The Theologian

His words are careful and precise.

He does not tolerate studied ambiguity.

He desires to place himself in the stream of the thought of the church, and so he must also be a historian.

He is suspicious of novelty and wild claims of rediscovery.

He knows, with Solomon, that there is nothing new under the sun, that heresy is constantly repeating itself.

He is familiar with his sin, knowing that the ears that itch are his own.

He fears wide-spread acclaim.

He writes not to write but for the good of those who read.

His writing is approached with fear and trembling.

He knows that not many should teach, and has carefully come to the conclusion that he may permit himself to do so.

He knows that theology is about living, and that living must be done in knowledge.

He knows that his words must be practical and true.

He fears dryness.

He submits every thought to the Word.

His words are plain.

He despises the dilettante, the lover of mere words, the frivolous pursuer of ideas.

He must pray.

He feels (the weight) and knows that one day he will be accountable for every word he has said.