Four Years

I wasn't looking to get married when I was 25. It was barely on my radar screen, to be perfectly honest. My attentions were elsewhere, but as usual, the Lord knew better than I did. I'm still amazed how He brought us together and where He's led us since.

I'm so thankful to have gotten to spend the past four years with my best friend, and to know that, Lord willing, we'll only become better friends as the years go on. It's a humbling thing to be loved so graciously--to hear it and see it demonstrated every day. I have much to learn about being a good helpmeet to him. But I'm really looking forward to it!

Happy anniversary, babe!

the state of the dissertation

About a month ago, I hit a bump in the road regarding my dissertation topic. The bump came in the form of my likely adviser suggesting that my proposed topic was not focused enough and/or had probably been sufficiently researched already. So, whereas I had begun the summer fairly certain of being on a steady track, I have been progressing more in fits and starts since then, at times just spinning my wheels. I have some general ideas, in the same neighborhood as the original (preaching in the early church), but I haven't yet determined their viability or been able to commit to a single one. I've effectively backtracked to a point I should have passed several months ago, and I can't say that's not demoralizing.

Of course, no matter the scale of the project, figuring out what my ideas are, what it is that I want to say, has always been the most agonizing part. I am okay at researching and love actually writing, but getting to the point where I can write is often an anxious process. So it doesn't come as a great surprise that I am sitting in the idea phase and feeling stuck. The same thing happened with my undergraduate thesis and with virtually every paper I have written since professors gave me the freedom to choose my own topics. In the end, most of that has turned out pretty well for me. Still, it's not the most fun place to be sitting. And it could become problematic if I don't get un-stuck within a week or two.

I know it isn't helped by the fact that I've been asking questions about my sense of my vocation, which is probably a healthy thing to do, but might be getting mixed up and conflated with the topic-search in unhelpful ways. I mean, it just doesn't work very well trying to discern a dissertation topic while discerning whether I see myself thriving in academia in the longer term. So I'm trying to lay the latter piece aside, for now, and focus on the task that's given to me right now. (And don't worry. I'm not thinking of dropping this program. That isn't even on the table.)

Geekery & Godliness: Some Preliminary Thoughts

The ideas in this post are a work in progress. For almost a year now, questions about the intersection between academic theological study and growth in godliness have been at the back of my mind. (Probably for longer than that, to be honest.) Even though I suspect that these questions are best worked out in a longer writing project, I felt compelled to start getting them on paper, if in abbreviated form.

The topic is definitely in need of refinement. You'll note that the post is titled "Geekery & Godliness," because when I first jotted down the idea for this post, I was thinking in terms of a more catch-all category of "theology geeks," including those who are self-identified nerds about theology, but are not necessarily engaged in formal study of the subject. As I began writing, though, I noticed that my concrete ideas were closely connected to the life of the theology graduate student -- unsurprisingly, as that's the life I know. It's possible that much of this can apply to non-academic geeks as well as grad students, but I am not sure yet.

Also, the cautions I give below arise from my own experience. They are all areas in which I have felt personally convicted. I'm quite certain, however, that not all academics have experienced these precise things, and I would love to hear those other perspectives. And, if there is anything here you'd like to see me expand upon in future posts, please let me know. Like I said, I'm kind of testing the waters to see if this is sustainable as a longer-term project -- something that can be of help to others.

It should go without saying that I think the academic pursuit of theology and/or "theology geekery" is a glorious thing. It is a blessing to have so many wonderful resources at my disposal, as well as a context in which to develop my ideas. But I have become increasingly convicted that geeking out over my Puritan Paperbacks or Popular Patristics collections, or doing theological research as my job, are not, in themselves, signs of a healthy spiritual life.

A Couple Obvious Gifts of Theological Study

• Theological study should lead us to praise God continually, to desire to pursue Him ever more deeply, and to love the church, Christ's Bride, more and more. It is a sweet privilege to have the opportunity to devote ourselves to an intensive study of these subjects. We should rejoice in that.
• Theological study should compel us to serve the church with what we've learned, in any variety of ways. It is rightly undertaken with the aim of being at the church's disposal.

