The mission and people of God: Rethinking theology and theological methodology in Asia

Introduction

Asian theology, as it stands today, is not where it should be. Compared with more developed discussions in Africa and Latin America, contextual theology in Asia is lagging behind. While a great deal has been said about the theology of religions or engagement with the cultures of Asia, themes that are necessary and helpful, the oft-considered representative works and writers in Asian theology have had proportionately little impact on churches or even seminaries. By this I mean theology that has centered liberation or interreligious dialogue, which are still considered by many to be Asian theology’s central themes (e.g., Chia, 2021). In the Asian church, however, there are a great deal of theological conservatives or even evangelicals, meaning that such “liberal” themes and writers have been resisted or rejected. For example, Minjung Theology has been considered by many to be a representative theology of Korea, particularly by outside scholars. But within Korea, few theologians, especially at the larger and more influential seminaries, interact with or acknowledge Minjung Theology, some even considering it to be heretical. ¹

What does Asian theology look like for such as these? How might Asian theology not only address the religions and cultures of Asia, but also be deeply rooted in the real experiences of Asian Christians and Asian churches? How can the reality of a global or World Christianity affect how Asian Christians and theologians, especially those who are more conservative, reconsider and express their own faith? This article, which is part of a broader project on Asian theological methodology, seeks to revisit and address the subject of Asian theology by examining some of the fundamental assumptions that have shaped and even hindered the development of this subject. It advocates for an approach to theology that does not deny the traditional sources of Scripture and tradition, but takes more seriously lived context, rooted in time and place, in order to do theology that is engaged with and impacts the church, theology with life and power.

But before I address the subject of Asian theology, there are some qualifications I need to make about myself and my interest and involvement in this topic. First, I am a Korean American, born and raised in the USA, but now living in Asia. This means that I am Western, but not fully, Eastern, but also not fully. On one hand, I hesitate to speak on behalf of Asian Christians because as someone from the West, I know that I do not fully represent Asia. On the other hand, the Asian American struggle, even theologically, has been the reconciliation of two seemingly opposite poles of being and thinking, that is, “marginality” or “liminality” (e.g., Lee, 1995; Lee, 2010). My own recognition of these clashing forces has not only helped me to better understand myself, but also how such tensions affect the doing of theology in Asia. Simply put, one of the main issues that hinders the Asian church’s theological development is the lack of theological self-reflection, particularly with regard to East–West tensions. Second, my background is not in missiology or Asian theology or even Asian cultures, but is in historical theology, specifically the church fathers. Patristics is one of the most traditional theological disciplines that one can study. However, the intentional study of historical theology requires scholars to understand both context and the contextual processes by which theology is formed. Despite the distance between the early church and the Asian church today, there is much to be gained in learning to think historically, in critical reflection on the processes that have formed and shaped us theologically.

Given this information, why is an American born historical theologian interested in the development of theology in Asia? This also requires a bit of personal background. I attended seminary in California, at Talbot School of Theology, close to where I am from. While doing full-time studies, I was very active in ministry, working both as a youth pastor in a church and as a campus minister in the parachurch. I was a good student, which opened up the possibility for future studies. Though I enjoyed my seminary studies, there was a glaring hole that I kept noticing. A lot of what I was learning about theology and especially ministry had little application to my context: the Korean diaspora church. Many of the leadership and ministry principles I was learning did not exactly apply to my own ministry. Church and theological issues that my friends and I were regularly facing were never brought up in class. Through an Asian American ministry class that was offered, as well as through personal research, I discovered that there were other resources out there besides the typical American ones: books, seminars, talks done by people like me (Asian Americans) with our contexts in mind. ² Learning about my own cultural context, as well as the social, historical, political, and religious forces that formed them, equipped me to be more aware and effective in the church contexts I would find myself in.

