Theology is War Prep
In a world of soft faith and softer men, clarity is combat.
Many people claim that theology is for ivory towers. For seminaries. For the comment section under a John Piper video. They say doctrine is dry. Divisive. Optional. What really matters, they say, is sincerity. Heart. Good vibes and vague belief. Just love Jesus.
But here’s the problem:
You can’t love a Jesus you don’t know.
We’re raising up a generation of Christians who don’t know Him. Not really, anyway.
They know the name. They don’t know the nature. They think “Trinity” is a worship band and “justification” is a spelling error underlined in a red squiggly line in Microsoft Word.
We have baptized ignorance and called it humility.
And it shows.
Walk into the average church and crack open a Bible, and people will look at you like you just brought a sword to brunch. Which, incidentally, is exactly what you did.
My point is that, doctrine isn’t a luxury item. It’s not leather-bound dead weight for the overeducated. It’s the weapon rack of the Church.
If you don’t know who God is, you will worship a cardboard cutout of Him—One that smiles like a youth pastor, nods like a therapist, and winks at your sin while hell gnaws at the floorboards.
If you don’t know what sin is, you’ll keep feeding it. Petting it. Dressing it up in better language. You’ll give it pronouns and parade it down main street.
If you don’t know what grace is, you’ll either beat yourself with guilt or run full speed into lawlessness. Either way, you’ll bleed.
So, I’m not writing this as theory, but as a triage. I feel like we gave up creeds for church marketing, catechisms for kids' programs with no Christ, and sermons for storytelling with no sword. And now we’re surprised when the Church buckles like a plastic lawn chair in a hurricane. We trained them with fog machines and all-you-can-eat emotional buffet lines, and wonder why they collapse when culture presses in.
Doctrine isn’t what you get once your faith is “deep.”
Doctrine is what keeps your faith from drowning in shallowness.
Paul didn’t tell Timothy to go find better vibes. He told him to guard the deposit. He told him that bad doctrine leads to hell. He told him to fight the good fight, not the polite one.
Calvin said, “Without knowledge of God, there is no knowledge of self.”
Sproul said, “Everyone’s a theologian.”
Piper said, “Right thinking exists for the sake of right feeling—for the sake of right living.”
And they were all right.
You want to be a faithful man? Know what you believe. You want to lead a home that lasts longer than your Wi-Fi password? Catechize your kids. You want to survive Babylon with your soul intact? Pick up the sword and study the map.
Because every heresy is a failure of doctrine! Every cultural lie is a theological distortion dressed in nice clothes. And every time we flinch from clarity, a generation gets discipled by TikTok instead of Titus.
This is why I’m writing Tactical Theology. It isn’t about being smart, it’s about being armed. Yes, writing gives me a forum to address what I believe culture needs to hear. But, I’m not writing because I need to say something. I’m not writing because I’m trying to strike it rich. I’m writing because our sons and daughters are being catechized by chaos, and it feels to me like most men don’t have a doctrinal map in their hands to clear through the fog.
I wrote Zones of Dominion because I wanted to address the fact that doctrine isn’t just about your soul. It’s about your soil. Your household. Your habits. Your zip code.
I followed it up with Vivere Militare Est, because I don’t believe the Christian life is a sabbatical. If anything, it’s a military campaign.
And, That’s why I built the Ordo Salutis Field Manual. If we don’t know how God saves, we’ll keep preaching a gospel that doesn’t.
So, to me, Theology is war prep (as my title gave away). In an age of confusion, clarity is resistance. And, in an age of ugliness, beauty and order are protest.
So, doctrine is not a luxury. It’s how you keep your spine from turning to syrup. It’s the sword you carry when your son asks real questions. It’s the torch you lift when your church gets cloudy. It’s the anvil you pound on when the world starts preaching nonsense in a soft voice and a fitted blazer.
And it’s time we started wielding it. If you’re with me, follow me at: @furlongfieldpress, @bryandfurlong @householdreformationpodcast
Or, visit my websites at:
Author website— bryandfurlong.com
My Business Website— furlongfieldpress.com
Personal Website— bryanfurlong.com
Podcast— Household Reformation Podcast