Going to Seminary

I am assuming that if you were given any advice upon entering seminary, this phrase may have come out: “guard your devotional time with the Lord!” I am not writing to suggest that this is poor advice by any means. It is great advice! Yet, I am wondering whether or not our notion of “devotional time” is too narrow? Are we not constantly communing with the Lord when we open up His Word?  He is now speaking to us through His Word and through His people when rightly handling the word of truth. Are we aware of Him? Am I?

Before starting seminary, I interpreted that advice as a call to guard my quiet times by reading the Scriptures apart from my “academic study” of them. Now, less than two months into my studies, I have been on several occasions, including this morning, questioned by my professors, “Why can’t our academic study be devotional?” In raising this question, they are challenging a false distinction that locates worship of the Lord in our private, quiet, reflection on the Scriptures and not in the public academic reflection of Scripture–namely, corporately assigned reading and lecturing. When we are presented with exhortations, such as 1 Corinthians 10:31 and Colossians 3:17, showing that all of life is for the glory of God, why would we not approach our classes and assignments as opportunities to worship as well?

One of my Covenant Theology professors suggested a possible reason for this common separation between “academic” and “devotional” reading of Scripture. He noted that we often view the Scriptures as a collection of truth statements for the purpose of doctrine. And while there are certainly propositional truths in Scripture, the Bible is primarily a story. While there may be a time and place for systematic theology, we must be aware that all of these “truth statements” fall within the context of narrative. In separating doctrine from narrative, we also begin to make distinctions in our reading of Scripture.

Often our “devotional reading” becomes focused on the narrative portions of Scripture, while doctrine falls in the realm of “academic inquiry.” In the words of my professor, “We should always bring our whole self whenever we open up Scripture!” In Proper Confidence, Lesslie Newbigin writes, “The revelation of which we speak in the Christian tradition is more than the communication of information; it is the giving of an invitation” (p.65). That invitation is not relegated to our “quiet times.”

Let us bring our whole self when we come to Scripture, whether in public or private, whether at home or in the classroom, whether the reading is assigned or not! As the author of Hebrews writes, “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (4:12). This sword is not placed into a sheath in the classroom. The Lord is constantly engaging our hearts, I pray that we would be more aware of this!

Sitting in my first Covenant Theology class of seminary, Dr. Williams, in addition to speaking about the course, provided one of the most important “nuggets” of wisdom that I will ever receive during my theological training. He briefly, yet powerfully, spoke about an “ethic of reading.” He explained that many of us in Reformed circles, especially my generation, are suspicious readers. He called us to cultivate an attitude of sympathetic reading. Now, being a sympathetic reader does not mean that we avoid critical reading or necessarily agree with what each author claims. Being a sympathetic reader means not being dismissive or mean-spirited in how we approach texts. This “ethic of reading” was not about reading strategies, but rather character formation. Also, it was a matter of respect. If the professors have assigned a particular article or text it is worth reading, even when we disagree. Dr. Williams lamented the countless number of times he read book reviews from students that totally ripped apart texts, saying it was not worth their time. At no point, did these individuals consider, “I wonder why my professor assigned this, what did he want me to get out of it?”

Dr. Williams spoke about how he declined opportunities to write for two journals that wanted him to essentially “bash” dispensational eschatology and over-realized eschatology (He had done tremendous work on eschatology, hence those particular topics). Dr. Williams refused because he did not want to write polemics. In class, he urged us, “Be champions of construction, not champions of polemics.” Rather than vehemently attacking what we are against, we ought to passionately speak about what we stand for. He gave an incredible example of being a champion of construction—the Apostles Creed. When I heard him call the Creed “polemical,” I was surprised. Dr. Williams explained that it was a polemic against the Gnostics, Marcionites, Ebionites, and other heretical sects in the early Church. Yet, it was written constructively. At no point are any of those groups listed in the Apostles Creed, but one can be absolutely certain that in affirming its commitments no one need to question where they landed.

I am praying that the Lord would protect me from the pride that lurks within me that would have me interact with texts, produced by actual individuals endowed with the imago Dei, in a mean-spirited or dismissive way–without any grace! Lord, give us all humility!

