Now this one caught my attention. In a recent edition of Times Literary Supplement Tim Lewens reviews Daniel C. Dennett’s recent book on the nature of humor, Inside Jokes: Using Humor to Reverse-Engineer the Mind.[1] It caught my attention because Dennett is an atheist, which I think uniquely handicaps him in trying to understand humanity in general, and the comic dimension of humanity in particular.

Lewens notes three main theories of humor. Superiority theories “say that humor illustrates the inferiority in some respect of the joke’s butt” so that one laughs when one feels (at least a bit) superior about someone or something else. Release theories claim that humor provides “a sort of relief from build-up of nervous tension.” Incongruity-resolution theories “assert that humorous situations involve the presentation of an incongruity that is subsequently involved.” Dennett and company offer a version of this theory, arguing that humor is that “we find things funny when our expectations are overturned.”

The “expectations overturned” theory offered in Inside Jokes builds upon three principles. First, humor “requires committed expectations that are subsequently overturned.” Something is funny when it does not fit with the normal rhyme and rhythm of one’s day, and the expectations that come with it. Second, the overturning of expectations must ‘not be accompanied by any (strong) negative emotional violence.’ That is, there is a point at which funny crosses the line into “not funny.” Third, humor “requires that our expectations are swiftly overwhelmed.” Those with a quick wit tend to get more laughs than those who describe a humorous experience with long-winded, plodding, and pedantic prose (get it).

Lewens reflects upon Inside Jokes and offers several strengths and weaknesses this theory. He argues that its strengths are the importance placed on comic timing and shared-knowledge–something isn’t funny if no one knows what the person trying to be funny is talking about. Its weaknesses, though, are in the button-downed approach to humor: it may be too cognitive-based. Is there room in this cognitive theory for slap-stick or even the juvenile side of humor?  Some things are funny because they fit within a conversation, book, show, or film that intends to be funny. That is, Inside Jokes may ignore the genre of humor itself for the sake of a theory of how it works.

In response, I’ll agree with Dennett & Co. that the comic dimension of human existence is captured best by an incongruity-resolution theory of some sort. However, I’ll depart from Dennett & Co. by offering an additional theological insight: laughter is redemptive. Laughter is best understood within a Christian theological framework because it is one of God’s gifts to a fallen world.

In his book Redeeming Laughter, sociologist Peter Berger laughter is universal, that it is a signal of transcendence, and that it is redemptive because it makes life in a fallen world easier to bear.[2] He further argues that humor is best understood in terms of incongruity and resolution.

Where does the incongruence lie? Berger notes that most or all humor revolves around anthropological or ontological incongruence. In an instance of anthropological incongruence, we recognize that we are incongruent with ourselves. We are the only animals capable of standing outside of ourselves, and we live in the tension of being able to do so. In an instance of ontological incongruence, we laugh when we notice our location in the universe. The comic provides us laughter and, in so doing, presents briefly a world without pain.

Our recognition that we are incongruent with ourselves and our longing for another world (one without pain) can be made sense of most fully by a Christian theological framework, one in which God’s redemption extends to God’s (incongruent) imagers but also to his (fallen) cosmos. When we laugh at ourselves and at our location in this painful world, we have a brief respite from the painful realities of life in after the Fall. Our humor is proleptic, anticipating the new heavens and earth to come. As Helmut Thielicke once observed, if humor was given a place in theology, it would be under eschatology.

Just for Fun: The 2011 Ig Nobel Prize Winners

Just when you thought you’d seen it all, having been amused by the inanity of some theology dissertation or religion blog, the Ig Nobel Foundation comes along and raises the bar on inanity. The Ig Nobel prizes are given by Annals of Improbable Research which honors “achievements that first make people laugh, and then make them think.” Don Troop writes an article on this year’s Ig Nobel prize winners in The Chronicle of Higher Education (Oct 7, 2011).

Troop headlines the article with an exploration of John R. Perry’s Ig Nobel prize for his article on “How to Procrastinate and Still Get Things Done,” in which he argues that “the procrastinator can be motivated to do difficult, timely, and important tasks, as long as these tasks are a way of not doing something more important.” Dr. Perry is an emeritus professor of philosophy at Stanford University. Troop reports that “Perry advises procrastinators to make a list of the many things they hope to accomplish, and then place a goal like ‘Learn Chinese’ at the very top. ‘You have to have good self-deceptive skills,’ he said. ‘That’s key.’”

