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By Andrea Lingle

In the mountains of Western North Carolina, the grass is growing again, the birds have returned, the carpenter bees are eating a perfect circle in the railing of my front porch. Spring has returned. The nights are soft and clear, and a certain yearning has returned to my heart. I love to wander under the twilight sky, deep into the evening—because, in the twilight, I can inhabit an edge.

An edge between light and dark. An edge between day and night. Edges, for me, feel like the places of faith.

What is a theologian? For most of my life, I have answered that question simply. Someone not like me. Someone more qualified. Someone older, wiser, more stern. Someone who reads German. Someone who has at least read all of THAT and can quote all of HIM. The title theologian carries weight. Probably the weight of several overflowing bookcases.

But what is theology?

Theology is the study of God by those who bear the image of the Divine. To dig around in the space between. To sleep under the metaphorical hedges long enough that you notice that they are all burning.

So, technically, I qualify as a theologian, and so do you.

In a series of blog posts, Larry Duggins wrote about the importance of taking up the work of theology.  

We are all charged to apply ourselves to working hard to come to grips with the truths surrounding our doctrine and belief. We are not allowed to simply push the responsibility for serious consideration off onto our clergy, bishops, conference delegates, and lay leaders. We are to think for ourselves, to pray and read and encounter scripture for ourselves, and discern our own understanding of the truths within our faith.

As the sunset makes way for the purpling of night, I wonder...where will this question, this wondering, this pathway take me? Will I meet the Divine here under the stars? Will you?

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