When I arrived in Singapore in 2019, I wanted my teaching to help my students in the way that Asian American contextual theology had helped me. Students come to study at Singapore Bible College (SBC) from all around the region, so it is important that they understand deeply the cultural worldviews that shape Asia and the issues Asian Christians are facing in their own churches. While I had already had some exposure to Asian theology before Singapore, I made it a priority to study the existing body of Asian theology in order to offer to my students resources that would be relevant and helpful. But as I continued to research and talk to people, I quickly realized something. There was not as much good Asian theology as I had hoped. Much of what had been written was about what Asian theology could or should be (e.g., Chan, 2014; Hwa, 2014; Wilfred, 2013), or was considered too “liberal” or irrelevant for most evangelical Christians (e.g., Raimundo Panikkar, Stanley Samartha, C.S. Song, etc.). In fact, many were even skeptical of whether Asian theology was even necessary. Some expressed concern that Asian theology requires a subject, postmodern, or even liberal turn, that doing Asian theology is innately anti-Western. There has been an underlying assumption that classical theology (i.e., Western) was the only true and necessary theology, that it was more than enough for the Asian church, a natural result of Western theology’s inability to name itself as a contextual theology (e.g., Dyrness and Garcia-Johnson, 2015: 7–8). In an institution like SBC, which theologically is typical of many of the institutions and churches in the region, is Asian theology really having an impact? If not, what are the issues preventing Asian theology from developing or flourishing? What might it look like for Asian theology to learn to embrace its contextuality and see it as a benefit, much as I had with my own Asian American Christianity?

This article, therefore, is written for those who share such concerns, whether in Asia or in the West. Some of the questions addressed will be: “why should there be Asian theology?,” “what is Asian theology?,” or even “how does one do Asian theology?” I will begin by examining why Asian theology is necessary, looking at the rise of the global church and the implications this has on how theology should be understood in Asia. Second, I will examine some of the major issues hindering the development of better Asian theology, defining what Asian theology is in the process. Third, I will suggest two major areas of potential for Asian theology going forward: mission and people.

Theological challenges of the 20th century

In theology, church history, or even in conversation among normal Christians today, narratives about the decline of the church in the 20th century are very common. The term “post-Christian” has been used to describe the religious situation in Europe, and is becoming increasingly common to describe the situation of the American church (e.g., Keller, 2021, 2022; Peterson, 2017: 1–6). If we take such narratives at face value, we will be under the impression that the 20th century was a time of challenge and struggle for the global church. But this could not be further from the truth. The 20th century saw unprecedented and unexpected growth in the majority world church, that is, in Latin America, Africa, and Asia. One scholar has called the 20th century “the unexpected Christian century” (Sunquist, 2015). This growth has been so great that by the mid–late 20th century, Christianity became a majority non-Western religion (Jenkins, 2011: 1–6). According to Pew (2011), the majority world church now outnumbers the Western church nearly two to one. One example of this miracle has been the church in sub-Saharan Africa. This same study (Pew, 2011) notes that in 1910, there were around 8.5 million Christians in Africa, making up 9.1% of the population. At the World Missionary Conference at Edinburgh in 1910, not a single African delegate (i.e., not a missionary) was present. Missionaries were optimistic about work in Asia, but not so much about Africa (Walls, 2002a: 58). But to everyone’s surprise, Africa saw some of the largest growth in the 20th century. By 2010, the Christian population in sub-Saharan Africa grew to 62.7%, or over 500 million Christians. Such growth has led to Africa being called the new “Christian heartland” (Walls, 2002b: 118; cf. Walls, 1976). This is a big jump from a region that was mostly neglected 100 years prior, when missionaries were afraid that the continent would be lost to the Muslims.

Another example of unexpected change in the 20th century has been the growth of the church in China. Following the turmoil of the early 20th century and the closing off of China after the communist revolution, many were afraid that the church in China would disappear completely. At the beginning of the Cultural Revolution there were less than 1 million Christians in China (Johnson and Zurlo, 2019: 195). But this fear has been unwarranted. According to the same Pew study (2011), which takes data from 2008, there were approximately 67 million Christians in China, with more than 58 million Protestants. Around that same time, the Chinese government reported around 21 million Christians, while other sources claimed numbers higher than 100 million. Regardless of whose figures are most accurate, the growth of Chinese Christianity has been a pleasant surprise to many around the world. Despite the fact that the situation looked bleak for believers when China closed itself off from the world and foreign missionaries were forced to leave, the Chinese church has found ways to grow. Or might we say: God has brought unexpected growth to the Chinese church.