Other Ig Nobel prize winners include:

Anna Wilkinson (University of Lincoln) and co-authors, for their paper, “No Evidence of Contagious Yawning in the Red-Footed Tortoise,” Current Zoology (2011)

Arturas Zuokas (Mayor of Vilnius, Lithuania) “for demonstrating that the problem of illegally parked luxury cars can be solved by running them over with an armored tank.”

Makoto Imai (Shiga University of Medical Science) and co-authors for their research demonstrating “the ideal density of airborne wasabi (a pungent horseradishlike condiment) to awaken sleeping people in case of a fire or other emergency, and for applying this knowledge to invent the wasabi alarm”

Luk Warlop (Catholic University of Louvain, Belgium) and other researchers for their multiple papers “demonstrating that people make better decisions about some kinds of things, but worse decisions about other kinds of things, when they have a strong urge to urinate.” Papers published in Psychological Science (May 2011) and Neurology and Urodynamics (Jan 2011). Seriously.

Daryll T. Gwynne (University of Toronto-Mississauga) for his discovery “that certain kinds of beetles mate with certain kinds of Australian beer bottles.” Australian Journal of Entomology (1983).

Karl Halvor Teigen (University of Oslo), for his article “Is a Sigh ‘Just a Sigh’? Sighs as Emotional Signals and Responses to a Difficult Task,” in Scandanavian Journal of Psychology (2008).

This is not, I repeat not, a parody. I’m hoping that this research is helpful in some way for somebody, but until that can be proven, I don’t see the need for it any more than I do for wrapping my head in asbestos or wearing a tutu.

Only a person with a petrified diaphragm could fail to laugh out loud at Kerry Soper’s “RateMyProfessor’sAppearance.com” in the September 17 (2010) issue of The Chronicle Review. In the brief little satire, Soper refers to one of the “rate your professor” websites which allows students to rate their professor’s class performance as well as their appearance. The student is allowed to place an icon of a chili pepper beside a professor who is particularly good looking. Soper bemoans the fact that “it is unfair that only the few youthful, freakishly good-looking faculty members among us get all of those chili-pepper accolades” and proposes that the students also be allowed to reward their professors with any of twelve “consolation icons.”

Soper’s real game is to poke a little fun at university culture and the eccentricities it produces. So, just for fun, I thought I’d mention a few of Soper’s icons and their descriptions (several of which would not find an analog on an SBC seminary campus, you’ll notice) for those who would like to take a stroll down (college) memory lane.

One of Soper’s icons is The Pocket Protector, representing a professorial style that I suspect is represented on every college and seminary campus. In clicking on this metaphorical icon, a student is “congratulating a professor on being unabashedly (or unconsciously) nerdy in his or her appearance: ‘It’s clear that you just don’t care, and that’s awesome. We get a kick out of your functional polyester slacks; limp, faded shirts; and grimy, heavy-framed glasses. Don’t change! We feel comforted knowing that none of your valuable research and class-prep time is eaten up with frivolous concerns over wearing same-colored socks, changing your pants every day, or taking any extra time to match up the buttons with the proper buttonholes in that threadbare shirt.”

Another icon is The Bow Tie: “This is for professors determined to maintain an ivory-tower dress code established in a previous century. The student is saying, ‘Yes, that stuffy little bow tie looks ridiculous on your portly frame; your frumpy oxford shirts are stained and frayed; and I have never seen a jacket that is so depressingly brown and textured. Nevertheless, your stereotypically fussy sense of style does help me feel like I’m getting my money’s worth as a college student.’”

A third icon may not find a referent on an evangelical seminary campus, but packs a wicked punch on most university campuses. By giving the professor The Espresso Cup, the student is saying, “I can see that you have a coherent style going on there: an array of black and gray clothing that has a vague, critical-theory hipness to it. And good job on finding the right kind of severe glasses and retro haircut to fit the look. Personally, I find the aesthetic dull and pretentious, but it is fun to see you strike self-conscious poses at the whiteboard, like some kind of morose poet in a Sears catalog for existentialists.”

