Reasons I fail to enter the presence of God daily

We're reading "The Pursuit of God" by A.W. Tozer as a church staff.  I felt prompted to make this list as a result of that reading.

1) I have sinned, and I am ashamed, and so I run from the presence of God, like Adam.  I don't feel as though I am worthy to be in the presence of God.

2) I am simply lazy.  As Tozer has said, I consider myself to be in God's presence positionally, and so I have failed to recognize the importance of actually realizing the presence of God.

3) I am too easily distracted.  I place other things in a position of priority, intentionally and unintentionally, and so I do those other things rather than seeking the face of God.

4) I am prideful, and consider my own strength and talents to be sufficient to carry me through the day.  I fail to recognize my need for God's presence and grace for everything in my life.

5) I do not love God as I should, and so I do not long to be in His presence as I should.

6) I am fearful that, should I actually encounter God, the experience will not be as I suppose it should be, that God will do to me or require from me something unexpected and dangerous.

7) I am selfish, and knowing that God will turn my attention to others, I keep my attention away from God and so on myself.

Oh Lord, let this list serve as a confession, and a cry for help.  Meet me here, today, in spite of myself and because of your great name.

Summer Reading Series

Things have been a bit crazy.  I went home for a time, which was nice.  I got engaged, which was the best.  I started my new job, where I'll be for at least a year, working at my church out in New Jersey, which has also been great.  But now things are settling back into a routine and I've got a bit more time, so its time to start my summer reading plan.

This summer, I want to get more familiar with the people who made a significant impact on theology in the 20th century.  I feel like this is a major gap in my understanding of the history of theology, and so I'm going to try to fill in the spaces a bit.  This blog will provide a space for me to talk back to whoever I'm reading and give my thoughts.

I got a chance to read some Barth this year at school, and so I want to read some of his contemporaries.  I'm starting with Paul Tillich's Systematic Theology.  I'm through the first major section now, so that will be my next post.  After that, hopefully I'll be able to read a little Bultmann and a little Moltmann, and then I'll see where I'm at. 

All that to say that my blog has now taken on the New Being as found in Jesus Christ, and that maybe I'll explain that later when I get there in Tillich.

I made it through finals

So, I haven't blogged in a while.  I had my final papers and exams the last couple weeks, so I've been pretty busy.  Now that I've finished spring long term, though, I should have more time.

Any blog about my time at PTS wouldn't be complete without mentioning my Doctrine of Election class with Bruce McCormack.  Dr. McCormack is a well-respected Barth scholar, and his own unique contribution is in the area of election, so this is a fairly big-time class at PTS.  I really had no idea who McCormack even was going into the class, so I was forced to get up to speed fairly quickly.

We covered much of the historical development of the doctrine, at least until the time of Barth, which was helpful.  I was able to clarify Augustine's position in my own mind (more specifically the development in Augustine over the span of his life) and take a brief look at Aquinas.  Calvin I had read already.  Given the emphasis of PTS in general and McCormack in particular, it shouldn't be surprising that Barth was hyped as a sort of savior for the doctrine of election in the Reformed tradition.  McCormack himself likes to tell about how he began as a Wesleyan-Arminian, became Calvinist for about three years in grad school, and then Barth "saved" him from Calvin.

I was thoroughly disappointed by what I found in Karl Barth.  Not that his doctrine of election is bad; I think its really fairly good.  He emphasizes God's election of Jesus Christ over discussion of individual destiny, which I appreciate.  He reminds theologians that God's relationship and governance of individuals cannot be separated from the loving sacrifice of Jesus Christ, which is also a helpful reminder.  But when it came to his discussion of individual election, his position wasn't substantially different from previous options (at best), and maybe even incoherent (at worst).

