Strength vs. Hardness: A New Years Resolution for Mr. al'Thor

I received the latest book in The Wheel of Time (WoT) saga for Christmas. (Thanks, Amy!!) I've been reading it in gulps since Christmas (in the midst of prepping for the new spring term---that was a WoT joke) and am almost 300 pages into it.

There's a theme in WoT that has always haunted me since I started reading it: "Men become hard when they should become strong." The contrast (which is all over this latest book) is primarily illustrated in Rand al'Thor, the story's main character, who thus far has opted for hardness instead of strength.

What an amazingly astute and (I would say) biblical insight into the human condition! What a difference it makes in difficult times to seek the strength that God supplies via our faith in His grace instead of walling up our own defenses. And what a picture Jesus is of that strength, without a shred of hardness to be found.

I hope that 2010 finds Rand, and me, and all of us, seeking strength instead of hardness, faith instead of fear.

How have you seen this contrast make a difference? How do you think we can change from being hard to being strong? (And no WoT spoilers---I'm not done reading yet!)

The Terminology of Talking About Humans

In teaching The Parables of Matthew last Fall, I ran into an interesting question while discussing the two parables found in verses 44-46 of Chapter 13:

The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in the field, which a man found and hid again; and from joy over it he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking fine pearls, and upon finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.

The question comes from the two possible interpretations of these parables.

One interpretation (the standard interpretation) is that the searcher in these verses is Jesus' followers and that the treasure/pearl is Himself. This makes sense, given the suffering that the disciples were beginning to encounter (thereby "selling all that they had).

The second interpretation is that the searcher is Jesus and that the treasure/pearl is His people. This interpretation also makes sense, given that the rest of the parables in Matthew 13 feature Jesus as the active party and His people as the passive recipients.

(Of course, there's no reason they can't both be correct, and one astute member of the class---thanks, John!---noted that, given the wording that follows, "The kingdom of heaven is like," in each parable, one could argue that the first interpretation is true of the first parable, and that the second interpretation is true of the second parable!)

I'll admit, that second interpretation is attractive to me. I like reading about Jesus being the hero in a story, and I like envisioning the lengths to which He went/goes for His people.

But that interpretation does lead to an interesting question: What does it mean, in the second parable, for the pearl to be "of great value?"

Proponents of the first interpretation say that, because of our sin and His self-sufficiency, God has no need of us, and therefore doesn't view us as valuable; Jesus, after all, in John 17, clearly indicates that He is going to the cross because the glory of God & His relationship with the Father is so valuable to Him. One of the key points in the gospel, to them, is the emphasis of the centrality of God in the gospel, and the supremacy of grace and mercy. While these are invaluable points, these folks run the risk of devaluing humans (and sometimes appear quite cantankerous).

Proponents of the second interpretation say that of course humans have value to God because they are created in His image; Jesus, after all, in Matthew 6 assures His disciples not to worry because God considers them valuable. One of the key points in the gospel, to them, is to help other see how valuable they are in the scheme of things, and to inspire them to turn to God to live out their created & redemptive purposes. While these are also invaluable points, these folks run the risk of inflating the value of humans (and sometimes appear no different than the world's self-esteem gurus).

I'm not going to claim to answer this dilemma! However, I think it's important to note that these two camps seem to be attaching a different meaning to the word, "value."

When this debate emerged in my class, I asked the debaters to consider what they meant when they used the term, "value." Did they mean worth? significance? importance? worthiness? worthwhile-ness? loveliness? When we realized we were at a terminology impasse, the debate died down, and everyone seemed to have something new to think about.

I think it's important that we pursue a clear understanding of our terminology when we talk about human beings. We are, after all, finite beings somehow created in the image of God and one of the greatest paradoxes (a la Pascal) in the universe. No wonder it's very easy for our statements about ourselves to be misunderstood!

When have you run into this terminology problem? How can seeking a clear definition of your terms help you understand what truths the Bible claims about humanity? How can seeking a clear definition of your terms help you communicate those truths to others?

Best Books for Undergrads -- From The Emerging Scholars Blog

http://blog.emergingscholars.org/2009/12/best-books-for-undergrads-your-picks/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+EmergingScholars+%28The+Emerging+Scholars+Blog%29

Enjoy!

Merry Christmas!

I hope you enjoy this season of celebration! I'll be back with blogs next Tuesday!

Pluralism and Relativism in December

I think there's a bit of confusion in terminology in the church. I hear a lot of Christians praying against "the evils of pluralism in our society," especially during the holiday tidal wave during December. I think the problem is that Christians often confuse pluralism with relativism.

Pluralism simply means that the holder of a worldview tolerates the existence of other worldviews. If a person has an attitude of pluralism, it means that he doesn't interfere with others' rights to believe differently than he. That doesn't mean that the person cannot think of other worldviews as wrong (in fact, he wouldn't have much of a worldview if he didn't), nor does it mean he cannot dialog with others about their worldview and try to convince them of his (again, he wouldn't have much of a worldview if he didn't); it means that he affirms for others the freedom that he enjoys. It's like the saying that arose around the time of the American Revolution: "I may not agree with your beliefs, but I will fight for your right to believe them." To put it pointedly, pluralism is what Christians are thankful for every time we praise God for our freedom to worship Him (which I think comes up in most church services on a regular basis).

Relativism, on the other hand, goes a step further (quite a few steps, really) and says that all worldviews are equally valid. Because we're all equally finite, the relativist says, each of our worldviews is equally flawed. Thus, no one worldview is better than any others. (The irony, of course, is that relativists hold onto their relativism very dogmatically, and are rather intolerant of non-relativists.)

The key difference is that the pluralist can still think that other worldviews are wrong. The key difficulty (and the one that, I think, makes Christians think "pluralism" is evil) is in discerning how pluralism should be lived out.

A big example this time of year is what holiday benediction Christians should use in a secular environment.

• Should we say, "Merry Christmas," because, to us, "Happy Holidays" is empty and meaningless?
• Should we say, "Happy Holidays," because we acknowledge that the other person might not celebrate Christmas, making that benediction empty and meaningless to them?
• If we know the person celebrates a holiday other than Christmas, should we specifically wish them to enjoy in that holiday?
• Should we not say anything, and run the risk of appearing uncaring?
• Should we just respond with whatever the other person says to us?
• If we're in academia, should we just wish them a "Happy Break," since that's the primary benefit we're all looking forward to, anyway?
  

I'm not entirely sure how to answer this question; thus, I alternate between answers depending on how a given situation feels. (Does that make me a good pluralist or a bad pluralist?)

But I think we can keep in mind that pluralism---when rightly defined---is a good thing. It's the basis for our beloved freedom of religion. Whatever we say between now and December 25, let's not lose this precious distinction.

When have you seen the difference between pluralism and relativism played out? What do you see as the difference between pluralism and secularization?

Undergraduate Corner: What do you want to be remembered for?

On this blog, the first and third Tuesday of each month are dedicated to presenting discussion geared toward undergraduate students, in a series called, "Undergraduate Corner."