A fourth professorial style is represented by The Half-Eaten Protein Bar: This is a student’s way of saying: “You may not be an especially attractive human being, but it does appear that you spend a lot of time at the gym attempting to get into shape. God job, in other words, for trying. Yes, you may have weird hair, lame clothes and dorky glasses, but I’m sure that somewhere under the extra 15 pounds you’ve accumulated over the years, there must be some nicely sculpted delts and pecs.”

A fifth style is what Soper calls The Pressed Flower: by choosing this icon, the student is saying that “it looks as if you may have been hip and attractive at one point in your life. And guessing from your big hair, lavender pantsuit with the puffy should pads, and bright pumps, that year was probably 1986. Thank you for preserving this historical look for future generations.” (Soper should be careful on this one, as he might find himself ducking to avoid an incoming pair of 1986 pumps aimed at his melon.)

A sixth icon is The Harmonica: This is for the securely upper-middle-class prof who enjoys wearing faux working-class garb: scuffed leather boots, aged denim, faded T-shirts, and Teamster-style plaid button-ups. Students can say: “We don’t get your fetish for all things Springsteen, and your folksy, left-leaning political references are about 40 to 50 years out of date, but we appreciate the laid-back, democratic ambiance you bring to the class. Indeed, it makes it difficult for you to say no to our requests for grade adjustments when you find out that we, too, are from humble, working-class roots.”

A final icon is The Power Tie: “This is for the prof who seems to belong (or perhaps has once belonged) in corporate America rather than academe. The student is saying, ‘You must be a misguided Republican adjunct-a refugee from the downsized business world-or some kind of weird, moonlighting administrator. How else to explain the worn-out black dress shoes, Brooks Brothers shirts with the frayed collars, silk ties that were fashionable maybe 10 years ago, and that heavily gelled hair? Nice job on keeping me distracted from your dry lectures with this fashion conundrum.’”

Well, I hope Soper’s icons provided a little bit of levity to your day. I left out five of his icons (The Pizza Slice, The Lump of Tofu, The Cassava Root, The Pina Colada with a Little Umbrella, and The Crystal) and I cannot imagine how many extra icons our readership could provide based on their college careers. However, I am confident that the seven icons bring all of us some retrospective clarity to our former lives as college students and bring some of us present-day clarity about ourselves and our colleagues.

You may not know this, but most of our contributors have personal websites in addition to Between the Times. All of the websites offer a number of resources, and many of them have blogs.

Of course the reason most people read BtT is for Dr. Akin’s articles, but did you know he also has a personal website with hundreds of sermons, Bible studies, and other resources? Check out DanielAkin.com, but remember not to pass off one of Dr. Akin’s pulpit gems as your own. Congregations can spot a contraband Akin sermon a mile away.

Most of you are probably already aware that two of our contributors, Ed Stetzer and J.D. Greear, are really rockstar bloggers who subcontract with us from time to time. In fact, Ed often claims to actually run the Obama Administration, General Electric, and Midwestern Seminary from his personal website. J.D. isn’t quite so bold, but he does occasionally stir up controversy at his blog.

Alvin Reid has been blogging for quite a while, and we all agree that he has the most sophisticated website of any of our contributors. With audio, blogging, and even free E-books, this website has it all. If the 1950s ever make a comeback, they won’t know what to do with all of Alvin’s technology.

Some of our contributors have just launched personal websites in the past few months. Ken Keathley blogs at Theology for the Church; Ken’s just tickled pink that God has ordained a world where he gets to write about Molinism and other theological topics near and dear to his heart. While not a regular contributor, Steve McKinion’s been around enough lately that giving a shout out to Gospel-Centered Living just seems like the Christian thing to do. Be sure to take note of Steve’s scholarly sidebar picture.

I’m the most recent BtT contributor to add a personal website, thus returning to my pre-2008 roots as a solo blogger. One Baptist Perspective is not nearly as cool as Alvin’s website, but then church historians aren’t nearly as cool as evangelism professors. It’s our little cross to bear.

Now I know what you are thinking–what about Bruce Ashford? It’s a good question. I originally didn’t think he had a personal blog, but after doing a Google search I found Bruce’s website. While the writing isn’t always the most sophisticated, Bruce does get more traffic than the rest of us. Even Ed.