Barth wants to emphasize that Christ has taken our punishment in the crucifixion.  As a result, humanity is elect and Christ is reprobate.  God has chosen to reprobate himself in Jesus Christ rather than punish humanity.  He even makes claims such as this: "Not every one who is elected lives as an elect man... Perhaps he never does so... this fact does indeed conflict with his election, but it cannot annul it. ... His rejection may be attributed to him... only as a threat hanging over him... the threat which is rendered powerless by Jesus Christ." (CD II/2.321)  Barth sets up a system where the inevitable conclusion of his calculus is that all are universally elect and therefore universally saved, but he doesn't want to go there, so he never quite makes the jump.  The only other options that might be able to resolve the tension in Barth's system would be the Calvinist move of denying universal election, or the Arminian move of allowing the individual to ultimately resist election.  Barth doesn't seem to offer some wildly attractive third option, unless that option is universalism (which I cannot accept since I can't justify it exegetically).

Things I took from this class:
1) The relationship between God's nature and God's will may be more complicated than simply sublimating one to the other.  God is who God is (triune, etc.) because God freely chooses to be so.  God chooses to be loving and triune based upon his nature as God.  The two need not be mutually exclusive statements for an eternal being (maybe).

2) I don't like the idea of collapsing God's justice into God's sovereignty.  This seems like a rank abuse of language.  Surely when one speaks of God's justice, one is talking about a particular way in which God exercises his power, rather than the mere fact of his power.  God's action provides the definition for justice, but that doesn't deny justice its character as distinct from sovereignty

3) A lot of useful historical data

4) I truly can embrace Reformed brothers and sisters as part of the Christian tradition.  I didn't get a lot of sympathy as an Arminian/Molinist at a Reformed seminary, but I was able to gain an appreciate for the concerns which drive the Reformed perspective.  I may not agree, but I do respect their underlying motives.

5) The Doctrine of Election can be a powerful, positive doctrine.  It need not consist of a terrible, absolute decree coming from an unknown and unknowable primordial will of God.  God has revealed himself as loving, and self-sacrificial, and as willing to take humanity's place in punishment.  Before we can speak of man's election to relationship with God, we have to recognize God' election of himself to be a God for humanity in Jesus Christ.  Nothing could be better news.

How wise are we, really?

I was reading 1 Corinthians this morning and I came across this verse: (1 Cor. 1:17) "For Christ did not send me [Paul] to baptize but to proclaim the gospel, and not with eloquent wisdom, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power."

I'm not even going to touch the baptism thing.  What struck me was the idea that eloquent wisdom might empty the cross of its power.  Now, I recognize that there is plenty going on in this chapter historically and culturally, but just go with me (original meaning is not the only meaning).  It struck me that I normally think of "eloquent wisdom" as a very good thing, especially when preaching the gospel.  Who would sign up for a pastor that sounded foolish compared to a pastor who was eloquent and wise?  It seems like a no-brainer, and yet Paul seems to be saying that all our eloquence and wisdom can empty the cross of its power.

It also occurred to me that I'm at seminary, and we're being trained to be more eloquent and wise in our proclamation of the gospel.  This idea was disconcerting.  At what point does our learning and the application of our learning to the Gospel simply rob it of its power?  In substituting our own wisdom and eloquence for God's, how quickly do we eviscerate our own ministry?  "For God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength." (1 Cor. 1:25)  Is there a way we can use our learning to let God's foolishness speak more clearly, rather than allowing our wisdom to obscure it?

I don't think that Paul is advocating a completely unreasoning faith.  After all, Paul commends the Corinthian church for having "been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind." (1:5)  But there is definitely a danger here which Paul is warning us against, and I'd like to know how I avoid it as well.  In this passage, the danger seems to be division (see 1:10-11), but I don't think that's the only danger involved.  I'm not sure I know all the dangers involved in learning.  But I know this: I don't want my "wisdom" to rob the cross of its power.

May God show me the dangers, and speak His foolishness through me.

Theology of Scripture

I took two other classes during the last semester, but the class I took in January fits much better with my last post, so I'm going to take a look at this one first.

