Restoring Apostolic Faith

The Word That Shouldn’t Be Special

Somewhere along the way, the word theologian became a badge. Not a role of service, not a posture of learning, but a category. A title whispered with either admiration or suspicion. In most modern churches, if someone studies Scripture beyond a surface devotional level—if they mention the Greek, or if they quote a Church Father, or if they ask a question that pushes past the sermon outline—they are quietly placed in a different box: “deep,” “intense,” “the theology guy.”

What used to be normal Christian maturity has become a niche personality type.

But in the first two centuries of the Church, there was no such distinction. The Church did not divide believers into the ones who understand and the ones who simply attend. The assumption was simple: if you were baptized into Christ, you were baptized into His teaching. Faith was not something you possessed—it was something you practiced and grew into.

Yet today, we speak of theology as though it were elective. Something reserved for pastors, seminarians, or the unusually curious. The result is a culture where the average believer is spiritually undernourished, not because they lack the desire for God, but because they were never shown that Christianity includes more than an initial moment of faith.

When “Normal” Became “Special”

To illustrate the shift, imagine visiting Italy. There, a bowl of pasta is simply food. It is not “authentic Italian cuisine”—it is just how they eat. But in the United States, we have Olive Garden. We have something recognizable, comforting, familiar—and deeply altered. Designed to appeal to broad taste, easy to serve, easy to consume. It resembles the real thing, but only at a polite distance.

If you have never had the real thing, Olive Garden seems wonderful. If you have, you cannot mistake the difference.

Christian formation has followed the same path.

The early Church operated on the assumption that:

• Every believer would learn Scripture deeply.

• Every believer would practice obedience intentionally.

• Every believer would grow into maturity.

• Every believer would eventually teach others.

This was not advanced spirituality. It was simply Christianity.

But over time, the Western church began to professionalize spiritual life. Study became the domain of clergy. Teaching became a stage performance. Discipleship became a program. And the average believer became an audience member.

The idea of a Christian who studies Scripture deeply and lives it seriously has become so foreign that the Church now labels such a person “a theologian,” as if something unusual has occurred.

The Church Was Once a School

The early Church did not gather weekly to listen passively. The believers gathered:

• To read entire letters aloud.

• To discuss them openly.

• To ask questions.

• To correct misunderstanding.

• To encourage one another in obedience.

• To support one another in repentance and struggle.

Belonging to Christ meant belonging to formation.

Clement of Rome wrote to ordinary believers—merchants, fishermen, slaves—and expected them to know Scripture well enough to recognize false teaching when it appeared. Ignatius assumed that everyday Christians understood the unity of faith and obedience. Polycarp taught new converts not merely to believe in Christ, but to imitate Him.

They did not write to “the educated.”

They wrote to the baptized.

There was no laity vs. clergy divide in the modern sense. Elders shepherded communities, yes—but the community understood itself as a learning people. A people being shaped into the likeness of Christ together.

To be Christian was to be a student.

The Slow Drift to Passive Christianity

The change did not happen overnight. It unfolded over centuries.

• When Christianity gained cultural power, faith became an identity more than a way of life.

• When clergy became institutionalized, spiritual authority centralized.

• When sermons replaced shared conversation, spiritual growth moved from participation to observation.

• When Christianity became familiar and safe, depth began to feel like excess.

The modern church does not discourage spiritual maturity—but it rarely trains for it. The structure of church life today rewards attendance, politeness, and emotional agreement—not disciplined learning, communal accountability, or the slow shaping of virtue.

The result is not a lack of intelligence.

It is a lack of formation.

Most Christians are not shallow.

They have simply never been shown that depth was expected of them.

Why Serious Faith Feels “Too Much” Now

When someone begins to study Scripture carefully—paying attention to Hebrew tense, to Greek lexicon ranges, to covenant structure, to patristic commentary—they begin to see patterns, tensions, and layers that most teaching never touches. They begin to recognize where translations flatten meaning, where doctrinal slogans oversimplify, where sermons avoid difficult implications.

This does not make them superior.

It simply makes them hungry for what the early Church considered ordinary bread.

But to many modern believers, this feels threatening.

Not because they lack the capacity—but because they were never trained to expect the journey.

When someone brings depth into a community that has not been formed for depth, it can feel like exposure. Not shame—exposure. As if someone suddenly turned on the lights in a room everyone assumed was already bright.

The discomfort is not about intellect.

It is about responsibility.

If Scripture has depth,

and if that depth matters,

then faith cannot remain a hobby.

Theologians Are Not Specialists — They Are Christians Who Didn’t Stop

The word theologian simply means:

One who studies God.

In the early Church, that was everyone.

To become Christian was to begin a lifelong apprenticeship.

To stop growing was unthinkable.

Today, many believers stop at the starting line:

• They believe.

• They attend.

• They try to be “good people.”

• They wait for heaven.

But the New Testament never describes salvation that way.

The faith of the apostles is dynamic, demanding, shaping, persistent, communal, embodied, costly, joyful, and deeply studied. It is not shallow. It does not tolerate indifference. It does not describe Christ as a comforting accessory. It describes Him as Lord, Teacher, Shepherd, Master, and Judge.

When someone continues that journey—past the entry point—modern Christianity calls it “theology.”

The early Church simply called it Christian life.

So Why Does This Matter?

Because discipleship is not knowledge-heavy.

It is attention-heavy.

The average believer today is not spiritually incapable.

They are spiritually undertrained.

And people cannot desire what they have never been shown.

The work of the theologian is not to go deeper than others.

It is to remind the Church that depth is the starting point.

To be baptized is to enroll.

To follow Christ is to learn Christ.

To learn Christ is to become like Him.

To become like Him is to help someone else do the same.

This is not advanced Christianity.

It is Christianity.

Conclusion — The Invitation Back to the Real Table

The Church today does not require more scholars.

It requires more normal Christians who take Christ seriously.

True theology is not about complexity.

It is about commitment.

It is not an academic specialty.

It is the natural hunger of the soul when it meets the living God.

Theologians are not rare.

We just stopped expecting Christians to grow.

But the table has always been set.

The bread has always been real.

The call has always been the same:

“Follow Me.”

Not for a moment.

Not for inspiration.

But for life.