When the world is in chaos, well-meaning people look to console those they love—and there’s no question that the world is in chaos. Our news cycle is swirling with immigrant deportations, polarizing politics, and escalating conflicts in the Middle East. But we might debate those efforts in consolation, the pithy and familiar language Christians tend to use as a means of comfort.
You’ve probably heard the kind of thing I mean—phrases like these:
“You yet holding on? Keep on keeping on.”
“Won’t he do it?”
“God is good all the time.”
“He’s a way maker.”
“He delivered Daniel …”
“Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.”
I heard these statements over and over, often from elders with years of faith behind their voices. My grandmother was the daughter of a Church of Christ bishop, and my father became a Christian in the twilight years of my adolescence. As a young man who didn’t truly appreciate the Lord or his people, I didn’t always understand these sayings. Context matters. But even without my full comprehension, they left an impression. They were seeds. Today, I call this language colloquial theology: simple, heartfelt expressions of faith that carry the weight of experience.
Whether these lines offered comfort or clarity—or, sometimes, just confusion—they stuck with me, and I still hear them regularly from fellow Christians today. Increasingly, though, I also hear colloquial theology coming in for critique. One phrase in particular is continually under fire: “God is still on the throne.”
The criticism I’m encountering goes something like this: It may be true that God is still on the throne, but that’s not what people need to hear right now. It’s unhelpful, overly simplistic, maybe even tone-deaf in times of crisis.
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I disagree. Strongly. That God is still on the throne is exactly what people need to hear. And sometimes, this truth is all Christians can offer other than our presence, silence, and prayer.
In a world that feels increasingly unstable—in which violence, suffering, and confusion are the norm—what more grounding truth can we offer than the sovereignty of God? Psalm 47:8 reminds us, “God reigns over the nations; God is seated on his holy throne.” Psalm 103:19 echoes this: “The Lord has established his throne in heaven, and his kingdom rules over all.”
The prophet Jeremiah repeatedly mentioned “David’s throne.” Why? Because it was a reminder that God’s promises to David and, by extension, all of Israel still stood, even amid exile and sorrow. That throne symbolized covenant, hope, and divine presence.
In the same way, “God is still on the throne” is a modern Negro spiritual. It’s the cry of faith despite our often-grim conditions. It doesn’t ignore suffering—it acknowledges our pain while affirming the deeper reality of God’s power. The language doesn’t need to be wrapped in academic nuance to wield truth and power. In fact, its simplicity is often its strength.
To those who scoff at this phrase and others like it as outdated or theologically insufficient, I say this: Don’t insult the hermeneutics of my grandma and other saints who have gone before us. Their theology may not have come from seminary, but it came from suffering and trust.
And biblical examples of colloquial theology are everywhere. Like the words of the man Jesus had healed in John 9:25: “I was blind but now I see!” (no Greek breakdown necessary). Or the cry of a desperate father in Mark 9:24: “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief” (raw and honest). Or Joseph’s declaration in Genesis 50:20 (ESV): “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good” (a theodicy anyone can understand).
That’s faith. Jesus is pleased by the pithy statement of a desperate mother in Mark 7:24–30. He considers what I imagine to be a colloquial response a statement of faith. It was enough. And Jesus never wasted words. He didn’t need to babble on like the pagans (Matt. 6:7–8). Jesus himself rarely said what people wanted, but what he said was always good.
The prevalence of social media can deceive us into thinking we must always have a novel or complicated opinion and be able to articulate it with precision. That is a lie. Sometimes, the most faithful or wise thing a person can say is “God is still on the throne.”
That phrase alone is enough to communicate God’s sovereignty, his presence, his faithfulness. It’s an Ebenezer to future generations, a catechism for the everyday believer.
Colloquial theology uses simple words to tell deep truths. It’s for those who may not have the vocabulary but certainly have the testimony. If our spiritual stomachs are so sensitive that we now need theological haute cuisine in times of chaos, then maybe the problem isn’t the language—it’s our appetites. Maybe our reason has outrun our trust.
The Evangelical Diploma Divide
Not everyone is called to be a philosopher, religious scholar, and charismatic communicator all at once. God accepts the humble faith of a child (Matt. 18:1–4, 10) and warns of the danger of unbridling our tongues (James 3:3–10). He commands us to seek peace and mutual edification among fellow Christians, not attack each other for our faith (Rom. 14:19–22).
Maybe, even when colloquial theology leaves us frustrated or confused, we should practice the spiritual discipline of keeping our mouths shut. There’s a time and place for theological complexity; we need that too. But don’t tear down the language of people turning to God for comfort amid evil. Let these folks live. Let them declare that God is good and that he’s still on the throne—and rather than deconstructing people’s language, we could sit at the throne with them.
Sho Baraka is editorial director of Big Tent for Christianity Today.