The class I took was Issues in the Theology of Scripture, a class which, according to the professor, was aimed at bridging the gap between Biblical Studies and Theology.  I was really excited for this class, since one's view of Scripture affects so much of one's methodology in theological inquiry.  In order to do theology, you have to know where to get your information, and Scripture is (obviously) the primary (perhaps only) source of this sort of knowledge for Christians.

Given the importance of the topic, its shocking to me that this was the first time the class has ever been taught at PTS.  Surely students have been forced to form their thinking about Scripture before 2009.  Scripture is so foundational, how could we not have a class where we explore what we want to say and believe concerning Scripture?

The class itself was enjoyable, if a bit confused at times.  Like I said, it was the first time it was taught and it showed.  I felt that a few days were wasted here and there, and some topics covered likely reflected the area of "comfort scholarship" (to make up a term) for the professor.  Shane Berg is a NT and 2nd Temple Judaism scholar, and so we spent some time with the Dead Sea Scrolls, etc.  He is a fantastic prof (either my favorite or second favorite I've had so far), but it was difficult in my mind to justify the time we spent on his pet areas.

I gained several important insights through this class, which should serve me in good stead going forward.  First, Dr. Berg offered some very encouraging and helpful insights into the nature of textual variants, different textual traditions, and the state of textual criticism in general.  Basically, I feel like my confidence in the basic reliability of the NT is largely justified, even if there are minors issues with bits and pieces.  These discrepancies can't be ignored, but neither are they nearly significant enough to derail my faith in and use of the Scriptures.

Second, I was exposed to the deep gulf which lies between the fields of Biblical Studies and Theology.  Biblical Studies departments are lucky it the OT and NT faculty enter into substantial dialogue; discussion between the Systematic Theologians and the Biblical Scholars is even less likely.  Theologians are also guilty, or at least can be, for they often fail to make use of or acknowledge the helpful and important findings of biblical scholarship.  The result is Biblical Scholars who fail to recognize the unique nature of Scripture and fail to study the Bible with this uniqueness in mind (I view this as a fault, others do not) and thus study of the Christian Bible ceases to be Christian at all, or Systematic Theologians who fail to deal adequately with the serious challenges and insights of Biblical Scholarship. Neither is an enticing option.  Morever, both have a dubious relationship with historians and historical inquiry (I tend to see this more as an issue in Biblical Studies, but I'm sure it exists everywhere), with the result that scholars make historical claims which go beyond the scope of legitimate historical inquiry.

I also gained some new language for how I would speak about the basic nature of the Biblical writings and reaffirmed my personal bias for focusing upon the canonization of Biblical writings as opposed to the original authorship of those writings, but that would require a much longer explanation and I want to get to a thought that I've been pondering ever since I encountered it in this class.

One assignment we were given was a case study centered around Joshua 6, the conquering of Jericho.  We had a panel of professors come in and speak, and the case study was put to them.  Joshua 6 is a hot bed of various issues (the command to kill everyone comes to mind), but the one I'm concerned with is the historicity of this story.  Scholars and archaeologists struggle with this story, citing various bits of evidence that lead many to the conclusion that the story couldn't have happened historically the way described in Scripture.  When asked about the meaning of this passage, my OT prof from the previous semester gave a wonderful exegesis of the passage which he called the "plain sense" (a term historically loaded) of the passage.  Basically, he took the story at face value and drew out a beautiful lesson (I could have used a bit more of this in OT, by the way, but that's a different quarrel).

My question for him afterwards was how he justified this reading if he didn't believe that the story really happened (I'm fairly certain he doesn't, but I don't know for sure).  I thought his answer was intriguing, and I want to see what anyone who has persevered thus far thinks about it.

His response, basically, was that the justification for viewing this story as true lay not with the historical event, but with the historical community.  If Jericho never happened, for him it doesn't change or illegitimize the "plain sense" reading of the text which he presented.  The community of believers told this story to illustrate and teach about the sort of God they served, a God who works powerfully for those who obey (or something similar, the exact reading of this passage is beside the point).  The justification for the teaching embodied by this story is that the community experienced this God and continued to use the story to explain the power of God they had experienced in different yet similar ways.  The historical justification and basis of the teaching need not be the event described, but could possibly be the historical experience of the community of believers embodied by the story.

