Why Systematic Theologians Don’t Prioritize Love

In my recently published A Systematic Theology of Love, I say that, to my knowledge, this book is the first with that precise title. And few systematic theologians afford love preeminence in their work.

Why is love not given prominence?

I’ve not conducted an official survey to answer this question. But here are my guesses based on my readings and interactions:

Love Has Many Meanings

In English, “love” has many meanings, and this diversity leads to different languages of love and connotations. For instance, there are significant differences between loving strangers, romantic partners, ice cream, family, God, enemies, and rock-n-roll. And yet “love” is used to describe them all. The meaning of love lacks clarity.

It’s not just that love has multiple meanings in everyday use; love also has multiple meanings in scripture. Biblical writers don’t use the Greek and Hebrew words we translate “love” consistently. And some translators consider a variety of biblical words not usually translated “love” as synonyms for the word.[1] Consequently, there are multiple biblical theologies of love, because the scriptural witness is multi-vocal.[2]

We might wonder, for instance, whether biblical writers instruct us to love the world. God “so loved the world,” says the Apostle John, and many biblical writers say believers in Christ ought to love one another. But other writers reject love for the world. John’s first letter says, “Don’t love the world or anything in the world” (1 Jn. 2:15-17). And the writer of 2 Timothy chastises Demas because “he loved the world” (2 Tim. 4:10). So, should we love the world or not? In these cases, the meaning of “love” changes depending on the context.

We find other examples too. Sometimes biblical authors endorse love for oneself (e.g., the second greatest commandment).[3] Or they assume self-love would be natural (e.g., Eph. 5:28). But other times the biblical writers criticize self-love (e.g., 2 Tim. 3:2). So, should we love ourselves or not? We can point to many instances in which biblical writers say God wants us to forgive and love our enemies. But other biblical passages have God saying, “show them no mercy” (Deut. 7:2) and seemingly endorsing violence toward enemies (e.g., Exod. 23:27; 1 Sam. 15:1-3).[4] Does love do violence or not?[5]

We can’t solve these conflicting biblical claims by simply examining the Greek or Hebrew words for love. In fact, the word translated “love” in the conflicting New Testament passages above is agape.[6] Agape has many meanings in the Bible, and those meanings don’t always agree with one another. When love has such diverse connotations, theologians will be tempted to choose an orienting concern other than love to anchor their systematic theologies.

If love is to be central in systematic theology, we need to address its meaning.

Theologians Rarely Define Love Well

A second reason systematic theologians have not taken love as their central theme relates to the first: few theologians define love clearly.[7] Even “those who write best about love,” says Jules Toner, “devote very little space to considering what love is.”[8] Without a clear and coherent understanding, we can’t craft a clear and coherent theology of love.

The few who do define it often choose definitions that undermine love’s primary meaning in the Bible. Flawed definitions often lead to flawed conclusions. St. Augustine is a perfect example. Although biblical writers mostly use “love” to describe actions that promote abundant life, blessedness, or well-being, Augustine defines love as desire.[9] Countless theologians adopt his mistaken approach.[10]

In Teaching Christianity, Augustine poses a question: “How does [God] love us?” Because Augustine defines love as desire, he thinks God desires by either enjoying or using us. If God “enjoys us,” says Augustine, “it means he is in need of some good of ours, which nobody in his right mind could possibly say.”[11] We have nothing of value, according to Augustine, because God already has all values eternally. So, God can’t love/desire us in the sense of needing us.

Because he defines love as desire, Augustine says God loves by desiring what’s valuable.[12] Being wise, God desires only the most valuable. This means, says Augustine, God only desires/loves Godself. The world and its creatures aren’t of highest value, so God doesn’t love them, at least not for their own sakes.