I am employing the word “sojourn” in a very intentional way as I reflect on my current status as an individual who has traveled a long way to attend seminary. To be certain, I have physically moved quite a distance in the past five years in pursuing education. I essentially spent the first eighteen years of my life on Aquidneck Island, in Southeastern Rhode Island. Shortly after graduating high school, I journeyed south to the former capitol of the Confederacy to attend the University of Richmond. And now, at the age of 22, I find myself a week into a 13-month lease on a Saint Louis, Missouri apartment, anxiously waiting for my studies to begin at Covenant Theological Seminary. I have now lived in Rhode Island, Virginia, and now Missouri, yet I am struggling to find my home.

In high school, I was a day student at a private boarding school. The people that I felt closest to during high school were the ones that did not actually live in that town. For many, returning home during college breaks meant reconnecting with parents and friends. For me, it was spending time with my parents. I came to know the Lord in college and for most of college (even at times now), returning home is not simply difficult because the lack of fellowship, but because it is difficult not identifying that physical location with the person I was before Christ took control. I intellectually grasp that in those moments I am forgetting the sufficiency of the Cross of Christ to eliminate all my guilt, but I struggle to sense that fully. One of the underlying motivations for attending college far away from home, out of New England was the shame and guilt I felt before I first felt His love cover over it all. Coupled with the growing feeling that I was not coming home, but rather than visiting my parents, I do not find home to be in Rhode Island.

As someone who grew up attending Catholic mass with my parents, and came to know the Lord on a college campus, apart from a local church body, it was easy to identify the people that the Lord put in my life as my spiritual home. I still held an infantile view of the local church in God’s mission and my life. On top of that, I was trying to (and continue to try) figure out where I landed. I began at Third Presbyterian because my first close Christian brothers in college went there. Shortly after that, I grew close to a campus minister who was part of Every Nation Campus Ministry, and for a short season I attended Harvest Renewal Church, his spiritual home. As I began leading Young Life, I moved to another church, Hope, that met in the auditorium at the school I was placed. And eventually, I returned to Third where the brothers in Christ that I met with weekly for over two and a half years were. And occasionally, in the last semester of college I attended Redemption Hill, a newer church plant in Richmond, where that campus minister was now pastoring. All in all, I attended four churches…and belonged to none.

Now, I find myself far from the East Coast from those close friends that I gained on campus and through Young Life. To be honest, I am not alone here. My apartment is 10 minutes from CTS and only 5 minutes from my girlfriend and her family. When I first found out where Covenant was, I was certain I should not go there. It was a short drive from the girl that I pursued (with no result) for several years, and I was convinced that my brothers in Christ would see through any explanation for attending Covenant. Somehow, as I began looking at Covenant, God put it in her heart to actually consider a relationship will me. We now find ourselves together in the same city trying to be mindful of God’s timing, but also conscious of the purpose behind dating.

OK, just started talking about that girl and lost my train of thought…

We’re back! Over the course of my senior year, God began to convict me of the self-serving view of the local church that I held. As He started beating out the notion that I could love Him, but not His bride, He also filled me with a desire to belong to a local church, to serve a local church, to be under the authority of a body of elders. Those desires surfaced as I was just months from graduation.

As I sat in my apartment this afternoon, I felt lonely. I felt disconnected. Right now, my gospel community is my girlfriend and her family. They have been incredibly gracious and hospitable, but I feel like a “Lone Ranger” Christian right now. It hurts because I know that’s not God’s intention for my life–our lives. I do not doubt that He will provide an incredible gospel community at Covenant, and I know that their are several Christ-centered, missionally-focused churches in the area, but the great longing in my heart to be a part of those communities has also produced an ache in me that I am not yet.

I know that mixed into all my emotions at the moment I am forgetting the sufficiency of His grace, but I am also reminded that “He has made everything beautiful in its time” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). Even now, I trust that He is at work in my circumstances. In finding myself alone at many points in the past several days, I have found a desire to be a part of His local church more so than I ever have! I find myself looking forward to 10 a.m. this Sunday in way that I have never experienced! And if that is all that is produced in me out of this experience, then it will certainly have been beautiful in its time.

DISCLAIMER: I am not sure that this post will have much personal application to anyone not going into seminary right after college, or if it will have much application to anyone for that matter. However, it is part of my story and will shed light on what “going to seminary” means for me personally. Maybe your comments will provide me with some godly wisdom.