I managed to go all semester without referring to Tim Tebow on this blog, but here goes...

At the lunch before the Heisman trophy award ceremony, there was a friendly conversation between Florida's Tim Tebow and Texas' Colt McCoy. McCoy---whose team is off to the national championship game---said something to the effect of, "Even if I win the Heisman, and even if my team goes on to win the national championship, I still don't have a plaque at my stadium. How do you do that?"

The conversation led me to think of a question I often ask myself: "How do you want to be remembered?" I think it's a worthwhile question, especially for college students who are in their university culture for such an interesting length of time. It seems like four years is just long enough for someone else to be able to remember you for the rest of his life---for good or for bad.

So how do you want to be remembered? Do you want to be remembered as the person who won all the awards and received all the accolades? Or do you want to be remembered as someone who cared about others and brought out the best in them? Do you want to be remembered as the "religious" person who knew all the right verses? Or do you want to be remembered as someone who lived out the gospel is humility, love, and faithfulness?

McCoy's statement also led me to think of a similarly-structured statement made by Paul in 1 Corinthians 13: "If I speak the languages of men and of angels, but do not have love, I am a sounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have [the gift of] prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so that I can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. And if I donate all my goods to feed the poor, and if I give my body to be burned, but do not have love, I gain nothing."

It seems Paul didn't want to be remembered for his actions, his gifts, and his accomplishments, but for his love.

So what do you want to be remembered for?

Thoughts About the Incarnation

I was intrigued by this article in Image that talks about the significance of the Incarnation, centered around the quote by Saint Irenaeus: “The glory of God is man fully alive.” It should make some good reading as Christmas approaches.

Why I Dislike Memorization

One of my favorites aspects of physics is that it requires very little memorization. In fact, if you spend your time in a physics class (intro, upper-level undergraduate, or graduate) memorizing the material, you'll most likely fail the exam. I'm a big fan of open-book open-notes exams because it allows the student to show how well she understands the material---i.e., how closely she has come to personally know, internalize, and relate to it. Learning physics is about personally owning the material, not memorizing facts, numbers, or equations.

Of course, you inevitably come to memorize some things. But even when I recite an equation or derivation from memory, I'm always checking it for reasonableness, making sure the dimensions are correct, and analyzing it to see if there's a better way to express or write it. It's never a rote memorization and regurgitation. That's what makes it beautiful and exciting.

I feel much the same way about memorizing Scripture.

I dislike rotely memorizing verses. Doing so doesn't help me understand them---again, meaning to closely know, internalize, and relate to them. I'd rather personally own the truth, instead of memorizing without understanding.

I think 1 John 2:24 illustrates this contrast well:

See that what you have heard from the beginning remains in you. If it does, you also will remain in the Son and in the Father

John wants the truth of the gospel to remain in them, in the same way that they remain in the Son and in the Father. This is more than memorization of facts and verses---just like us remaining in Jesus is more than Jesus "memorizing" us.

How have you experienced the difference between memorizing and understanding? How do you think we can pursue both to foster our growth as believers?

Clearing up Misconceptions about Fear

I mentioned last time that I wanted to try reading some alternative Christmas texts this December. I started with Isaiah 11, which provides a great description of who Jesus is and what He seeks to accomplish.

I was astonished by how twice it describes Jesus as being characterized by "the fear of the Lord."

This is a phrase that many Christians (present company included) tend to step lightly around and that skeptics love to hate. "How can you have a loving relationship with God," they both ask, "and be afraid of Him?"

It's certainly a difficult question to answer (and not one I'm going to attempt to answer here), but here's the more astonishing fact about this passage: It says that Jesus (God Himself, in human flesh) would have "the fear of the Lord."

If it's difficult for us to explain how we can be called to love and fear God, it's even more difficult for us to begin to fathom how God the Son can perfectly love and fear God the Father!

A couple of thoughts based on this:

First, if we're confused or uncertain about what "the fear of the Lord" looks like (and we very often are), we should look to Jesus. He's our example of everything else that human life should be---why not the fear of the Lord? As a prime example, we can see right away in this text that Jesus "delight[s] in the fear of the Lord."

Second, look at what this attitude of fear toward God (however it is harmonized with everything else in Jesus' divine psyche) produces.

1. Judging the poor with righteousness.
2. Treating victims with fairness.
3. Faithfulness to His people.
4. Peace.
   

Shouldn't these results be appealing to our socially-concerned skeptical friends? Better yet, do we show them this connection between fearing the Lord (something they don't understand or agree with) and caring for the needy and the hurting (something they often think we don't care about) by living it out?

Undergraduate Corner: Some Alternative Christmas Readings

On this blog, the first and third Tuesday of each month are dedicated to presenting discussion geared toward undergraduate students, in a series called, "Undergraduate Corner."

If you're like me, one of the biggest challenges you face as you head into winter break is the familiarity of it. The familiarity can be very comforting---heading home, eating Mom's food, going to church with your parents, hanging your favorite ornament on the tree (if your younger brother hasn't already!)---but it can also be very detrimental.

I've written about this before, but the scenario goes like this: If you're a typical undergraduate who's grown up in the church, you've heard the Christmas story read to you upwards of 100 times now. The wording that Luke and Matthew use roll through your ears without really touching your brain or your heart like a song that was popular ten years ago, especially since your home church's pastor is probably reading from the same version he's read from those other 100 times you've heard it. Before you know it, the beginning of the Spring semester hits, and you haven't really felt spiritually refreshed.

So, here's a challenge both for you and for me: Let's try reading on our own some alternative Christmas-related texts from the Bible this month.

Here are a few suggestions; please add your own in the comments section, and we'll build a list to last us all Christmas!

Isaiah 11

Philippians 2:1-11 (You might even just read the entire chapter!)

1 John 1:1-5 (You might even just read the entire letter!)

Revelation 12

Exodus 29:45-46, Leviticus 26:11-13, Ezekiel 37:24-28, Revelation 21 (Note the similar theme with John 1:14.)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving!

I guess I was too stuffed with turkey and mac and cheese to write yesterday. See you on Tuesday!

...and here are the results!

As promised last Thursday, here are the results from my e-mail experiment:

(Yes, I know my original proposal said I'd plot the number of e-mails each hour, but I couldn't figure out how to get Excel to do that!)

As you can see, there's definitely a correlation here. The question is whether this is caused by one of two hypotheses:

1. I receive more e-mails when I send more e-mails because the e-mails I receive are responses to the e-mails I send.
2. I send more e-mails when I receive more e-mails because the e-mails I send are responses to the emails I receive.
   

If Hypothesis 1 is true, then it would stand to reason that the number of e-mails marked "Re" that I receive should correlate roughly with the number of e-mails I send. This would indicate that I can reduce the number of e-mails I receive by reducing the number of e-mails that I send.

If Hypothesis 2 is true, then it would stand to reason that the number of e-mails marked "Re" that I send should correlate roughly with the number of e-mails that I receive. This would indicate that I can reduce the amount of time I spend writing e-mails by reducing the time I spend reading incoming e-mail.

