COME INTO MY CLOSET! PART 4
Or, Battling Presbyterians
So I finished my coursework at Wheaton Graduate School in August, 1977 and married Roz a couple of weeks later. We spent two years living in Glen Ellyn where I served as youth pastor at the Evangelical Covenant Church. That’s where I began to wise up about denominations and seminaries. Let me say this succinctly: They had no lifestyle rules there. I went to their seminary at North Park for a year because I thought I might like to stay in the Covenant. What I didn’t realize was that the Covenant might not want me. The senior pastor was forced out and I was toast. We packed up and moved into Grandma Palermo’s house in Melrose Park. (Did I mention Roz was Italian?) And Roz was expecting Aaron.
I applied to and was accepted at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in Deerfield, IL where I began studies in October, 1979. I was living in Melrose Park, attending classes full-time up in Deerfield, and working full-time as a youth pastor in Medinah. (Google a map of the Chicago burbs to see how much driving that entailed.)
I LOVED TEDS! I liked almost all of my profs. Notice the “almost” in the sentence. In my first semester I had to take Eschatology, the doctrine of the end times. You will not believe who my prof was for that class. Dr. Paul…wait for it again…a little longer… this is going to kill you… Feinberg! (May he rest in peace.) Yep! The son of dear old Dr. Charles Feinberg from my Talbot days! This guy hated me! He had dispensational eschatology running in his veins! But this time I had the advantage! TEDS doesn’t require any specific position on the end times and I could say whatever I wanted to! I took out all my frustrations on Dr. Paul. I just tortured the poor guy! (Real mature, I know.) I would offer some bizarre idea on a regular basis and he would just stand in the front huffing and puffing and sputtering and then just burst out, “Moorhead, you’re just…you’re just….WRONG!”
TEDS was where I started battling with Presbyterians. I loved these guys. Really! We would go out to an Irish Pub after classes and light up our pipes and cigars and argue theology for hours and hours over dark pints of ale. They, of course, were Calvinists and I was still an Arminian. I knew they were wrong but I liked arguing with them and I think they saw me as a likely target for conversion.
We had a famous guest lecturer at this time who shall remain nameless. He was a frighteningly brilliant man who was teaching American Church History. He too was a Presby. (If you didn’t already know that, you could figure it out because he had a pipe in his briefcase!) I was intimidated by this guy’s genius. He would walk up and down the rows of desks while he lectured. Once he whirled around on his heel and glared down at me with those bushy eyebrows and growled, “Mr. Moorhead, what was the cause of the Second Great Awakening?” I hemmed and hawed and began to talk about sociological, economic, and cultural conditions in the early 19th century and he just cut me off. (This time I knew I was really wrong!) I’ll never forget his words, “No, Mr. Moorhead. The Holy Spirit caused the Second Great Awakening.” Good Calvinist! The Presbys were killing me!
It was late one night at my dining room table in Melrose Park. Roz and Aaron were sleeping and I was writing an exegetical treatise on Ephesians 1 and 2. I came to 2:1, “As for you, you were dead in trespasses and sins…” My brain woke up and panic struck. “Dead? It can’t mean DEAD. It must mean something else. Sick. Wounded. Diseased. If it means dead, then…” I frantically got out my lexicons and concordances and desperately tried to find another meaning of the word somewhere, ANYWHERE, in the entire New Testament. Not a chance. I realized what that meant. If I was spiritually dead then my coming to spiritual life was solely and completely a work of God. I saw it, “God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ Jesus.” (2:4, 5)
Remember my sworn oath from undergraduate days at Wheaton? No matter what anybody else believes or thinks, I will build my own theology from the Bible myself. My God! I was a Calvinist! I was becoming a Presbyterian! My Presby buddies bought the next afternoon.
To be continued…
Next: Can’t I PLEASE Be a Presbyterian?
So I finished my coursework at Wheaton Graduate School in August, 1977 and married Roz a couple of weeks later. We spent two years living in Glen Ellyn where I served as youth pastor at the Evangelical Covenant Church. That’s where I began to wise up about denominations and seminaries. Let me say this succinctly: They had no lifestyle rules there. I went to their seminary at North Park for a year because I thought I might like to stay in the Covenant. What I didn’t realize was that the Covenant might not want me. The senior pastor was forced out and I was toast. We packed up and moved into Grandma Palermo’s house in Melrose Park. (Did I mention Roz was Italian?) And Roz was expecting Aaron.
I applied to and was accepted at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in Deerfield, IL where I began studies in October, 1979. I was living in Melrose Park, attending classes full-time up in Deerfield, and working full-time as a youth pastor in Medinah. (Google a map of the Chicago burbs to see how much driving that entailed.)
I LOVED TEDS! I liked almost all of my profs. Notice the “almost” in the sentence. In my first semester I had to take Eschatology, the doctrine of the end times. You will not believe who my prof was for that class. Dr. Paul…wait for it again…a little longer… this is going to kill you… Feinberg! (May he rest in peace.) Yep! The son of dear old Dr. Charles Feinberg from my Talbot days! This guy hated me! He had dispensational eschatology running in his veins! But this time I had the advantage! TEDS doesn’t require any specific position on the end times and I could say whatever I wanted to! I took out all my frustrations on Dr. Paul. I just tortured the poor guy! (Real mature, I know.) I would offer some bizarre idea on a regular basis and he would just stand in the front huffing and puffing and sputtering and then just burst out, “Moorhead, you’re just…you’re just….WRONG!”
TEDS was where I started battling with Presbyterians. I loved these guys. Really! We would go out to an Irish Pub after classes and light up our pipes and cigars and argue theology for hours and hours over dark pints of ale. They, of course, were Calvinists and I was still an Arminian. I knew they were wrong but I liked arguing with them and I think they saw me as a likely target for conversion.
