Pete Rollins Answers

Pete blogged about people's tendency to stay in churches even when they don't agree with how they are being run. It was a challenging post, but I was confused by his definitive point. Is the only option for those who don't agree to leave the church altogether, until they find a church with which they can agree on everything? My implication is that such a church doesn't exist, so it isn't much of an option.

I asked Pete that question in the comments. He responded in a new post today.

I really enjoy a lot of what he's said, including in particular:

The wager is that, by stepping into the unknown and having the courage to start something that one does not really have any idea about, something truly emancipatory may take place.

...a choice not between two positive alternatives but rather between one linguistic system and a step into the unknown.

I am saying that not knowing what ought to be done is to already know what ought to be done. In other words, ‘I do not know what I should do and I must step out and do it’! This is not then some commitment to do ‘church’ better by either improving it or starting a new one. For this reconfiguring will still be taking place in the very waters that sustains it. It is not a saying ‘no’ to one known in favour of another known, rather it involves saying ‘no’ to one known in favour of the unknown.

Go read the rest of his post to fully dig into it!

The Limits of Love

If you haven't heard by now, an Austrian man has confessed to holding his daughter captive in a basement dungeon for the past 24 years, while fathering seven children with her in the process.

The story, as it's being reported so far, is that Mr. Fritzl began abusing his daughter Elisabeth when she was 11 years old, finally drugging her and locking her downstairs when she was 18. Over the next 24 years, Fritzl continued his abuse by repeatedly raping his captive daughter, leading to the birth of seven children.

Of the seven children, one died at birth (Fritzl disposed of the body using the house furnace), three were taken care of by Fritzl and his wife, and three remained captive in the cell below, having never seen daylight until the dungeon was discovered last week.

The most recent reports explain that Fritzl could avoid prison entirely with a successful insanity plea. They go on to say that even if he is found guilty, the Austrian system will most likely provide a 15 year sentence at the maximum, reduced to 10 years for good behavior--less than half the amount of time Elisabeth spent in her horrific dungeon.

If Mr. Fritzl were to serve his 10 years in prison, make his way out of his country, and somehow show up at the door of my church, I honestly don't know what I'd do or how I'd react. When the door of my church says, "Come as you are" I have to wonder how far I'm willing to extend the invitation.

And Elisabeth herself--does anyone really expect her to forgive her father? I can't imagine how she could, but where's the line that separates the unforgiveable things from the forgiveable ones?

What About Seminary?

Here's me. I grew up in a 'Northern' Baptist congregation in Erie, PA. By the time I was in 6th grade I was getting involved in the youth group leadership. By my senior year I led the youth group as student leader (under guided yet trusting supervision from an amazing youth pastor) as well as the "Bible Club" at my large high school. You could say I was involved.

I left Erie and went to Penn State University to major in Religious Studies at a secular school. I can't explain why it was so important for me to do this at a time when everything I know about myself should have made me desire a Christian education, but there I was, taking courses on New Testament criticism taught by aggravated atheists. I spent four and a half years there, completing both a Religious Studies B.A. and a Sociology B.A. (I couldn't resist Roger Finke's Sociology of Religion course, and got hooked on the subject). And though a lot of things shifted and changed for me over that time, I never got any less passionate about pursuing the truth.

After graduating, I continued going to church for the sake of my desire to be a part of community worship. But the disconnect I felt in my relationships with Christians (old and new) and in the sermons I heard preached most Sunday mornings eventually wore me out, and my wife and I left. We took a year away from church, retreats, worship nights, seminars, sermons, pastors, baptisms, etc. But not from thinking.

A year later brought me to last October, when we got involved with a little church plant in Baltimore called The Light. We couldn't stay away from church forever, and the draw to be involved in Christ-centered community again finally got to be more powerful than the fear and dread that surrounded it. As we've gotten more involved, the passions I have for these issues have gotten more and more inflamed. I've been reading as many books as I can get my hands on, listening to sermons online, writing, talking to people, reading blogs and articles, and basically eating and breathing these things for the past 6 months.

Which brings me to a question I've come back to several times over this last half year. What do I want to do? I work in a research office, managing grants and contracts and budgets. I went to a meeting this morning for my department and heard them all talk about budget discrepancies, cost sharing, and NIH deadlines. I might as well have driven a spike through my eye socket and out the back of my skull. I know for certain I don't want to be here all my life, but they pay me twice a month and it's enough to live on. And that's pretty nice.

This is usually the point of this conversation when a lot of people say, "Well you have to do what makes you happy and alive -- so if x makes you happy and alive, you should drop everything and do x!" What makes me happy and alive is reading, writing, teaching, talking, and thinking about God, Christ, community, church, and people. Which provokes that same person to say, "Sounds like you want to be a pastor!" (This person uses a lot of exclamation points.) But something inside my stomach lurches 100 feet in the air at the thought of becoming a pastor. All I know is that I want to do those things as much as possible.

So what about seminary (see post title)? Should I go? Should I enroll in a part time program that I can go to while I work? Or better yet, do I need to go in order to do the things I want to do? Would it be really good for me to go, or would it end up being a waste? Will it allow me more freedom to do what I love or apply restrictions on me in a way that makes me crazy? Is it worth the time it will take and the money it would cost? Would it be better to get a Master's in something I'm interested in and just go from there? What if I'm scared to ever accept money from a church because I don't know how I feel about that, would that be the kind of feeling that should tip someone off that seminary isn't right for them?

Here's the biggest, "mainest" question: Why do people go to seminary for an M.Div.? Is it only when they know they want to become a pastor or other full-time minister?

Lots of questions. Comments, answers, cheers, jeers, and other responses are welcome.