So, for my OT professor (Dr. Olson), if a Biblical story were proven to be historically inaccurate it wouldn't render the teaching illegitimate nor would it eradicate the historical basis for that teaching.  The point of the story is to teach something about God, humanity, and the relationship between the two, and it can do so without being based on historical event.  Or, rather, it need not be based on the historical event described; the historical basis could be the historical experience of the community who continued to teach this story which reinforced and legitimized the teaching contained therein.  Construing the historical basis for the teaching of Scripture in this way, if accepted, allows one to deny that the teaching is lacking in historical backing or evidence while relocating to source of this evidence to a place less easy (probably impossible) to attack by historical criticism.

I'm not committed to this position, but I do think its interesting and presents some interesting possibilities.  Taken to an extreme I think it is problematic (the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus must be real, historical events, and I would not want to deny the historicity of all the Biblical narratives), but used in certain cases, such as Joshua 6, it might be helpful.  Thoughts?  Criticisms?  Does this suggestion avoid the problems of historical criticism or does it simply concede ground to the detriment of the authority of Scripture?  All thoughts welcome!

Old Testament or Hebrew Scriptures?

I basically took three classes my first semester, Old Testament, Early and Medieval Church History and Systematic Theology (I also took a one hour speech class, but it wasn't exactly an academic endeavor).  The one that I struggled with the most was Old Testament.  

The difficulty of Old Testament had little to do with the course assignments.  The class was difficult, but manageable.  The tests required a lot of memorization and a lot of preparation, but not so much that I felt inadequate.  The real difficulty lay in two areas.  The first was a classic problem for first year seminarians, especially at a seminary like PTS; the problem of historical criticism.  The second was the division introduced between Old and New testaments.  

Old Testament class at IWU was about knowing what the OT said, and what we could learn about God, humanity, creation, etc.  At PTS, OT covered the content a little and applications/implications for faith even less.  The real goal of the class, seemingly, was to introduce the scholarly issues and debates surrounding the OT from a historical-critical perspective.  Questions like who really wrote the Pentateuch, how many Isaiahs there were, and what really happened to the Israelite nation in history claimed the position of prominence in lecture and in the reading.  The focus always seems to be on what lies behind, beneath and beyond the text, rather than the text itself.  The question always seems to be, "yeah, but what REALLY happened?"  This sort of question, along with the conclusions at which scholars have arrived, have devastated many young seminarians.  The PTS chaplain, a woman named Jan, has said that the issue that comes up most often in her ministry to students in this very one.  The historical basis and validation of the Scripture is questioned, and many student's faith loses a major foundation block.

This focus on historical criticism frustrated me.  First, I'm very skeptical about our ability to reach beyond or behind the text.  I don't think the tools of historical inquiry allow us to ascertain that sort of knowledge with any degree of certainty.  When one looks at the conclusions scholars make upon the tiniest bits of evidence, it beggars belief, especially in light of the confidence, bordering on arrogance, with which those conclusions are stated.  I also don't see the value of studying the Bible as a historical document ALONE.  So what if we actually could find out who really wrote the Pentateuch?  Stripped of significance for faith, I simply don't care.  This relates to the second issue as well.

The second problem I had with OT, the division between testaments, was typified by the text book we were assigned, How to Read the Bible by James Kugel.  I actually think its a very interesting book, written to be interesting as well as thorough, but its definitely not concerned with faith.  In fact, the author is Jewish; he is writing about Hebrew Scripture, not the Old Testament.  The "Old" Testament is only "old" if you acknowledge the new.  The OT class essentially tried severing the ties between Old and New Testaments.  Any sort of christological interpretive move was immediately ruled out as illegitimate.  "The Old Testament has to be read on its own terms!" seemed to be the rallying cry.

