“Do not be afraid”

By Maria Boccia, PhD
Professor of Pastoral Counseling and Psychology and
Director of Graduate Programs in Counseling at the Charlotte campus

Recently, I started attending a Bible study on the book of Esther. We were studying Chapter 4, where Esther responds to Mordecai’s request that she approach the king by telling him that if anyone approaches the king without being summoned, they will be killed. The discussion in the group turned towards the idea that Esther was probably afraid to approach the King. Someone said that the most frequent command given in Scripture is "do not be afraid." That certainly seems to be the case in the Gospel narratives of Jesus birth: when the angel approaches Zechariah, the angel says. "Do not be afraid" (Luke 1:13). When the angel approached Mary, he said the same thing, "do not be afraid" (Luke 1:30). When the angel appeared to the shepherds, Luke says they were terribly frightened and the angel said to them. "Do not be afraid" (Luke 2:10).

As I sat in the Bible study and heard this comment about the command to not be afraid, the psychotherapist in me sat up and took notice. We do not choose our emotions. Emotions are responses to our interpretations of events and experiences. "Emotions just are; it's what we do with them that matters" is something I say frequently to clients. Because Jesus commands us to love, I conclude that love is not just a feeling, but rather something we can choose. We can choose to put someone else's needs ahead of our own, to work for the benefit of another, for the welfare of another. So what does it mean that the most frequent command in Scripture is to not be afraid?

There must be a sense in which "do not be afraid." refers to something more than emotion. One of the other women in the Bible study commented that we are also told to fear the Lord, which led to a discussion about how fear in this context is reverence or awe, or to make God be the reference point, the most important person in our lives. So perhaps, we are commanded to not be afraid of anything but God because God wants us to see him as the center, and him only.

In the Gospel narratives of Jesus birth, the angels were bringing “good news of a great joy” to each person to whom they appeared: that God was coming in the flesh to redeem his people. The incarnation is an awesome thing: Divinity, the infinite almighty eternal God, took on our finite, limited human nature. "Vastness confined in the womb of a maid." If this God is for us, we need never be afraid of anything again.

Miracle Baby: the Wonder of the Incarnation

By John Jefferson Davis
Professor of Systematic Theology and Christian Ethics

My wife Robin and I just returned recently from Washington, DC and a visit to get acquainted with our new grandson, Isaiah John Tobin, born November 14, 2009, weighing 7 lbs. 14 oz. ( and, coincidentally, Isaiah 7:14: “…. God with us”). Holding my new grandson as a proud grandfather (my third grandchild), I was so thankful to God for the birth of this beautiful new healthy child, and reflected on the amazing process of human embryonic development in the womb and live birth – things that we can easily take for granted because they seem so “normal”. The Old Testament Isaiah spoke about the birth of a “miracle baby” (Is.7:14), but there is something well-nigh miraculous about the formation and birth of any human baby, when seen in the light of modern science and embryology.

In his fascinating book The Hidden Face of God: Science Reveals the Ultimate Truth, Gerald Schroeder reminds us that a normal adult human body contains 75 trillion cells, and all 75 trillion were grown from and encoded genetically in a single fertilized egg cell in our mother’s womb. One cell divides to become two … four … eight …. sixteen … thirty-two …. sixty-four … and so on, all the way to 75 trillion cells – and these cells must appear at the right time, in the right order, in the right spatial configuration, so that brain cells do not appear in our toes or fingernail cells in our liver, and so on. There are 3.5 billion base pairs to specify the human genome in each cell, and this genetic “script” is packed into a space in the cell nucleus that measures only 1/1000 of an inch in diameter – an amazing feat of divinely designed “nanotechnology.”

Each time one of our cells divides, the amount of genetic information that has to be copied without error is like a person xeroxing ten 400 page books per minute for ten hours - and this from the time of conception until we die. As one biologist observed, the process of human embryological development staggers the imagination: the human embryo is like a machine that can not only build itself, but has the “intelligence” to be able to make a copy of itself as well.

At this Christmas season, when we again remember the “Word made flesh” (John 1:14), we can again in all humility reflect on the miracle of the Incarnation: the Author of the genetic code became a zygote, then an embryo, and finally, a 75 trillion-celled human being – himself living through, for our benefit, the amazing process that he himself had designed. Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift: Joy to the world … the Incarnate Lord has come!

On Advent and Albino Hunting in East Africa

By Roy Ciampa, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

Have you heard or read the horrifying story about albino hunting in east Africa (posted 11/27/09)? I read the story on the CNN website today (you can also read about it here) and have since been thinking about what it tells us about fallen humanity and about Advent. Here are just the first three paragraphs from the CNN story:

As many as 10,000 albinos are in hiding in east Africa over fears that they will be dismembered and their body parts sold to witchdoctors, the Red Cross said in a recent report.

The killings of albinos in Burundi and Tanzania, who are targeted because their body parts are believed to have special powers, have sparked fears among the population in the two countries, the report said.

Body parts of albinos are sought in some regions of Africa because they are believed to bring wealth and good luck. Attackers chop off limbs and pluck out organs to sell to dealers, who in turn sell them to witchdoctors.

What a horrific reminder of the wickedness that can be found in the human heart and leading to the most inhuman treatment of people created in God’s image. Human beings are willing to slaughter other human beings out of the most perverse and corrupt miscalculation about what is in their best interest. Of course disastrous miscalculation of what is in one’s best interest goes all the way back to the origin of sin. “Eating from that tree will be good for you! It’ll make you more like God!” If only such corruption of the human heart were limited to the most widely recognized manifestations of blatant wickedness as albino hunting, or were only found in strange and distant places like east Africa, and not clearly seen in my own heart (and yours!)!

I can more easily point the finger at people who unnecessarily abandon their fetuses, or infants, or grown children rather than making the sacrifices it would take to raise them. Or at those who are more concerned about how healthcare reform might negatively impact their health insurance in any way than they are about the millions who have been left without the benefit of any health insurance. Or all you other people who have ways (and fine-sounding rationalizations) for putting your needs and interests ahead of those of others’. But the same sin seems quite at home in my own heart. I may not be hunting albinos for their body parts, but I have more subtle ways of valuing my own happiness and prosperity over the wellbeing of others. And many of my ways are at least as culturally acceptable in my culture as albino hunting is (evidently) in albino-hunting subcultures….