So, this second chart plots the same data as the first, but now with the number of e-mails marked "Re" sent and received represented by the dashed lines:

So, is Hypothesis 1 true? Are the number of e-mails marked "Re" that I receive (the dashed blue curve) proportional to the number of e-mails that I send (the solid red curve)? Yes.

Is Hypothesis 2 true? Are the number of e-mails marked "Re" that I send (the dashed red curve) proportional to the number of e-mails that I receive (the solid blue curve)? Yes.

In fact, I notice two other things:

1. The two dashed curves are very well-correlated. So it looks like many of my responses are really responses to responses. Maybe it would be easier just to pop down to the person's office?
2. The solid red curve and the two dashed curves look very well-correlated, while the solid blue curve is more independent of the other three. Look at the huge disparity at the beginning of the week between the e-mails I receive (the solid blue curve), and the number of responses I send (dashed red curve). What are all these e-mails I'm receiving that I seem to not care about? How much time do I waste each week reading them?

In conclusion, I think I'm going to keep up my e-mail-off-for-an-hour-each-day challenge. It certainly seems like not all e-mail (or time spent on e-mail) is created equal.

What are your thoughts about this data? Have you noticed similar trends in your life? How else can we better discern where our time is going?

You can CLOSE Outlook?!

I spent last weekend at a great workshop for new physics and astronomy faculty hosted by the American Association of Physics Teachers, the American Physical Society, the American Astronomical Society, and the National Science Foundation. The second-to-last session was titled "Time Management" in the schedule.

The actual title of the session was "Doing What Matters."

As a Christian, I found this title---and the accompanying theme---intriguing. The speaker's main point was, "Your job is not to manage your time. Your job is to pursue what matters."

He offered a challenging way to make sure we have the time to pursue what matters: Turn off our e-mail for one hour a day.

You could feel the entire room seize up when he said this, but we knew he was right. We knew that the reason it takes us a day to grade an exam or a week to "finalize" a proposal or a month to go so say, "Hi," to that colleague we haven't seen all semester is because of the near-incessant "BAY-DOO!" that directs our attention to the lower-right-hand corner of the screen, in the hopes that it will provide us with something more interesting than what we're doing at the moment.

So, I accepted his challenge. I'm writing this on Tuesday night, and for the last two days I've found the "Close" button on Outlook and left it off for one hour at a time.

And it was amazing what I could get done! I got all my notes from the Workshop typed up in what seemed like no time. I was able to take some thoughts from the weekend and outline a few grant proposals. I even got my afternoon lab ready this morning with hours to spare.

I'll close with the following point and a proposed experiment: One of the reasons this discipline works is because the amount of e-mail one receives is directly proportional to the amount of e-mail one sends. Thus, I'd like to propose to graph the number of e-mails I receive each hour this week along with the number of e-mails that I send each hour day. I'll post the results on Tuesday of next week. I invite you to do the same!

Engaging your professor

On this blog, the first and third Tuesday of each month are dedicated to presenting discussion geared toward undergraduate students, in a series called, "Undergraduate Corner."


How do you perceive your class meetings? Boring? Seemingly pointless? A requirement that you know you have to fulfill in order to get the grade you need to get the degree you want so that you can have a job you don't hate?

How do you perceive your textbooks? Pedantic? Dry? Verbose? A waste of $100+ that could have bought you real food for two weeks?

How do you perceive your homework assignments? Long? Unclear? A waste of trees and ink (or electricity, if conducted on-line)?

Have you ever considered how they're perceived by your professor? They are points of contact---communication from one human being to another---about the one thing in the world that she finds most interesting. They are the opening lines of what is supposed to be a dialogue between you and her.

Another way of looking at it is that they are the foundation of your class's culture. Whether you feel it or not, you are part of your class's culture. In each class, you are a member of a unique subsystem of human civilization that has never occurred before and will never be repeated again.

And here's the thing about communication and culture: They are always two-way. If your professor is the only participant who engages, the communication/culture project is stunted. It fails to be all that it was meant to be, and therefore your experience as a student fails to be what it was meant to be. If this communication/culture project is to be fulfilled, you have to be an engaged participant.

That's right; you have to (gasp) engage with your professor.

Before I get into what this looks like, let me paint another side of the picture for you: Few students engage their professor. Those that do find themselves in a position of respect in the professor's eyes, because they've come and broken the silence that has otherwise existed between them and the students, and---regardless of how preoccupied they are with their own research---nearly every professor appreciates this.

Now think of what it means for you as a Christian student to be the one student in your class to engage the professor. Imagine what it means for your witness for Christ to earn that respect in his eyes, all because you treated another human being how you would want to be treated. (Which, you just might eventually remind the professor, is something that Jesus taught.) Imagine how the kingdom might advance just because you took the time out to visit an instructor's office hours---oh yeah, and you just might get an insight into what's on the exam.

So, how do you engage a professor? The easiest way is to find out how she wants you to engage her. You can find this out in the syllabus or by simply asking.

1. Does your professor welcome questions in the few minutes before class while she is getting situated?
2. Does your professor welcome questions during class?
3. Does your professor welcome questions at the end of class?
4. When are your professor's office hours?
5. Does your professor mind if you continue to ask questions after the end of office hours?
6. Is your professor welcoming to students dropping by during non-office hours?
7. Is your professor willing to schedule an appointment with you outside of office hours?
8. Would your professor mind if you read the textbook or worked the homework in her office so that you can ask questions as you proceed?
9. What on-campus colloquia or seminars does your professor recommend?

All of these questions (which are all rather easy to ask and keep track of) will help you to understand the communication/culture paradigm that your professor has set up. And, asking them is your first (and easy) step toward engaging him. He'll already regard you with more respect and appreciation than before, and you just might begin to find class meetings, textbook-reading, and homework-completing more fulfilling and worthwhile.

How else have you found it to be beneficial to engage with your professor? If you're a professor or instructor, what tips would you give to students to help them engage better?

Academic Calling at Urbana09

This is definitely not your typical missions conference seminar. I'm looking forward to seeing the results!

Is service part of our "morality?"

I've been in Matthew 25 a few times in the last couple weeks, having taught out of it in an adult education class at my church last week and hearing my pastor refer to it this past Sunday. In it, Jesus describes how the evidence of saving faith in a person is loving service to others as if they were Jesus, Himself. (Not that the loving service earns their way into God's grace, but that they inevitably engage in loving service because they have received God's grace.)

We often summarize this concept by saying that saving faith leads to obedience, or a godly morality.

But when we think of "morality," aren't we usually concerned with negative concepts, such as sexual purity, or not watching "bad movies," or not associating with "bad company" (which, even Paul affirmed, "corrupts good morals")?

Is loving service part of our "morality?"

Do we see feeding the hungry (literally and figuratively) or tending the sick (again, literally and figuratively) or visiting the lonely as "moral" actions?

After all, in Matthew 25, Jesus doesn't say, "Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For all your friends went to see every Harry Potter movie, and you refused to go."

