Since coming to England for my postgraduate, theological studies, I have come to the realisation that there needs to be a “suspension of belief” — that, in my writing, I cannot appeal to my biblical or doctrinal convictions as authoritative. To put it frankly, my beliefs don’t matter — the only thing that cuts it in the academia is rational logic.  This doesn’t mean that I should have no passion or practical applications or anything of that sort.  What it does mean is anything I say must be defendable and should be defended.  I must constantly navigate towards my thesis statement but I also must be dialectical and willing to bring to question all opinions, including those which I hold close.

What is at stake is one’s soul.  It has been said that “seminary” is like “cemetery” because so many people who have left it leave behind their faith.  But the counter-argument is that if you cannot be baptised by fire and survive, perhaps your faith really wasn’t that strong to begin with.  We must constantly challenge ourselves and our minds to grow and be refined.

At times I feel as though I want to think and write my thesis for the local congregation — afterall, theology must be rooted in the church.  Yet, I am also reminded time and time again that my audience, at least for this genre of writing, is not the congregation but the guild of academics.  It is a testing time but, as the Lord wills, His grace is sufficient.

One book I have come across that has been rather helpful is by Scott G. Brown entitled A Guide to Writing Academic Essays in Religious Studies (New York: Continuum, 2008).  Coming from my background, two quotes that I have greatly appreciated:

[A] strictly academic approach is not apt to shed light upon the ultimate questions of human existence.  But for pragmatic reasons, metaphysical investigations of religious truths are best conducted in places where all persons involve already agree upon a set of theological presuppositions, and that kind of consensus rarely occurs outside of academic communities that are based on religious affiliation, such as seminaries, Bible colleges…  In a context that is as religiously pluralistic as a public university, researchers cannot derive axioms from their faith, support their claims through appeal to revelation or dogma, or cite scripture as an authority that is above question.  Rather, they are obliged to limit themselves to theoretical assumptions, methods, forms of argument, and kinds of evidence that are open to scrutiny and challenge by anyone. (p. 5)

Academic [sic] essay writing is not a forum for defending personal or religious convictions or for disclosing one’s private thoughts. The writer of a research essay engages in the impersonal exercise of analysing a phenomenon in order to gain some rational understanding of its occurrence. The persuasiveness of the argument should therefore be logical rather than rhetorical, aimed at the intellect and not the heart. Appeals to the emotions or to religious values not only are out of place in academic writing but actually weaken one’s position, for by relying on these things one is tacitly acknowledging that the evidence does not provide sufficient strong support. (p. 10).

I don’t know why anybody would want to do a PhD.  Some people think people who are in PhD programs are smart.  I beg to differ.

I have been working on my research proposal since September.  5000 words due in April.

When people ask me about it, they wonder why it stresses me out.  Well, because in 5000 words you must state your topic and argue why your thesis holds any water.  Later, it gets revised and is used as the introduction to my 80,000 word dissertation.  But for the most part, you have to come up with something that nobody else has done before (you ever hear of the phrase, “There is nothing new under the sun”?), cover every angle of your argument, every possible critique to your argument, and have read enough to substantiate what you are proposing to do for the remaining two or three years of your life.

My supervisor has already read four different versions of my research proposal and heard me talk about quite a few different thesis topics.  Each time, he tears it apart.  On one hand, it is instructive and he gives very helpful criticism.  On the other hand, it is hard work.  It is emotionally draining.  I mean, I spend hours and hours trying to figure out what these random writers are trying to say and if what they say is “authoritative” or not and then spend hours and hours trying to frame my arguments on paper (or Pages, to be precise) only to get slaughtered for not thinking things through enough.

Its brutal.  Don’t do it.

First was the barrage of “Hail to the Gates!” articles I came across on Gizmodo.  Today, of course, marks the day of retirement for the Microsoft founder.  Though he is a lot less hip than Steve Jobs and has led a company whose products were just not as cool, you gotta give props to a guy that puts his fortune towards the world.  This is the parable of the 58 billion talents.  Though, if I were him, I would not name the foundation after myself…

Then there was this great article I came across about Legos!  Of course, some people know I have a childhood love for Legos.  But check out a few of these random tidbits from this article:

• Why is there a hole in the head of the mini-figs now? We added this hole on the top of the head just in case any kids got one of the heads stuck on their throat. That way they would be able to keep breathing.
• Why there are no black minifigs? When the minifigure was first introduced 30 years ago, it was given the iconic yellow skin tone to reflect the non-specific and transcendental quality of a child’s imagination. In 2002, as more licensed properties were added to the assortment, the decision was made to introduce ethnic and skin tones more in keeping with the actual characters and personalities who were being replicated. This included the introduction of black minifigures. However, these ethnic minifigures are only used in our licensed sets, all Lego playthemes continue to use the generic yellow face.
• What happens to all the bad pieces? Is there a Lego heaven? Do they recycle them? Due to the precision of the brick molding machines, there are very few “bad” pieces—only 18 elements in every million produced fail to meet the company’s high standards. Extra pieces or pieces from boxes that are caught on the line and identified as missing pieces or have boxes that are slightly damaged are used for donation boxes that are distributed to underprivileged children’s organizations around the world.

But finally I came across a great article that fell closer to my heart than technology or Legos.  It was written by a man named Jim Wallis, the president of Sojourners, a magazine with a mission “to articulate the biblical call to social justice, inspiring hope and building a movement to transform individuals, communities, the church, and the world.”  His article was about the North Campus of New York Theological Seminary located in the Sing Sing Correctional Facility in Ossining, New York.  Yes, in prison.  The article and some of the feedback he received is quite inspiring.  It gives a new meaning to “setting the captives free.”  About 70 inmates were getting a full seminary education while in jail.  One prisoner told Jim Wallis,

“Jim, most of us at Sing Sing come from just about four or five neighborhoods in New York City. It’s like a train. You get on the train in my neighborhood when you are nine or ten years old, and the train ends up here….at Sing Sing.” But this young man had experienced a spiritual conversion inside of that prison, and was now enrolled in the New York Seminary program training pastors to work inside the prison system and to go back and work in those neighborhoods from which they had come. After the session that night, the young man came up to me to say goodbye, looked me in the eye, and said, “When I get out, I am going to go back and stop that train.”

This is the message of the gospel: that lives enraptured by God may burst with a contagious hope to impact this world.