight if she failed over the years to listen patiently to her own doubts, which should only be discarded after long reflection.
– Tim Keller