Author’s Note: I am indebted to two writing instructors at the University of Tulsa during my undergraduate studies for the MEAL Plan for paragraph structures. A modified version of that structure appears in the article below.

Abstract: Over the past six years, I have been given the opportunity to work with young scholars from the Majority World. They are a brilliant and dynamic group – and so I have been saddened by how their writing style can at times obscure the wisdom they have to share with the church. To encourage these young theologians and those who train them, this article explores ways to strengthen Majority World doctoral students as writers. In particular, it offers possibilities for composing clear thesis statements, improving analysis, and developing contextualization. Drawing from editorial and workshop experience with young Majority World theologians, I offer practical solutions to help early-career Majority World scholars articulate their original contributions more effectively. Strengthening these skills will enable these theologians to participate more confidently in the global academic discourse and to share their insights more credibly with broader audiences.

Introduction

Over the past six years, I have edited several articles in this Journal and led seven dissertation writing workshops for doctoral students from Majority World countries, including Ethiopia, Ghana, Uganda, Kazakhstan, India, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, and Palestine. All of these students are earning degrees in theology and connected fields. During this time I have noticed that several      issues recur throughout first-stage writing by students across contexts. Whether they hail from Egypt or Vietnam, many of these doctoral students tend to slip into traps that conceal their individual, original contributions to academic knowledge and the unique theological wisdom they draw from their contexts. As a consequence, these young scholars’ contributions to Christian thought are blunted, and Western theologians can be too easily allowed to dismiss their claims. Even more seriously, because of stylistic challenges that hinder acceptance in academic journals or by academic book publishers, these young scholars’ work may be siloed into regional conversations, kept from entering the global Christian discussions. Indeed, in one sense, the ongoing dominance of Western voices in global theology may be partly blamed on the ineffectiveness of writing instruction in doctoral programs that are intended to train the next generation of Majority World theologians – but that are failing to equip these theologians adequately and therefore undermining their contributions. 

This article does not provide a comprehensive list of the areas of academic writing that need development, but it does set out a few of the most common issues that I have seen, and it offers some suggestions for improvement. My hope is that, by training young Majority World theologians in specific academic writing skills, rather than expecting them to gain these skills by osmosis, we will be able to amplify those voices globally within and beyond the academy. 

Common Issues in the Introduction

The introduction to a dissertation chapter, conference paper, or academic article usually establishes the author’s voice, the specific topic, and the original argument about that topic. However, the style in which early-career theologians tend to write their introductions suggests a shyness about stating an original contribution that undercuts the strength of that original contribution. Therefore, in this section I will begin by outlining three common issues I have observed in introductions, along with some ways to address these issues.

The introduction meanders to the main question.

One slip-up that an academic article or dissertation chapter may encounter is an uncertainty about how to begin. Introductions often start at a very broad level and then work slowly toward the piece’s actual topic. Not only does this rob the author of important space for making their point, but it also may confuse the reader about what that point is. For example, the first sentence of a rough draft introduction may begin by mentioning a broad topic, such as the Great Commission. Subsequent sentences may continue to describe that topic without reaching the author’s individual, unique argument. 

To address this issue, thinking of the introduction as a funnel may be helpful. Begin with an opening sentence that introduces the topic – a specific book of the Bible, for example. Then narrow from that topic to the thesis statement. The introduction should occupy no more than one double-spaced page; it should avoid quoting other sources unless absolutely necessary. Instead, in the introduction, the author can work from the broad topic to their argument about that topic and demonstrate why their argument about this topic is important.

Another example of a too-broad first sentence is: “Over the centuries of Asian Christianity, the study of biblical languages has been a cornerstone of theological education, as it permits a profound connection to the Faith’s scriptural heritage.” At first glance that sentence might seem to be functional. However, closer examination reveals that the statement does not effectively direct the reader toward the author’s argument. Broad times or places, such as “centuries” and “Asian,” keep the topic at the largest temporal and regional level. Furthermore, the sentence itself is a truism: Yes, study of Hebrew and Greek is fundamental to theological education – and no one would disagree with that fact. So this sentence falls outside the funnel and therefore fails to nudge the audience toward the author’s main topic. 

