COME INTO MY CLOSET! PART 2
Or, Who Will Have Me?
I knew I was called into some form of Christian ministry before I ever went to Wheaton College. I took my degree in Communications with minors in Spanish (just in case I got to go to the mission field where I would hopefully be so successful that they would put a bust of me in Edman Chapel and maybe name a dorm or the baseball field after me), Bible, and Education. What does one do with such an academic resume? Go to grad school!
So I knew I would have to do seminary and I was homesick for Southern California. Many of my friends had gone to Biola so I decided I would join them and go to Talbot Theological Seminary on the Biola campus. This was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I thought seminaries were kind of like law schools or medical schools. (Remember, I’m still rather naïve!) I thought they all taught the same thing and prepared you for ministry. Who knew? I didn’t realize I was walking into one of the bastions of dispensationalism. At that time, Talbot didn’t tolerate people who thought for themselves. I call it the intravenous style of education. They just stick the needle in your arm and pump in what you’re supposed to believe. Was I ever in trouble!
I never fit from the beginning. I was still only twenty years old when I matriculated at Talbot. The average age of the students there was about twenty eight. The thing that amazed me was that the other seminarians sat and dutifully took lecture notes without ever raising an issue! Well, I was better taught than that! My Wheaton professors had drilled it into me. Ask questions! Debate! That’s how you learn! So I started asking questions. You wouldn’t believe the looks I got from the other guys! It was like, “Who do you think you are, arguing with the professor like that? He’s the professor! The fountain of all knowledge and truth!
Somebody turned me in. I still don’t know who it was. The dispensationalism of my childhood and youth had disappeared along with all my other margin notes when I hit my crisis at Wheaton. So, in the dining hall I began debating with the other students. I began arguing with them about other views of the Second Coming of Jesus. I think I wanted them to see me as a wild-eyed-radical. The frightening thing was that many of the guys had never even heard of any view other than the dispensational, pre-trib, pre-mil position! I said, “Some of you guys are going out to pastor churches at the end of this year and you’re not even familiar with what you’re going to run into out there!”
I guess the kicker finally came in one of my theology classes. The prof was “proving” the pre-trib, pre-mil viewpoint from the Bible. I raised my hand and said, “This is really interesting! That is the same passage I use to prove a post-tribulational return of Christ!” The next day there was a note in my box telling me to report to the dean’s office. Dear old Dr. Charles Feinberg (God rest his soul).
He commented on the fact that I seemed to be stirring things up a little among the students. (I take after Mr. Fun!) He also mentioned that I had been reported for arguing with a professor. I was dumbfounded. “Is there something wrong with that?” I queried? “It wasn’t like this back at Wheaton!” Dr. Feinberg opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me. It was a statement of faith. He asked me if I could sign it. I read it over and told him that I had no problem with most of it but that there were a few things there that I didn’t agree with. He then informed me that I would have to sign the statement before I could graduate. I asked him why I hadn’t been informed of this before I started at Talbot. He said, and I quote (the words are burned into my memory), “Everyone agrees with us before we’re finished with them.” I’ll tell you something; at that point in my life I didn’t have the maturity to deal with that situation very well. I said, “Well, I won’t!” The venerable dean leaned over his desk and said (I remember these words too), “Then I suggest that you go back where you came from, young man.”
(No Talbot students were injured in the writing of this story.)
I suppose Talbot has changed over the years. I sure don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings or belittle their education. After all, the Smoking Christian’s good friend, Josh McDowell graduated from Talbot, along with many other fine Christian leaders. I’m certain they let students question and debate these days. (How’s that for covering my rear?)
So, that’s what I did! I packed up the ’69 Firebird with the air shocks, mag wheels, and chrome mud flaps and headed back to dear old Wheaton.
To be continued….
Next: Wheaton Grad School, or I Don’t Think We’re in Kansas Anymore
I knew I was called into some form of Christian ministry before I ever went to Wheaton College. I took my degree in Communications with minors in Spanish (just in case I got to go to the mission field where I would hopefully be so successful that they would put a bust of me in Edman Chapel and maybe name a dorm or the baseball field after me), Bible, and Education. What does one do with such an academic resume? Go to grad school!
So I knew I would have to do seminary and I was homesick for Southern California. Many of my friends had gone to Biola so I decided I would join them and go to Talbot Theological Seminary on the Biola campus. This was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I thought seminaries were kind of like law schools or medical schools. (Remember, I’m still rather naïve!) I thought they all taught the same thing and prepared you for ministry. Who knew? I didn’t realize I was walking into one of the bastions of dispensationalism. At that time, Talbot didn’t tolerate people who thought for themselves. I call it the intravenous style of education. They just stick the needle in your arm and pump in what you’re supposed to believe. Was I ever in trouble!
I never fit from the beginning. I was still only twenty years old when I matriculated at Talbot. The average age of the students there was about twenty eight. The thing that amazed me was that the other seminarians sat and dutifully took lecture notes without ever raising an issue! Well, I was better taught than that! My Wheaton professors had drilled it into me. Ask questions! Debate! That’s how you learn! So I started asking questions. You wouldn’t believe the looks I got from the other guys! It was like, “Who do you think you are, arguing with the professor like that? He’s the professor! The fountain of all knowledge and truth!
Somebody turned me in. I still don’t know who it was. The dispensationalism of my childhood and youth had disappeared along with all my other margin notes when I hit my crisis at Wheaton. So, in the dining hall I began debating with the other students. I began arguing with them about other views of the Second Coming of Jesus. I think I wanted them to see me as a wild-eyed-radical. The frightening thing was that many of the guys had never even heard of any view other than the dispensational, pre-trib, pre-mil position! I said, “Some of you guys are going out to pastor churches at the end of this year and you’re not even familiar with what you’re going to run into out there!”