And isn't this positive morality of service what the world needs to see, far more than our restrictions on ourselves? Isn't this the kind of attitude that makes the difference for a university to be a welcoming place to students (who are very often hungry, sick, and lonely) instead of a standoffish wall of intimidation?

I'm off to Maryland for the American Association of Physics Teachers New Faculty Workshop! See you on Tuesday!

Facts, opinions, and everything else

I gave my Technical Writing students an assignment in which they were to read each other's mid-term papers and suggest revisions (to their approach, organization, and formatting) to their classmates.


One student raised the issue, "I don't want to write about my opinions."


This gave me pause. Was I asking them to write an opinion piece? I certainly was not asking them to report on facts, as they were simply responding to a paper, not conducting research. But I was not asking for their opinions. So, what was I asking for?


As I mulled over this, I realized that a dangerously simplified dichotomy has been introduced into our educational system: facts and opinions.


Consider it: In third grade, we are handed a list of statements and told to identify each one as a fact or as an opinion, as if every statement in human linguistics could be classified as one or the other. This student knew that he was not writing about facts, and so concluded that he was being asked to write about his opinion.


There is, instead, a broad spectrum of statements between pure fact and pure opinion, including judgments (which I was asking them for), hopes, desires, conclusions, theories, creeds. (Where do creeds fit into this spectrum? Maybe we shouldn't go there right now...)


Take, for example, a physics experiment that results in the red crosses on the following graph:

(Never mind what it's plotting.) We would look at this data and say, "Ooh! It looks like it forms a line! Let me try to fit it." We then create the green line (which has a slope of 1) as a best possible fit to the data, and calculate it to have something like 95% accuracy.

Now, in the lab report for such an experiment, one would say, "The data is fit by a line of slope 1 to 95% accuracy." That would be a statement of fact.

To go one step further, one would say, "This data demonstrates the linear relationship between variable X and variable Y." Here's the question: Is this second statement a statement of fact? Not exactly, because one can't inexorably connect the graph to that statement. But is this second statement therefore an opinion? Not exactly, either, because there's certainly evidence to support it! The second statement could be considered an evidence-based judgment (or conclusion), which isn't really a fact but also isn't purely opinion.

So, how can we encourage our students to think along a spectrum of certainty, instead of merely in terms of absolute fact and opinion? How does the existence of this spectrum impact the way we teach our subjects? How does it impact the way we communicate our faith?

When I have to play the skeptic

I've worn a lot of hats since I joined the faculty at my university: adviser (officially and unofficially), instructor, tech support, committee member (that's at least 4 hats), team coach, author, copy editor, spiritual encourager, substitute instructor, event coordinator... I'll probably think of ten more tomorrow morning.

There's one hat that I've had to wear that I did not expect to. The skeptic hat.

Christian professor aren't supposed to be skeptics, right? We're supposed to defend the underdog faith-based perspectives. We're supposed to encourage wonder and awe at the universe, and point out the flaws of human reasoning. (Okay; so maybe we're supposed to be skeptical about the skeptics, but only to show the limits of skepticism, right?)

But sometimes skepticism is necessary, even for a Christian professor.

An example that often comes to mind is when students in my physics classes try to draw out metaphysical implications of physical laws. This usually happens when we reach Newton's Third Law (N3L), and someone in the class inevitably tries to argue for some version of the concept of karma based on N3L. "For every action you make there's an equal and opposite reaction, so... what goes around comes around, right?"

I tell them that that sounds nice, except that that isn't what N3L says. N3L is a mathematical relationship, and there's no math to karma. (Enter the skeptical argument.) I encourage them that, if they believe in such a concept, N3L is a nice metaphor or picture for the concept. I further encourage them that, if they also believe in a God who oversees this concept, it stands to reason that this God created N3L in such a way as to illustrate this concept. But there's no definitive logical progression that leads one to believe that N3L proves this concept.

So, I play a nice skeptic, but a skeptic nonetheless.

But perhaps I'm more. My desire, after all, is to uphold not only rationality (which the above argument defends) but also the Christian worldview that holds that spiritual matters are illustrated in creation but revealed in God's word.

Pascal said that, ideally, human reason uses rational proof, skepticism, and faith in harmony with each other to reach the truth. When have you had to switch back and forth between these hats?

Undergraduate Corner: Surviving Winter Break

On this blog, the first and third Tuesday of each month are dedicated to presenting discussion geared toward undergraduate students, in a series called, "Undergraduate Corner."

The end of the semester is not that far away. In just a few weeks, undergrads all over the country will be packing up their bags, selling back their textbooks, making sure they have that cute lab partner's cell number, and heading home. They'll finally get to sleep (for about 1.5 days straight) in their own bed, eat their favorite meal that their mother prepares (we call ours "Good Chicken"--does that name even need a description?), and spend a few glorious weeks not having to think about Salinger, free-body diagrams, or inelastic demand.

But Christian students may also find it difficult to spend time thinking about God.

Here's the scenario: The Christian college student returns home, and either 1. skips church (understandable given their dire need of sleep) or 2. goes back to their "old church" (is six months ago really that old?) and it simply isn't the same as it used to be (especially if half of their friends from high school aren't there) AND they're hearing the Christmas story which, although powerful, sounds familiar to them and they begin to zone out.

After a very short time, their few weeks of rest have passed, and they return to campus with bellies that are full but souls that are still deflated. And beginning the spring semester (which doesn't even offer the release of football, unless your team is headed to the national championship...) with a deflated soul makes it very long indeed.

So, I'd offer the following advice to Christian students who are just 1.5 months away from winter break:

1. Pick up a Christian book to read over break. I know you don't think that you'll want to read anything, but you might actually find it restful to use your brain on something other than schoolwork. Might I recommend Knowing God by Packer, which has simple language and self-contained chapters, or The Call by Guinness, which just might stir up your motivation to enter the spring semester with a renewed vigor?
2. Stay in touch with Christian friends from school. (Besides your cute lab partner...) Spend some time praying together. Share about what you're reading.
3. Reflect on what you've learned. The end of a college semester is such a rushed time---for students and faculty---such that we rarely have time to think back on what we've learned, how it all relates, how God is showing us His glory in all of it, and how He's using it all to prepare us for a life of service.

What are some suggestions you have for Christian undergrads on their way home?

Theology > Everything Else?

I've heard many a pastor & theologian make a comment that, despite their best intentions, really irks me.

It goes something like this: "Theology is the Queen of the Sciences."

They're referring back to an adage used centuries ago by the founders of the original American universities, who wanted ministry preparation to be their most important goal. They saw every other field of study as ultimately existing to support & further the field of theology.

I respectfully disagree, for three reasons.

1. Perhaps most importantly, I see no reason for such a conclusion in Scripture. There is no dichotomy between sacred and secular, no higher versus lower callings.

2. Theology is an applied science. It draws on the resources of literary analysis (to be able to read the sacred text), history (to understand the context of the sacred text), philosophy (to logically reason through & assimilate the principles learned from the text), psychology (to analyze the concept of the human as developed by the sacred text), and the physical & biological sciences (to understand the metaphors & creation description of the sacred text). (There are probably other relationships that I'm missing.) If theology is a queen, then she is rather dependent on her subjects for her survival.