HERE WE GO! Thanks to the financial grace that the Lord has showered on me, I do not have to take out any loans to pay for the M. Div program at Covenant Theological Seminary. That financial grace has come in the form of “supportive” parents. I place the word supportive in quotation marks because my parents are Catholic. Covenant is the seminary of the Presbyterian Church in America. My parents are Catholic. Covenant is Pres…okay, you get the picture. As I began to sense a call to pastoral training, the last thing on my mind was financial support from my parents. I figured I would work, I would take out loans, I would pray for some scholarship(s). It blew my mind to think that they would even offer to pay for reformed theological training, when they continue to voice their concern that I may be excommunicated from the Roman Catholic Church. It was such a crazy notion that I thought it could very well be the Lord’s doing.

I have been incredibly grateful for my parent’s financial support, but this past weekend, as my dad helped me move into my new & first apartment in Saint Louis, hesitation arose in my heart. While my dad continues to tell me that he would do anything to further my education, that money is not an issue, he is also older than most parents of a 22 year-old, as I was adopted (maybe I can get a Russell Moore book as well). He has already worked one full career and is now in the midst of another. He tells me he will continue to work until my education is finished, so I will not have any debt. He fiercely watches over me and wants to protect me from any hardship. My parents have such an emotional investment in my success that I am in fact beginning to worry. The only thing keeping my parents from retirement is that bill from Covenant. The company my father works for is moving next year. If he was still paying for my pastoral training, it is almost a given that my parents would move with the job–a move that would take them far away from my older brother, his wife, and three young children–”The Royal Babies,” as my parents call them.

In the past few days, what was once quite clear in my mind has become incredibly blurry. I am earnestly praying daily that a way to pursue pastoral training at Covenant would present itself–whether church support, scholarships, moving to part-time, while working full-time. Yet, at the same time, what if this is the way that the Lord has prepared for me!? By not having to worry about loans, or even a part-time job, am I not free to experience and soak up the seminary experience in a way that is greatly different than the majority of seminarians. Is this the way that the Lord has granted me more time to study and more time to serve a local church? I am not sure. And maybe this is right where He wants me, in a place where I can not rest on my own logic and wisdom, but must call out to Him. Proverbs 12:15 has been on repeat in my mind over these past few days: the way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise man listens to advice.

Even if my parents say that financially supporting me through the M. Div at Covenant will not be a burden, is there a catch somewhere? Over the past few months, I have been wondering how their definition of success at Covenant will differ in practical terms from striving to be a good servant of Christ Jesus. Will it matter to them if I am rooted and established in love, grasping how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ (Ephesians 3:17-18) if I get Cs in all my courses? They say that they want me to pursue this with whole-hearted excellence, yet continue to communicate their fear that I may be excommunicated. I am wondering if they are waiting for an Avery Dulles moment to occur in me.

Lastly (for now), even though my parents have been willing to pay for my expenses at Covenant, I have been set on working part-time since the beginning of this summer. I thought the least I could do to honor them was to work some part-time hours to assist in paying my living expenses. But just this past weekend, my dad told me that rather than working part-time during Covenant, he and my mom want me to look into getting a teaching license in English (my undergraduate degree). I initially responded with complete opposition. Less than three months ago, at my college graduation, my dad was still questioning me if I was sure about this whole ministry thing. This notion of pursuing a teaching license through part-time schooling, while full-time at Covenant sounded to me as if they strongly doubted that I would make it through Covenant, much less be able to support myself or a family as a pastor. At the moment, I am not sure what to think. In trying to put my energy into Covenant and a local church body, is another degree program, even part-time/summer feasible? I strongly desire to honor the Lord and to honor my parents. There are some areas in my life where those two things are inseparable, but I sense that their will be moments throughout my time at Covenant where honoring the Lord will be in conflict with my parent’s desires. I truly need the Holy Spirit’s guidance in these matters.

As of now, I start classes at Covenant in exactly two weeks, I am unemployed, and I have a meeting with the Dean of Education at a university in the Saint Louis area this Friday. Praying for guidance, clarity, and another means of financial support!

As I began discerning a call to seminary, 1 Timothy 4:6-16 came up early and often. Early in the discernment process, when I read that passage, I ended up focusing my attention on parts of verse 6, “you will be a good servant of Christ Jesus, being trained in the words of the faith and of the good doctrine that you have followed.” Early on, this verse encapsulated my entire motivation and purpose behind pursuing seminary–training “in the words of faith and of good doctrine.” And although the desire in my heart for this type of training was not wrong, I know that I emphasized it to the point that it was the only type of training that seminary would provide and the only type of training that I acknowledged in Paul’s letter.