I guess the kicker finally came in one of my theology classes. The prof was “proving” the pre-trib, pre-mil viewpoint from the Bible. I raised my hand and said, “This is really interesting! That is the same passage I use to prove a post-tribulational return of Christ!” The next day there was a note in my box telling me to report to the dean’s office. Dear old Dr. Charles Feinberg (God rest his soul).
He commented on the fact that I seemed to be stirring things up a little among the students. (I take after Mr. Fun!) He also mentioned that I had been reported for arguing with a professor. I was dumbfounded. “Is there something wrong with that?” I queried? “It wasn’t like this back at Wheaton!” Dr. Feinberg opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me. It was a statement of faith. He asked me if I could sign it. I read it over and told him that I had no problem with most of it but that there were a few things there that I didn’t agree with. He then informed me that I would have to sign the statement before I could graduate. I asked him why I hadn’t been informed of this before I started at Talbot. He said, and I quote (the words are burned into my memory), “Everyone agrees with us before we’re finished with them.” I’ll tell you something; at that point in my life I didn’t have the maturity to deal with that situation very well. I said, “Well, I won’t!” The venerable dean leaned over his desk and said (I remember these words too), “Then I suggest that you go back where you came from, young man.”
(No Talbot students were injured in the writing of this story.)
I suppose Talbot has changed over the years. I sure don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings or belittle their education. After all, the Smoking Christian’s good friend, Josh McDowell graduated from Talbot, along with many other fine Christian leaders. I’m certain they let students question and debate these days. (How’s that for covering my rear?)
So, that’s what I did! I packed up the ’69 Firebird with the air shocks, mag wheels, and chrome mud flaps and headed back to dear old Wheaton.
To be continued….
Next: Wheaton Grad School, or I Don’t Think We’re in Kansas Anymore
7 Comments:
Great story so far. I mentioned to My Wonderful-Mother-in-Law (about a week ago,) I might want to get my MA at Fuller in youth work. My WMIL suggested Talbot. I know me, and I know them... I think. Well, all I can say is I pray daily to be a servant. Hmm, yet I know I am too liberal to be at Talbot. Is this correct?
WoSC
Wow! Quite an experience. Maybe you should have tried Claremont instead. They have a whole different process. Ha ha!
Speaking of confrontations in the classroom. My grandparents met at Occidental College where they eventually graduated. The reason I exist is because my grandmother stood up in class and wagged her finger at a religion prof who said something she didn't like. My attentive grandfather just had to meet this chick and her flashing dark eyes! The rest is history. (Actually she was dating a guy at the time named Elwood Engledu. When my grandparents started dating, my grandfather said the joke around campus was, "If Carroll and Florence got married, what the Elwood Engledu?")
True story. Just thought you'd like to know.
Keep up the good work. I can hardly wait for #3!
I'm enjoying this story very much myself...just let me know when I can throw in the "Roberta Bruss" part of the tale - here's a little teaser - Shilohman & I had a crush on the same Wheaton undergrad at the same moment in time...isn't that full of drama, danger, and (as the SC often says) "darn near interesting" fluff (fluff was my word, but only for now).
Dear YB of the SC,
Another example of the "Toybox" theory I presume? I think the same pattern is being followed by the Son of the YB of the SC even as we speak.
Shilohman, you need a theme song. I wrote you one. Here it is.
Shilohman, Shilohman
does whatever a shiloh can
congregation, any size
he’ll pastor them, just like flies
look out here comes the Shilohman
Is he strong? Listen bud
he's got exegetical blood
Can he preach about sin
sure he will, with a grin
hey there there goes the Shilohman
At a funeral
Or the wedding scene
He is right at home
With a love offering
Shilohman Shilohman
Friendly neighborhood Shilohman
wealth and fame, he's ignored
life of faith is his reward
look out here comes the Shilohman
Now, try and get the tune out of your head.
OGWND,
Thank you so much for my theme song! I can't get the tune out of my head! I feel so honored.
And welcome back. Don't be a stranger.
Your experience is becoming far more common these days than many seem to realize. After all, the pretrib dispies have seen the handwriting on the you-know-what. And the biggest shock has come from learning about the long-hidden roots of that 19th century, latter-day fantasy. Undoubtedly the most learned authority in that area is historian Dave MacPherson who has spent decades in Britain and elsewhere unearthing long forgotten primary documents. His internet articles are a riot. If you're in a Yahooing mood, type in "Thomas Ice (Bloopers)," "LaHaye's Temperament," "Pretrib Hypocrisy," "Pretrib Rapture Diehards," "Appendix F: Thou Shalt Not Steal" (exposing plagiarism in writings by Ryrie, Falwell, LaHaye etc.!) etc. The dispies know the end is near (for them) so they're over-milking their cash cow before it kicks the bucket! MacPherson, BTW, had similar experiences. After studying a few years at Wheaton, he transferred to the old Biola in downtown L.A. in the 1950's and was kicked out two weeks before the end of the school year because he asked too many embarrassing questions about the imminent zapture. (This upset his mother so much she died a few days after he was raptured off the campus!) Just thought you'd like to know how Christlike and balanced the 176-year-old British-originated pretrib nonsense really is - but the Brits themselves have long since "seen the light" and largely abandoned the view that American merchandisers have taken up and been taken up with since then! J.E.
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