(Administrator’s note: For posterity’s sake, we thought it was a good idea to add a disclaimer that this is an April Fool’s Day joke. We don’t want future readers who may come across this post to conclude otherwise.)

Dear Readers,

Southeastern Seminary has been a key part of my life for about fifteen years. With the exception of a two year stint overseas, I have been a student, professor, and administrator at SEBTS for most of my adult life. It has been a good ride. But like all good things, it must come to an end.

Last week I tendered my resignation to President Akin, effective June 30. Though I love teaching, I have long felt that I am neglecting my primary calling. The Lord has given me a gift, and I can no longer hide it under a bushel. Beginning July 1, I am launching a new ministry called Missional Yodeling. My hope and prayer is that this ministry will help impact one of the unreached and underserved people groups in America-yodelers.

I’ve struggled with this calling for years. For a time I thought about leaving SEBTS to become a gospel mime, but the Holy Spirit simply refused to move through my fingers. It’s all the same; when I met with my pastor, J. D. Greear, he advised me not to go the miming route because “mimes are creepy.” Frankly, I think the advice says more about J. D.’s neuroses than the practice of miming itself, but I usually take my pastor’s advice. I also batted around the idea of asking Alvin Reid if I could travel around with him and play the electric organ in his worship band, but figured he’d tell me that would be too much like a comeback of the 1950s SBC for his tastes.

Most of my Between the Times colleagues have taken the news pretty well. Dr. Akin was disappointed, but he confided that he too has the spiritual gift of yodeling and wrestles with the same calling. (I already suspected this-yodelers can sense the gift in others.) Ed Stetzer asked if I’d coauthor a pair of books with him on Missional Yodeling and Comeback Yodeling. David Nelson told me that yodeling was fine for evangelistic purposes, but I shouldn’t do it in a worship service because it would remind some worshipers of being in the Switzerland section at Epcot Center. Ken Keathley warned me that some would mock my gift, but I shouldn’t shrink back because God has sovereignly willed a world where I would freely choose to become a yodeler. Nathan Finn said he really wasn’t that surprised with my decision, though he did make some crack about lederhosen and Ricola. Then he asked if he could have all my books, since “yodelers are like recreation ministers and don’t need any books.”

I covet your prayers as I transition to this strategic, Great Commission ministry. For those of you who, like my wife and parents, are worried that I will not be able to support my family during this transition, please know that I do have a back-up plan. I have a standing offer from Heidi and the Yodelers to join their crime-fighting team if my ministry falls through.

If any of you would like to have me come and talk about Missional Yodeling at your church, small group, or Kiwanis Club, just leave a comment on this post.

Sincerely,

Bruce Riley Ashford

Much is said about cultural relevance among evangelicals. This is, of course, not new. As a new believer in my twenties I recall then “cutting edge” pastors speaking of cultural relevance. I recall them often being criticized by those older and grayer. That was in the 1980s and those pastors are now the graying figures of the SBC. And another generation now is speaking of the need to be culturally relevant.

The need for Christians to communicate effectively in the culture in which they live is self-evident. The extent to which being “culturally relevant” aids such communication is a matter of long-standing dispute. That may depend on what one means by “culturally relevant” and, more importantly, depends on possessing a well-formed theory of contextualization.

Those who know me understand that I think we do a pretty poor job of contextualization in the United States, either by being cultural gluttons or by being cultural anorexics. We either imbibe our culture uncritically, or we assume a separatist posture, either of which typically renders our witness ineffective. But I don’t intend to work all that out here. I do want to suggest a note of caution about the pursuit of cultural relevance: You may want to think about how you’ll look years later when you attempt cultural relevance today. This may give you some perspective on things, and may keep you from being “time-bound” in your rush to be relevant. There is something to be said, after all, for timelessness, especially when it comes to the gospel.

Some friends helped me think about this when we learned recently that Stryper is releasing a new album. I hope this goes well for them. That news reminded me of this. Which reminded me of cultural relevance and the benefit of hindsight. Yes, there is something to be said for timelessness.

Where I live it is hard to escape it. It is, to employ one of those expensive words, ubiquitous. It is impossible to escape. “It” is the practice of Christians who display silly sayings on church signs.

