TL;DR
Theology is not only what pastors preach or what sits in heavy books. It is the living connection between God, people, and the daily rhythms of life. For tribes like the Dinka and Nuer, theology shows up in how we name children, bless food, celebrate seasons, mourn the dead, and tell stories by the fire.
When belief is alive, it turns customs into calling and rituals into reminders that we belong to both God and our ancestors. When belief is lost, heritage becomes costume. When belief is kept and renewed, heritage becomes a strong identity that can survive war, migration, and modern pressure. Theology, lived in homes and communities, is one of the strongest shields our culture has.
Theology Is Closer Than We Think
As a boy, I thought theology lived far away.
It lived in pulpits, on the lips of pastors with heavy Bibles and worn-out covers. It lived in the big books that gathered dust on church shelves. It lived in Bible schools and seminaries I had never seen. In my young mind, theology wore a suit and lived in town.
Out in the village, I chased goats, fetched water, and listened to adults talking about rain, cows, and war. No one used the word “theology” at the riverbank. So I assumed it had nothing to do with us.
Only later did I realise something important. Theology was already all around me.
It was in the quiet prayers my mother whispered over the cooking pot.
It was in the songs my grandmother sang under the stars.
It was in the way my father reminded us that life was more than cattle and crops.
Without writing a single book, my parents and grandparents were theologians. They were shaping how we saw God and how we saw ourselves. I was breathing theology before I could spell the word.
Theology Beyond Books And Classrooms
For many people, theology sounds like a technical subject. You imagine Greek words, church history timelines, and debates about doctrine. These things matter, but they are not the starting point for most ordinary people.
For the Dinka, Nuer, and many other African peoples, theology begins inside heritage.
It is present in:
- The way we bless the first harvest.
- The way we slaughter an animal and share the meat.
- The way we honour the dead and comfort the living.
- The way we name children after events, dreams, or relatives.
Each action is a statement about God, life, and identity.
I remember my grandmother telling us how our people once crossed the Nile, trusting God to bring them safely to the other side. She did not call it a “theological narrative.” She simply told it as a story of survival and guidance.
Yet that story said many things at once:
God sees us in trouble.
God walks with us through danger.
We are a people who move with God, not alone.
If you remove belief from that story, it becomes only geography and movement. With belief, it becomes identity.
When Belief Gives Customs A Soul
Belief is to heritage what breath is to a body.
Without belief, customs can still move for a while, but they grow empty. People perform rituals without knowing why. They follow steps that no longer speak to their hearts.
When belief is alive, the same customs gain a soul.
I saw this in small things. Before eating, my parents always paused. Sometimes the prayer was long. Sometimes it was short, almost a sigh. But the message stayed the same. Food is a gift. We are not the final owners. We receive with gratitude.
An outsider might see only a hand gesture or a few quiet words. I see theology in action.
Our people have long linked cattle with honour, sacrifice, and community. To someone outside, a cow may be just meat or money. For us, giving a cow can mean reconciliation, marriage, or deep respect. When belief is still present, cattle are not just economic assets. They are woven into how we understand God’s blessings and human relationships.
Belief turns:
- A dance into worship.
- A name into a testimony.
- A meal into thanksgiving.
- A funeral into both mourning and hope.
Take belief away, and these things remain, but they lose their inner fire.
The Humor Inside Our Theology
Theology in our communities is not always serious and stiff.
Once, during a community prayer, one elder prayed with such energy and length that even the goats started drifting away. Children later joked, “Your prayer is longer than the Nile.” We laughed. He laughed too.
The laughter did not mean we despised prayer. It meant belief lived in real life, with real people who sometimes overdid things. Our theology did not float above us. It sat with us, walked with us, and yes, sometimes made us laugh.
I remember another time when someone misquoted a Bible verse in a very creative way. Instead of scolding him, people laughed and then gently corrected him. Theology became a shared journey, not a weapon to beat people with.
Humor keeps belief human. It reminds us that we are dealing with God who loves real people, not with a system of ideas that must never be touched. When children grow up seeing adults pray, sing, joke, and live their faith openly, they learn that theology belongs in daily life, not only in church programmes.
