confessions of a seminary student

I know that at some point a reformed counterpart will read this e-mail and comment something like, “see you just confessed what we accuse you of. We are completely Biblical in our conclusion.” In the past I’ve asked such people not to comment, but I give up.

Having said that I’m going to tell you how all seminary students (including my Calvinist, dispensational, and fundamental counterparts), come to have a systematic theology. It goes something like this…

Today in my Paul class we talked about Ernst Kasemann’s article on the “righteousness of God” in Romans. Now this particular article and another topic “pistou christou” have been of much interest to me as of late. They both deal with the subjective vs. objective understandings of genitive Greek constructions. This is the first material to really interest me for quite some time in seminary. It’s not that the debate is new only my discovering it.

This is usually what happens in order for me to get excited about any idea in seminary. I have an existing idea of how something should work. Eventually I find that I’m not the first to think such a thing and then the journey begins. For the next couple of weeks you find all of the historical characters in the history of theology that have said the same thing and then eventually you come to the conclusion that you can hold the theological tenet and not be a heretic, or at least if you are going to be accused of heresy you can be such in good company. After this process is completed the idea is chewed and applied to other theological doctrines and then the position is solidified.

In short all thinkers and theologians have presuppositions and most theological journeys are simply about finding data to corroborate those initial presuppositions that one is comfortable with.

My point is this. I wonder how many of us really come to seminary to learn? How many of us really come with a blank slate in search of truth? I don’t think it is as many as we might like to think.

chap stick makes for a good marriage

I think I wrote some time ago about loving your wife more now than you did the day you got married. Maybe I have not. Anyhow, that is the nature of this post. My dad used to tell me that all the time. I never really understood what he meant until I got married, and have now been married for two years. And even now I’m afraid to write that because experience tells me again in 10, 20 and 50 years I’ll think about this post and think to myself that I really didn’t even know what love was at that point in our marriage. For now I’ll just assume that is both true and false and both for good reason.

Well here is my little anecdote that corroborates the above comments. Lindsay I made our weekly trip to the HEB this last weekend. Somehow we ended up in the cosmetic isle and in very Josh fashion I looked at the Burt’s Bees chap stick and commented that I would purchase one if we were not poor. Here I add a couple of qualifiers. First, were not really poor. In fact most days I come home to my new home feeling immensely blessed to have all that we do. The term poor rather, refers to the fact that we are due with our first child in about 7 months and thus need to pinch the occasional penny. Second qualifier. As an undergraduate marketing major and thus someone who should know better, I am a complete sucker for brand imaging. The only reason, if I’m honest, that I wanted the chap stick is because of the following mental process.

“I’m rugged or at least trying to make people think I am. Rugged people are outdoorsy. Bee’s wax is a natural occurring substance. Rugged people are into natural. I better buy this chap stick since I like to be rugged.”

This is the same reason I recently purchased the Old Spice deodorant that has the word “mountain” in the name, ordered Harp beer occasionally and used Irish spring soap until I realized that my skin was too sensitive to use it. You see not only am I rugged, but I’m also deeply Irish.

Anyhow, back to my wife. When we finally got home and started unpacking our groceries, I found a stick of Burt’s Bees.

One of my favorite scenes from Good Will Hunting is when Robin Williams describes the little peccadilloes that make him love his wife. This was not a little peccadillo, but it was a small gesture that made a big difference. These are the small unselfish things my wife does that make loving her so easy.

Necessary Evil???

I first encountered this term in my long over drawn out study of the providence debate. Certainly its use is usually in a much different manner than I intend to do in what follows, yet the premise in a very small way, is much the same.

I think about soteriology quite a bit and probably more so lately because I’m going to re-explore “The Great Divorce” with the good people at UBC this semester. Anyhow, one of the issues that inevitably comes up in the soteriology discussion is heaven…and hell for that matter and their relationship to epistemology.

Here’s my point. I once heard a professor say that heaven is probably nothing like we think it is. For example, my professor loves golf yet he maintains that even if he could play golf for eternity, it would turn into hell. For some reason the one thing I’ve never grown weary of is playing ultimate Frisbee. I get really frustrated doing it sometimes, but every time I get a chance to play I love the experience. I really think that if I had to choose one thing to do for all eternity though, it would be playing baseball. I absolutely love the game. One of my favorite kinds of fun is the feeling of the baseball hitting the sweet part of the bat. Yet if I were to do this for eternity, one thing would have to be true. I would need to have something to work towards. I would hate it if I batted 1.000 ever year I played and hit a homerun every time I batted. What is much more exhilarating is the idea of improvement, getting better. A non-perfect batting average would be a necessary evil if you will for an eternity of fun.

What do you think?

HarryBU

Harris has left. Someone said to me that his leaving definitely feels like the end of a chapter. Somehow they are right. I don’t know what it is about Harry leaving, but it has introduced a strange sense of finality into our lives. We’ll see him again, but still, life will be different around here.

Someone how I was smart enough to anticipate his departure and have treasured the final moments I’ve had with him this summer. I soaked up the few bike rides we did for Friday mountain biking. I remember the few times we were able to play Frisbee together, and I remember all the memories I’ve gained from being with him the last two years.

Harris and Blair B. were the first two people I really talked to from UBC. There have been some other big hitters that have left since I gotten to UBC: Val T., the Evans, etc., but Harry I have known the best.

This reminds me of my post about my Tolkein friends. Hopefully Harry and I will stay in touch, but if I’m honest I’ve only done that real well with about 4 friends my whole life. Anyhow, as my life precedes it will do so marked by Harry. And somewhere in my own narrative I will write in a special character. Maybe Harry’s character will be someone with a relatively small role, but yet largely significant. For you Tolkein readers, Tom Bombadil comes to mind. I think I’d introduce him and then slowly weave him out of the story, till you almost forgot about him. Then, at a moment when the main character me is down and out and probably unable to make it any longer, I’d bring Harry back into the story and have him perform a super critical function.

Harris will be missed.


In the picture we are at Kyle's parent's ranch. Pictured are Ben UBCwaco Dudley, Matt Single Tons of Fun, Me, Harris Bechtold you so, Kyle, and Avery. Harry looks a bit strange, but its one of the few pictures I have with both of us in it.