The only way God can love/desire us, according to Augustine, is to use us. “He doesn’t enjoy us, but makes use of us,” he says. “Because if he neither enjoys us nor makes use of us, I can’t find any way in which he can love us.”[13] Augustine realizes his definition of love leads to a problem. Because he believes God must be entirely self-sufficient, Augustine says God “doesn’t make use of us, either.” At least not “in the same way as we use things.” He explains: “Our making use of things is directed to the end of enjoying God’s goodness.” But “God’s making use of us is directed to his goodness.”[14] In short, God only loves Godself. By defining love as desire, therefore, Augustine is forced to conclude that God doesn’t love the world.

Still more problems arise for Augustine because of his unhelpful definition of love. According to him, creatures love properly when they desire what’s most valuable. The most valuable is God. Consequently, proper desire doesn’t involve love for neighbors, oneself, or creation, at least not for their own sakes.[15] We shouldn’t actually love one another.

Augustine tries to explain this contorted view: “Every human being, precisely as human, is to be loved on God’s account,” he asserts. “All things are to be loved for God’s sake.”[16] We should “take pity on each other,” he says, “so that we may all enjoy [God], not one another.”[17] This means that “when you enjoy a human being,” says Augustine, “you are really enjoying God rather than the human being.”[18]

With Augustine’s definition of love as desire, it’s difficult to make sense of even the most basic Christian themes about love for neighbors or love for ourselves. And given the confusion this definition of love has generated, it might be tempting to say defining love at all must be misguided venture. Love is inherently indefinable, says one argument, because words can’t capture love’s profundity. Consequently, only fools would attempt a systematic theology of love.

I agree with those who say words can’t capture love fully. But words can’t capture God fully either, and yet theologians write tome after tome. No definition captures all relevant truths of any subject, person, or activity. But words convey some truth, and they’re necessary for written communication. An adequate systematic theology of love, therefore, must define love clearly and use it consistently, while admitting that words can’t capture love fully.[19]

Systematic theologians often fail to define love and define it well.

Systems Can’t Capture Love

A third possible reason theologians don’t write systematic theologies of love pertains to skepticism of grand belief systems. Although good systematic theologies attempt to account for God and reality, some theologians give the impression their systems capture all truths. An all-inclusive system would be the Final Word.

By contrast, I doubt that any systematic theology can address everything. Some of the largest and most comprehensive—e. g., the work of Thomas Aquinas or Karl Barth—fail to account for crucial ideas. God and the world are bigger than any system. Theologians who realize systems of thought can’t capture love fully, therefore, may choose not to write systematic theologies of love.

My systematic theology also isn’t the final word. But systematic theologies that account for what we think important, and those that strive to be rationally consistent, should be preferred to theologies that ignore major issues. Organized knowledge is preferable to chaos. I agree with Alfred North Whitehead that “an attack upon systematic thought is treason to civilization.”[20]

In this work, I aim to orient ideas about God and life systematically around love, while seeking existential fit. I seek harmony of understanding and adequacy to life.[21] But this book will likely overlook important topics, and I don’t aim to provide all truth for all time. Other readers and scholars will need to add to, revise, and enhance my proposals.

Although this systematic theology isn’t the full and final statement on God, love, and existence, I aim for it to be better than unsystematized theologies and those that ignore the primacy of love.

Love is Considered Sentimental and Not Intellectually Rigorous

A fourth possible reason systematic theologians have not taken love as their orienting concern pertains to its perceived “fluffiness.” Love isn’t capable of intellectual investigation, goes this argument, because it isn’t intellectually rigorous. In fact, some who champion love for theology do so to express anti-intellectualism.

Blaise Pascal gets at this issue with his pithy line, “The heart has reasons that reason knows not of.” Pascal isn’t opposed to reason, but he believes it can’t account for crucial aspects of life. He thinks reason comes second to experience, for “it is the heart which experiences God,” says Pascal, “and not the reason.”[22] I like his emphasis upon experience, and I admit that propositional statements fail to account for love. But I don’t think we should pit experience against reason and intellectual sophistication.