It isn’t unusual that a Christian would wish to say something. After all, our faith is rooted in revelation. Our God is the speaking God who calls his people to speak after him. That Christians speak, then, is not unusual. That they speak in the manner some do via signs is unfortunate. In fact, I think that many well-meaning Christians and churches are actually saying precisely what they don’t want to say through the use of sayings on church signs. (And in cases where they do want to say what these messages say, this is another problem altogether.) To speak as we should, in any instance, we should consider how the manner in which we speak comports with the gospel.

I am reminded about this penchant for Christians to speak their minds as I drive to work each day, since I pass a church that has a sign that is usually adorned with some snippy saying. And, as I work in a seminary community, there are a disproportionate number of vehicles with “Christian” bumper stickers on them. In this post I’ll tackle the issue of church signs and then in another post I’ll address the bumper sticker phenomenon.

As I see it, church signs fall into several different categories, ranging from the use of Scripture verses to the outright ridiculous or insulting. Some make theological statements, while others dispense social or political commentary in some form. Some are witty and some are, well, just stupid.

This morning “my church” (that’s how I like to think about it, or maybe it’s “my sign”) posted the following: You think it’s hot now. Escape the heat with Jesus. This is similar to other signs about hell. There is the classic, Turn or burn, along with Make your eternal reservation now – smoking or non-smoking? and a couple of other summer classics, Warning! Exposure to the Son may prevent burning and another Christological tour de force, Want to avoid burning? Use “Son” block.

If Christians really want to make the biblical point about hell, isn’t humor the way to go? Wouldn’t Jesus have turned the doctrine into fodder for a stand-up routine if they had a comedy club in Jerusalem? Perhaps not. These sayings have the advantage of not only distancing the doctrine of hell from the gospel itself (Don’t you dare suggest that mere mention of Jesus constitutes the gospel, otherwise I can think of some pretty profane folk who preach the gospel more than any Christian I know), they magnify Christ by making him analogous to sunscreen. Nice.

Consider some other church sign classics:

This is CH–CH. What is missing? U R

My boss is a Jewish Carpenter

Life is fragile – handle with prayer.

God said it. I believe it. That settles it.

The first is just silly. It was silly the first time I saw it, and it continues to be each of the thousand other times I’ve seen it. I’m not even sure what point the Jewish Carpenter sign is making. The handle with prayer, again, just comes off as silly. And the timeless God said it. I believe it. That settles it. is a theological mess. While God’s word certainly settles an issue, it is settled whether or not you believe it. At least with respect to the occupants of cars who drive by your sign.

Here are a few others that are plain silly:

Prayer: Unlimited access to God with no roaming fees.

Are you wrinkled with burden? Come on in for a faith lift!

Rapture: The only way to fly.

These are not just silly. I think, more importantly, they communicate virtually nothing to the sign’s intended audience. If it’s non-believers who are the target, you may as well put up sayings in Russian or Japanese (or pick a language). Passersby would understand those signs about as much as they understand our typical displays.

But it gets worse. We also put up signs that are insulting. My favorite example of this is: God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. That’s just great. We reduce the Scriptures’ treatment of a weighty subject like homosexuality with a line that is both insulting and humorless. Do you really think that those who struggle with homosexuality are attending these churches in droves and having their lives transformed? Such a sign does nothing, absolutely nothing, to convey the gospel to anyone. It may make you feel better about loathing homosexuals, but it does nothing for the sake of the gospel.

Finally, here are some signs I’ve seen recently that have obvious theological problems. It is troublesome that we could pack such theological garbage into such small sayings:

We’re too blessed to be depressed.

Never run faster than your guardian angel can fly.

Do your best and let Jesus do the rest.

God does what few men can do – forgets the sins of others.

Let me take these one by one, to be clear about what I mean.

We are too blessed to be depressed: Finding the grace of God in Christ does not assure you that you will not face struggles and, yes, even depression, in this life. Read the Psalter. I realize that some might like this little saying, and may walk around with smiles pasted on their faces as if there are no worries in this world. But they didn’t get that from Christ, and that is not the result of walking according to the Spirit. That is a fabrication that has no association with Christianity. So, please, write a self-help book, or perhaps a pop song, but don’t sell this as the gospel.