Instead, the author might begin with a sentence that provokes the reader’s interest: “At the beginning of their studies, bachelors-level students in Malaysia may struggle with the process of learning Greek because its grammar differs in unusual ways from their tribal languages.” This sentence immediately places the reader in a specific topic while keeping the problem broad enough to be familiar. In other words, it adequately opens the funnel with a time (beginning of bachelors studies) and place (Malaysia).

The introduction needs an original argument / thesis statement.

Although a too-broad introduction may present a problem for a dissertation chapter or article draft, the lack of an original argument or thesis statement is a far more profound difficulty. Many first drafts lack a thesis statement altogether. This situation is like the situation of a human body without a spine: Without a clear thesis statement, the chapter or paper falls apart into chaos; the author’s work is in danger of becoming derivative or unclear. 

For instance, some introductions close by restating the article’s topic: “This chapter will discuss the possibility of Buddhist-Christian coexistence.” Or they may state the author’s methodology: “To produce the analysis in this chapter, I have used ethnographic study and primary texts.” But neither of those sentences are original arguments with which a reader could disagree – one of the fundamental qualities of a thesis statement. 

A strong thesis statement stakes out a clear position against which another scholar might argue. That might seem risky at first, but the main goal of academic work is to present one’s own new claims and analyses. The work of breaking new ground will likely lead to disagreement – and, in turn, productive conversation. So a strong thesis statement provokes discussion. It goes beyond observation to nudge the reader to ask the “Really? Why? How?” questions that the rest of the piece will answer. 

To reiterate: A thesis statement’s purpose is to state the author’s original argument about whatever the chapter will analyze. It should be accompanied by a road map that lays out how the chapter will demonstrate that argument (more on this below). Therefore, the thesis statement should have the following characteristics:

• It should be brief, 1-2 sentences at most.
• It should present the chapter’s conclusion in a nutshell: What is the author’s new claim or original contribution to knowledge about this material?
• It should be able to serve as a touchstone throughout the piece; in other words, it should repeat at key points throughout the piece so that the reader will remember it. 
• It should not summarize what others think.
• It should not summarize research methodology.
• It should not be a question, although one may be tempted to phrase it as a question. Instead, the thesis statement should answer the research question.

Even within each chapter, each main section should have a thesis statement that guides that section – and, again, that serves to build up the chapter’s and the whole project’s arguments. Thus, one might think of a thesis statement as a set of intersecting pieces: a chapter might have an overall argument and then a thesis statement for each section that supports that overall argument. Each thesis statement should buttress the others, and each should repeat at key moments (the ends and beginnings of sections, for instance) so that the reader remembers it. This practice – of having an argument and supporting arguments, of repeating these arguments at strategic points – may feel repetitive. However, it will leave the reader in no doubt as to the author’s purpose, thereby giving the reader material for the kind of constructive thought that is at the heart of academic work.

The introduction needs a road map.

Another metaphor for a writing draft might be the map: The thesis statement or original argument is the destination. The introduction states the destination up front; it tells the reader where they will end up on the journey on which the draft will take them.

After the thesis statement, the introduction should give a road map to tell the reader what the stages will be along this path. What landmarks will the reader encounter? How many stages will the piece require to reach its conclusion? Where will the paper take the reader on the way to the goal that is the thesis statement? 

To fulfill this purpose, the road map should give the reader a quick overview of the chapter’s analysis. It should state the 3-4 points that the chapter will use to support its argument. Those 3-4 points should be offered in specific, concrete language. An easy example of this might be the dissertation itself: The whole dissertation will have a road map, most likely the Table of Contents, the list of chapters. That list of chapters shows the readers what steps they will take toward understanding the argument. But then within each chapter, a sentence at the end of the introduction should present that chapter’s road map. What will the main sections of the chapter be? What analytical points will the chapter need to make to demonstrate its argument?

Extended example: thesis statement & road map.

Of course, contemplating the differences between these problems and their solutions is difficult in the abstract. So let me offer a very basic example.

