
In certain areas of life, we all need an expert.
If I have a health problem, I want to see a doctor. If my car is busted, I need a mechanic. If I’m not sure whether my clothes match, I ask my wife. Certain situations call for the professionals, people who have dedicated their time, energy, and education to mastering a craft. We trust them not just because they know more, but because we recognize the cost of getting it wrong.
That’s why it’s so jarring when people try to sound like experts after admitting they’re not. You’ve probably heard someone say, “I’m no doctor, but…” and then proceed to diagnose your symptoms with all the confidence of someone who’s watched all the episodes of House MD. Or “I’m no economist, but…” before launching into a comprehensive theory about inflation, taxes, or the job market.
I feel like these phrases have become a kind of cultural permission slip. They let us toss out unqualified opinions while shielding us from accountability. Basically we’re saying, “I don’t really know what I’m talking about,” and then we talk anyway. It’s a clever little linguistic maneuver that gives us both plausible deniability and a platform.
And this same pattern has found its way into the church.
"I'm No Theologian, But..."
I’ve heard many times, either on social media or in person some sentiment like, “I’m no theologian, but I think God just wants us to be happy,” or “I’m no theologian, but I don’t think Jesus really cared that much about doctrine.” It’s often said humbly, even sincerely, but it's also revealing.
Essentially what we’re saying is: I haven’t studied this deeply, but I still want to have a strong opinion about it and not be challenged thankyouverymuch. We disqualify ourselves just enough to dodge criticism, but not enough to keep quiet. We give ourselves permission to be casual with sacred things.
Now, don’t get me wrong: I understand the impulse! Not everyone goes to seminary and not everyone reads thick theology books for fun. Most Christians don’t sign up to be scholars—they sign up to follow Jesus, love their neighbor, and live a faithful life. Which is good. Beautiful even. And none of this disqualifies us from having opinions.
But here’s the hard truth: Every Christian is a theologian. The question isn’t whether we’re doing theology—the question is how well we’re doing it.
Theology Isn’t Optional
Every time we pray, read Scripture, make a decision, or interpret the events in our lives, we’re practicing theology. We're answering questions like:
What is God like?
What does He want from me?
How should I live?
What is right and wrong?
Whether we realize it or not, we already have functional answers to those questions. Whether we intentionally tried to arrive at these answers or not, they’re shaping our decisions. They’re shaping how we treat people, how we spend money, how we vote, how we parent, and how we respond to suffering.
The issue is, are we forming our theology intentionally, or are we just absorbing it through cultural osmosis and social media? Is our theology coming from scripture, or vibes?
Being a “Good” Theologian
We don’t need a seminary degree to be good theologians. We’re all “on the journey” as they say and will always be growing in our understanding. So it’s not that we have to be experts. But we do need a few things: humility, curiosity, and commitment.
Humility says that we don’t know everything and we’re willing to learn.
Curiosity says that God’s Word is worth digging into. This posture of curiosity is often a direct result of humility.
Commitment says that I want my beliefs to be shaped by Scripture, not just feelings. And I won’t take off the first minute my sensibilities are challenged.
Good theology isn’t about intellectual superiority or having all the answers. It’s about forming beliefs that reflect the truth of God’s Word and lead to faithful living.
In a divided and polarized world, we need good theology more than ever. Not just to win arguments, but to love wisely, to discern truth from noise, and to follow Jesus even when it's costly.
Where to Start
If this sounds overwhelming, don’t worry. We don’t have to know everything tomorrow. But we can start somewhere today.
Read the Bible regularly and with others, not just devotionally, but reflectively. Ask what it says about God, not just what it says to you. This is huge. And doing it together allows our theology to develop in real life relationships, shaped and formed in real time.
Ask questions when something doesn’t make sense.
Learn from trusted and wise teachers like your local pastor, books, podcasts, or vetted theologians (not just someone who has a platform online).
Pray for discernment.
And you know what? You can even still say “I’m no theologian…” from time to time. But maybe start using that phrase differently. Not as a way to sidestep responsibility, but as a statement of humility: “I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’ve been digging and I want to learn more. Here’s what I’ve discovered about this so far…”
Ultimately, theology is not about academic trivia or doctrinal nitpicking. It’s about knowing God; who He is, what He’s done, and how that changes everything.
And if we claim to be followers of Jesus, we don’t get to opt out of that.
So let’s all be better theologians—because our faith, our communities, and our world need it.
Interesting thoughts. I'd not thought about the idioms "I'm no... (fill in the blank)" much before. They are not exactly the same, but could this be in the same vein as Jesus telling us to let our yes be yes? We don't need to qualify our yes with swearing some kind of oath. Similarly, you're saying, we don't need a qualifier before giving our opinion. It has an air of humility to admit your lack of credentials, but often what comes after that statement is anything but humble. If humility is the goal, it might be better to be clear. "I have not studied this thoroughly, so there are gaps in my knowledge, but here's what I've come to believe and why."