What does any of this have to do with Advent? Everything, of course. First of all, Christ is the only perfect and pure model of what it means to put other people’s needs above his own (see, of course, Philippians 2:3-11). He became human and sacrificed himself so that we might find true life through his (true) death and resurrection. And his death and resurrection bring life, real and transformed life, that leads more and more people to tend less and less to feed (or, to use Paul’s metaphor, to “sow to please”) their sinful nature (cf. Galatians 6:8), thanks to the life of Christ that is in them by the indwelling Holy Spirit (Galatians 2:20; 4:6).

Christ has come not only to model a different way of living as a human being and to bring forgiveness and salvation to those who, like us, were albino hunters of their own kind, but also to transform us into people through whom the love and righteousness of Christ might be seen.

Through our union with Christ the albino-hunter in each of us has been nailed to the cross, crucified with Christ, so that we are no longer to be slaves to sin, but slaves to righteousness.

Now that I have used those poor albinos as part of an illustration of the ravages of sin and as part of a metaphor for our own sinfulness, I am tempted to leave them behind. They have served my needs and purposes for today. I don’t suppose they would feel any better knowing I was able to exploit them for the sake of writing an on-line faculty forum…. Their suffering goes on. For them, “physical survival is a desperate struggle.”

What might I do (and you), as a follower of Christ, to help those terrorized people, threatened with horrific violence? We can read more about it here and then decide the best way to act. My prayer is that followers of Christ will find concrete ways of demonstrating Christ’s own commitment to those in such desperate need. As the hymn says, Christ “comes to make His blessings flow. Far as the curse is found.” May those blessings flow to the albinos of east Africa this advent season.

Friendship of a Pastor

By David Horn, ThD
Director, The Ockenga Institute

It is quite amazing the things you realize at a funeral. There we all were, almost three hundred friends and family members, all of us there to honor my father who had just passed away a couple of days earlier. They came from all over the Midwest. The older folks, representing his five full-time and several interim pastorates sitting in the front rows to hear better, were the most conspicuous.

We laid my father to rest, and in doing so, we were really laying to rest sixty years of faithful ministry. It was my task to eulogize him for the family. As I looked out over the mourners that day, and particularly those tired souls in the front rows, I couldn’t help but think of the kinds of relationships that were being represented there before me.

How had they perceived my father? There my father was before us, first, seen through the eyes of a wife, certainly the most intimate of the relationships being represented. And, then, there were the four grown boys, less intimate but equally loving. There were four daughters-in-law. How did daughters tethered to this man all these years out of marital pledge rather than blood kinship view this man and his life? There were plenty of nephews and nieces who largely saw him past his prime. There were only a few of his peers left who observed him in his prime—no siblings, but a few brother and sister-in-laws. And finally, with the exception of the church custodian and the ladies who served lunch that day, all of the rest sitting there saw this man through the lens of his ministry amongst them as their one time pastor.

Of this latter group, I couldn’t help thinking of one of dad’s most memorable sayings while I was growing up: “My best friends are ex-parishioners.” Certainly he never made this little adage public, but there was something in dad’s past that always made him wary of getting too close to those he served. Perhaps it was a piece of pastoral wisdom that he learned in his seminary days from the forties.

Whatever it was, in hindsight I think this self-imposed ministerial convention left my dad privately lonely. Publicly, no one would have guessed it. Dad was a big, gregarious man. Our home was a big, hospitable place. Our family life was cluttered with people from all walks of life. Dad’s life was filled with relationships, but at the end of the day, few of those relationships could easily fall under the category of friendship, narrowly defined. Most of his friends sat outside the church door, at least of the church he was currently serving. Only when he left a church would he express friendship openly to certain special people.

The wisdom of this little saying of dad’s can easily be disputed? Is it wise for pastors to nurture friendships within their own congregations? If not, are pastors, then, doomed to a life of solitude? Aside for his or her family, where else is the source of community for those who are to oversee community to come from? What was dad so fearful of? And, what advice should young pastors be given as they enter into a profession that is enormously challenging, potentially filled with conflict, and often lonely?

Mick Jagger, Choir Boy

By Sean McDonough, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

The title is, as they say, a literal fact. While it might be hard to imagine, the Rolling Stones front man did indeed sing in the church choir in his youth. I learned this the other day while perusing According to the Rolling Stones while waiting for my son to finish his music lesson. The book also featured some rather endearing reflections from Jagger’s bandmate Keith Richards on his own early musical experiences. The young Stone-to-be apparently spent much of his boyhood surreptitiously searching for primitive rock-n-roll on his transistor radio. He would hear half of Heartbreak Hotel…the signal would fail…and he would be heartbroken himself, yearning to hear the rest of whatever was troubling Elvis.

Now, in light of their subsequent less-than-innocent behavior, it would be easy to laugh these memories off. We might conjure up images of a young robed Mick belting out Jumpin’ Jack Flash at St. Peter’s Evensong service, or raise questions as to what else Keith might have been up to behind his parents’ backs beyond illicit listening to Chuck Berry. But there is something touching about seeing these notorious rakes as at least semi-innocent youths discovering the joy of music. We are so accustomed to their bad-boy rock and roll image we forget that they started off as ordinary kids.

And it made me wonder if a part of God’s astounding ability to forgive lies in the persistence of his memory. Throughout the Old Testament, God rehearses the story of Israel, nowhere more pointedly than in Ezekiel 16 (a passage, as it happens, with imagery as graphic as anything the Stones came up with). It is all here: Israel’s humble origins, God’s grace in the Exodus, Israel’s relentless pursuit of foreign gods, and the devastating judgment that ensues. One might imagine that God would completely wash his hands of this sinful people, yet in the end he speaks a word of hope: “… yet I will remember my covenant with you in the days of your youth, and I will establish for you an everlasting covenant” (Ezek. 16:60, ESV).

Grizzled veterans of various sorts often like to weigh in with the phrase, “I’ve seen it all.” Well, God really has seen it all. What is remarkable is that his relentless recall has not left him embittered and hopeless; rather it moves him to compassion as he remembers how things once were, and how they might be again. I imagine it would give him great Satisfaction to one day see Mick Jagger back in the church choir.