Such numbers, whether in Africa, China, or even Latin America, are hard to ignore. However, one aspect of these younger churches that is typically skipped over is the issue of their theological self-development. By this I do not mean formal theological education or the formation of theological institutions, both of which are important and ongoing. Instead, I mean something more fundamental. In every place the seed of the gospel has been planted and the church has grown, younger churches have had to struggle through their own theological challenges. Some of these issues are common throughout history, for example, persecution, relapsing believers, reconciling previous cultural and religious practices with Christian faith and belief, and so on. Others are more complex or unique to particular situations. But this fundamental struggle, younger churches grappling with what it means to be Christian in their particular contexts, is at its essence theology. As the German theologian Martin Kähler (1971: 190) argued in 1908, “mission is the mother of theology.” Theology, at its best and purest, Kähler argues, does not take place when powerful and privileged Christians are sitting comfortably in their ivory towers. Instead, as seen in the case of the New Testament Christians and the early Apologists, theology arises out of an “emergency situation” as the church finds itself in confrontation with the world (Kähler, 1971: 189). This pattern continues in the world today as churches, both young and old, are forced to work out their internal and external theological issues that arise as they make sense of their identities in the world. This type of organic theologizing, even more than that of the academy, might be the most important, yet neglected, form of theologizing today.

Those of us who know a little bit about historical theology can usually list off the major theological issues and debates of past centuries. But outside of the West, what have been the central theological issues and debates of the 20th century? What have been the major theological issues arising in the African church? What about in China? Do we view these issues as theology or only as pastoral issues? One major problem in theology today is that the theological challenges of the majority world church (i.e., the younger churches) are not typically considered to be “proper” theology. As the great Kenyan Anglican theologian John Mbiti, the “father of African theology,” lamented:

It is utterly scandalous for so many Christian scholars in [the] old Christendom to know so much about heretical movements in the second and third centuries, when so few of them know anything about Christian movements in the areas of the younger churches. (Bediako, 1996: 154; Jenkins, 2011: 5)

Simply put, the theological academy still continues to center Western issues and perspectives, relegating the theological issues of the majority world to “missional” or “practical.” It is far more concerned with what Western scholars are saying in the midst of Christian decline than majority world scholars who are working and reflecting on where God is clearly moving.

Another major problem is that traditional Western theology is often ill-equipped to handle the complex cultural and religious worlds of the majority world church. As Andrew Walls, the father of the study of World Christianity, once famously noted, to the chagrin of Stanley Hauerwas, “Western theology is too small for global Christianity today.” ³ Walls, of course, was not saying that Western Christianity or the Christian tradition is irrelevant or outdated, nor that we should reject history and tradition, the old creeds and systems. Walls, for those who do not know, was originally trained in patristics. Instead, what Walls was saying is that the Western theological tradition, developed within a monoreligious Christendom worldview, shaped by philosophy and logical rigidity, modernist (anti-supernatural) in worldview, and individualist in orientation, is neither able to understand nor deal well with many of the issues that are central to the struggles of Christians around the world. In Asia, issues like the articulation of Christian identity as a persecuted minority or amid a plurality of religions, navigating Christianity’s relationship with non-Christian cultures and religious pasts, the reality of the spiritual world and spiritual warfare, the complex nature of revelation in non-Christian contexts, more practical, communal, or even both–and ways of knowing are just a few examples of such issues (see Ro, 1988: 57).

But despite the massive growth of global Christianity in the 20th century, theology and the theological academy still center Western perspectives and issues and ignore majority world ones, even in majority world contexts. The theological academy continues to lack awareness of its own cultural situatedness or the necessity of being aware of it (Hwang, 2022: 18–21). American evangelicalism in particular struggles to recognize and highlight the diversity of global Christian voices for fear of becoming “subjective” or “postmodern” (Tennent, 2007: 11–14). The unfortunate result of this is majority world scholars who are trained in the West, but are inadequately equipped to theologize for their own contexts. Methodologically, such scholars learn to distance themselves from their own perspectives and to think and write following West-centric “scholarly” principles. For example, in a podcast interview that I conducted, the two editors of the book Exploring the Old Testament in Asia (2022), Drs Jerry Hwang and Angukali Rotokha, shared that one of the most difficult aspects of editing the book was pushing the contributors, all accomplished OT scholars in their own rights, to lean more into their contextuality (Lee and Luah, 2023, 9:00). Another result is theologians and pastors who simply repeat the same tired, old theological debates of the past, but in their own countries, for example, debates over Calvinism, complementarianism, or spiritual gifts. Yet another is the continuing perception of Christianity as a western religion, despite global numbers showing otherwise. For the most part, there is little sense, even among Asian believers, of how Asian cultures and perspectives, or the experiences of the Asian church, actually can contribute to global theological discussions, revealing something about God and his work in the world.