Now, a caveat.  I don't think there's necessarily anything wrong with historical criticism, nor with reading the OT on its own terms, in light of its historical context.  Both of these methods are useful tools for Biblical interpretation, perhaps even necessary tools (although I'm not willing to go quite that far).  The point, for me, is that they must always remain tools for Biblical interpretation, not boundary markers or tests of validity.

For Christian faith, the canonical form of the Bible constitutes our Scriptures.  Not one testament without the other (either old or new).  Not the "real" events of history.  These things may be interesting subjects of inquiry, or even ways of getting leverage on the text, but the Scripture as such must always remain at the center of our inquiry if it is to remain Christian inquiry.  I had a professor, Bruce McCormack, say in class a few days ago that if an OT prof is actually teaching Hebrew Scripture and not the OT, they may be drawing pay under false pretenses.  I couldn't agree more.

Now, OT wasn't a completely negative experience, far from it.  These two concerns, however, were seemingly ubiquitous in my OT experience.  These issues reached a zenith in a class I took in short term, Issues in the Theology of Scripture, which I'll address later.  The question of how to justify a text historically, how a text is validated, is important, but I'll look at those issues when I discuss that class.  For now, I think it is sufficient to say that in my OT class I gained a little knowledge about the content of the OT, a lot of knowledge of scholarly issues surrounding the OT, and most of all a new perspective on OT studies.  

I'd be interested to see the thoughts of anyone who reads this.  I know there are many people who would disagree with my desire to see the OT and NT held together, at least in scholarly circles.  Should the OT be read separately from the NT?  Can we gain knowledge of issues which lie "behind" the text?  How much do those issues matter?

Academics

I'm going to start a new series on my classes here at PTS, just a brief description of each and what my experience was like.  Before I do so, I want to say something about the level of academics here.

This topic seems to interest a lot of people because I have been asked about the difficulty of my classes just about every time I go home.  Something about the Princeton name just seems to rock people back on their heels, and their immediate reaction is holy crap, I bet that's hard.  I have to admit, I was pretty nervous about how difficult the work would be before I started.

In general, I'd have to say that classes here aren't as difficult as I feared they might be, but they're certainly harder than my undergraduate classes.  At IWU, I wasn't normally forced to work all that hard in order to keep up with a class.  I could do enough to get a grade without engaging if I felt like it.  There were several classes, when I simply wasn't interested, where I did almost none of the reading and still just sort of cruised through.  That can't happen at PTS.  Here, in general, is what I would say about academics at PTS.
 
1)  Yes, the classes are harder than undergraduate classes.  No, they're not absurdly hard.  Just as college was the next logical step after high school, graduate school (for me) has been the next logical step after college.  The level of work required at PTS is the sort of work I could have done in undergrad had I put in the time and been invested.  I am not required to do work at a whole different level than undergrad, I'm just required to do my best work all the time.  If I let something slide, its going to hurt.


2) When I decided to come to PTS, I had visions of myself buried under stacks of books, trying desperately to keep up with the reading and wanting to kill myself.  While there are moments that feel overwhelming, the work load isn't unreasonable.  I would say that I spend an average of 2+ hours a day reading the weekly material.  This doesn't include projects, papers or tests, but the number of assignments is drastically lower at PTS than at any other point in my life.  Most classes have 1 or 2 papers, and maybe 1 test.  Those tests and projects are stressful, but they don't come around often, and they are manageable when they happen.


3)  The classes here may be harder, but they are interesting and you almost never feel like you are wasting your time.  I've not had a class yet in which I wasn't engaged or didn't find some value in the class.  The reading assignments are all relevant and (usually) interesting.  The classes cover interesting topics and issues.  I confess, I have a hard time putting effort into something I don't enjoy.  I'm not very disciplined in that regard, but this hasn't been an issue so far at PTS.