3. I think those who make such a statement are making the classic mistake of confusing the glory of God with information about God. Every field that humans study exists for the purpose of glorifying God in worship from His people. Reading a physics book is not an act of worship unless I respond to the God who created physics; in the same way, reading a theological book is not an act of worship unless I respond to the God described in it. The reformers, after all, longed for "the glory of God alone," not "the knowledge of God alone."

I would, therefore, like to submit the following revised version of this well-meant sentiment: "Doxology is the goal of the sciences."

Have you heard similar statements? How do you think Christian scholars should respond to such statements?

What is Christian Scholarship?

In the preface of The Outrageous Idea of Christian Scholarship, Marsden states that his purpose is to "take a step toward clarifying what the ancient enterprise of relating faith and learning might mean in the academy today." In so doing, he hopes to carve out a place of respect and welcome for Christian scholarship in the academy today.


But what is "Christian scholarship?"


It's a difficult question to answer. But it's an important one, as your answer to that question will color your responses to Marsden's ideas.


Here are a few possibilities:

1. Christian scholarship is scholarship about Christianity.
2. Christian scholarship is scholarship about topics that are of concern to Christians.
3. Christian scholarship is scholarship that seeks the goal of confirming Christian beliefs.
4. Christian scholarship is scholarship that is born out of uniquely Christian beliefs.
5. Christian scholarship is scholarship that seeks to understand the relationships between Christianity and other fields.
6. Christian scholarship is scholarship that seeks to clarify Christian beliefs.
7. Christian scholarship is scholarship that is conducted by Christians.

Do you see how each of these applies a different flavor to the term?


There's a similar problem, for example, in trying to define what physics is. There are many physicists whose work looks a lot like pure mathematics, or chemistry, or biology, or philosophy, or meteorology, or astronomy, and there are the folks who apply the principles of physics to social networks & economic systems. Ultimately, then, we define physics as what physicists do.


Based on that comparison, I'm inclined to support definition #7 above, with the understanding that implies, includes, and encompasses #1-6.

Thriving or Surviving?

Faculty Commons recently featured a My Ministry Minute by Joseph McRae Mellichamp entitled, "Going With the Flow – Or Following the Call?" He describes how, in hindsight, he had gone through much of his life haphazardly, rather than with intentionality. He says the difference was coming to understand his sense of calling, that he wants it to be said that he "used [his] position, [his] gifts and abilities, and [his] opportunity to impact [his] university and higher education for good and to reach [his] colleagues and students for Jesus."

I couldn't agree more.

I think another way of phrasing the contrast he makes is that it's the difference between thriving and surviving. I cheer every time I watch WALL-E (which is a lot) and hear the captain say, "I'm tired of surviving. I want to LIVE!" (These cheers are usually accompanied by flashbacks of graduate school.)

I hope that, as a professor, I help create opportunities for my students to thrive, and not just present challenges that make them content with survival. I want to help them live intentionally, and not just put more pressure on them to get by with the minimum.

How have you experienced the difference between surviving/going with the flow/getting by and thriving/following the call/progressing? How have you helped others thrive?

(Speaking of surviving, I just realized that I didn't make Tuesday's post an "Undergraduate Corner." Oops! Looks like I owe you one.)

Great Summary of Marsden

The Emerging Scholars Blog today featured a great summary of some of Marsden's key arguments in The Outrageous Idea of Christian Scholarship. If you don't have a copy of the book, read these quotes to whet your appetite.

Clearing Up Misconceptions

I think one of the services Christians in the academic world can contribute is to clarify misconceptions about the Christian faith. This opportunity comes about because

1. We're forced to deal with our own misconceptions if we're going to pursue our faith & scholarship faithfully, and
2. We're often given the opportunities to do so in situations we encounter every day.

Take, for example, my introductory physics class last Friday. Fridays in this class are somewhat lighthearted; the students work problems at the board and, time permitting, I answer questions from the week. We got onto the topic of living in a universe with dimensions that we can't see, and I made reference to A. Square in Flatland.

A. Square, I explained, is a square living in a two-dimensional universe who becomes persecuted by Flatland's intellectual/religious authorities for claiming that there is a third dimension that they are incapable of seeing. He knows of this third dimension because he has been visited by a strange being that calls himself a "sphere" that exists in a three-dimensional world.

One of the students commented that A. Square, therefore, is a lot like Jesus.

I said that I understood what the student was trying to say, but expressed my hesitation to agree. I said that a better comparison would be Galileo or Copernicus, and that I didn't think that Jesus was a good comparison, because Jesus did not so much claim to have a revelation as he did claim to be the revelation.

Did the student understand my clarification? I'm not sure. Will it drive him to seek out Jesus as a unique authority on life? I don't know. But I do think it's neat that Christian faculty have opportunities like that.

What are similar opportunities that you've experienced? How has God used them?

Justice, kindness, and humility, with a side of academic success

He has told you, O man, what is good;
   and what does the LORD require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
   and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8)

I think about this verse whenever I write my syllabi for the semester, or when students request an extension of a homework deadline, or when I have to respond to an act of academic dishonesty. Managing a course well requires justice, kindness, and humility---and it often feels like pursuing one will obviate another.

It also makes me think of my annual faculty evaluation (and ever-building tenure & promotion evaluation), which has its own triad of requirements: teaching, scholarship, and service (plus the ubiquitous "collegiality" metric). I think that, ultimately, doing justice, loving kindness, and walking in humility are the keys to succeeding at those requirements; in other words, I have an arena in which to pursue the virtues that God wants me to develop, and I'll get good marks from my institution along the way.

A few textual thoughts:

1. I think it's significant that God calls for us to do justice, but love kindness. I think it helps us approach people & situations with the right attitude, and gives us an insight into God's character, as well.
2. Micah doesn't seem to think this triad is very weighty. "What is it that's so hard that God wants you to do?" he seems to be asking. "Why would you not want justice, kindness, and humility?"
3. In the context, Micah has just asked, "How will I come before God [in the temple] and please Him? How can I possibly bring enough to sacrifice [even my own firstborn] to satisfy Him?" Then he answers by describing how he should seek to live these virtues in his life in relationship to others; i.e., it's not how he performs in the worship arena, but in the workaday world and in the community.
   

Is evolution providing a new morality?

At the beginning of the semester, I sat in on a very insightful workshop session by Dr. Terry Doyle about Learner Centered Teaching (www.learnercenteredteaching.com). His thesis was based on ideas developed by Dr. John Medina, proposing that we need to rethink our teaching practices based on what we know about how the human brain works due to its evolutionary performance envelope. Medina says,

The brain appears to have been designed to solve problems related to surviving in an unstable outdoor environment and to do so in near constant motion. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IK1nMQq67VI)

Medina (and Doyle) goes on to claim that if we wanted students to learn in an environment that was "directly opposed to what the brain was really good at doing," we would put them in the traditional classroom setting. (Notice the contrast: Our students listen instead of solving problems; they see the same concrete wall every day instead of being in a changing outdoor environment; they sit still instead of moving. How many times have we seen students jostle their legs in that annoying fashion in the middle of class, much as I'm doing right now at my desk?)

