Theology is like a map.
Some are content to study the map, learn its every nuance, and perhaps debate which elements hold the most merit, or whether one should use metric or standard measurements when charting the journey. From the safety of their study, they treasure the map above all else and pore over it together with their fellow map-enthusiasts. They issue stern warnings to all young travelers who would dare to tread the path. "Caution," they say, "the bogs and beasts are many." Never would they leave the comfort of their home, but for the map, and its correct reading, they would gladly lay down their lives (or so they say).
While others, eager for the journey, set out with haste to parts unknown. Their hearts are fearless and full of adventure. So excited to reach their destination, they have little need for maps. If they remembered to bring it, they may consult it from time to time (when it confirms the course they've chosen). But the journey is long, and the path is narrow. With the best intentions, they are likely to end up somewhere they don't want to be.
Pity the would-be adventurer who sets out without her map. But sadder still is he, with map in-hand, who never takes a single step. May we love the map, but, even more, may we love the place—the Person—to which it points.
Godspeed on the journey.