4)  There are very smart people here, but most of them aren't scary smart.  There are something like 400 people on campus, not all of them can be geniuses.  It turns out that most of them are normal people.  They're bright, but they live on the same plane of existence as the rest of us.  What I've found makes a much larger difference is familiarity with material.  Those who are well-read or well-versed in a particular area have a huge advantage over those who aren't.  The intimidating people here are not people who are extremely smart, it is the people who are extremely well-read.  Nothing trumps experience in a particular area.

One last thing that I want to discuss: How well has IWU prepared me for PTS?  I have felt remarkably well-prepared academically for PTS.  I wasn't in honors college, I didn't do anything special to prepare for PTS, but I don't feel out of my league or behind the rest of the students.  Again, I think this goes back to what I was saying about experience in a discipline.  IWU exposed me to the major topics, figures and ideas that I'm learning at PTS.  My classes haven't been completely new material for me, which has helped a lot in managing the workload.  Overall, I think IWU did an excellent job preparing me for grad school at PTS in everything from academic topics to my writing.

There are 3 major areas, however, that I feel like I'm a bit behind.  I don't feel like I was exposed much to major German theologians (from about 1800 on), I didn't learn much of anything about the major current theologians or the discussions and debates currently taking place in theology, and I don't have a clue when it comes to the Chicago Manual of Style.  Given the objective of IWU's program, which I think is more pastoral than academic and rightly so, I'm not upset that I wasn't exposed to that stuff, but I do feel a bit behind some of my fellow students in those areas.

Coming soon:  My Old Testament class and frustrations which lie therein.

Am I still a Wesleyan?

I want you, dear reader, to close your eyes (not really, you have to read) and picture the following scene:  I'm sitting in Stewart 6, the biggest lecture hall on campus, during my first weekend on campus.  We're in the middle of a information seminar on field education, and my eyes are starting to glaze over.  In the hopes of keeping from embarrassing myself by snoring in front of 150 people I don't know, I start rifling through the contents of the packet I received on entrance.  Within I discover two sheets of paper that comprise a complete listing of all incoming students, for the purpose of matching them with their field education advisor.  Now, PTS divides the students up according to denomination, so every student's denominational affiliation was listed next to their name.  One whole sheet is made up of PCUSA (that's Presbyterian, I didn't know that acronym before I came here) but PTS is a Presbyterian seminary and there are rules about that stuff, so it only makes sense that half the students would be PCUSA.  The other sheet, my sheet, is all the random, confused people who went to the wrong denomination's seminary.  I'm bored, remember, so I start scanning the list, looking for familiar names or interesting denominations (I was really bored).

Here's what I notice: I am the only Wesleyan in my class.

Wait a second, there's another guy from IWU here!  -  Nope, he's Nazarene.  Really? I'm the only one? Yep, the only one.

Okay, so, its not quite that radical.  There are a few Methodist students, like my suitemate (is that why they put us together?), and a very few others who would be part of the broader Wesleyan/Methodist tradition, but not many.  And there's no one from the Wesleyan denomination except me.  It might sound weird, but that was a lonely feeling.  It was discouraging in a strange way.  I mean, my family doesn't exactly identify strongly with the Wesleyan tradition (I'm the most Wesleyan of the bunch), so it shouldn't have been that big of a deal, but it was for whatever reason.

It became clear to me, quite quickly, that the differences weren't in name only during another orientation session.  This session was the sexual ethics session, and it was like nothing I've been involved in before. The basic message was this: We realize that you're going to drink, and likely drink too much.  We realize that you're going to have sex with each other.  Just please don't do those two things in combination, because then we might have to deal with lawsuits.  Now, I realize that the seminary was just trying to cover its bases legally, but really?  We have to have that talk in seminary!?  What am I missing?  Has no one ever read the Sermon on the Mount?

My classes, which I'll write more about later, have also been an excursion into the unknown.  My Systematic Theology class was basically a class in contextual theology, which I had never really encountered before.  My Biblical Studies classes treat the Biblical text in ways they simply don't at IWU.  My Doctrine of Election class is about as Reformed as a class could possibly be.  All of these classes have exposed me to much different traditions than my own.  (I think this is a good thing and, again, I'll say more about my classes individually later)

The question now becomes whether this environment, which is so different from my previous context, and which has challenged my tradition in so many ways, has caused me question whether or not I am or want to be a Wesleyan.