Let’s say that a student wants to write a paper about Pentecostalism in their native country. She has conducted interviews with pastors and congregants, read church archives, and explored the history of Pentecostalism globally, with special emphasis on the U.S. A weak first draft of her thesis statement might say: “Pentecostalism is growing in Hibernia.” This statement is weak because although it specifies a subject and a place, it is not a claim with which a reader would be likely to disagree – they could look it up on Wikipedia to find an answer. They might ask: To what extent is Pentecostalism growing? How is it growing? Why do you think it is growing? 

As an aside, I should say that “how” and “why” questions are some of the best ones to ask as an academic writer. They elevate work beyond summary and into original analysis. 

Furthermore, that sentence, “Pentecostalism is growing in Hibernia,” does not give a road map. It does not state the specific points that the paper will make to back up the claim. So the statement needs to be refined. And it needs to be accompanied by a road map.

Perhaps this time the statement becomes a question: “Why has the Hibernian Pentecostal Movement grown from its roots in U.S.-based Pentecostalism to dominate Christianity in Hibernia?” This question is obviously better – but it’s a question, not a statement. In addition, it is still missing a road map.

So for the next iteration, perhaps the sentence becomes even more specific: “The Hibernian Pentecostal Movement has been attracting thousands of new followers because of its emphasis on new doctrinal distinctives different from those in U.S.-based Pentecostalism.” This version is much better because it’s quite specific – it states “thousands of new followers” rather than simply “growing.” In addition, it offers a possible answer to why Pentecostalism is growing – “doctrinal distinctives” that contrast with “U.S.-based Pentecostalism.” But this version still doesn’t have a road map, and “doctrinal distinctives” is vague; the reader doesn’t know what the author mean by those. They could include infant baptism, or 6-day creation, or universal salvation, or amillennialism.

So a further revision will help: “The Hibernian Pentecostal Movement is attracting thousands of new followers because it is emphasizing national spiritual-political transformation and public acts of mercy, as opposed to the classic, U.S. Pentecostal focus on speaking in tongues, individual evangelism, and personal empowerment.” This sentence is again much stronger because it is far more specific. Now “doctrinal distinctives” have become particular items. In addition, this version draws a clear contrast between one version of Pentecostalism and the other. One more piece is missing, though: the road map. What stages of argumentation will the chapter use to demonstrate this thesis statement? What path will the reader follow as the chapter explores these ideas?

Perhaps a final iteration is necessary: “The Hibernian Pentecostal Movement is attracting thousands of new followers because it is emphasizing national spiritual-political transformation and public acts of mercy, in surprising contrast to the classic, U.S. Pentecostal focus on speaking in tongues, individual evangelism, and personal empowerment. This chapter will focus on HPM’s calls for national spiritual-political transformation by exploring its theological roots in Amos 4-6, how it is expressed from HPM pulpits, and how HPM congregants are pursuing this transformation in their daily lives.” At last, this passage gives a road map for the rest of the piece: 1) theology in Amos; 2) HPM preaching; 3) HPM living. In addition, this statement is something with which someone could definitely argue. It is going to spark conversation, particularly that last bit in which it suggests that one might see some problems with HPM practices. But that provocativeness is a good thing: It gets the reader thinking and confronts the reader with why they should care about this research. Here we have a clear example of how theology is (or is not) being preached and lived, a topic that will spark the reader’s interest even if they’re not part of the HPM. (If the author is concerned about offending other HPM congregants, she can, of course, use more diplomatic language in the actual chapter itself.)

This final version of the thesis statement accomplishes its purpose: It sets forth an argument and a path by which to pursue that argument. It may seem risky, but that is foundational to scholarly work. To pack the biggest punch, the thesis statement and road map should be the last 2-3 sentences of the introduction. The thesis statement and road map should fall at the end of the last paragraph of the introduction, right before the first body section. This way, these two core components of the piece are most likely to catch the reader’s attention.

A last piece of advice about the introduction will be helpful to conclude this section. Counterintuitively, most writers find that writing the introduction last is more effective than writing it first. Of course, an author should compose her/his thesis statement and road map first of all, before anything else. Other than those two core components, though, an author may wish to wait to write the introduction until s/he has finished the paper as a whole. Only after completing the whole paper will the author best know how to summarize the paper in the introduction.