A Steep Ascent

By Tom Petter
Assistant Professor of Old Testament

Last week was pretty busy here on campus. Several hundred people gathered for the conference “Renewing the Evangelical Mission” in honor of David F. Wells who recently retired from teaching at the seminary. Few would question the profound impact Dr. Wells has had upon the Evangelical movement in recent years. This could certainly be seen by the distinguished list of speakers, a literal Who’s Who is current Evangelical Protestant thinking: Mark Noll, Bruce McCormack, Cornelius Plantiga, among others. For me, one particularly gratifying aspect was to note among the conference attendants several of my former fellow Gordon-Conwell students of the 1990’s (I’m sure there were plenty of alums from before my time as well). They are now pastors, professors and/or occupying various positions of leadership in the Body of Christ. Yet, they chose to carve time away from family and busy schedules to come back to Gordon-Conwell to see their teacher and friend. This reminded me that Dr. Wells’ influence has been felt not only in print but also in (and out) of the classroom. Well done good and faithful servant.

A highlight of the conference for me was Dr. Bruce McCormack’s presentation on the atonement. In his own words, he took us on a “steep ascent” into the mysteries of the relationship between the Father and the Son in the atoning death of Christ. I will look forward to digesting some of the specifics of his arguments when the paper comes out in an edited volume. For a more immediate reaction, McCormack’s (professor of Theology at Princeton Theological Seminary) characterization of Protestant identity framed by both the authority of Scripture and forensic justification (the so-called formal and material principles) seems particularly a propos. In the current climate where the Protestant doctrine of justification is being questioned and/or revised (see Jack Davis’s blog on NT Wright’s new book on justification), McCormack’s (and David Wells’) clarion call is a timely reminder for us to rise up and defend that which defines us at the core. My sense is that, we too are on a “steep ascent” of sort as we try to articulate and contextualize these traditional core beliefs for our generation.

Paul’s “Opinion” in 1 Corinthians 7:12

By Roy Ciampa, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

I have heard it several times before. I just heard it again in a recent Sunday School class I observed. Someone was teaching on the inspiration of Scripture and they suggested, on the basis of 1 Corinthians 7:10, 12 that “Paul differentiates between things said with God’s authority and things said with his.” The verses in question read as follows (according to the ESV):

• 1 Corinthians 7:10: “To the married I give this charge (not I, but the Lord): the wife should not separate from her husband….“
• 1 Corinthians 7:12: “To the rest I say (I, not the Lord) that if any brother has a wife who is an unbeliever, and she consents to live with him, he should not divorce her.”

While it is true that Paul clarifies what he can say on the authority of Jesus’ own words and what he says on his own authority, the impression is given, I think, that Paul’s teaching in verse 10 carries divine authority while his teaching in verse 12 is a matter of personal opinion and does not carry divine, but merely human authority. This reflects serious confusion and it perpetuates a theologically misleading and even spiritually dangerous misunderstanding.

In those verses Paul is referring to the fact that in one case (in verse 10) he is drawing on something that Christ himself said about divorce during his ministry with his disciples. Christ’s teaching on divorce was already known in the churches and came to be recorded in all three Synoptic Gospels (Matthew 5:32; 19:9; Mark 10:2-12; Luke 16:18). Explicit reference to Christ’s teaching during his time with his disciples is extremely rare in Paul’s letters, but this is a very widely recognized case of just that. Paul is NOT suggesting that what Christ taught has divine authority and what he teaches does not carry such authority. If that is what he meant we would have to conclude that virtually everything Paul wrote except 1 Corinthians 7:10 would have to be placed under the category of mere human opinion rather than divine authority. Rather than being a case where Paul differentiates between things said with God’s authority and things said with human authority, it is a case where Paul differentiates between things said by Jesus himself during his earthly ministry and things that are spoken with divine authority expressed through apostles (and prophets), the latter being what we find throughout most of Scripture.

To get an idea of the authority that Paul himself thought applied to his teaching we should consider, among other texts, 1 Corinthians 14:37-38 (ESV, emphasis added): “If anyone thinks that he is a prophet, or spiritual, he should acknowledge that the things I am writing to you are a command of the Lord. If anyone does not recognize this, he is not recognized.”

This is not his comment about something Jesus himself taught during his earthly ministry. He is commenting on what he has been sharing as his own (authoritative) view, which is to be recognized as “the command of God”! He makes it clear that what could have been mistaken as one man’s opinion and argument should be understood to carry the divine authority of prophetic speech.

Once the contrast Paul is actually making in 1 Corinthians 7:10, 12 is understood, it becomes clear that he is not distinguishing between levels of authority, but sources of authority. As already suggested above, to imply that verse 10 carries divine authority but that verse 12 does not would lead us to the conclusion that about the only thing Paul ever said with divine authority is what he said in 7:10. I hope that anyone who thinks they are a prophet or spiritually gifted (cf. 1 Corinthians 14:37) will see that that is not a wise road to walk down.

The Incarnation and Male Priests as “Icons of Christ”?

By John Jefferson Davis
Professor of Systematic Theology and Christian Ethics

I have recently completed an article titled “Incarnation, Trinity, and the Ordination of Women to the Priesthood,” which follows an earlier article on I Tim.2:12 and Paul’s use of the creation texts in Genesis. In this new article I address the issue of the ordination of women in an Anglican context, and respond to an argument by C.S. Lewis from the nature of the incarnation in which Lewis concludes that the fact that Jesus was incarnate as a male indicates that women can not properly represent the character of God to the congregation.

I argue that Lewis’s argument from the incarnation is not convincing, in that it overlooks the changed nature of the priesthood in the New Covenant, the analogical nature of human language about God, and the divine purpose to assume a human nature, rather than an exclusively male nature (cf. sarx, not aner – in Jn.1:14), for the purpose of redeeming both men and women, who both equally reflect the image of God.

If this is an issue that is of interest to you – and apart from the question of the ordination of women, the discussion raises significant points regarding our understanding of the nature of the incarnation – you can read an excerpt of this article by clicking on this link: [to be uploaded]

The complete article is scheduled for publication in the January 2010 issue of Priscilla Papers.

Lost in the Taiga

By David Horn, ThD
Director, The Ockenga Institute

What could it be? Scanning across the sea of dark green coniferous forest, there it was, a square break in the darkness, a tiny patch in the fabric of the uninhabited Siberian quilt. It almost looked like a tilled garden. But, how can this be? They were hundreds of kilometers from civilization.

From their helicopter on that spring of 1982, Russian geologists looking for drilling sights in the subarctic mountains--taiga--of Siberia were desperately searching for a small morsel of land where they could put down. What they found, instead, was a thin fragment of civilization that first dumbfounded them and then captured their full imaginations. Parachuting in, they found themselves staring into the black din of a musty, sticky cabin, barely held up by sagging ceiling joists.