The answer: No

I actually find myself embracing things that made me roll my eyes at IWU, due to over-saturation.  I'm doing a paper on John Wesley, for instance, something I never once did at IWU since it seemed too cliche.  I even had to go to an abandoned, unlit corner of the basement of the library to find John Wesley's works.   I had to laugh at the irony of Wesley being stuffed into a janky corner that way.  That definitely wouldn't have happened at IWU!

Similarly, I'd love to have a conversation with someone, anyone, about the importance of personal holiness.

See, I feel as if holiness is something largely lacking at PTS.  We're very good at social justice, which I'll call social holiness.  The problem is that personal holiness has largely been collapsed into social holiness.  What does it mean to live a holy life at PTS?  It means that you love others, take care of the environment, and don't judge people.  Some would also add that you must witness to Jesus Christ, thanks to Karl Barth's focus on Christ and Prof. Guder's "Missional Theology" class.  Not that these are not important issues or behaviors that should characterize Christians, but isn't there something more offered in the Christian life?

There's something lacking in this conception of holiness, there's a sort of hopelessness attached to it.  We don't even talk about our personal sins, since we can't really hope to do anything about it.  The transformation of the individual has largely been reduced to the issues of self-worth and equality.  Has not Christ's death on the cross done something more?  Is the glorious resurrection of Christ, and through Him us as well, not more powerful than this?  I simply feel that Jesus Christ offers the hope of a totally new kind of life for the individual, as well as for the community.  In fact, I think its likely that one cannot completely have one without the other.  How can a transformed community exist apart from transformed individuals?

My recent reading of Scripture has only served to confirm this conviction.  I've read through the entire NT in the last couple of months (if you've never done it, do it soon, its wonderful), and I see holiness everywhere.  So many of the epistles exhort the reader to be holy, to sin no more, that those who sin are not the children of God.

Bottom line, I've embraced my Wesleyan tradition more since coming here than I would have previously.  I'm still working through my thoughts on predestination and election, but so far even Barth hasn't convinced me I need to become Reformed.  I am more convinced now than ever that John Wesley was on to something, and that holiness is not only possible but necessary.

Am I still a Wesleyan?  Without question.

1 Peter 1:15-16 - "but like the Holy One who called you, be holy yourselves also in all your behavior; because it is written, 'You shall be holy, for I am holy.'"

2 Peter 1:3 - "His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness.."

1 John 2:1 - "My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin."
2:3 - "We know that we have come to know him if we obey his commands."

Student Life

If I'm going to discuss my transition to PTS, it makes sense to start at the beginning.  The first few days at PTS consist of a fairly packed orientation schedule.  You meet people, go to informational meetings, attend services and even a fancy dinner party with the president and the faculty (it makes you feel like a yuppie).  As one might expect, however, this weekend is really quite different from actual campus life, and it is this campus life that I want to explore first.

Transitioning to life on this campus was disorienting for me.  A little of my personal history: I had lived in Marion (other than a short stint at Purdue) since I was 6 years old prior to coming to PTS.  I had attended the same church, and knew basically the same group of people for nearly 20 years.  I had (still have) a girlfriend (Emilie) at IWU and she obviously couldn't come with me either.  So this was never going to be easy.  Even considering all that, however, PTS has not been an easy place for me to connect.  Other than the initial orientation weekend, there aren't a lot of programs designed to get people involved. I'm not necessarily suggesting there should be, the seminary sees us as adults and treats us accordingly, but it has made things harder.

The primary activities that are aimed at creating community are intramural flag football and chapel.  I didn't play flag football (it was early Saturday mornings and conflicted with my beloved Manchester United) and chapel hasn't done much for me.  Meals are friendly, one can always find a friendly face to sit with, but this is a fairly superficial level of connection.