To counter the criticism that love must be fluffy, squishy, and opposed to reason, I won’t shirk from intellectual sophistication or academic rigor in this systematic theology of love. While I write in accessible prose, I consult and cite leading theological, biblical, philosophical, and scientific scholars. I also draw from poets, artists, and activists. I suspect most readers will be surprised at my logical consistency.

Other theologians may not regard love as systematic theology’s central motif because they consider the term too sentimental, permissive, or choosing the status quo. Stanley Hauerwas has these worries, for instance. He says love is too sentimental to do the hard work needed for building character and making difficult decisions. “The ethics of love is often but a cover for what is fundamentally an assertion of ethical relativism,” says Hauerwas. It is “an ethics of tolerance that makes kindness the central virtue” and “becomes a justification for our own arbitrary desires and likes.” “Great immoralities are not the result of evil intentions,” he says, “but a love gone crazy with its attempt to encompass all mankind within its purview.”[23]

Hauerwas rightly criticizes simplistic and misguided views of love. And he rightly emphasizes the importance of communities and practices for living well. But Hauerwas’s attacks on weak versions of love-based theology don’t address the strong versions. Some of the greatest examples of those who champion love—including Jesus of Nazareth—do so in the face of persecution, self-doubt, the pressures of empire, and death.[24] They’re not excessively sentimental or permissive. Hauerwas seems unaware that a theology that defines love well can account for community, hard decisions, practices, counter-cultural activism, and virtues.

As I see it, love takes sides, and it always sides with the work of promoting flourishing, justice, beauty, and liberation.[25] To do this, it sometimes disrupts and resists; it also comforts and heals. I agree with Maria Pilar Aquino, who says, “Love takes up the desires of the poor and oppressed and commits itself to the transformation of human misery.”[26]

I also reject Hauerwas’s claim that love goes “crazy” when it attempts to encompass all within its purview. Instead, I believe love has the common good in mind, although its focus is typically upon particular contexts and communities. Because love seeks overall well-being, it doesn’t advance the good of a few at the expense of the whole. That’s unjust. It joins Hauerwas in stressing the importance of developing virtue, inculcating practices, and growing in community.[27] But it seeks to promote overall well-being.

Love, as I understand it, consults head and heart, brain and body, knowledge and vital piety.

Overlooked Voices and Lived Experiences

Theological systems sometimes exclude or marginalize the voices of women, people of color, the disabled, the queer community, and the other-than-human creatures on the planet.[28] Systematic theologians may claim to address our most pressing questions, but they sometimes ignore scientific advances, the role of emotions, climate change, gender and sexuality issues, the arts, political oppression, and so on. Theologians sometimes rely upon abstract claims that oppose the practical living of diverse people.[29] A fifth reason no one has written a book called A Systematic Theology of Love, I suspect, would be that some people assume systematic theologies, by definition, neglect marginalized voices and lived experience.

In his post-colonial theology, Steve Watson argues that systematic theologies easily become univocal. They purport to have arrived at complete insights into the nature of God and existence. Systematic theologians can act as if they’ve “seen Revelation’s heavenly city in full come down to earth through brilliant thinking or synthesis,” says Watson, “usually that of a single, white man.”[30] And this means, says Marcella Althaus-Reid, “discourses on power have been systemized, classified, and organized in Systematic Theology.”[31] Systematic theology reflects Eurocentric, patriarchal, and institutional assumptions.[32] I believe we should take this critique seriously.

I recently asked an artificial intelligence (AI) engine to list the current thirty best-selling systematic theologies. The list generated was telling. Every top-selling systematic theology was written by a white man in the Reformed Evangelical tradition. All thirty! Systematic theologies have been written by women and people of color, of course, but they aren’t top-sellers.[33] This lack of diversity gives the impression that writing systematic theologies must be an activity reserved for white men who benefit from systems of power.

I’m also a white man. But I write this systematic theology influenced by many voices, including voices very different from my own. In doing so, I agree with Watson that we should be “engaging the widest variety of thinking and experience to build open-ended reflections that express our best current thinking on all things in light of God.”[34] Drawing from varieties of experience strengthens a systematic theology of love. I’m also taking a very different perspective from the dominant Reformed tradition.