Hindrances and possibilities for theology in Asia

We now return to the topic of Asian theology. What is Asian theology? What in terms of methodology or context makes theology “Asian”? How does one do Asian theology without simply Orientalizing, that is, putting an exotic Asian cover or facade onto a western core? Even now, it is difficult to say with a great deal of certainty what exactly Asian theology is, at least in terms of shared character. This is because there have been a number of hindrances to the development of Asian theology that continue to persist until today.

First, “Asia” is a problematic term. As Masao Takenaka (1986: 17) once commented:

Asia is so big and so diverse. It is not easy to identify Asia. What we have in common is the habit of eating rice, the ubiquitous bamboo, and the use of broken English as a necessary evil for inter-Asian communication.

One survey of some of the more significant Asian theologians of the past few decades (Lee, 2008: 75–76) highlights many of the common worldview characteristics and shared issues that Asian Christians face, but also the differences in theologians’ perceptions of what is most central to “Asian” theology. For example, is Asian theology primarily about social, political, and economic issues (M.M. Thomas, liberation theology), the cultural realities of Asia (Lee Jung Young, C.S. Song, Pannikar, Samartha, Koyama), or about interreligious dialogue (Lynn de Sylva, Pieris)? Despite all the ink that has been spilled trying to articulate what is universal to “Asian” theology, there is still not a clear way forward. So is “Asian” theology really even possible? Is there a single all-encompassing methodology or approach that remains to be developed?

The answer is likely no. Asian theologians must learn to lean into plurality, diversity, but also specificity, in order to better theologize in and for Asia. Many theologians, like myself, want to say big things that appeal to big audiences. We want one-size-fits-all solutions. But in doing so, we miss the richness of culture and experience that each of us, in our own particular contexts, brings to the broader church the testimonies of the unique ways in which God has moved among us all. This serves as a blessing not only to our own people, who are longing to know ourselves better, but also those outside our own contexts. To reiterate the point: Asian theology will succeed not by discovering what is truly “Asian” and applying theological principles in a top–down way, but by the various peoples across Asia leaning into their own individual backgrounds and histories to understand themselves better theologically, and coming to share with others what they have learned, both about God and themselves. Theology done in this way is bottom–up and collaborative, grassroots and connected to the church. What is needed, according to Dyrness and Garcia-Johnson (2015: 34), is a “deepening and broadening, rather than narrowing.”

In simple terms, Asian theology can be defined as “theology that is done by Asians for the Asian church.” ⁴ This statement, however, evidences inherent problems in prevailing approaches to Asian theology. Asia, by nature, includes a multitude of peoples whose commonalities are not always obvious. No one is actually doing theology for Asia, rather, they are theologizing in their own particular contexts, whether nation state, people group, region, religious context, and so on. To attempt to do “Asian” theology rather than theology in one’s own context is to do theology for no one. To do Asian theology well and authentically, then, must mean to look past the label of “Asia” (universality) and to do theology on one’s own context (specificity).

Catholic Vietnamese-American theologian Peter Phan (2018a) has advocated for the use of “Asian Christianities” (plural) instead of “Asian Christianity” as a way of highlighting the diversity of Christian traditions in Asia. This, I feel, goes too far in suggesting a greater degree of pluralism within our shared faith than there is, especially among evangelicals. But to speak of “Asian theologies” is actually quite fitting. In the way that we can speak of English or German theologies, of Reformed, neo-orthodox, or analytical theological traditions, we can speak of many distinct Asian theologies, each of which testifies of unique stories of God and his work among various peoples, as well as the reflection and practice coming out of these experiences. There is still a great deal of work that needs to be done in this area, in recording and studying such stories. But when we learn to embrace diversity, to be open and willing to learn from one another, to become less top–down and more bottom–up, we will be able to do better Asian theology.

A second major hindrance to Asian theology is that the Asian church and Asian theologians still unwittingly think in very West-centric ways. Popularly, this is seen in the tendency within the Asian church to believe that “West is best.” Asian Christians read books written by western theologians and pastors. Asian churches send people overseas to study for seminary and for higher education. Asian Christians believe that western theology is objective, comprehensive, and universal. The Western theological tradition thus forms the standard for what theologizing looks like, despite the efforts of Asian theologians (e.g., Hwa, 2014: 1–8).