Life on campus breaks down into two main categories.  The first is life during the week.  During the week, most people are reading and studying.  This is grad school, you have to put time into your classes. You see people at meals, in class, and maybe at chapel, but that's mostly it.  The other category is life on the weekends.  Most weekends, PTS students head into town or to Philly or NYC and go drinking.  When people want to have fun, they go drink.  There isn't much else that goes on.  Every now and then some people will watch a movie, but mostly its drinking.

This trend was probably the hardest part of my transition to PTS.  I've never been in an environment where the only real option for having fun and hanging out with people is going to a bar.  People here don't (often) drink irresponsibly, and they aren't underage, so I don't condemn them for it.  The Presbyterian denomination (PTS is a PCUSA seminary) doesn't have a problem with drinking, so there's no problem there.  But its just so different from what I have ever really experienced.  My entire life, when I've wanted to have fun on a weekend we've gone to a movie, or bowling, or played games, or gone to shows; anything except drinking. It wasn't allowed.  Now I don't really know what to do with myself on weekends.  Sometimes I hang out with people from the seminary, but not often.  I don't (normally) think that they're doing anything wrong, and yet I'm uncomfortable.  I can't really even put my finger on why, but there it is.  If anyone from PTS reads this, they'll likely be surprised; I haven't mentioned this discomfort to anyone.  Maybe I should have, and maybe I will in the future.  I think this discomfort (along with some recent Bible reading) has lodged me more firmly in the Holiness tradition, but I'll say more about that soon.

The times I've felt most at home on campus are during meals, having discussions with other students.  Classes prompt very interesting discussions, and the people here are very smart and come from a lot of different places.  Talking with many of them is fascinating, and I've had some very fruitful theological discussions with various students I've met.  Theological discussions, though, are not really enough to ground one socially.

Where I have been able to connect, even though it hasn't been perfect, is at church.  I started attending Princeton Alliance Church (a CMA church) here the weekend after orientation.  The next day I was at a community group, eating dinner with a young adults from the church.  Within a few weeks I was volunteering at the youth group.  It was through church that I found Clint and Marcos, two guys that I meet with once a week in a sort of spiritual formation group.  PAC provided a place for me in NJ.  It wasn't and still isn't home, but it's much better than being alone.  I don't really know how to put it other than that.  I feel like God prepared that place for me, as confirmation that I was in the right place, even though it wasn't always easy.

So, my advice to future students, in summary: get involved in a church.  I'm sure you can connect on campus better than I have, but I think the church is the healthier place to be involved anyway.  The church is where Christians should have their home, and that's not different for seminary students.

Life on this campus has been difficult for me at times, but also rewarding.  I've been a little harsh, but there have been good things as well.  I'll write more on those later.  For now, it will suffice to say that I thank God for His church, for otherwise I wouldn't have a home, a place to belong.  I hope that is true of me for the rest of my life.

Explanation

I suppose I need to begin by explaining what exactly it is that I'm doing with this blog.  Its quite simple, really.  During the Christmas break, while at a yearly Christmas party attended by several families from my church (College Wesleyan), one of the religion department professors (Russ Gunsalus) told me I should start a blog so that IWU students considering PTS could use it as a resource.  So I am.  Simple, right?

In the interest of full-disclosure I should also add that this isn't an entirely altruistic operation.  Like anyone else with a blog, I suspect, the writing is always done at least in part for selfish reasons.  Writing serves as a useful tool for processing and reflection, and I'll be doing a little of that in this blog.  A large part of my transition here at PTS has been my run-in with various different ideologies and theologies, which is a large part of the value of PTS.  This campus has an incredibly diverse student population, which is something PTS works very hard to create.  The developments and changes in my thought that take place as a result of these diverse interactions are a huge part of my life at PTS, and so I'll be working through some of those as well.

I'm hoping to post about once a week, and I'm going to begin by working through the major areas of transition from my first semester: my classes, campus life, the academic level, etc.  Hopefully my musings can be helpful for a few others out there.