Common Issues in the Body

The thesis statement and road map are the most important parts of any academic piece because they are the skeleton that supports that piece; to return to the earlier metaphor, one might think of the thesis statement as the destination and of the road map as the steps for arriving at that destination. The body of the paper does the actual work of escorting the reader from the beginning of the journey to the end. As a result the body of a piece of academic writing needs to have a clear structure. 

In the specific context of Majority World doctoral writing, I have noticed three other issues in addition to lack of structure. These challenges are: a lack of clear structure, an overreliance on summary of other scholars’ work; a mishandling of evidence; and a lack of contextualization. By “mishandling of evidence” I mean that, at one end of the spectrum, a chapter may lack specific examples; at the other end of the spectrum, a chapter may present only examples – i.e., only charts or graphs or case studies – without analysis. 

This section will deal with these four topics in turn.

The body needs a clear structure.

Often I have seen drafts of Majority World dissertation chapters that have no clear structure. In these cases, even if the introduction does present a thesis statement and road map, the body of the chapter cycles through a variety of themes that have no clear relationship to one another. Cyclical writing can be appropriate in some contexts and is certainly preferred by some cultures; however, for better or worse, academia remains dominated by the linear, goal-oriented pattern of the thesis statement / argument. Therefore, I offer some tips for how young authors might structure their writing. Even as I offer this template, I hope that young theologians will play with it, shifting them according to their personal, cultural tendencies, thereby bridging Western and Majority World styles in creative syntheses.

First, obviously, the sections of a chapter should align precisely with the road map. Each clause in the road map should become a section header (see the numbered items at the top of Page 5). By this means the reader will encounter the thesis statement and its support  repeatedly. 

Second, each section should follow the pattern of a “mini paper.” Each section should begin with a short (2-3 sentence) introductory paragraph that restates the chapter’s overall thesis statement and then states that specific section’s role in supporting the thesis statement. Each section should end with a short (2-3 sentence) summary paragraph that restates the section’s conclusions or main points. What questions should the reader have based on this section that will be answered in the next section? What implications should the reader take away? 

Third, the body paragraphs of the section can follow a basic structure to ensure that they remain on topic. This structure is the MEAT plan (an English acronym that I first encountered in a slightly different form at my undergraduate alma mater – the English acronym will not translate neatly into every language, but hopefully the concepts will remain memorable):

• M: Main point. The paragraph’s first sentence should state the main point or topic of that paragraph. That topic should relate directly to the section’s thesis statement – and, thereby, to the chapter’s overall argument. 
• E: Evidence. The paragraph’s next 1-2 sentences should offer evidence that support this main point. Evidence might include a passage of Scripture, analysis of original languages, survey results, quotes from interviewees, or even a short quote from a very important theorist or theologian. 
• A: Analysis. The paragraph’s next 3-4 sentences should analyze that evidence. How does that evidence support the main point of the paragraph? How does it support the section and chapter thesis statements? What is noteworthy about that evidence? Why is that evidence so important? 
• T: Takeaway. The paragraph’s last sentence should state the takeaway of the analysis. At its most basic, it should simply summarize the paragraph – ideally in a way that provokes questions or ideas that lead the reader naturally into the next paragraph. 

I have offered two metaphors briefly for how a chapter draft should work. Let me explore the metaphor of the map in a bit more detail to illustrate how each sentence, paragraph, and section should contribute to the overall chapter. 

We have said that the thesis statement is the goal, the ultimate destination. The introduction has also summarized the steps to reach that goal in the road map. But the body of the chapter itself must walk through each of those steps in order to present a convincing case to the reader. 

So one might think of each section as a building along the route. Each of these sections/buildings is made up of paragraphs – rooms. And each of those rooms is composed of bricks – sentences. So the sentences fit together to compose a room; the rooms fit together to compose a building; the buildings stand side-by-side down the road to lead to the goal – the proven argument.

One implication of this metaphor is the fact that a well-written chapter will not have any superfluous parts; furthermore, its “rooms” will contain only what belongs to them. For instance, one would not put a bed in the bathroom or a toilet in the kitchen; one would not put a dishwasher in the living room. Yet many young theologians write papers in which several different topics may appear in any given paragraph. Instead, each paragraph and each section should focus on its own topic.