Because I’m limited, I’m sure I’ll fail to include some voices. And my own experiences will undoubtedly blind me to some experiences of others. I don’t have a God’s-eye perspective, nor am I entirely neutral or objective. For my errors and oversights, I apologize in advance.

I also encourage criticism and suggestions from voices I’ve missed.[35] I join with Watson in “dialogically and ongoingly imagining and reimagining Revelation’s heavenly city in the context of our current experience of earth.”[36] And I join Hanna Reichel by reading liberation and systematic theologies together, rather than assume they must be kept separate.[37]

To prioritize love, this systematic theology of love draws from many sources, and I hope to do them justice.

Sovereignty Trumps Love

The sixth and most important reason that, until now, no book has been titled A Systematic Theology of Love has to do with the lure of other orienting themes. Although I’ve not done a survey, I suspect the most common theme orienting systematic theologies has been sovereignty. It dominates the thirty best-selling systematic theologies I mentioned. For many theologians, organizing theology around a particular view of divine power seems more alluring than organizing around love.

Starting with omnipotence can lead to a high degree of internal consistency. But omnipotence-based theologies fail to fit lived experience or scripture well. Most systematic theologies privileging omnipotence explain away creaturely freedom, for instance, and can’t solve the problem of evil. They at least implicitly endorse the status quo and institutional ways of thinking. Omnipotence-oriented theologies portray God’s love in ways that bear little resemblance to love as we know it.

The idea of sovereignty closely aligns with the centrality of divine glory in Reformed systematic theologies. The Westminster Confession claims the chief purpose of humans is to glorify God, and all creation gives deity glory.[38] If giving glory ought to be our primary purpose, glory would be a reasonable central theme for the systematic theologian. And glory-based theology should, theoretically, inspire worship.

A close look at theologies oriented around glory, however, reveals that most build from a prior commitment to sovereignty.[39] When clashes between sovereignty and love arise, the inconsistencies are often brushed aside with appeals to mystery: “God’s ways are not our ways.” And what counts as divine love doesn’t correspond with what we normally consider loving. “In glory, God predestines some for hell,” theologians might say, for instance. “All glory to God!” It’s hard to make sense of such reasoning and difficult to worship a deity who sends people to eternal conscious torment.

The attraction to sovereignty was evident early in Christianity, and we can see the priority of omnipotence in the major Christian creeds.[40] The Apostle’s Creed, which is probably the most cited, starts with claims about an almighty God (omnipotens) but never mentions love. Christian alignment with empire, among other things, tempted early theologians to imagine deity as an authoritarian emperor rather than a loving nurturer.[41]

Systematic theologies that come closest to taking love as their orienting concern typically use the language of grace.[42] The words for love are found far more frequently in scripture than words for grace, but I suspect theologians appeal to grace because “love” has so many meanings. To their credit, grace-oriented theologies typically fit lived experience better than sovereignty-oriented ones, and they usually avoid describing love in incomprehensible ways.[43] But most retain the idea of God’s omnipotence and essential independence from creation.[44] And many say God punishes now and may punish the unrepentant forever in hell.[45]

Saying God must be omnipotent and essentially independent prevents theologies from answering well the atheist’s chief objection: the problem of evil.[46] If grace explains the way of an all-powerful deity, why doesn’t God gracefully prevent genuine evil? If love for creation remains primary, why doesn’t God necessarily and everlastingly love creatures? If grace is always God’s way, why would this deity punish or send some to eternal conscious torment? Failing to answer questions like these well sabotages systematic theologies, whether oriented around sovereignty, glory, grace, or something else.

It’s time to put love first in systematic theology.

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^[1] For instance, Nijay Gupta includes Greek words for desire in his exploration of love as described in scripture. Those words include zeloo and epitheymeo (The Affections of Jesus Christ [Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2025], ch. 3). I think Gupta errs in this practice, however. Although desire is a component of love, it is neither love itself, nor a form thereof. He may have sidestepped this error had he clearly defined love at the outset of his book. See my criticisms of love as desire in Pluriform Love, chs. 5-6.