We had a famous guest lecturer at this time who shall remain nameless. He was a frighteningly brilliant man who was teaching American Church History. He too was a Presby. (If you didn’t already know that, you could figure it out because he had a pipe in his briefcase!) I was intimidated by this guy’s genius. He would walk up and down the rows of desks while he lectured. Once he whirled around on his heel and glared down at me with those bushy eyebrows and growled, “Mr. Moorhead, what was the cause of the Second Great Awakening?” I hemmed and hawed and began to talk about sociological, economic, and cultural conditions in the early 19th century and he just cut me off. (This time I knew I was really wrong!) I’ll never forget his words, “No, Mr. Moorhead. The Holy Spirit caused the Second Great Awakening.” Good Calvinist! The Presbys were killing me!
It was late one night at my dining room table in Melrose Park. Roz and Aaron were sleeping and I was writing an exegetical treatise on Ephesians 1 and 2. I came to 2:1, “As for you, you were dead in trespasses and sins…” My brain woke up and panic struck. “Dead? It can’t mean DEAD. It must mean something else. Sick. Wounded. Diseased. If it means dead, then…” I frantically got out my lexicons and concordances and desperately tried to find another meaning of the word somewhere, ANYWHERE, in the entire New Testament. Not a chance. I realized what that meant. If I was spiritually dead then my coming to spiritual life was solely and completely a work of God. I saw it, “God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ Jesus.” (2:4, 5)
Remember my sworn oath from undergraduate days at Wheaton? No matter what anybody else believes or thinks, I will build my own theology from the Bible myself. My God! I was a Calvinist! I was becoming a Presbyterian! My Presby buddies bought the next afternoon.
To be continued…
Next: Can’t I PLEASE Be a Presbyterian?
11 Comments:
Bravo! Better than the last! Tell us, when do you sequester yourself at Wartburg Castle and translate the entire New Testament into German while papist thugs prowl the countyside searching for you?
(Sorry. I got carried away in the moment. Be not offended.)
Your tale is gripping.
I am be-gripped.
Please do continue!
As I was telling the LW yesterday morning, I imagine somebody from my blog going to yours and, after a little reading, concluding we were all raised in the Dark Ages.
All these people being burned at the stake over when they believed Christ would return...Before or after...and whatnot.
I firmly believe the Book of Revelations was written about the time in which the author was living.
I feel it's been conclusively argued. Hence, all this bloodletting is for naught. All Hail Naught!
(Whoops! When's my public burning?)
Beautiful! I am experiencing a born again Presby moment. WoSC
I would like to buy the movie rights to this story, but I want to add the scene where you were driving limos around Chi-Town and I want to spend more time at Victoria Station counting the tips and those fateful words to Yakima Sister and myself, "When you get to Long Beach be sure to look up my family"...which has led to a lifetime of (sorry, I'm running out of time).
Yak: My young wife thinks I'm so old that she believes I knew Dr. Luther! She keeps asking me if I was at the Diet of Worms while I keep asking her what kind of diet she has me on!
SC: Your view of the Revelation and mine are frighteninly similar. More on that soon.
WoSC: Thank you for your kind comments.
YB of SC: The limo story can now be told. The statute of limitations has expired. But it is still about three years away in the story. I don't remember the scene counting tips at Victoris Station! Is that where I said those fated words?
I also worked at VS and it occures to me that YB did not. In fact I never saw him work anywhere our entire time at WDOWLF! (Wheaton Dear Old Wheaton Live Forever!). Is that because he was scamming off his dear father's gas money or is it because the funds for the SC's education were diverted to the YB after the controversial switch to a secular institution?
Note to self: Send large check to MM to invest for me. What better person to safeguard my nestegg?
Do the words "Bob Horsley's" ring a bell, anyone? Yes, it was a small chain of mens clothing stores that employed me during my 3rd year of college. I did work, it damaged my ability to have fun and it caused my grades to go down a couple of notches. And, worst of all, there were no tips to count. But, it may have helped me earn the title "best dressed", an honor that I shared with Jim Bowen (hope I'm spelling his last name correctly).
You know, Mr. Yak called me today and asked, "Do you ever remember the YB of the SC working? Ever?"
"You mean back in college?" I asked.
"Yeah, back at Wheaton" he replied.
"Are you kidding me?" I exclaimed. "The YB work? He doesn't work NOW!"
Mrs. Yak
Hey YB!
I remember Bob Horsley's! There was one in downtown Wheaton and one in Glen Ellyn, right? You got this discount on clothes there and you got me a really nice cream colored windbreaker there that I wore for years! Thanks for the discount!
I also scooped ice cream in the dining hall during my freshman year along side my future x-girlfriend, Nancy Kraftson. I would take my paycheck and spend all of it at 31 Flavors.
1979 in my parallel life on the west coast I was getting ready to marry my 1st smoking husband.He was also a Wheaton grad, dear to all your hearts, the very brilliant and passionate Rich Foster. He told me how he smoked on campus at Wheaton by turning the cigarette up backwards in his hand. (Gloved in winter) He apparently had seen a picture of me in The Shilohman's dorm and remembered me later when he came west and hung out at Westmont.In fact it was this very marriage that sealed my fate to become truley addicted to my Carltons and join the Smoking Christians. (I know what your'e 'thinking Carlton's what a
wimp, you call yourself a SC?)I don't think it's the amount of tar and nicotine, it's the unfailing addiction that counts.
SYS
P.S. The Shilohman came back to the Baptist Church of our childhood and stood up in our wedding.YB there also.
S
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