To achieve this ordered state, two processes can be helpful. Of course the first is outlining. Create an outline of your chapter that states what each section is, what each paragraph within that section will cover, and what evidence will be discussed by each paragraph – along with the main analytical takeaway from that paragraph. One can then write the paper by filling in the outline with complete sentences.

Another helpful process might be drafting the entire chapter. Then print the chapter as a hard copy. Take a pair of scissors and (literally) cut the pages into sections, theme-by-theme. Which sentences don’t belong in a given paragraph because they do not deal with that paragraph’s topic? Which sentences should cluster together to make a new paragraph? Which sentences should be deleted from the draft altogether? Sometimes working with physical paper can jog one’s creativity, forcing the brain to see themes, pieces of evidence, and points of analysis in new ways.

The body mostly summarizes other scholars’ work.

This problem is delicate because the early-career theologian likely feels that they need to prove themselves. They must demonstrate that they know their field well, that they are experts worthy of entering the academic conversation. To show comprehensive knowledge, early-career theologians will be tempted to spend the bulk of a chapter or article summarizing other scholars’ work. They may devote one paragraph to summarizing one scholar’s book, the next paragraph to summarizing another, and so forth. 

Even worse, often the scholars on which young Majority World theologians must rely are Western – which clouds the unique wisdom that each theologian brings from their context. Finding Majority World interlocutors will be difficult, particularly in certain parts of the world; nevertheless, I encourage early-stage theologians to devote significant effort to finding scholars from their own contexts, or adjacent contexts, with which to dialogue.

Setting that point aside – with prayers for the raising-up of new generations of Majority World theologians – I want to devote this part of the article to discussing how to manage academic sources in a chapter. 

When one is writing an academic piece, engaging with sources is about more than just collecting and writing out quotes. Instead, it is about using sources to create one’s original argument. Thus, the most important trait to remember is that all of the sources in a chapter should serve the chapter’s argument – whether by supporting the argument, contradicting the argument (and thereby provoking new, creative dimensions of the argument), or pushing the argument into new areas (from Old Testament to New Testament, for instance). 

I have noticed that many early academic writers tend to restate, summarize, or repeat others’ ideas. Again, writing about other scholars at length is an easy temptation because the early scholar want to demonstrate knowledge of the field. However, the young scholar’s own new voice in the conversation is the most important part of the original academic piece. So young theologians need to manage their sources in ways that both foreground their original argument and demonstrate command of the field.

Let me extend the building metaphor. The thesis statement is the goal; the road map tells the stages along the way; each paragraph is a room that contributes to a building – a section that is an important stage along the way. Now, within one of those buildings, one might imagine a room crowded with people talking. These people are all scholars; they are busy dialoguing with each other – agreeing, disagreeing, questioning, contradiction, supporting. When the young theologian steps into that room, her/his job is to take charge of the conversation. That conversation must become meaningful for her/his own argument. Rather than standing in the corner, the academic author stands as the leader of the conversation.

Leading the scholarly conversation can happen in three ways. First, the young theologian must carefully choose which sources to mention in the body of the chapter. Not all sources are equally relevant to the chapter’s original argument. So, one must select sources that speak directly to the thesis statement, not just any source that mentions the topic. Furthermore, one must select sources that are the most important, notable, or thought-provoking for this argument. An author can often discern this category in three ways:

• By noticing which scholars’ names or works are cited the most times across the literature on this topic.
• By asking the scholar’s doctoral supervisor (or, if the scholar already has a PhD, colleagues in the field) which works are key.
• By considering which scholars would disagree with the argument and why they would do so.

On the other hand, an author might discern which sources are irrelevant by asking, “Can this quote be removed without confusing the original argument? “If so, that quote is not necessary. Cut it. Those deleted quotes or named scholars can be placed in footnotes or endnotes that will still demonstrate knowledge but that do not detract from the body of the young theologian’s work. Placing sources in a footnote or endnote is an easy way to show grasp of the field without letting other scholars “shout down” an original contribution to knowledge. Do not be afraid if footnotes/endnotes get a little packed! A long footnote is much better than hiding an original argument behind a mass of other scholars’ ideas.

To decide which quotations to include in the body of a chapter, ask: Does this source provide context, a counterpoint, or support for my argument?