^[2] Werner Jeanrond puts it well: the “Bible doesn’t contain any pure or original passage on love to which we could return for any timeless and unambiguous understanding of love” (A Theology of Love [London: T & T Clark, 2010], 40).

^[3] Love for oneself seems to be implied in Jesus’ second greatest commandment. See Mk. 12:28-34; Mt. 22:36-40; Lk. 10:25-28.

^[4] Several biblical scholars offer helpful ways to interpret texts of terror. See, for instance, Eric A. Seibert, The Violence of Scripture (Philadelphia: Fortress, 2012).

^[5] Jason Tripp explores the question of divine hypocrisy in “Is God a Hypocrite?” in Amipotence, vol. 2, Brandon Brown, et. al., eds. (Grasmere, ID: SacraSage, 2025).

^[6] I explore the various Hebrew and Greek words translated “love” in my book Pluriform Love. See chapters 3-7.

^[7] In his The Four Loves, C. S. Lewis explores types of love but never defines love. Jason Lepojarvi notes this omission (God Is Love but Love Isn’t God [PhD thesis University of Helsinki, 2015], 68).

^[8] Jules Toner, The Experience of Love (Washington, DC: Corpus Instrumentorum, 1968), 8. Edward Collins Vacek also complains that scholars fail to define love well. See Love, Human and Divine (Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 1994), 34.

^[9] “Love is a kind of craving,” says Augustine (Eighty-Three Different Questions, 35, 2). Augustine lays out what this means theologically in Teaching Christianity (De Doctrina Christiana), John E. Rotelle, ed., Edmund Hill, trans. (Hyde Park, NY: New City, 1996). See my evaluation of this in Pluriform Love, chs. 5-6.

^[10] Many have criticized Augustine for his views of sex. My criticism of Augustine’s focus on desire extends far beyond his particular issues with sex. For a sustained theological criticism of Augustine, see Werner Jeanrond, A Theology of Love.

^[11] Augustine, Teaching Christianity, Book 1, paragraph 31.

^[12] Hannah Arendt explores this in Love and Saint Augustine (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996).

^[13] Ibid., Book 1, paragraph 32.

^[14] Ibid.

^[15] See my full discussion of Augustine’s failed theology of love in Pluriform Love (Grasmere, ID: SacraSage, 2022), chs. 5-6.

^[16] Augustine, Teaching Christianity, Book 1, paragraph 28.

^[17] Ibid., Book 1, paragraph 29.

^[18] Ibid., Book 1, paragraph 37.

^[19] I offer a sustained defense of my definition of love in Pluriform Love, ch 2 and Defining Love (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos, 2010). I explore scientific dimensions of love in The Science of Love (Philadelphia: Templeton, 2005) and The Altruism Reader (Philadelphia: Templeton, 2012). On the science of love, see Stephen Post, et. al., Altruism and Altruistic Love (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001).

^[20] Alfred North Whitehead, Adventures of Ideas (New York: Free Press, 1967), 162.

^[21] Alfred North Whitehead uses this nice phrase in Science and the Modern World (New York: Free Press, 1967), 76.

^[22] Pascal’s Pensees (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1958), 277-78.

^[23] Stanley Hauerwas, Vision and Virtue (Notre Dame, IN: Notre Dame University Press, 1981), 124-25.

^[24] Many New Testament scholars point to love as the heart of Jesus’ and New Testament ethics. See examples of such scholars in the previous footnotes.

^[25] Gustavo Gutierrez argues similarly in The God of Life (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1991).

^[26] Maria Pilar Aquino, Our Cry for Life (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1994), 157.

^[27] Guided by the work of Pitirim Sorokin, Jeffrey Wattles expresses the importance of developing a loving character in Living in Truth, Beauty, and Goodness (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2016). Sorokin’s primary book of love is The Ways and Power of Love, Stephen G. Post, intro. (Philadelphia: Templeton, 2002 [1954]).