Doyle then went on to describe what we should try to do differently: How we should improve the learning environment, how we should engage the students with activity, how even requiring exercise of our students would greatly improve learning, etc. And all of this was based on what we understand of how the human brain evolved.

Two things occurred to me as I was pondering this talk. First, Doyle & Medina are still figuring out the details of their new teaching scheme, as they still give lectures in the traditional format!

But second, these guys have formed a set of teaching standards---a set of "should" statements---based on an evolutionary worldview. Could one consider this set of standards to be a morality based in evolution? (Medina even titles his book Brain Rules.)

I point this out because, before the development of the Intelligent Design movement, Christians in the earlier half of the last century argued against evolutionary theory based on the idea that it could provide no basis for morality. (Hence the reason they failed at the Scopes Trial; the defenders of anti-evolutionist creationism of that day were unprepared to defend their position scientifically, and IDers have been trying to play catchup ever since.)

I think this observation brings us to an interesting question: Has the evolutionary worldview matured to a point where it is ready to provide its adherents with a morality? If so, what is this morality shaping out to look like? And how will Christians respond to this "evo-morality" when it disagrees with their own? What about when it agrees with their own?

(Note: I'm not asking whether you agree with the evolutionary worldview; I'm asking if you think the evolutionary worldview is poised to introduce a set of moral standards on its followers.)

What "Reformed Christianity" Used to Mean

It amazes me how words can transform meaning so drastically. Take "google," the sound uttered by the young son of a mathematician seeking to come up with a name for 10^100, now the name of a culturally savvy technology giant. Or take the word, "crash;" probably originally an onomatopoeia describing the sound of a tree falling (or the like), this word has expanded to include the failure of abstract or technical systems that are supposed to function, like the economy or a computer, which may not include a recognizable sound. Many words, it seems, gain meaning as time progresses.

Unfortunately, some words lose meaning, like "Reformed Christianity." When a Christian today says that they're "Reformed," they usually mean that they're a Calvinist--i.e., they agree with the synopsis of soteriology described by TULIP, which was formed as a clarification of an aspect of reformed doctrine in response to a group of dissenters.

But the reformed worldview originally was so much more than this. Being reformed meant that you believed that all of human experience was sacred, under the sovereign care of Christ. Being reformed meant you valued people being able to read God's word in their own language. Being reformed meant that you believed that the world was created good, the world was corrupted by sin, and that the world was being redeemed by Christ. Being reformed meant that you believed that the word "world" meant the physical "world" of rocks and trees and skies and seas, the "world" of human beings, and the "world" of cultures and institutions that those people created. Being reformed meant that you believed there was no separation of human life into sacred and secular.

Abraham Kuyper summarized it well when he said, "There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry: 'Mine!'"

That's what "Reformed" used to mean. I hope that we Christians in the academic world can reclaim at least some of this meaning, as our lives and ministries intersect with diverse people and institutions and ideas from all over the world.

Undergraduate Corner: Don't Make Jesus a Stranger

On this blog, the first and third Tuesday of each month are dedicated to presenting discussion geared toward undergraduate students, in a series called, "Undergraduate Corner."

You probably saw the title to this blog posting and thought, "Yeah, I know; make sure I keep up my relationship with Jesus while I'm in college." Chances are, if you're reading this post, you are making an effort to keep up your relationship with Jesus while you're in college.

But I mean something else.

I'm referring to the tendency of Christian college students who have a near-insatiable craving to understand their faith better, and who dive deeply into even the most difficult writings of Scripture to better understand what it teaches, and to craft a seamless, clean-cut, unshakable personal statement of faith that summarizes what they believe the Bible says.


Okay, perhaps that last sentence was a little hyperbolic (that's the adjective of "hyperbole," not the mathematical curve), but you get the idea: Christian college students--the ones who grow in their faith during their college years--tend to dive into Scripture more than they ever have before. And it seems like they spend 99% of their Bible study time in Paul's letters.


Again, the 99% figure is a little hyperbolic. But when we're seeking to fine-tune our personal doctrine, we (college student or otherwise) do tend to spend a lot of time in Paul's writings. But that makes sense, right? Paul is certainly the biblical author who speaks most about doctrine and the need for doctrinal correctness. He's also one of the most straightforward authors, keeping his points pretty well-separated and usually saving his application points for when he knows you understand his doctrine; he's even got a few arguments that can stand up against that big scary atheistic professor you've got in class tomorrow.


Except here is the problem: I think that sometimes, we spend so much time and energy reading and understanding Paul, that when we return to the Jesus depicted in the Gospels (who didn't always speak about the need for doctrinal correctness; who didn't always keep His points well-separated; who wove doctrine and application together seamlessly; who spoke in stories instead of sophisticated arguments), He seems like a stranger to us.


Think of it this way: If your church's leadership announced they wanted to hire a new pastor, and invited their top candidate to give a guest sermon, with whom would you be more comfortable? A pastor whose sermon sounds like Paul, or a pastor whose sermon sounds like Jesus?


So, as we dive into Scripture to understand the Christian faith, let's not make Jesus a stranger.


When have you experienced this estrangement from Jesus of Nazereth, the Messiah depicted in the Gospels? How did you overcome it?

What about other authors of Scripture? Whose writings do you feel most uncomfortable reading?


Have you found a balanced way to read the Bible, where every author and every genre seems natural to you?

A Mathematical Model for the Questionable Sower

I recently revisited Jesus’ parable of the sower (Matthew 13:1-23) and noticed a few things I had never noticed before.  Most of these observations were inspired by Andy Crouch’s interpretation of the story in his Culture Making. I’ll summarize them here in three points:

1.       This sower is rather questionable. On looking at his sowing techniques, one finds that he must be very young, very blind, or very stupid.

2.       This parable of fruitfulness, fruitlessness, and faithfulness applies to our everyday lives, and not just Jesus’ telling of parables or our outright preaching of the gospel.

3.       This may seem anticlimactic, but I think it fleshes out the picture Jesus is painting here: The Sower’s method and result make for a very interesting math modeling problem.

The sower is rather questionable. He is throwing seeds everywhere, including places where, in retrospect, it’s obvious that the seed couldn’t grow. Seeds landing among thorns and rocks are one thing, but can’t this guy exercise just a little care to not let seeds land on the road? Nobody practices agriculture like this (and I’ve spent my share of time around agriculturalists, and they don’t tolerate foolishness)! Picturing this sower scattering seeds carelessly like this, he must be very young, very blind, or very stupid. These are very odd details for Jesus to leave out!

The analogy, of course, is that, in the ministries we feel that God calls us to, we don’t know which endeavors are going to bear fruit and which are going to die on the spot. We can certainly keep developing the areas that look promising, but we can’t know a priori which endeavors are going to succeed or flourish.