However, there is another type of training, which may, in fact, be the more important of the two. For everyone in seminary, on their way to seminary (like myself) or considering seminary, we must not forget Paul’s exhortation in verse 7: “train yourself in godliness.” [why? verse 8]: “for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come.” I constantly forget, and thus must constantly be reminded, that scriptural and doctrinal knowledge is not an end in itself. The point of our sanctification (growth in godliness) is not that we would merely know more, but that we would be “transformed into the same image“ (2 Corinthians 3:18) as our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Scriptural and doctrinal knowledge is but one means to that end.

How can we tell if we have turned theological training (and thus our motivation in pursuing seminary) into the end itself?

I just recently began reading How People Change by Timothy S. Lane and Paul David Tripp. The very first chapter of the book, “The Gospel Gap” called my attention back to 1 Timothy 4:6-16. They essentially discuss how it is possible that there are so many people that know the Lord, “but whose lives fail to produce the expected fruit of faith” (p.3). Lane and Tripp write, “Often there is a vast gap in our grasp of the gospel. It subverts our identity as Christians and our understanding of the present work of God. This gap undermines every relationship in our lives, every decision we make, and every attempt to minister to others. Yet we live blindly, as if the hole were not there” (p.2).

What I found incredibly helpful (and pertinent to “training in godliness”) was how they began to describe different ways in which we fill these holes. Lane and Tripp assert, “Whenever we are missing the message of Christ’s indwelling work to progressively transform us, the hole will be filled by a Christian lifestyle that focuses more on externals than on the heart” (p.7). As I began to read their descriptions of different sorts of Christian externals, one stood out above all the rest in my mind. If you are a twenty-something Calvinist that has Driscoll, Piper, and Chandler on podcast, has a bunch of blog subscriptions, then this one might catch your attention as well (hey, it could just be me!)–Lane and Tripp call it “Biblicism”:

“John is a biblical and theological expert. His theological library includes rare, antique Christian volumes, and he is always seeking to buy first editions. John frequently uses phrases like “biblical worldview,” “theologically consistent.” and “thinking like a Christian.” He loves the Bible (which is a very good thing), but there are things in John’s life that don’t seem to fit.

Despite his dedicated study of Christianity, John isn’t know for being like Christ. He has a reputation for being proud, critical, and intolerant of anyone who lacks his fine-grained understanding of the faith. John endlessly critiques his pastor’s sermons and unnerves Sunday school teachers when he enters the room.

In John’s Christianity, communion, dependency, and worship of Christ have been replaced by a drive to master the content of Scripture and systematic theology. John is a theological expert, but he is unable to live by the grace he can define with such technical precision. He has invested a great deal of time and energy mastering the Word, but he does not allow the Word to master him. In biblicism, the gospel is reduced to a mastery of biblical content and theology.” (p.9)

Lane and Tripp do not make this leap, but I will. What if the first line of “biblicism” read: “John is in seminary”? I pray that my name would not be interchangeable with John’s, and yet I know this describes the type of Christian “externalism” that I move towards at times. I pray that I am not at this point right now, but I know that if I base my salvation on “rightly knowing” about the cross of Christ, and not the cross itself, that this is the form of self-righteousness will haunt me. I can not say this with any certainty, but I wonder if this might describe the struggle that many seminarians will and do face.

We must constantly remember–I must constantly remember–that training “in the words of the faith and of the good doctrine” and training “in godliness” must not be separated. All the knowledge in the world is useless if we are not conformed to Christ’s image in the process. Preparing to enter seminary in the fall, I often recall Jesus’ words to the Jews in John 5:39-40: “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life.” It is a scary thought indeed to be able to claim a great deal of biblical knowledge and still not truly know Jesus Christ, much less sit under His Lordship. As Lane and Tripp phrase it–as a future seminarian myself–I must constantly allow the Word to master me, as I invest a great deal of time and energy mastering the Word.

I urge us all to take to heart Paul’s exhortation: “Keep a close watch on yourself (godliness) and on the teaching (good doctrine). Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers” (1 Timothy 4:16). Our knowledge of Scripture does not cleanse us of our sin, only Christ’s blood poured out for us on the cross has that power. I pray that we would not simply intellectually grasp this, but that we would know it in our hearts, and it would transform us “from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor. 3:18) into the image of our Lord.