And from out of that cabin came an amazing human story. Huddled in that humble cabin came five hollow figures seemingly held together by bailing wire. First came the old man, his disheveled beard matched by his patched—his re-patched—shirt and pants. Two grown sons followed him, and then, behind them they could hear the hysterical cries of two grown daughters. It was summer so all were without shoes. But, come winter, they walked the snowy mountain range with homemade birch bark boots. The geologists stood face to face with the Lykov family. In turn, the Lykov family stood face to face with other human beings. The grown children had never seen another human face other than their family members. Never. They lived their lives completely to themselves, surviving solely on subsistence fare of potatoes and pine nuts.

What could have driven this family of hermits into this vast wilderness? Vasoly Peskov tells this amazing story that has reached millions of readers in his chronicle, Lost in the Taiga. What drove this family for decades into a life radically set apart from civilization? The Lykov family was part of a small group of “Old Believers” who began their journey from the outside world during the reforms in the Russian Orthodox Church during Peter the Great. Systematically setting themselves apart from the world, they spent what time they had each day that was not filled with scraping together enough food for the next, in long ritualistic, pietistic prayer. Their sole goal in life was to remain uncontaminated by the larger world.

The story of the Lykov family was part of my summer reading. I found it an amazing story not because it was so dramatically different from where most of us live our lives, although this is certainly the case in one sense. Quite the opposite, I found the story so compelling because I related so much to it. What is this impulse in all of us that closely measures our commitment to Jesus Christ by the degree to which we separate ourselves from the world around us? Like the Lykov family, I realize there is safety in maintaining a distance from the world, be it geographical, intellectual, or moral. But, in playing it safe, do we not risk a contamination of another sort? Like the Lykov family, losing contact with their world caused them to live tiny, utterly selfish, and distorted lives.

The point is, Jesus’ example in the Gospel clearly points us to the often forgotten truth that we, the Church, need the world out there—our associations, our towns and communities, our relationships with our unbelieving friends and enemies—as much as they need us. Without continuous, ongoing connections with our world, we all run the risk of living very small safe lives robbed of the very relationships that stirs the gospel in our souls.

Nasty Neighbors at the Lost and Found

By Sean McDonough, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

My favorite quiz show moment came years ago on the late, lamented “Tic Tac Dough”, hosted by the effervescent Wink Martindale. A map of the United States was displayed on the screen, with one state lit up in red. The contestant was asked to identify the state. With that peculiar confidence born of complete cluelessness, he answered soberly, “I believe that’s Ohio, Wink.” While memory fails me as to precisely which state was in fact lit up, I do remember that it was one of the most un-Ohio-like of the fifty – perhaps California, Texas, or Montana.

Sometimes apparently easy questions can trip us up. Imagine, for instance, that Wink Martindale were to pop into your living room just now and ask, “For fifty points: what is the unifying theme of the stories of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son in chapter 15 of Luke’s gospel?” Most of us would immediately reply, “I believe that’s, ‘lost things get found’, Wink.” And we would be correct. Mostly.

I say, “mostly”, because when you look a little more closely at Luke 15 as a whole, you will see that God’s love for the lost is, strictly speaking, the premise for Jesus’ main point, rather than the main point itself. Notice how the chapter begins: “Now the tax collectors and ‘sinners’ were all gathering around to hear him. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’ Then Jesus told them this parable.”(Luke 15:1-3 NIV). We would expect the parables that ensue to be directed as much to the Pharisees’ grumbling as to the fact that sinners are coming to Jesus.

This is exactly what we find. About half of the parable of the lost sheep takes place after the little lamb is already safe and sound: “Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent” (15:6-7). The parable of the lost coin ends the same way: “And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.' In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents” (15:9-10). And we are all familiar with the elder brother in the story of the prodigal son, whining that he never gets to have a party with his friends.

It is not difficult to see Jesus’ point: rather than grumbling like the elder son, the Pharisees and teachers of the law ought to be like the neighbors who rejoice with the shepherd and the woman. We don’t lose the familiar blessings of the parables by noting this: the fact remains that God really is on the hunt for sinners. It is still perfectly appropriate to wrap up an evangelistic meeting with a thoughtful reflection of the prodigal son’s return home (though even there we might ask whether in the world of the parable the son is driven more by pragmatic food-based incentives rather than a heartfelt longing for dear old dad).

What we gain, meanwhile, is a valuable lesson for all of us who have been in the fold for a while. While we would of course never come out and grumble, “Why are all these sinners becoming Christians?”, it is all too easy for veteran saints to slip into the habit of downplaying the “shallowness” or “emotionalism” of new converts. Just as parents have to make a concerted effort to remember what it was like to be child, so older believers have to make a concerted effort to remember the undercurrent of pure joy that accompanies a genuine turning to God. May we rejoice with God and his angels for his continual work to seek and to save the lost.

Christian Life as a Work of Translation

By Roy Ciampa, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

I find myself writing this from Misano Adriatico, Italy, at the start of the second week of the 2009 Nida School for Translation Studies, where about 30 scholars from around the world have gathered to discuss various topics related to the general theme of “translation and culture.” We are hearing lectures/presentations on topics like “Translation and Comparative Literature,” “Gender Issues in Translation,” “Linguistic Aspects of Translation: the case of metaphor,” “Translation, American English and the National Insecurities of Empire,” “Translating Hebrew Poetry,” and “Translation Studies and Bible Translation,” along with many other topics related to the translation of literature, comic strips, video games, the Quran, and the Jewish and Christian Bibles. An amazingly diverse set of approaches and issues is being discussed and the stimulation is wonderful. The hope and expectation is that this experience will result in fruitful crosspollination that will benefit both the work of Bible translation and translation studies in general.

Gordon-Conwell is starting a new D.Min. track in Bible Translation and I look forward to the participation of our D.Min. students in the Nida School of 2011 and am sure they will find it to be a stimulating and challenging place in which their own thinking about translation will be enriched.

Spending so much time thinking about translation also reminds me of the numerous ways in which translation may serve as a powerful theological metaphor. As the body of Christ, the church is to continue being built up “until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ” (Eph 4:13 NIV). We are to “to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness” (Eph 4:24 NIV). That is, we are to become better and better translations of Christ in this world – translations that are undergoing constant revision so as to become ever more perfect (or, better, less and less imperfect) representations of Christ.