This parable of fruitfulness, fruitlessness, and faithfulness applies to our everyday lives. Jesus’ immediate interpretation of this parable is Himself proclaiming the gospel via parables. Only those whose hearts are prepared like good soil, he explains, can receive the parables and understand them such that they bear fruit. “To the one who has [i.e., the good soil], more will be given [i.e., fruit]” (v. 12). He also indicates that this applies when we proclaim the gospel, for which we certainly don’t know when we will see fruit.

But I also think that the parable applies to our everyday lives, as well. Our lives are to be expressions of the gospel—including not just our “moral decisions” and our “conversation,” as a fundamentalist would stress, but the endeavors we pursue. For example, when I teach physics, or when my wife works with her team to prepare a proposal, those pursuits are to be expressions of the gospel. Not that we insert the Four Laws (or Seven Truths for you Piper fans) into our materials, but that we pursue them out of hearts that have tasted the goodness of God and want to see that goodness propagated across creation in as many ways as possible. That is, after all, what we were created for: to spread the image of God across creation (Genesis 1:28-30). We all have a lot of room for creativity in our lives. Even the line cook slaving away at McDonald’s for minimum wage has an opportunity for creativity, in how he treats his fellow employees, or what he volunteers to do, or how he stacks boxes, etc.

In a sense, the seeds of this parable are like seeds of creativity; we don’t know what will come of our endeavors, but (to use the old adage) we won’t find out unless we try.

The Sower’s method and result make for a very interesting math modeling problem. Suppose, for example, that the Sower starts out with 100 seeds (100 is easy to work with percentages). Because the seeds that land on the good soil bear a minimum of a 30-fold return, he only needs 4 out of the 100 seeds to land on the good soil in order to end up with more than he had before—that’s a 4% success rate. In our mindset, that seems unsuccessful, but in God’s mindset, it’s a tremendous success.

What that means is that when I feel discouraged in what I perceive to be a weak progression of the gospel in the world around me, I have to remember that God takes what looks like a few feeble seeds and turns them into a new generation of fruit, beyond what I could have imagined or thought.

Doubly Marginalized, Part 6: What the Church Can Do

Christians in the university very often feel like outsiders in both their churches and their institutions. In this series, I take a look at the different aspects of this situation of being doubly marginalized.

I'd like to close this series of posts with a few practical thoughts for Christians in the university and their churches. Last time, I focused on how Christians in the university can help each other. Here, I'd like to offer a few practical thoughts on how our local churches can support Christians in the university and encourage us even in everyday conversation and fellowship.

1. Understand that we never really stop working. When we come to church, we try to put the mental processes on hold so that we can fellowship with you, but sometimes inspiration just strikes and we may look like we’re in LaLa-Land. But that doesn’t mean we don’t want to talk to you and wouldn’t welcome your distraction from our distraction to bring us back to focusing on God.
2. Understand that we don’t have “normal jobs.”
3. But at the same time, don’t refer to non-academics as “people in the real world.”
4. Understand that we have to choose our words carefully, and that just because we may articulate our faith differently than you, it doesn’t mean we’re not committed to Scripture.
5. Understand that we see many terms like “pluralism” and “humanism” differently than you do (and very likely use the words differently than you do). I’ll expand on this another time…
6. Approach grad students with sympathy. If a grad student seems to drop off the face of the earth, don’t assume they’ve apostatized; they’re probably buried in dissertation figures. A warm meal is probably more helpful than a sermon about church attendance.
7. The same can be said about new faculty nearing tenure evaluation.
   
8. Don’t imply that theology is superior to other fields of study. I’ll expand on this another time…
9. If you really want to make our day (especially a grad student’s day), ask us what we’re learning in our research. (NOTE: Do not ask, “How is your research going?” or, “How much longer do you have til you finish your dissertation?” See http://www.phdcomics.com/comics/archive.php?comicid=47 for more. Just ask about the content.) If you don't understand, ask us to explain.
   
10. Don't respond to a novel research method or theory with, “Well, that makes sense.” In the academic world, statements like that mean, “That’s so logical, you should have thought of it sooner.”

What else have you found to be helpful encouragement as you pursue your calling in the academic world? What have you found unhelpful?

Doubly Marginalized, Part 5: The Importance of Networking and Support

Christians in the university very often feel like outsiders in both their churches and their institutions. In this series, I take a look at the different aspects of this situation of being doubly marginalized.

I'd like to close this series of posts with a few practical thoughts for Christians in the university and their churches. I think the greatest need that we have right now is for networking and support. Even though we are in the corner, we are by no means alone. There is a growing desire among Christian graduate students, post-docs, and faculty to learn how to pursue their studies and teaching to the glory of God and to the benefit of others (the concept of shalom in the Old Testament). Organizations like the Emerging Scholars Network or Christian Study Centers are providing networking opportunities for us to engage in this conversation and encourage each other.

It can feel awkward, sometimes, networking with those outside of your discipline; it's easier to feel like you have more in common with non-Christians in the same department than you than you have with a Christian in another (even related) department. And in a very real sense, that's the way it's supposed to be; Jesus builds His church out of all kinds of stones, and we need the support of other Christians who are not like us. (By extension, that means we need the support of those not in the university, but I'll talk about that next time.) So, here are a few thoughts that I hope will encourage us to seek fellowship with other Christians from other disciplines.

1. There's a big push for interdisciplinary collaboration---why not work up a collaboration with a fellow believer, especially when a successful interdisciplinary project would be promoted and cheered by your institution?
2. How many times have you discovered the solution to a problem in your field while you were thinking about something else? Maybe listening to that Christian physics professor drone on about femtosecond infrared laser pulses will give you the key insight into rewriting everything we believe about Mr. Darcy.
3. You might actually learn something about another field!
4. We can help each other learn how to serve Christ faithfully with our teaching.
5. We can model Christ-exalting community to our non-Christian colleagues. Isn't that part of how Jesus wants us to evangelize?
6. The struggles we face as Christian scholars are universal. I may have different conversations with my colleagues than a Christian art professor would, but we can help each other learn how to pray for our colleagues.

When have you had helpful opportunities to network with other Christian scholars? How have you found it to be helpful to your walk with God?

Doubly Marginalized, Part 4: The Advantages of Being in the Corner

Christians in the university very often feel like outsiders in both their churches and their institutions. In this series, I take a look at the different aspects of this situation of being doubly marginalized.

My previous post showed a little of the downsides of life in the corner, but I think the benefits far outweigh the struggles.

1. Christians in the university get to view God's world in detail and trace that view back to Him in praise.
2. We're able to offer a compassion and care to our students that outlasts and outshines that of our colleagues.
3. Each semester, we have the opportunity to serve as Christ's ambassadors to a new generation of developing culture-makers.
4. We can offer unique viewpoints or expressions of Scriptural truths that are often missed by clergy.
5. We can provide logic and insight to help church issues.
6. We can live a unified or non-compartmentalized life.
7. We live out daily the interaction between faith and culture.
8. Our schedules are often very flexible, increasing our availability to God's service and to our families.
9. We develop and present the academic framework through which our society views and responds to reality.
10. We are a prominent public voice for the reasonableness of the Christian faith.