Never run faster than your guardian angel can fly: Does the Bible teach that we have a guardian angel? And do all angels have wings? And, if they do, would it be possible for me to outrun a flying angel? Hmm.

Do your best and let Jesus do the rest: A popular sentiment (and it rhymes too!), but it’s antithetical to the gospel, which clearly teaches there is nothing we do to help ourselves, and that our best is nothing more than filthy rags. And, if the point of this sign is about sanctification, then it is a confused theory of sanctification that somehow displaces the primacy of grace with human effort. Be very careful here.

God does what few men can do – forgets the sins of others. No, God does not. An omniscient God does not forget sins. The Bible nowhere teaches this and the idea is theologically incoherent. If God forgets sins, then He believes something false about those humans whose sins He forgets. And if He believes something false, then what god is He? Not the God of the Bible. Be very, very careful here.

So, yes, these signs may amuse, but they irritate me. More than that, we can do better than this. The gospel is too precious to sully it with such silly sayings. Just stop it. Put up information about the next potluck. Or put up a Scripture text that works well pulled from its larger context.* Or, don’t have a message board on your sign. For those who remain unconvinced and who insist on continuing to put such sayings on church signs, let me assure you, those who do not know Christ do not seek such a sign.

—————-

*I’ve recently learned that by posting a verse a day on your marquee, passersby could read the entire Bible in just 85.2 years. If that seems too long for you, you could do a verse for the morning and evening drive and cut the time in half (42.6 years). Imagine what this would do for the economy what with the rise of full-time Ministers of Sign at our churches. For those who just want to do the New Testament, you can do a verse a day (according to our crack statistical team, led by Ryan Hutchinson, who tells me these numbers are not adjusted for leap years) in 21.8 years or 10.9 years at two verses per day. And if those inclined toward Gideon would like to do the New Testament and Psalms, we’re looking at 28.5 and 14.3 years respectively.

I Wanna Go to Heaven

If the golden streets were stainless steel
If the gates of pearl had a plastic feel
If the marriage supper was a Happy Meal,
I’d still want to go there

If the river of life was a babbling brook,
If the great white throne had a dingy look
If the book of life was a comic book
I’d still want to go there

I want to go to heaven
I want to go to heaven
Even if it wasn’t all the bible said it will be
I’d still want to go to heaven
I want to go to heaven
I want to go to heaven, if Jesus is all I ever see

If the angel’s horn was an old kazoo
If the city foursquare was a 2 by 2
If my mansion was a room with a terrible view
I’d still want to go there

The millenial reign was a couple of weeks,
If the jasper walls were a shade of pink
If the only music ever heard was N Sync
I’d still want to go there

I want to go to heaven
I want to go to heaven
Even if it wasn’t all the bible said it will be
I’d still want to go to heaven
I want to go to heaven
I want to go to heaven, if Jesus is all I ever see

I want to go to heaven
I want to go to heaven
Even if it wasn’t all the bible said it will be
Lord, I want to go to heaven
I want to go to heaven
I want to go to heaven, if Jesus is all I ever see

I want to go to heaven, if Jesus is all I see

This installment is the last one in which I deal with the dangers of seminary (although I plan to follow up with a post speaking to the many positive aspects of seminary). I am certainly not saying that there are no more dangers. In fact, more than a few of you have pounded my inbox with suggestions for additional “dangers” that could be mentioned. Some of the suggestions were serious, but most of them were…not so much.

Actually, I have collated many of your suggestions and expressed your sentiments under the heading, “the danger of being THAT GUY.” Often, THAT GUY is the one who has only recently come to a new theological position and is positively obnoxious about it. You know, the guy who nobody wants to have a conversation with because of the axe he has to grind. A lot of attention has been given to “cage stage” Calvinists (these are freshly minted Calvinists who ought to be locked in a cage for a couple of years until they can stop referring to four-pointers as “quasi-Pelagian” and start uttering sentences that do not contain the phrase “the doctrines of grace”). But there are cage-stage anti-Calvinists too (and they can’t claim that God ordained them to be obnoxious).