We tend to be such imperfect translations of Christ (or perhaps I should just speak for myself) that it is very easy for other people to get the wrong message, to get the wrong idea about who Christ is and what he is all about. By God’s grace and the power of his Spirit, may the world recognize Christ’s people to be (imperfect but) adequate translations through which they may come to know his truth, love, grace and righteousness, giving praise and recognition not to the translation itself, but to the One who has provided such a translation so that he might be known (cf. Matt 5:16).

Seminary or Cemetery?

By Maria Boccia, PhD
Professor of Pastoral Counseling and Psychology and
Director of Graduate Programs in Counseling at the Charlotte campus

“Seminary or Cemetery? Cultivating Spiritual Vitality in Theological Education.” This was the title of the Integrative Seminar at GCTS-Charlotte this past Saturday. The title reflects the common joke about seminary experience: that it kills the soul. We spent this past Saturday talking about this topic. Dr. Hollinger challenged us in the opening chapel to ask ourselves “have we lost our first love?” speaking from the letter to the church at Ephesus from Revelation 2:1-7. He pointed out that Ephesus was once a thriving city with a vibrant growing Christian community. Now it is an empty ruin. The challenge for us is to journey through seminary and our theological education without becoming an empty ruin. How can we do this?

Dr. Steve Klipowitz started the day with a presentation on the survey he took of GCTS-Charlotte students. He asked our students to rate their spiritual vitality and indicated whether it had increased or decreased during their seminary training. About 50% of the student body responded to the survey. Respondents were 37% MDivs, 28% MACCs and the rest the other MAs. I will not repeat all the results here, but I would like to highlight some of the outcomes that could be worth noticing and taking into consideration.

The average score on spiritual vitality was 6.65 out of 10. However, the responses really were bimodal: there were a group of students who reported their spiritual vitality was “fair” and a group that were “good” or better. There were some key factors that discriminated between these two groups. The three most important were: active involvement in a vital church, maintaining regular devotional life, and participating in a small group. Students reported factors contributing to the decline in their spiritual life such as tyranny of the urgent (over-committed, too busy, stressed), lack of devotional time, and just the vagaries of life. Those who reported the poorest spiritual vitality tended to be those working more than 40 hours a week as well is going to school, being in seminary more than four years, and being in full-time ministry.

I would just make a couple of comments: while the seminary is very concerned about the spiritual life of students and tries to be actively engaged in encouraging spiritual vitality, the three biggest factors were factors that are for the most part outside the control of seminary: Church, devotional time, and small groups. Again, some of the biggest threats to spiritual vitality are in the students’ control; e.g., working more than 40 hours a week while going to seminary.

At student orientation this year, I encouraged the new students to consider their priorities and make adjustments in their time commitments to accommodate the demands of seminary. When I came to GCTS for the D.Min. program, I sat down and counted the cost. I realized that I needed to add about 20 hours to my weekly schedule for work related to the program. I then chose to drop teaching Sunday school, leading a small group, serving on the board of a nonprofit, and serving as faculty adviser for a Christian sorority at UNC Chapel Hill. All of these things were good things, but they were not the things to which God was calling to me at this season of my life. I encouraged the students to think about this, and decide whether good things might be interfering with God things.

I will leave you with a couple of other gems from the day. Dr. Alan Myatt talked to the students about spiritual friendships, and the important role they can play in maintaining spiritual vitality. He recommended the book Sacred Companions: the Gift of Spiritual Friendship & Direction by David G. Benner. I encourage you to check it out. Finally, I will leave you with some of the questions that were addressed to the students at our integrative seminar:

• In what ways are you encouraged by your spiritual condition?
• In what ways are you challenged or discouraged?
• What steps can you take to support and encourage future spiritual growth in your life?
• In what ways do you think the seminary could better support spiritual formation in the lives of students?
• How could students better help each other maintain a fervent life with God?

Perfect Health

By Jeffrey Arthurs
Professor of Preaching & Communication and Dean of the Chapel

I go to the chiropractor as often as my insurance permits because I’m a walking, achey-breaky bag of bones. As you may know, for many years chiropractors have been at the center of our country’s upsurge of interest in alternative medicine and holistic health. If you were to attend a chiropractic convention I’d imagine that you would see workshops like “Detoxification Through Herbal Blah Blah,” “Recent Advances in Lowering Cholesterol with Alpha, Zen, Beta Blah Blah,” and “Mind, Spirit, Body, and Blah Blah.”

So, I was interested to see a white paper my chiropractor wrote recently arguing against the concept/goal of “Perfect Health.” He said that for years he has talked about it, heard about it, promoted it, believed in it, and urged it for his patients. Now he’s changed his mind. He says that Perfect Health cannot be defined and is probably unattainable even if defined in narrow terms. It is a chimera. Instead, he is starting to promote contentment.

I like this. Perfect health, the perfect body, a perfect night’s sleep, perfect alignment, and so forth, ain’t gonna happen in this world. My chiropractor didn’t include a biblical/theological perspective in his white paper, but isn’t his thesis consistent with the Faith? We are as solid as mist; the span of our days is a handbreadth; we are like grass that withers. We will not know Perfect Health or perfect anything in this life. And that makes me long for the next life in the next age.

I recently read Heaven by Randy Alcorn, and it has increased my desire for that age. I like to think of it as Gandalf did when comforting Pippen as the orcs hammered the seventh gate: “This is not the end. The gray rain curtain of this world rolls back, and then you see it . . . . White shores and a far green country under a swift sunrise.”

So, I’m giving up my quest for Perfect Health (it wasn’t much of a quest, anyway), and I’m setting my eyes not on what is seen, but on what is eternal. When I see the tent of my earthly home being dismantled, I’m focusing forward on the building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.

Very Brief Perspectives on the “New Perspectives”

By John Jefferson Davis
Professor of Systematic Theology and Christian Ethics

N.T. Wright’s Justification: God’s Plan and Paul’s Vision (InterVarsity, 2009) is Wright’s latest and most definitive reply to his critics – including John Piper, The Future of Justification (Crossway, 2007) – in the ongoing debate on the “New Perspectives” on Paul. My general sense is that Wright is basically “right” in what he affirms – placing justification in the context of the Abrahamic covenant, and integrating it with the other crucial biblical themes of resurrection, adoption, the Spirit, and eschatology – but less than “right” in what he denies or appears to downplay: imputed righteousness, penal substitution, the active obedience of Christ, and righteousness as a moral quality (vs. “covenant faithfulness”) for both God and man.