• Context: Historical or theological background. If you’re writing about Pauline theology, a source discussing Second Temple Judaism might provide essential historical and religious context.
• Counterpoint: A disagreement or a contrast to your argument. With this kind of source, demonstrate clearly why the difference with your argument is important. Why does it matter that you are saying something different? Example: If you argue that Luther’s doctrine of justification emphasizes faith alone, citing the Council of Trent’s counter-reformation position on justification by faith and works allows you to highlight the significance of your argument and its historical implications.
• Support: Agreement for your argument. With this kind of source, instead of only showing parallels between your argument and the source, try to show how your argument extends the source. Example: If you argue that early church fathers emphasized communal worship, citing Augustine’s writings on the role of the church community can provide support, but then you’d need to extend this by analyzing how communal worship practices evolved in different historical 

Overall, sources should not stand alone but rather should engage with each other. Strategies for creating dialogue between sources include:

• Agreement: Show how two or more sources support the same point. Example: Both Lee (2019) and Patel (2021) emphasize the role of the Holy Spirit in the miracles of Jesus.
• Disagreement: Highlight differences and analyze why they exist.
• Example: While Chang (2020) argues that Jesus was often thwarted in his intention to perform miracles, Ahmed (2022) counters that the apparent problems in miracle narratives open space for readers to notice the work of the Holy Spirit.
• Building on Ideas: Use one source to extend the ideas of another. Example: Allen (2018) provides the foundation for understanding the role of the Spirit in the New Testament miracles as a whole, while Garcia (2021) enhances this argument by concentrating on the miracles of feeding.

Carefully choosing relevant sources, framing them correctly, and putting them in conversation strengthens the argument. The more thoughtfully a writer engages with sources, the more original and persuasive their writing becomes. Overall, sources should augment an argument – not replace it. 

The body misuses evidence either by not offering evidence or by offering evidence without analysis.

As the MEAT plan demonstrates, evidence should be a part of every paragraph. However, just as other scholars’ writing must be carefully managed, so must evidence be carefully managed. A writer may either offer no evidence at all or offer a great deal of evidence without analysis. Offering no evidence often looks takes the form of the problem discussed in the previous section – a tendency simply to summarize other scholars without treating their ideas as matters for debate. 

Offering a great deal of evidence without analyzing it can take a couple of forms. Pieces from the African context in particular tend to share large tables without analyzing the tables – that is, without noting what themes are important in the data and why those themes are important. Or a piece from an Intercultural Studies program may describe the author’s home culture at length but without making an argument based on that culture or explaining why the aspects of that culture that are mentioned are important for supporting the thesis statement. Another example would be a dissertation on pneumatology that simply lists traditional feasts or songs without analyzing what those feasts or songs contribute to our understanding of how this culture has contextualized an understanding of the Holy Spirit.

Again, academic writing is a matter of proclaiming one’s own voice: Just as I urged the use of other scholarly sources to drive one’s own argument, so I urge the use of evidence to drive the argument. If a table of data does not advance the argument directly, place it in an appendix. If a description of a festival does not connect to the argument directly, ask whether it is truly necessary to the chapter – or rewrite it to note those aspects of the festival that link to the argument. If a list of Greek definitions for a word stands on its own, revisit that paragraph to add analytical sentences that demonstrate how those varying meanings contribute to the argument. 

The body lacks contextualization.

A connected problem to the mishandling of evidence is a lack of contextualization. The absence of contextualization may be the most heartbreaking problem in the work of early-career Majority World theologians: these talented young scholars devote so much space on the page to summarizing others’ work or to describing their methodology or findings that they have no room to “theologize” themselves. What I mean by “theologizing” includes sharing new insights about God, the Gospel, and the Christian life developed from the interplay between Scripture – and interviews, data, other scholars’ theories, etc. – and the author’s own culture. 