^[28] Brandon Ambrosino expresses his disdain for theological systems that excluded him as a gay man. See his book, Is It God’s Will? (New York: Morehouse, 2025).

^[29] Alex Forrester addresses this issue and argues for the power of amipotent love. See “The Supremacist Soteriology of Divine Omnipotence,” in Amipotence, vol. 2, Brandon Brown, et. al., eds. (Grasmere, ID: SacraSage, 2025).

^[30] See Steve Watson, All Flesh Shalom: A Post-Colonial, Open and Relational Constructive Theology of Major Themes in the Gospels (Doctoral Dissertation at Northwind Theological Seminary, 2025).

^[31] Marcella Althaus-Reid, Indecent Theology (London: Routledge, 2000), 23.

^[32] James Cone makes this kind of argument in A Black Theology of Liberation (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1990). Among those who criticize theologians for being patriarchal, see Elizabeth A. Johnson, She Who Is (New York: Crossroad, 1992); Catherine Keller, From a Broken Web (Boston: Beacon, 1986); Rosemary Radford Ruether, Sexism and God-Talk (Boston: Beacon, 1983); Marjorie Hewitt Suchocki, God, Christ, Church (New York: Crossroad, 1982); Delores S. Williams, Sisters in the Wilderness (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1993).

^[33] See Katherine Sonderegger’s work for an example of a systematic theology written by a woman (Systematic Theology, Volume 1 [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2015]). See James Evans for a systematic theology written by a person of color (We Have Been Believers, 2nd ed., [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012]). Amos Yong explores systematic theology for global Christianity in Renewing Christian Theology (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2014). So does Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Global Introductions to Systematic Theology, 3 vols. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2002–2004).

^[34] Watson, All Flesh Shalom.

^[35] Along these lines, I’m grateful for the criticism of my friend Karen Baker-Fletcher. For instance, see her essay, “A Womanist Liberative Response to Oord’s Theology of Amipotence,” in Amipotence, vol. 2, Brandon Brown, et. al., eds. (Grasmere, ID: SacraSage, 2025).

^[36] Watson, All Flesh Shalom.

^[37] Hanna Reichel articulates this well in After Method (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2023).

^[38] See The Westminster Confession of Faith, in The Creeds of Christendom, rev. ed., Philip Schaff, ed., vol. 3 (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2007), 596–673.

^[39] For an example of a systematic theology that claims to center on divine glory but is actually more concerned with omnipotence, see Millard J. Erickson, Christian Theology, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1998).

^[40] On this, see Rita Nakashima Brock and Rebecca Ann Parker, Saving Paradise (Boston: Beacon, 2008).

^[41] John Sanders has written eloquently about authoritative vs. nurturant views of God. See his book Embracing Prodigals (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2020). See also Chris Hanson, Open and Relational Parenting (Grasmere, ID: SacraSage, 2025).

^[42] For examples of grace-centered theologies, see Barry L. Callen, God as Loving Grace (Nappanee IN: Evangel, 1996); H. Ray Dunning, Grace, Faith, and Holiness (Kansas City, MO: Beacon Hill, 1988).

^[43] Randy Maddox offers an especially helpful theology of grace, and he draws from the work of John Wesley. See Responsible Grace (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1994).

^[44] Stanley Grenz chooses the eschatological community as the integrative motif in his systematic theology. Happily, this choice leads him to say God is relational. Unhappily, Grenz retains traditional views of divine power and independence. See Theology for the Community of God (Nashville, TN: Broadman & Holman, 1994), 30.

^[45] David Anzalone explores the promise of amipotence in addressing the question of hell in his essay, “Hell and Amipotence,” in Amipotence, vol. 2, Brandon Brown, et. al., eds. (Grasmere, ID: SacraSage, 2025).

^[46] For an example of this, see Kenneth J. Collins, The Theology of John Wesley (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 2007).