Wright’s reading of Romans and Galatians and the other Pauline epistles is certainly correct in calling fresh attention to Paul’s situating of justification squarely in the context of the Abrahamic covenant (Gen.15), and seeing this covenant as fulfilled in Christ, the true “seed” of Abraham, who fulfills the covenant through his atoning death and resurrection from the dead. Justification is not only a “courtroom” or forensic reality, but also dynamically and integrally connected with the resurrection of Jesus Christ (Rom.4:25) and the reception of the Holy Spirit through faith in the crucified and risen Messiah (Gal.3:2). The justified ones, who receive the Spirit, are indeed seen to be the true sons of Abraham, and heirs of the promise (Gal.3:26), full members of the one people of God. Systematic theologians need to give fresh attention to these important biblical-theological connections being highlighted by Wright and other “New Perspective” exegetes.

On the other hand, Wright seems to over-react to the “merit-theology” of late medieval Catholicism that constituted the historical context in which the Protestant reformers formulated their understanding of justification. The context in which Luther and Calvin read and applied the book of Romans was not a first-century context in which the main issues were the observance of circumcision and dietary laws as conditions of table fellowship between Jews and Gentiles; their context was one in which categories of merit, indulgences, purgatory, the sacrifice of the mass, and the grounds and nature of forgiveness of sins framed the burning soteriological issues of the day. As an exegete Wright is “right” to focus on the biblical texts in their first-century contexts; Luther and Calvin, as historical and systematic theologians, were right in applying the texts to the issues and categories of their own sixteenth-century time and culture. (At the very end, though, Wright does say that “Everything that Luther and Calvin wanted to achieve is within this glorious Pauline framework of thought” [as Wright understands it], p.252.)

The concept of imputation is well grounded in Paul (e.g., 9 occurrences of logizomai, “credit” in Rom.4). The “righteousness of God” indeed includes “covenant faithfulness”, but this expression of God’s righteousness is more fundamentally and essentially grounded in the eternal character and nature of God himself as a just and morally perfect being. This “righteousness of God” is expressed in scripture in many texts (e.g., Ps.9:8; 98:9; 99:4; 103:6) that portray God as the righteous judge who condemns the guilty and vindicates the innocent. The concept of righteousness is in fact connected with obedience in the Law of Moses (Deut.6:25: “If we are careful to obey all this law … as he has commanded us, that will be our righteousness”). At the human level righteousness can indeed describe a person’s moral and ethical character (e.g., Cornelius as a righteous Gentile, Acts 10:22). Christ did in fact obey all the divine requirements of the law of Moses, and our mystical union with him (“in Christ”) is the theological reality on the basis of which both the active and passive obedience of Christ can be credited to the believer.

Some of Wright’s critics have suggested that his highly nuanced reading of Paul’s doctrine of justification is so complicated that it is too difficult to preach and teach in the church. There may be some truth in this criticism. We could do well to follow the apostle’s own example of how to preach justification, as depicted by Luke in Acts 13:37,38, during the first missionary journey in the synagogue in Pisidian Antioch: “… through Jesus the forgiveness of sins in proclaimed to you. Through him everyone who believes is justified from everything you could not be justified from by the law of Moses.” Indeed, the “cash value” of justification is that through faith in Jesus Christ, as God’s crucified and risen Messiah, our sins are forgiven, and God the righteous judge declares us “not guilty” in the sight of the law. This is indeed good news for those who are welcomed back to the family of God as his forgiven sons and daughters, given the gift of the Spirit, and made heirs of all the promises given to Abraham, the father of us all.

[For occasional notes on recent books and articles on theology, ethics, and current affairs, see my page at twitter.com/drjackdavis]

Codex Moment

By Sean McDonough, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

Regular readers of Every Thought Captive are likely interested, in one way or another, in the intellectual life of the church (anyone who wandered to this url while looking for Jonas Brothers ringtones or Red Sox updates can just consider all of this a kind of field trip to the Boring Zoo). So they may be less surprised than others that I recently found great inspiration in an article on early Christian use of the codex by Graham Stanton in his book Jesus and Gospel.

The title of the article is “Why Were Early Christians Addicted to the Codex?”¹ It refers to the remarkable early Christian preference for book-like documents (codices) over the generally more popular scroll form. He puts forward the thesis that the church’s addiction to codices stemmed from its prior use of codex-like notebooks which “were used by the very first followers of Jesus for excerpts from Scripture, for drafts and copies of letters, and perhaps even for the transmission of some Jesus traditions” (Jesus and Gospel, p.6).

Stanton’s thesis seems quite plausible to me, but his precise reconstruction was not what struck me. It was instead the image of these early Christians – apostles, associates, couriers, scribes – running around the Mediterranean with their back-pack full of sermon notes and Scripture passages and who knows what else…rather like the modern-day seminary student (without the laptop). The church was not only thinking and preaching about the revelation of God in Christ from the beginning – they were also engaged in at least a simple form of academic endeavor involving the written word.

None of this will be particularly earth-shattering to even the beginning seminary student: Paul’s note in 2 Tim. 4:13 (“When you come, bring the cloak that I left with Carpus at Troas, and my scrolls, especially the parchments”) is enough to let us know of the importance of written documents in the early church. But there was something about the sheer physicality of Stanton’s discussion – the wax tablets and leather thongs and papyri – that brought home to me the reality of early Christian scholarly work.

Scholarship is not always valued in society at large, and sometimes it is valued even less in the church. We can often have the haunting feeling (especially when we are convincing ourselves that looking at the Greek text is not critical for this sermon preparation, or that no possible good could come from my memorization of hollow Hebrew verbs) that Christian academic work is a late, unnecessary addition to the pristine faith, a kind of luxury option that ought to be eschewed in favor of more pressing matters.

It is encouraging to know that right from the beginning Christians have been doing what most of us reading this column are doing: laboring for the gospel by our careful preservation of the gospel tradition. It may involve literal note-taking in little books not all that different from the ones used in the first-century; or posting some relevant biblical background on the church web-site; or writing a lengthy monograph on verbal aspect in Koine Greek. Scholarly work is not all the church should do; but it is a vital part of the life of God’s people. It is a privilege to teach at an institution where that tradition is maintained.