Theology As Resistance In Times Of Pressure
History shows that outsiders often tried to erase tribal identity by attacking beliefs.
Colonial powers sometimes described African customs as “primitive.” Some missionaries, though well-meaning, called local songs and rituals “pagan” without trying to understand them. The message, spoken or unspoken, was simple. Your old ways are wrong. Your new faith must look and sound exactly like ours.
But theology, when rooted in the people, can resist this kind of pressure.
I once asked an elder why he still told stories about the “old ways” after he had become a Christian. He smiled and said, “If we forget our stories, our faith becomes borrowed. When we remember, our faith has roots.”
He was not defending everything from the old days. He knew some practices brought harm and needed to be left behind. But he also knew that God had been at work long before foreigners arrived. The God who sent His Son did not start caring about our tribes in the twentieth century. He had been writing hints of Himself in our rain, our rivers, our moons, and our consciences.
Keeping older stories and songs alive, while reading them through the light of the Gospel, became a form of resistance. It protected people from feeling that faith was a foreign import with no connection to their grandparents.
Theology, rooted in our own tongue and story, gave us the courage to stand before the world and say, “We are followers of Christ and children of this tribe. We do not have to choose one against the other in every case.”
You might also like: The Complete Guide to Theology: Faith, Reason, and Modern Interpretations
Identity In Times Of Displacement
War, hunger, and migration have pushed many of us far from our original homes.
I have prayed in mud huts, under acacia trees, in refugee camps, and in city lodges with tiled floors. I have heard worship in languages I barely understood. I have eaten food that my ancestors never tasted.
In those journeys, theology became my anchor.
When I was in Khartoum, surrounded by new cultures and unfamiliar streets, belief told me, “You are still John, son of Maluth and Nyareth, and child of God.” When I reached Yei, Juba, and other places, theology connected the new with the old. The God my parents trusted beside the Sobat River was the same God who watched me in foreign cities.
Names also carried theology. My names remind me of dedication, survival, and spiritual calling. They are not just labels. They are identity statements.
Without this layer of belief, it would have been easy to feel like dust blown by the wind. With it, I felt like a tree that had been uprooted and replanted, but not destroyed. My roots were not only in physical soil. They were also in a story of God and tribe that travelled with me.
The Danger Of Separating Faith From Heritage
When theology is cut loose from heritage, two sad things can happen.
First, some people begin to feel that to be “spiritual” they must despise their tribe.
They stop using their mother tongue in worship. They mock their own traditional songs while copying everything from other cultures. They hide their local names and choose foreign ones only. Faith becomes a way to escape their roots, not to deepen them.
Second, others do the opposite. They cling to culture but reject faith.
They say, “If following God means rejecting my people, then I choose my people.” They hold on to customs but no longer remember the God they once pointed to. Over time, the customs become dry. The younger ones see no life in them and walk away from both.
In both cases, something precious is lost. Either heritage is sacrificed on the altar of a shallow, borrowed religion, or faith is sacrificed on the altar of culture without God.
What we truly need is honest work. We must examine our traditions in the light of God’s truth. We keep what is good. We correct what is harmful. We let go of what destroys life. In that slow process, theology and heritage walk together and protect each other.
Theology As A Personal Shield For The Soul
Theology is not only about groups and tribes. It also guards the inner life of each person.
When you know what you believe about God, you gain strength in private battles. When you know that you are seen, loved, and called, you are less shaken by every insult, every loss, every failure.
In my own life, belief helped me answer silent questions.
Am I only the sum of my suffering? No, I am more.
Am I only what others think of me? No, God’s word about me is higher.
Am I alone in my struggle? No, God walks with me in the valley.
That is theology. It is not only a list of doctrines. It is the deep story you tell yourself when no one else is watching.
When a young person in our tribe thinks, “I am useless, my life will amount to nothing,” theology has something strong to say: “You are made in God’s image. You carry gifts. You are placed in this tribe and this time on purpose.”