And don’t forget the Contextual Seminarian (this guy is similar to the second type of dork to which I refer in an earlier post. He’s the guy with the wounded poet look, emerging church glasses, girl jeans, and a soul patch. And he doesn’t even have a prescription for the glasses). Or the “Courting Only” guy (I’d like to offer him a cold compress for his fevered brow). Or Mr. “Home-School Only” (If one more person at the SBC comes up to me and tells me that it is ungodly for me to send my kids to public school, I think I’m going to strangle him with a floral-patterned jumper).

Other times, THAT GUY is the one who can’t seem to keep his mouth shut in class. He is always pregnant with an inane question. Are you THAT GUY? If so, you are probably blissfully unaware. Did you know there is a Fantasy Seminary League? Are you aware that some of your fellow students choose the names of their favorite THAT GUYs at the beginning of the semester, and form their own Fantasy Seminary team? That’s right. Every time you start into another 4.5 minute question, the guy who picked you gets a point. If you ask three or four of those questions, he gets three or four points. If the teacher ignores you, reprimands you, or pokes a little fun at you, they get double points!

“Oh, no,” you opine. “I’m not THAT GUY.” Really? Well, here is a test: Do people groan and roll their eyes when you start showing off your knowledge, attempting to disguise it in the form of a question? Do you like to bring up your pet theories in every class, struggling to adapt them to interrogative form? Are you personally committed to uttering, in the form of a question, every stray thought you’ve conceived during the lecture? Do your questions start with the phrase, “But don’t you think that…?” Does your teacher get an odd look on his face when you raise your hand? Do your fellow students ever tell you that every time you talk in class they feel like a hamster swimming in a bucket of Thorazine? If you answered yes to any of those questions, you might be THAT GUY. And if you are, stop it. Stop it right now.

Still other times, THAT GUY is one who idolizes a particular man in the ministry. Usually, THAT GUY imports his idol’s interests, theological convictions, pulpit mannerisms, and sometimes even his clothing preferences. Take, for example, students who idolize John Piper (I call them “Pipettes”). When they preach, they try to imitate Piper’s intensity and earnest demeanor, and even his intonations, but instead they look like they are in great pain and are about to implode at any moment. But it is not just Piper. Our campuses have students who seek to impersonate any number of other ministry figures. When I first started preaching (waaaaaay back in 1993), I had discovered James Merritt’s sermon library and started preaching his messages to my youth. Verbatim. Soon, I discovered Adrian Rogers and started preaching his sermons. I tried to imitate his voice and intonations, and even the Adrian Rogers “chuckle” at the end of my (his) jokes. Seriously. Of course, there is nothing wrong with looking up to certain men and women who have walked with the Lord longer than we, and who have much to teach us. But any time we admire a man inordinately we are in trouble. Ultimately, we are called to emulate Christ (and not our heroes) and hold Him and his Word supreme (rather than some man’s theological system or methodological distinctives).

OK, enough of that. I hope that you are not offended by the warning not to be THAT GUY. I’ve tried to be candid, while staying on the nearside of disrespectful. On a more serious note, others suggested that I include the danger of burnout: Seminary brings with it many challenges. There are financial pressures, intellectual challenges, family responsibilities, and church commitments. It is not easy. Likely, you have never had to try to juggle a 30-hr. per week job, 12 hours of class, and 60 required books per semester at the same time that you try to love your family and serve your church. The real question here is how to juggle the multiple callings God has given you: family, church, and two workplaces (seminary and job). This challenge is not easily met, and it continues throughout life, but two insights are particularly helpful: First, recognize that faithfulness is not necessarily to be equated with excellence. Being faithful to your seminary studies is not the same thing as making As in your studies. This might be a season in life when the best thing for you to do is to make As at home and Bs and Cs at school. Second, recognize that there is a reason that the Lord gave us a day of rest. Enjoy your church’s fellowship and worship time, devote several hours to reading and reflecting upon Scripture, and if possible take a nap.

As for the dangers of seminary, this concludes my reflections. In the final installment, I will speak of tremendous assets of the seminary context, of the way in which it can be a catalyst for spiritual growth, theological maturity, and methodological creativity.

Dork: [dor'k] noun. USA pejorative slang for a quirky or socially inept person, or one who is out of touch with contemporary trends. Often confused with “nerd” and “geek,” but does not imply the same intelligence level.