Some Cautions

• Theology geekery is not automatically spiritually beneficial. Just because I am often surrounded by the works of the early church fathers or the Puritans does not mean I am actively seeking the Lord, but it is easy to allow my studies to become a proxy for prayer and time spent in Scripture. There have been seasons when, because I was studying sacred things, I lulled myself into believing I could allow my prayer life to slide. Proximity to godliness is not the same as practicing it.
• Studying theology for a living is not spiritually superior to any other employment or vocation.
• A theology student should be firmly anchored in the local church and submitted to its leadership. Listening to lectures and engaging in seminar discussions during the week is not the same as sitting under the preaching of the Word. The latter is one of the ordinary means of grace; the former (mercifully) are not. And while you should certainly bring your God-given intellect to bear on what you are taught in church, that is not an invitation to spend the bulk of the sermon critiquing the pastor's exegesis and thinking how you could do it better.
• A theology student should regularly soak in the basics of the faith, above all in God's Word. Chances are, a graduate theological education (or, sadly, in my experience, a seminary education) is not going to teach you how to do this, which points again to the importance of being under the shepherding of godly leaders. Don't be too proud to ask elders or mature believers for counsel in this area. (If you have time, take a moment to read the Martin Luther quote in this blog post by Carl Trueman. I believe it's getting at the same idea.) It's important to do this, not in spite of the intricacy of your dissertation topic, but because of it. You probably understand less than you think you do.
• Take time to be in relationship with non-academics and those who aren't consumed by the student season of life. You need them; and fellowship with your brothers and sisters will far outlast your successes and failures in academia, and will prove far sweeter besides.

I believe it is possible to cultivate a life of both God-glorifying scholarship and vibrant, mature faith. My concern is that theological study, as it is often practiced today, does not always lend itself to ready integration of these areas; at any rate, it sometimes leaves students adrift and scrambling to pick up the pieces. I'm not attempting to lay down guidelines for how to do that, as I am very much caught in the midst of it myself. However, I hope this could be a place to start a conversation.

"A bruised reed He will not break."

Recently I was compelled to read a little book that's been sitting on our shelf for a year or two – The Bruised Reed by Richard Sibbes. First published in 1630, this book is available in a 2008 reprint from The Banner of Truth Trust, in their wonderful Puritan Paperbacks series. Don't let the idea of archaic seventeenth-century language dissuade you; this book is very readable, possibly the easiest Puritan text I've encountered. It is also a deeply comforting book.

Richard Sibbes (1577–1635) was an English Puritan preacher who flourished a century after the Reformation began. According to Beeke & Pederson's Meet the Puritans (Reformation Heritage, 2006), he was known for his godly lifestyle and for reaching Englishmen of all classes with his plain, Christ-centered preaching. The Bruised Reed, one of his most celebrated works, is an exposition of Isaiah 42:3, "a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench." In Sibbes' own words (p. 72), "The comfort intended in this text is for those that would fain do better, but find their corruptions clog them; that are in such a mist, that often they cannot tell what to think of themselves; that fain would believe, and yet often fear that they do not believe; and that think that it cannot be that God should be so good to such sinful wretches as they are."

My intent isn't to take up any more space with biography or outline, however, but to let you read some Sibbes for yourself. As I read, I kept marking sections and thinking, "These quotations are golden; I must share them with my friends." So here you are:

"Hence we learn that we must not pass too harsh judgment upon ourselves or others when God exercises us with bruising upon bruising. There must be a conformity to our head, Christ, who 'was bruised for us' (Isa. 53:5) that we may know how much we are bound unto him." (p. 5)

*

"Ungodly spirits, ignorant of God's ways in bringing his children to heaven, censure broken-hearted Christians as miserable persons, whereas God is doing a gracious, good work with them. It is no easy matter to bring a man from nature to grace, and from grace to glory, so unyielding and intractable are our hearts." (6)

*

"If Christ be so merciful as not to break me, I will not break myself by despair." (10)