If we do not pass on that kind of belief, modern voices will fill the gap. Advertising, social media, and shallow ideas will tell our children who they are. They will know every brand name but forget the meaning of their own names.
How To Pass Theology As Identity To The Next Generation
This work does not need a big budget. It needs attention and intention.
Here are simple ways to pass theology as identity:
- Pray in your mother tongue
Let children hear that God understands their first language. Let them know He is not limited to foreign phrases. - Explain customs, do not just perform them
If you bless food, explain why. If you pour a small portion on the ground in memory of someone, explain the meaning. Children remember reasons more than routines. - Tell both Bible stories and tribal stories
Let them hear about Abraham and also about their great-grandfather. Show them how both lives teach faith, courage, and obedience. - Use humor instead of fear
Share funny moments from your own walk with God. Show them that theology is not a stiff subject but a living relationship. - Live what you claim to believe
If you say God values honesty but constantly lie, children learn that your theology is only talk. If you confess that God calls us to forgive and they see you forgive, they learn that belief is real.
A Picture Of The Future: Faith With Roots
I often picture a future gathering under a tree.
Children and grandchildren sit in a circle. Phones are there, yes, but for once they are quiet. In the centre sits an elder with stories. He speaks about God, ancestors, wars survived, foolish mistakes, and lessons learned. The children laugh, ask questions, and slowly feel something settle inside them.
They learn that they belong to God.
They learn that they belong to a tribe.
They learn that these two truths do not cancel each other.
In that moment, theology is doing quiet work. It is protecting heritage from being swallowed by forgetfulness. It is protecting faith from becoming shallow and disconnected from real life.
If we want such a future, we must start now. In our kitchens, at our fire places, in our prayers, in our jokes, in our teaching and in our listening.
Conclusion: Theology As A Living Name Tag
Theology, at its best, is not just a subject. It is a name tag that says, “This is who God is to us, and this is who we are before Him.”
When belief is woven into language, stories, songs, and daily routines, it protects our heritage. It tells children, “You are not standing on bare ground. You stand on the prayers, tears, and faith of many who came before you.”
If we drop that name tag, others will gladly stick their own on us. They will tell us who we are, what to love, what to chase, and what to forget.
But if we keep theology close and real, we walk through this changing world with rooted feet and lifted eyes. We can welcome new knowledge, new tools, and new friendships without losing ourselves.
Heritage without theology can become empty costume.
Theology without heritage can become cold theory.
The two together can become a strong identity that survives storms.
If you would like to know more about my path as a writer, including the struggles, lessons, and small signs of progress along the way, you can read the full story on my Wealthy Affiliate blog here: https://my.wealthyaffiliate.com/johnmaluth/blog
Reflection Questions
- Which stories, songs, or customs from your tribe help you feel both close to God and close to your ancestors?
- How has your belief in God supported your identity during seasons of loss, change, or displacement?
- Where do you see danger if people in your community keep the customs but forget the faith that once gave them meaning?
- How could you use humor and storytelling to make faith more real and less frightening for the younger generation?
- What simple practice could you start this week to connect theology and heritage in your home, church, or community gathering?
FAQS
- Is it possible to follow Christ and still honour tribal traditions?
Yes, it is possible. Many traditions carry deep respect for life, community, and God’s care. The key is to examine each practice honestly. Keep what aligns with God’s truth and love. Correct or leave behind what harms people or hides His character. - Does theology always have to be academic and complex?
No. Academic study can help, but theology begins with how ordinary people think and speak about God in daily life. Simple prayers, songs, and stories are also theology, especially when they shape how we live. - How can young people rediscover theology as identity if they feel disconnected from their tribe?
They can start by listening to elders, learning their mother tongue better, asking for stories, and reading Scripture with questions in mind. They can ask, “What does God say about my worth, my tribe, and my future?” This reconnects both faith and heritage. - What if some traditional beliefs clearly conflict with the teaching of Christ?
In such cases, we must be honest and brave. We honour our ancestors by seeking truth, not by repeating everything they did. We can thank God for the good they passed on and gently let go of practices that bring fear, injustice, or harm. This is also part of protecting heritage in a healthy way.