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¹ You can get at least a taste of the article at http://books.google.com/books?id=A7wNGMrAiD0C&pg=PA165&lpg=PA165&dq=stanton+why+were+early+christians+addicted+to+the+codex&source=bl&ots=2302WSOs_0&sig=qiNHpTozF_IA2dm_FVGgo-oUSMg&hl=en&ei=-d9xSvjgA47aNri76LAM&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=1.

Reflections on a Teaching Trip to the Philippines

By Roy Ciampa, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

Jeff Arthurs and I just returned from a 10-day trip to Quezon City (part of Greater Manila) in the Philippines. We each taught a course at CBS-Asia (Conservative Baptist Seminary – Asia). Jeff taught Advanced Preaching and I taught Introduction to New Testament Theology. We also gave a day-long seminar on The Pastor as Preacher and Theologian. (Jeff also spoke at the dedication of the seminary’s new facilities and preached twice on Sunday.) It was my first time in the Philippines and I thought I would share some observations about ministry there. I am still processing my cultural observations. Filipinos are very friendly people and extremely service oriented. They seem especially interested in pleasing and serving Americans (perhaps other Western Europeans as well). Jeff and I were greeted with great enthusiasm wherever we went (especially the local McDonalds [where we could find a free WiFi connection], where we were met by a chorus of “Good morning, sir!” from the employees, as well as having the armed security guard opening the door for us and greet us). (Manila seems to have more McDonalds per square mile than any other place I know of.)

We attended (and Jeff preached at) a Baptist church on Sunday that felt just like many Baptist churches in the States. Everything was in impeccable English (the church has separate English and Tagalog services), and the music was familiar to me from contemporary worship experiences in the U.S. The style was mainly contemporary, although perhaps slightly less “seeker-friendly” than many American churches using contemporary worship styles). Visitors were asked to identify themselves by standing up and then the congregation sang a song of welcome to them. (I noticed at least one visitor who indicated they would prefer not to stand and receive the attention.) I felt as though I could have been almost anywhere in the United States (which made me wonder whether and/or how a church might incarnate the gospel in distinctively Filipino manner). I wish I had had the opportunity to attend the Tagalog service to see what that was like.

The music at the dedication of the seminary facilities consisted mainly of hymns (with, as I recall, an older worship chorus or two [from the 60’s or 70’s] mixed in). During our time at the seminary, when we were not teaching the language tended to consist of Tagalog with English phrases (and Spanish loan-words) sprinkled in. I wonder how many churches in the Manila area have services that are more or less completely in American English and how many have worship services in Tagalog (or separate services in each language, as at the church we attended).

The area where we stayed and taught had several huge, modern shopping malls, but was also full of signs of serious poverty. Shanty towns and modern apartment and other housing are found beside each other. Christian cults have very large followings. At least one heterodox church (denying the deity of Christ) broadcasts its message 24-7 on multiple TV channels and has a huge and impressive church building in the city. We were told that since these groups tend to vote as a block their votes are eagerly courted by politicians, giving them greater political influence than their numbers would normally merit.

The students in our courses traveled from significant distances to spend a week in Quezon City, taking eight hours of class each day. I was impressed by their dedication and hard work and the sacrifices they were willing to make for the sake of their theological and pastoral training. Biblical theology was a new discipline for them but they were eager and enthusiastic students. They asked great questions and demonstrated the qualities of passionate and critical Christian minds.

CBS-Asia has a gifted, creative and dedicated leadership team and what seems to be an effective strategy for providing its pastors with a serious theological education. They have a main campus and a series of Regional Training Centers to which its faculty travel to provide pastors and other leaders with more local access to such training.

Pastors and seminaries in the Philippines certainly need tremendous wisdom and integrity to serve as effective and godly leaders (and places of pastoral formation) in a place with as many social, cultural and spiritual challenges as the Philippines. Discerning how to preach and incarnate the gospel message in such a culturally diverse environment marked by such radical socio-economic, linguistic and other differences is a great challenge. Those committed to the advancement of God’s kingdom purposes in such contexts certainly deserve our prayers as well as whatever other support we might offer members of our extended family in Christ. It was a privilege to work with and learn from such godly and committed servants of Christ during our time there. May God continue to use them to advance the cause of Christ in biblical and Spirit-empowered ways that might serve as an example to others around the world as well!

Above Reproach

By Maria Boccia, PhD
Professor of Pastoral Counseling and Psychology and
Director of Graduate Programs in Counseling at the Charlotte campus

I don’t know about the rest of the country, but here in Charlotte, one cannot turn around without reading or hearing something about the exploits of South Carolina’s governor, Mark Sanford. He got into the news because he disappeared for five days without letting anyone know where he was going. Turned out, he flew to Argentina for a tryst with his mistress. Now, there is an urgent investigation of his performance as governor, calls for his resignation, and speculation about the state and future of his marriage. After several weeks of this, he refuses to resign, and says that his spiritual advisor has helped him see the light, that he has violated God’s law, but intends to reconcile with his wife. And, he will not resign because God works all things together for good.

God works through broken people. Aaron made the golden calf, and later God called him to be Israel’s first high priest. David committed adultery and murder with Bathsheba and God called him friend and made David and Bathsheba ancestors of Jesus. Peter denied Christ three times, and Jesus called him to feed his sheep. Paul persecuted the church, and God made him the apostle to the gentiles and writer of much of the New Testament.

And yet. James warns that leaders of the church, teachers in particular, will be held to a greater judgment, and cautions against too easily taking on these responsibilities. In 1 Timothy and Titus, Paul gives instructions about the leadership of the local churches in Ephesus and Crete. He says leaders of the church are to be above reproach. For example, in Titus Paul writes:

An elder must be blameless, faithful to his wife, a man whose children believe and are not open to the charge of being wild and disobedient. Since an overseer manages God’s household, he must be blameless—not overbearing, not quick-tempered, not given to drunkenness, not violent, not pursuing dishonest gain. Rather, he must be hospitable, one who loves what is good, who is self-controlled, upright, holy and disciplined. He must hold firmly to the trustworthy message as it has been taught, so that he can encourage others by sound doctrine and refute those who oppose it. (Titus 1:6-9, TNIV)

How do we understand these disparate lessons from Scripture, and how do we apply this in the life of the church, in the face of struggling and/or fallen leaders? Do we embrace fallen leaders and encourage them to continue their ministries or disqualify them because of their error?