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In this series of posts, I am dealing with the perils of the unique and sometimes bizarre world of seminary education. Most of the dangers of which I speak are dangers to which I have succumbed at one point another during my times as a student, teacher, or administrator. This post is no exception, as my friends can attest (and would eagerly affirm).

I would like to point out that seminary students in particular find themselves confronted with the danger of becoming dorks. That’s right. Seminaries often attract and produce pencil-necked geeks. These are guys who have lost themselves in parsings and prophecy charts, but have little awareness of their surroundings, and sometimes little or no ability to make conversation with ordinary American citizens. “No,” you opine, “I’m not one of those guys.” Really? Well, here’s a quiz. If you answer yes to any of these questions, you are a certified dork-in-training.

1. Do you know all about Cyril of Alexander and Johannes von Staupitz but are blissfully unaware of the existence of Dwight Schrute?

2. Are you able to immediately find your copy of Richard Baxter’s The Reformed Pastor amongst the 2,643 books in your library, but have no idea how to change the oil on your lawnmower?

3. Are you upset that I mentioned The Reformed Pastor in the last question because you thought I should have spotlighted Why I Am Not a Calvinist instead?

4. Do you wear a bowtie?

5. Do you have a moustache?

6. Do you own a searsucker suit?

7. Is your name David Nelson or Nathan Finn?

But there is another, and equally potent, way to become a big dork: try just a little too hard to be culturally savvy. In order to find an example of this path to dorkdom, I need to look no further than myself. For those of you who know me now, as a coat-and-tie-wearing pencil pusher (a dork of the first type), you might be surprised to know that this wasn’t always my style. Soon after becoming a “youth evangelist” in the mid-90s, I found myself needing to be a lot “cooler.” Before long, I could be found sporting wide-leg pants, fat belts, steel-toed boots, and enough faux-silver jewelry to make Scott Stapp blush. (If you don’t understand any of the ostensive referents in the previous sentence, I’d like to refer you back to the first category of ‘dork’ above.) I was workin’ it like Geoff Moore and the Distance. I fancied that I looked like the frontman of an indie rock band, or some other type of uber-cool cultural icon. But I didn’t. I looked like a Barney Fife double who had really bad luck on his latest trip to the Goodwill store. And I’m not alone. There are others. I’m thinking of any number of Seminary Bible jockeys who came to campus wearing penny loafers and golf shirts but who all of the sudden show up on campus complete with a pierced pre-frontal cortex, faux-hawk, slim jeans, and a little dust bunny on their chins.

So what is the point? The point is that we need to be in the world, but not of it. For some of us, we need to get our head out of our books each week long enough to be aware of our surroundings. We need to meet our neighbors and have conversations with them. We should make ourselves aware of the televisions shows, movies, and music that shape the hearts and minds of the people of this country. We should take a little bit of time to become acquainted with the major moral, social, and political debates of our time. If we don’t, we’ll be unaware of the language people speak and the culture they are consuming. Further, in a sense, we neglect our own humanity. To reject culture qua culture is to reject the God who made us to be cultural (artistic and scientific and social and political) beings. The danger is cultural anorexia.

For others of us, we should be careful lest we become uncritically like the broader culture. Underlying the television shows, music, and even the fashion trends in our country are producers, writers, and designers who do their work from within a particular worldview. If these shows, music, and trends are “the very air we breathe,” then it is likely that we are also influenced by the (nihilistic, relativistic, etc.) worldviews underlying them. If we do not consciously, carefully, and consistently keep watch over ourselves, we will find ourselves being consumed by the spirit of the age. We endanger our own humanity by not allowing Christ to conform us to His image. The danger is cultural gluttony.

Of course, seminary is not the only place where one faces the perils of cultural anorexia or gluttony. But it is a place that offers ample opportunity for the former, which I suppose is what drives some seminarians towards the latter. We seek to avoid the perils on either side by (1) as my former seminary professor put it, “allowing God’s Word to be the grid through which we filter the surrounding culture;” and (2) allowing others to provide correction when we err on one side or the other.

John 17:15: “I do not pray that You should take them out of the world, but that You should keep them from the evil one.”

Acts 17:22: “Then Paul stood in the midst of the Areopagus and said, ‘Men of Athens’….”