However, it is clear where the Western theological tradition is limited. One example of this is its centering of the mind and the implicit reinforcing of a mind–body dualism that is not necessarily biblical (Hwa, 2014: 2–6; Yu, 1987). There is nothing wrong with emphasizing the intellect, nor with using helpful philosophical and logical tools. Theology has benefitted significantly from its relationship with theology. In the Letter to Gregory, third-century theologian Origen of Alexandria calls this the “plundering of the Egyptians,” a creative interpretation of Exodus 12 to support the use of philosophy in the service of theology (1885: 1.2). But theology is not equivalent to philosophy. Or to use the language of Augustine, sapientia (wisdom) is not the same as scientia (knowledge). Reinforcing this dichotomy results in a disconnect between theology and life that was not anticipated in the early church. Another result of centering the mind is that modern Western theology carries with it rationalistic, skeptical, and individualistic ways of viewing the world. By default, the sciences have authority over public life and the supernatural is ignored, that is, the “excluded middle” (Hiebert, 1982). Authority is found in the autonomy of the individual, the lingering legacy of Descartes (e.g., Rah, 2009: 27–45).

Another flaw of the Western theological tradition is that it is often disconnected from reality (e.g., Hwa, 2014: 7–8). In my classes at SBC, there is a question that usually I ask my students: “what comes to mind when you think of the word ‘theology?’” The answers are pretty consistent: difficult, abstract, philosophical, cheem. ⁵ This is why seminary often becomes cemetery! Modern theology has tended to focus on abstract ideas or complex philosophical constructs at the expense of how God is actually working on the ground. This reinforces the stereotype of the “ivory tower,” of an old white man sitting in a fancy armchair in a university somewhere thinking complex thoughts of God. But how does theology interact with real life, the life of the church? One of the main reasons many normal Christians are turned off by the idea of theology is because it is seen as a discipline that has little impact on them or on the church.

This is, of course, tied to elitism in theology: that the Western theological tradition has centered elite Western voices at the expense of grassroots and global ones, that is, ignoring issues arising on the ground in churches or perspectives outside the West (Song, 1979: 200–26). Such voices and approaches are labeled as less theological, practical, or missional, and are viewed as less important to theology than mainstream Western voices. When these neglected and minority voices, that is, the “subaltern,” speak up and learn to embrace their identities, they are charged with being insubordinate, with not following the rules (Dyrness and Garcia-Johnson, 2015: 6). Formal theological training is no doubt important. But it is clear that the elite maintain a monopoly for determining what proper “theology” is and neglect issues and voices from the ground. As Oscar Garcia-Johnson (Dyrness and Garcia-Johnson, 2015: 9) comments, the attitude of western modernity and coloniality “has occupied Western theologies and Christianity in a way that has projected an image of inferiority and codependency on the former colonies of Europe (occidentalism) in matters of doctrine, institutions, and social practices.” There is a desire to be affirmed by the western theological mainstream that compels majority world scholars to continue to play by those rules. This in turn reinforces elitism. William Dyrness (Dyrness and Garcia-Johnson, 2015: 33) adds, “This often reflects a hidden assumption: only those with the wealth and education that characterize the West can do proper theological reflection.”

But who is to say that theology belongs to the elite? Who really has the right to determine which voices are valid? This tendency is one reason for the rise of liberation theology in its various contexts, which can be understood as a reaction against a Western, elite theological academy that cares not for the poor or for those outside of their comfortable Western contexts. Another result of this has been the rise of postcolonialism, even in theology, which seeks to examine and strip away the vestiges of colonial influence in the lives and cultures of those who have formerly been colonized (see Keller et al., 2004; Smith et al., 2014). While for most evangelicals (including myself), a full postcolonial turn is probably going too far, the fact remains that there is a great deal of “decolonizing” of the faith that is still greatly necessary. This does not mean a full rejection of Western influences on our faith, something that cannot be denied or rejected, but learning how to strip away the unhelpful cultural elements embedded within our faith, to deal with the complexity of what it means to be Asian and Christian in this day and age. This means identifying the systems and beliefs and practices that keep Christianity Western.

However, as is widely recognized today, all theology is contextual theology. There is no theologian who does theology outside of a worldview or contextual framework. But there is still need for much of Western theology, especially American evangelical theology, to see itself as contextual, otherwise other minority theologies will continue to be marginalized (Dyrness and Garcia-Johnson, 2015: 8; Martinez, 2012: 193). Critical lenses need to be applied to some of the most basic things that are taken for granted, for example, in the use of “contextualization” language, which often assumes an acontextual or universal nature of what is brought from the West to the rest (Hwang, 2022: 6–7), or even in the area of epistemology, where Western ways of thinking continue to dominate how non-western Christians think about their faith.