This post was written by Stephen Hess, a Rhode Island native and recent graduate of the University of Richmond, Virginia. Stephen will be heading off to St. Louis in August for the 4-year M.Div program at Covenant Theological Seminary.

About a month ago, I came across an Acts 29 Network Boot Camp message from Darrin Patrick, Lead Pastor of The Journey in St. Louis, entitled, “Cultivating a Culture of Repentance.” Presenting some observations from his own pastoral experience, and insights from Dan Allender’s Leading with a Limp, he discussed the need for leaders to have a healthy God-honoring reluctance. Exploring the Scriptures, Patrick elaborated on reluctance in the life and ministry of the Apostle Paul. Just a few months away from entering seminary, I have been trying to figure out what God-honoring reluctance looks like. When does reluctance in the life of leader fail to honor God? As I have been searching the Scriptures myself, God’s calling of Moses in Exodus has provided some initial answers for me. Moses is certainly reluctant to God’s call on his life.

But, what is the nature of Moses’ reluctance? When God tells him that he is being sent to Pharaoh that he may bring God’s people, the children of Israel out of Egypt, Moses replies, “Who am I” (Exodus 3:11). Later in that same conversation after God has revealed Himself as “I am” (Ex. 3:14), Moses’ reluctance is voiced again, “O, my Lord, I am not eloquent, either in the past or since you have spoken to your servant, but I am slow of speech and of tongue” (Ex. 4:10). These two initial responses by Moses strike me as possible examples of God honoring reluctance. Moses hears God’s call of his life, and then examines his life. Who am I to lead Your people out of captivity? How am I qualified for this task? How can I possibly address Pharaoh, the very person who had the power to enslave Your people? I do not have eloquent and wise words. As Moses examines his own position and his own abilities, reluctance emerges.

Why do I not harbor that same reluctance as I head off for four years of pastoral training? The truth is that I rely more on my perceived spiritual gifts than the Spirit himself. Shouldn’t we all be reluctant to lead in any sphere of life when we examine our own abilities and motives? Maybe I am not as reluctant because there is pride in my heart that needs to ripped out. Do I honestly believe that I am such an excellent communicator that my own words and not God’s Spirit produces heart change? Do I honestly think that just because I read theology and listened to sermons in my spare time as a college student, that those very assignments that I am excited about will not war against me, just as the curse God placed upon man in Genesis 3 reveals? Reluctance to lead and follow God’s call on our life may in fact be honoring to Him when that reluctance arises from a close examination of our own lives.

I love God’s response to Moses, even while there is part of me that begrudges His response. After Moses raises the honest question, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the children of Israel out of Egypt,” God replies, “But I will be with you” (Ex. 4:10). The improper motivations of my heart to pursue pastoral ministry lead me to begrudge this response. When I think about my own reservations about seminary, I want God to respond by telling me how great a communicator I am, how I have a commanding stage presence, and a bright mind. But He does not respond that way!! When He responded to Moses, and as He responds to me, He does not try to build up our self-esteem, He reminds us of His sovereign power. The strength to lead and follow God’s call does not come from our own strength, but rather God’s presence in us! Our reluctance should never flow from this knowledge.

Reluctance to lead that fails to honor God comes when we not only doubt our own spiritual gifts and heart, but God’s sovereign power and desire. When Moses doubts his own rhetorical skills, God responds, “Who has made man’s mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now, therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak” (Ex. 4:11-12). “Therefore go,” be reluctant no longer. God has all the authority. It is Moses’ persistent reluctance after God’s response here that dishonors Him. The righteous “anger of the LORD was kindled against Moses” (Ex. 4:14) because Moses’ reluctance was a belittlement of God’s strength and power.

As I ask God to prepare my heart for seminary and possibly pastoral ministry, I ask that I would be reluctant for the right reasons. I pray that He would root out all the pride in my heart that speaks only of self-sufficiency and skills. But I also pray that He would provide me with courage to go where He already has all the authority (which is both in heaven and on earth)! I pray that He would mold me into a reluctant leader that is always confessing and repenting from sin, from improper motives and attempts to build up my own name. I pray that we would all have a reluctance that makes Him great and us small.