Contextualization might be seen as the province only of Intercultural Studies or Interreligious Studies programs. However, I believe that early-career Majority World theologians can develop contextualized insights no matter their discipline – and that these insights are vital for the growth of the Church worldwide. Context often provokes questions that then inspire research in Biblical Studies, Systematic Theology, and so forth. For instance, I have encountered young theologians in Old Testament whose dissertations were distinctly contextualized while remaining centered in their chosen discipline: One offered a word-by-word comparison of Deuteronomic and Hammurabic law codes in order to draw out implications for postcolonial Asian societies. Another analyzed the narrative of Nehemiah in order to offer concrete suggestions for how Christians in sub-Saharan Africa could respond to violence from rebel groups. 

Of course, contextualization will be easier for some projects than others. A young scholar working on Christian-Muslim relations in Ghana can make clear connections from his context to his argument. Even in that case, though, the project may fall into the trap of leaving conclusions implicit rather than making them explicit. So to that scholar I would urge boldness: State clearly what Christians globally might learn from the experience of Christians and Muslims in Nigeria; state clearly how Christians’ treatment of Muslims in Nigeria – sheltering them from rival factions, for example, or sharing food without sharing apologetics – draws on Scriptural precedents and how those precedents might be applied elsewhere.

Even so, two projects from India illustrate the merits of successful contextualization. One of these projects, in New Testament, deals with Christology. This scholar uses important Hindu myths to rethink the genre of the Gospels; she compares how Christ is portrayed with how Hindu deities are portrayed as a means of sharing new insights about Christ’s humanity. The other project, in Old Testament, considers suffering. Much of this scholar’s work analyzes biblical texts, but the takeaways from each chapter deal with questions common in Indian society. Both of these young theologians are developing theology that speaks to their own contexts – and, from their contexts, to the world. 

Addendum: Citations

A final problem that I want to note briefly is the problem of incomplete citations. Many young academic writers rely on automatic citation-generation apps to create footnotes, endnotes, or bibliographies. These apps usually only recognize certain kinds of data, though – so these chapters or articles often leave the theologian’s desk with incomplete citations that must be filled in with a great deal of wasted time later. Although this advice may seem old-fashioned, I encourage the writers with whom I work to create citations manually rather than relying on any automated service. Keep a single “Bibliography” or “References” document in which the full bibliographic citation for each source is listed according to the precise formatting requirements of one’s institution. Then one can copy and paste into the relevant chapter without worrying about missing dates, hyperlinks, or page numbers. 

Conclusion

This article has summarized some of the common issues that I have seen in Majority World doctoral-level theological writing. I hope that this piece does not in any way disparage or discourage these young theologians. Rather, my deep desire and hope is that these young theologians would be fully equipped to share their ideas with their local churches, denominations, regions, and the global body of Christ. As long as Western thought-patterns dominate the academy, a knowledge of how to deploy – and, perhaps, exploit, subvert, or rework – those patterns will be necessary for credibility in theological study. I hope that these examples will challenge young Majority World theologians to state their claims more boldly, to interact with (and set aside) other voices more firmly, and to give more space to considering how Christ is working in and through their contexts so that we may all learn to know God better. 

Author bio: Evelyn Reynolds is the Vice President for Leader Formation for Scholar Leaders and Executive Editor of the InSights Journal. She has served Scholar Leaders in various roles since 2019. She has an MA/PhD in medieval English literature and an MFA in poetry.

References

Note: The sources below underlie many of the suggestions made in this article. Although I have not cited them directly, they are foundational guides to this field and therefore are helpful for further reading for those seeking to develop their own academic writing skills. 

Bediako, Kwame. Theology and Identity: The Impact of Culture upon Christian Thought in the Second Century and Modern Africa. Wipf & Stock, 2011. 

Booth, Wayne C., Gregory G. Colomb, & Joseph M. Williams. The Craft of Research. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2016.

Graff, Gerald & Cathy Birkenstein. They Say / I Say: The Moves That Matter in Academic Writing. London: W.W. Norton, 2009.

Schreiter, Robert J. Constructing Local Theologies. Orbis, 2015.

Silvia, Paul J. How to Write a Lot: A Practical Guide to Productive Academic Writing. APA LifeTools, 2018.

Sword, Helen. Stylish Academic Writing. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2012.

Tiénou, Tite and Lamin Sanneh. Theology Without Borders: An Introduction to Global Conversations. Baker, 2015.

Turabian, Kate L. A Manual for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and Dissertations. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007.