*

"A Christian complains he cannot pray. 'Oh, I am troubled with so many distracting thoughts, and never more than now!' But has he put into your heart a desire to pray? Then he will hear the desires of his own Spirit in you...God can pick sense out of a confused prayer. These desires cry louder in his ears than your sins. Sometimes a Christian has such confused thoughts that he can say nothing but, as a child, cries, 'O Father,' not able to express what he needs, like Moses at the Red Sea. These stirrings of spirit touch the heart of God and melt him into compassion towards us, when they come from the Spirit of adoption, and from a striving to be better." (51)

*

"Weaknesses do not break covenant with God. They do not break the covenant between husband and wife, and shall we make ourselves more pitiful than Christ who makes himself a pattern of love to all other husbands? Weaknesses do not debar us from mercy; rather they incline God to us the more. Mercy is a part of the church's marriage inheritance...The husband is bound to bear with the wife, as being the 'weaker vessel' (1 Pet. 3:7), and shall we think Christ will exempt himself from his own rule, and not bear with his weak spouse?" (58)

*

"Failings, with conflict, in sanctification should not weaken the peace of our justification and assurance of salvation. It matters not so much what ill is in us, as what good; not what corruptions, but how we regard them; not what our particular failings are so much as what the thread and tenor of our lives are, for Christ's dislike of that which is amiss in us turns not to the hatred of our persons but to the victorious subduing of all our infirmities." (96)

*

"If we look to the present state of the church of Christ, it is as Daniel in the midst of lions, as a lily amongst thorns, as a ship not only tossed but almost covered with waves. It is so low that the enemies think they have buried Christ, with respect to his gospel, in the grave, and there they think to keep him from rising. But as Christ rose in his person, so he will roll away all stones and rise again in his church." (125)

*

"Let us make use of this mercy and power of his every day in our daily combats: 'Lord Jesus, thou hast promised not to quench the smoking flax, nor to break the bruised reed. Cherish thy grace in me; leave me not to myself; the glory shall be thine.' Let us not allow Satan to transform Christ to us, to make him other than he is to those that are his. Christ will not leave us till he has made us like himself, all glorious within and without, and presented us blameless before his Father." (123)

"by His grace, in this part of His vineyard, I grow."

It occurred to me that I've had this blog for about a year now. That means we've been living in St. Louis for two whole years—longer than we'd lived in Berkeley. We've already spent more than half our marriage here.

I've been reflecting lately on how St. Louis truly feels like home to me. I don't just mean in a sentimental way, or that I feel like I've lived there all my life. It's also not true that Western Pennsylvania and Southern California aren't "home"; they probably always will be, no matter where we end up. But there is a real sense in which it's home, and I think there are two pieces of that:

First, the fact that we decided it was home before we even moved in. As we made our decision about where I would begin a doctoral program, Kevin and I were very intentional about choosing a place that would not only allow me to thrive academically, but where we could establish a home. I want to be careful not to make this sound like a diss on Berkeley; there are people in Berkeley I deeply miss, and even a few other things...there will always be a certain sweetness about the first place we lived as a married couple. But I'm not sure we ever felt settled there. It was rocky ground for us. Nevertheless, I know that the Lord put us there for specific reasons, and in time I trust I'll better understand them. (...I hope so. I have questions!)

It quickly became evident that St. Louis had the potential to be home for us in a way that Northern California was not. There were many practical aspects of this, affordability being only one. The bigger reason was that we immediately found a church we loved and said, "This is our church." (Admittedly, this is made easier by the fact that we aren't seminarians—no matter how often we're mistaken for them!—and we don't have a home church elsewhere.) We took the attitude that St. Louis was where we meant to put down roots for a good long while. I, especially, have clung to the belief that my school is only one reason we're here, and it isn't the only or most important part of our lives here. It could be that I'm reacting strongly against a decade of being labeled as a transient student and refuse to be defined by that any longer. Whatever the wisdom of that, it's felt rather crucial to my sanity at times, and apparently it's effective, as I often forget that we technically still fall under that "just-passing-through" category.