The list could go on. Based on these thoughts, there are two things that I wish would develop in the church.

First, I would like to see local churches utilize their local Christian faculty more. This could mean encouraging college students (current or aspiring) to talk with them, or hosting a discussion panel, or hosting seminars about their thoughts of how their studies relate to their faith, or encouraging the Christian faculty to publish in Christian literature. What kinds of ministry activities have you seen that have successfully brought out the gifts and experiences of Christian faculty?

Second, I would love to see Christians of every vocation develop their own personal list like the one above. Just ask yourself, "How could God use me in my position in the world?" It's not a question of how many co-workers or clients you can share the gospel with in one week; it's not a matter of analyzing the moral quality or "holiness" of what you do; and it's not a matter of how much tithe money you generate each week. It's a matter of asking how God has called you to honor Him by making a difference in the lives of others, what the Old Testament calls "pursuing peace (Hebrew: shalom)." Perhaps if all Christians started looking at life that way, none of us would feel like we were in the corner.

Doubly Marginalized, Part 3: The disadvantages of being in the corner

Christians in the university very often feel like outsiders in both their churches and their institutions. In this series, I take a look at the different aspects of this situation of being doubly marginalized.

Life as a Christian in the university hurts, from both sides. Fellow Christians and fellow scholars react to us with distance or even hostility, simply because they do not understand the commitments that we hold closely that they do not share.

I think part of the issue on the church's side is that "careerism" has become a popular phobia among Christians (somewhat akin to eating meat sacrificed to idols in the 1st century church). Academics are of necessity very career-minded, since we have to largely be self-driven to be of use to our institutions. I think perhaps this drive is often misunderstood by other Christians, who sometimes perceive it as self-centeredness.

When have you felt misunderstood? How do you think Christians can encourage each other to pursue their callings as an act of faith? How do you think Christian academics can better communicate themselves to their fellow believers?

Undergraduate Corner: For a limited time only...

On this blog, the first and third Tuesday of each month are dedicated to presenting discussion geared toward undergraduate students, in a series called, "Undergraduate Corner."

College is only temporary. This is a big relief, since even the most seasoned student feels dogged by exams and term paper due dates and miscellaneous grade requirements that he read about in the syllabus on the first day but the professor never mentioned them again so he forgot about them. It means that "real life" will, one day, begin.

But the temporariness of college life is also something of a challenge. It means that you only have four five a limited number of years to take advantage of all of the resources available to you. When will you ever again have access to a college library, or to full-length electronic journal articles? When will you ever again be able to to waltz into a laboratory and experiment with the equipment? When will you ever again be able to sit down over coffee with the most studied minds in the world? When will you ever again be encouraged to pursue the connections between the different fields of study? Most importantly, when will you ever again have the free time to investigate the questions of the universe, and receive credit in return?


Don't waste your learning. Don't let your college years pass by without digging into the questions that raise your curiosity. Don't miss the opportunity to network with other interested individuals. Don't turn down the chance to develop novel answers in your field of interest and impact your corner of the academic world for Christ. And don't let these years pass by without contemplating how all these pursuits ultimately point you to the glorious God who holds all the answers and loves to see us ask, seek, and knock for them.

"Doubly Marginalized" returns on Thursday. Many thanks to the Emerging Scholars Blog for listing it in last week's Week in Review!

Doubly Marginalized, Part 2: How the church is marginalized

Christians in the university very often feel like outsiders in both their churches and their institutions. In this series, I take a look at the different aspects of this situation of being doubly marginalized.

I admitted in the last post that it might not seem like the university is marginalized because there are so many higher education institutions. The same could be said about the church. In most parts of the US, you can't swing a cat without hitting a Baptist church, a Methodist church, and some kind of "Christian Fellowship" or "Christian Life Center" that seems averse to the word "church."

But, just as with the university, I think this plethora actually speaks to the church's marginalization. The rest of the culture looks at us and asks, "Why does our city need fifty Baptist churches?" or "What the heck is a 'Christian Life Center?'" Most of the onlookers seem to come to the conclusion that Christians can't get their act together---and in a very real sense, they're right.

Ever since the split of the Roman empire, local congregations have been getting more and more divided. Sometimes, divisions have been for good reasons; sometimes, the reasons are so petty that the rest of us are ashamed. But I think the main source of divisions among Christians today is feeling a false sense of having to choose between faithfulness to the gospel and relevance to the rest of the culture.

Those who sacrifice relevance for the sake of faithfulness claim they're trying to preserve the purity of the gospel, because if they make a mistake with the gospel, they themselves will be cast into hell forthwith; they very much enjoy quoting Paul's letter to the Galatians.

Those who sacrifice faithfulness for the sake of relevance rarely state outright that they want to water down the gospel, but feel they should have a commonality with others first and then (at some undetermined future time) get to the gospel; they very much enjoy quoting Paul's sermon on Mars Hill.

(Yes, I did just say that both these camps enjoy quoting Paul. Interesting, eh?)

So, this is what the rest of our culture perceives when they look at the church: One the one hand, they see crabby doctrinologists who frown on everything while telling everyone to believe in God; on the other hand, they see smiling people who rush to every opportunity to help and serve but who can't tell needy people much about their God other than that He loves them.

As a Christian in the academy, I feel the need for faithfulness and relevance every day. If I neglect to develop my understanding of the gospel, God, and the Christian worldview that comes with them, I look like a fool; if I neglect to remain relevant and "in" the university culture, I look condemning. Either of those will cost me my witness and my usefulness to the kingdom in the university.

Where do you think this dichotomy between faithfulness and relevance came from? How do you see the need for both in your sphere of influence?

Doubly Marginalized, Part 1: How the university is marginalized

Christians in the university very often feel like outsiders in both their churches and their institutions. In this series, I take a look at the different aspects of this situation of being doubly marginalized.

It might not seem like the university is marginalized in America. There are certainly a lot of higher education institutions all around. Doing a Google search of "College Jacksonville, FL" turns up least 17 different institutions in my immediate area alone.

But I think this plethora actually speaks to the marginalization of the university. There are many institutions available because it's relatively easy to make money off of a higher education institution, and the more career/business-oriented those institutions are, the more profitable they are.

For example, if you search for physics departments or humanities departments or music departments in Jacksonville, you'll find much fewer results. And why should all of these smaller career-oriented colleges offer physics or humanities or music? There's a lot more money to be made in training physicians' assistants and computer technicians and court stenographers---because we need more of these people than we need physicists or humanities professors or trombone players. (Note I didn't say that we need PAs and techies and stenographers more than we need physicists and humanities professors and trombone players, just that we need more of them.)

But in this process of training people to fill roles with greater demand, the more traditional idea of the university has gotten lost in the conversation, and physicists and humanities professors and trombone players get put to the side and treated like they're not necessary for society. Hence the marginalization of the university.

John Sommerville (no, I won't mention him in every blog post) says it much better in his The Decline of the Secular University. I highly recommend reading it.

What do you think? How do you see the university as marginalized in America? In your city? In your church (now there's a thought that deserves a series of blog posts all its own)?