Dyrness and Garcia-Johnson (2015: 7–9, 20, 32–33) offer several points for what non-West-centric theology might look like. Rather than viewing Western theology as unique and superior, it learns to discern where God is active. Instead of codependence, there is collaboration in interdisciplinary ways. Theology is built to serve the global population, rather than the population used for the service of theology (cf. Mignolo, 2012: 29–30). Rather than ignoring majority world (local) traditions or replacing the western theological tradition, varying traditions come to illuminate each other. Is not this theology, set in the reality of the global church, the type of theology that the church does not avoid, but seeks out?

Returning to our definition of Asian theology (“theology that is done by Asians for the Asian church”), we see a second major issue. Asian theology, done well, must be done not only for academia, but for the church. Rather than viewing theology as an either/or (i.e., academia or the church), Asian theology must be done in collaboration between the two. Theologies with only academia in mind tend to be West-centric, centering Western issues and the Western theological audience, thus hindering the progress of authentic Asian theologies. Instead, Asian theologians must learn to value their own traditions and issues, viewing relevance and applicability as central, instead of acceptance by the academy. Especially in the evangelical world, there is a great deal of decolonizing of theological epistemologies that is necessary, albeit carefully and wisely. When Asian theologians are able to work outside of their received and traditional frameworks and boundaries, to do theology in areas and ways that are church-centric rather than scholar-centric, they will be able to do more effective and relevant Asian theology.

Conclusion

I return now to the two points I noted about myself at the beginning of this article. In my younger days, I did not like that I was Korean. I refused to speak Korean at home with my parents or with family, and I did not like Korean music or culture. But as I have grown older, I have learned to embrace that side of myself. I speak Korean much better, have even preached in Korean. I have gotten pretty decent at cooking Korean food, as many of my students can attest. I am not ashamed to admit that I am a product of different worlds. I can recognize the good in each. In theology, Asian scholars must learn how to appreciate and lean into their unique Asian identities. Rather than learning to detach themselves from their scholarship, for example, in biblical or theological studies, the next generation of Asian scholars must learn to utilize these perspectives to their advantages, seeing the good that can be found in them. Those who uncritically accept the thoroughly modern principles that underlie much of western theological scholarship are like the younger me, ignoring my Koreanness and pretending to be a white American, when I clearly was not. The future of theological scholarship in Asia is to learn to embrace who we are and to use our diverse and unique backgrounds for the sake of scholarship, rather than viewing them as a handicap.

Related to this, scholarship can be more fruitful when theologians embrace their identities and the issues their people are facing in order to actually do scholarship for the church. What does it matter in the bigger picture of things if we are loved by the academy but unable to serve the church or the world? This is what Garcia-Johnson calls “theology outside of the margins,” that is, outside of recognition and affirmation of the academy (Dyrness and Garcia-Johnson, 2015: 14). As a product of the theological academy myself, I am not suggesting that Asian theologians must reject the academy entirely and work outside of its bounds. Instead, there is a great need to reorganize priorities, with the academy working to serve the church, rather than being the master over it.

Second: in my own journey, I became interested in historical theology and patristics because I was curious about how things came to be. Why do we confess these doctrines? What is the actual story behind them? Learning about historical theology in seminary was the gateway for me into the broader world of tradition and theology. But while study of the ancient past is in some sense accepted, study of the more recent past is looked down upon. We learn a lot about theology way back then, but we often know so little about our own traditions—the names, the stories, the events that form who we are theologically. That is “historical theology” and “church history,” this is merely “mission history.” But our traditions, the stories of how our churches came to be, what we have passed down from one generation to the next, are no less important, no less theological, than the early church, medieval church, Reformation, or modern church. Those voices deserve to be heard, even if they are not scholars, even if they are not as important in the broader scheme of “theology.”

The fact of the matter is that the churches of Asia know very little theologically about their own local church traditions. The churches in the many countries of Asia possess long and complex histories, even theological traditions, that are alive and growing today. These histories, these theologies, need to be understood better in their cultural, political, sociological, linguistic, and theological complexities. There is still a great deal of self-understanding needed before Asian churches and Asian theologians can theologize in the way that is needed by churches today. There is still a great deal to overcome regarding Western modes of thinking, particularly in the study and doing of theology, as well as in the doing of church, before Asian theology can come into its own in a fuller and more mature way. The Asian church can stand to better realize that theology that is most important, theology that is most rewarding, is when we examine where and how God is moving in the world today, wherever and however that may be.