Closer look at the stories of some of these individuals in Scripture might help. The fallen leaders in these stories go through a process of removal from leadership and spiritual restoration. For example, after Paul’s conversion he did not immediately become the apostle to the gentiles. He withdrew to Arabia for 3 years. Peter went through a restoration process with Jesus himself after his resurrection. Aaron went through serious judgment, and it was at least a year between the golden calf incident and his anointing as high priest. Still, one can feel the tension between the highest standards we are called to in 1 Timothy and Titus, and God’s grace and mercy to all sinners, including church leaders. The challenge and the solution, I think, as with many things is to find a way to hold these two things in a dynamic tension that allows God to work in our lives.

This feels like the same tension we encounter in the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus’ teaching is directed at his followers, and he calls us to be perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect (Matthew 5:48). It is an incredibly high standard. How can we, in our fallen, imperfect condition be perfect this side of heaven? We strive to be the people God calls us to be, empowered by his Holy Spirit, knowing that only in him can we be what he calls us to be. And when we fall short, we fall on the mercy of God, repent and seek reformation.

For me, when I see a situation where a leader gets into trouble, it has a lot to do with the response of the leader and the process they go through before they continue or resume their leadership. We know the tree by the fruit it bears. Do they truly get it, and repent of their sin? Do they understand the value of and pursue a course of withdrawing for a time to pursue healing? Do they show the fruit of repentance in a changed life? We can identify too many leaders of the church who, like Sanford, refuse to withdraw from leadership to pursue healing and spiritual renewal. We have a responsibility to come along side fallen leaders, to hold them accountable, to protect the people, and to restore them as much as possible. But we also have the responsibility to guard the church leadership by not restoring too quickly one who has fallen. It is in evidence of a changed life, in endurance and persistence that the truth is found.

Tenacious Faith

By Jeff Arthurs
Professor of Preaching & Communication and Dean of the Chapel

I've been a Christian since 1972—37 years! You'd think I would be farther along in the faith, wouldn't you? But as the poet Wordsworth said, "The world is too much with us." Or better, as the Apostle Paul said, "that which I want to do, I don't do; and that which I don't want to do, I find myself doing. . . . Who will deliver me from this body of death?" The answer, of course, is "God, through Jesus Christ our Lord."

Here is a prayer to God for deliverance. It is a sonnet. It asks the Lord for something I crave yet experience only sporadically—the happy, free, seemingly effortless faith I see in so many of my friends. Belief for them seems to be as easy as breathing, but for me it always has been a stretch.

Tenacious Faith

Tenacious faith I know and yet begrudge.
I’d like a faith of ecstasy and cheer,
Or even faith of penitence and fear
Of God, the omnipresent Father-Judge.
Easy faith, happy faith—a call,
A gift? Why not mine? My walk is fretful
Fumble-feeling, wander-wondering, wishful
Stumble-striving for that plane where Paul
(And others) seem to live ebulliently.
He (and they) feel sure that neither life,
Nor death, nor angels, no, not this world rife
With powers may undo capriciously.
Increase my faith, my Lord (I do believe).
Send rain to this dry land: revive, relieve!

The Third Little Sister of Public Commitment

By David Horn, ThD
Director, The Ockenga Institute

I can’t recall the moment exactly, except that it seemed more like something that had already been going on for sometime, only it became more vivid now. It was an impression, an inner voice, perhaps, a nagging sensation that rose from somewhere within myself that finally pooled itself into a commitment. Whatever it was, it did not originate with me, that I knew somehow. At that moment, I knew I was only responding—irresistibly--to something or Someone outside myself.

To this day, I wonder how that newly formulated commitment would have grown and flourished if I had not had opportunity to give witness to it in front of that humble rural Midwestern church of mine that crisp autumn evening as a boy of seven years old. There was something about looking into the eyes of my newly formed family of brothers and sisters in Christ that made my newly shaped commitment all the more real. Like sun hitting freshly mixed cement, it fixed my response to that inner voice into something very real. And, it did something else. It seemed to leave quite an impression in the eyes of those who heard me stumble my way through a public acknowledgement of my commitment-in-the-making.

I am not sure I believe in altar calls anymore. I don’t know why, except that I probably find myself reacting to times when I have observed the whole enterprise as contrived and, at times, abused. But, if altar calls are no longer in vogue in our churches, how else do brothers and sisters in Christ have opportunity to regularly express the inner work of God in their lives for their own benefit? And, where else does the Body, in turn, have opportunity to regularly benefit from seeing faith being exercised in others?

If my memory serves me right, altar calls were really more than just expressions of salvation. In my early tradition, the call to salvation was one of a trinity of pubic calls to commitment. The opportunity included not only an invitation to express one’s response to God’s call to salvation, but also to sanctification and service.

This third little sister of the altar call is what I want to focus on for a moment. How do our churches own their own leadership, not only in the present but also for the future? More specifically, to what extent do pastors feel responsible for training the future leadership of the Church? I think it is a lost art for most of us. It is no longer on the radar of many of us as we scan across our sanctuaries every Sunday morning.

By contrast, for several years I served a three hundred year old Congregational church where the two first pastors were so committed to the future of the young colonial Church, they actually built a third floor to their house to house ministers-in-the-making. So committed they were to identifying and nurturing a new generation of ministers, they gave a significant amount of their time and energy every week to teaching their young charges. Imagine the impression that must have been made in these young people when a grown person of significant stature came along side of them and affirmed in them personal and leadership qualities that they didn’t yet recognize in themselves. But, who better is there to identify these traits for ministry than those already in ministry?

I suppose the reason this third little sister of the altar call is on my mind right now is because we are midway through a Lilly-funded program that I direct at the Ockenga Institute called the Compass program. Every year we invite pastors to identify high school students who they feel might have qualities necessary for a life of full time service to the Church. And every year, we invite these young charges—twenty-seven of them--to spend one month with us to explore these potential calls of God in their lives through a rigorous three-fold, one-month experience. We put them in the wilderness (in the Adirondack Mountains), the classroom with our own faculty, and on a mission field to serve (this year in Costa Rica). And then we send them back to their home churches for pastors and lay leaders to further mentor them for the next three years as these students continue to explore God’s call in their lives.

It has been a wonderful program, in part because commitments, I think, left solely to the inner rumination of our subjective lives, often remain dormant and colorless. It is when they see the light of day, fleshed out and affirmed publicly by the Body of Christ, that they become vibrant and full of color. If you have a young person in mind that you sense has this kind of calling, give me a call at the seminary. Perhaps we can partner with you in nurturing these commitments to full life. My goodness, I think I just gave an altar call!