The second, more important reason that St. Louis is home is because God has made it that for us. He knew what we needed far better than we did, and he has provided for our every need. I've continually been humbled by his providence—materially, spiritually, relationally—during our short time in St. Louis. He picked out the apartment we would move into, the neighbors we would have, the church we would attend, the small groups we would join, long before we ever thought about them. He planned the classes we would take, the sermons we would hear, the conversations we'd cherish, the months we'd just scrape by, and the joyfully routine days and weeks. All of these things—both the things that make me glad and the things that, as of this moment, make no sense to me—are part of a story God has already written. However it unfolds, God is glorifying himself in it, and teaching me that I am found in him.

Though we anticipate being in St. Louis for two or three more years (I truly can't begin to picture what our lives will look like at that point, or where we'll be headed next), we know very well how things can change. No matter what, it is highly likely that we won't be here forever. That doesn't take away from the fact that St. Louis has truly been, and is, our home. It's my prayer that my home and heart will be as open as possible during whatever remaining time the Lord has for us here.

The unopinionated blogger?

Lately I've been noticing that I'm not a very opinionated person. No doubt this realization was brought on by the fact that I'm wrestling with my dissertation topic, trying to identify a niche in the scholarship that's all mine. This exercise is all about stating and defending an opinion nobody has made before. Occasionally, I wonder if I'm cut out for this. But I remember all the people who've invested in helping me reach this level, and I trust their judgment. They are not dumb people, and let's face it, I'm not a good enough actress to convince them I'm something I'm not.

Still, I've noticed that, in general, I much more readily acquiesce to others' opinions than argue for my own. It's more comfortable for me. I've wondered if it's connected to my aversion to speaking up in general. Some of the time, it's not just that I'm afraid to state my opinion; it's that I don't have one, or don't want to dig deeply enough to figure it out what it might be. It's almost as if I don't let myself think, for fear of developing an opinion. Because if I have an opinion, I might be called upon to share it, and not only would that mean having to assert myself, it could mean disagreeing painfully with someone I care about. Much easier to just not think about whatever it is, and assume that the people around me are smarter and better informed.

It might be that being "opinionated," or a particularly original thinker, is just not in my makeup. I think that's okay. And I suppose it's not an inherently bad trait to be disposed to take other people's word for things. I would like, however, to know my own mind a bit better, and be less afraid to share it as appropriate. Not only for my sake, but for the sake of anyone the Lord might give me the opportunity to train and teach, and who might read what I write. As much as I sometimes shrink from believing it, the Lord has given me a good mind, and I'm commanded to use its full powers (along with the rest of me) to love and honor him.

Even while seeking to become more discerning about some things, I take comfort in knowing that I am held fast in the Truth. In that I'm immovable, and not because I reasoned my way into it. And I know that when it's called for, He'll give me the boldness to speak about what is truly important.

Hymn that's in my heart right now

I was first introduced to this hymn via Red Mountain Church's album "The Gadsby Project" over three years ago. It's been among my favorite "old hymns" since that time, but it took on renewed meaning when I listened to it a couple of days ago. I hope you'll hear God's promises for you in these words the way I do. Be sure to read the scripture reference, too.

"Pensive, Doubting, Fearful Heart"

Gadsby's Hymns #273

Text by John Newton

"To the afflicted"—Isaiah 54:4-11

Pensive, doubting, fearful heart, 

Hear what Christ the Saviour says;

Every word should joy impart,

Change thy mourning into praise.

Yes, he speaks, and speaks to thee,

May he help thee to believe;

Then thou presently wilt see

Thou hast little cause to grieve.

"Fear thou not, nor be ashamed;

All thy sorrows soon shall end,

I, who heaven and earth have framed,

Am thy Husband and thy Friend;

I, the High and Holy One,

Israel's God, by all adored,

As thy Saviour will be known,

Thy Redeemer and thy Lord.

"For a moment I withdrew,

And thy heart was filled with pain;

But my mercies I'll renew;

Thou shalt soon rejoice again;

Though I seem to hide my face,

Very soon my wrath shall cease;

'Tis but for a moment's space,

Ending in eternal peace.

Though afflicted, tempest-tossed,

Comfortless awhile thou art,

Do not think thou canst be lost,

Thou art graven on my heart;

All thy wastes I will repair;

Thou shalt be rebuilt anew;

And in thee it shall appear

What the God of love can do."