Finding Your Way in Seminary: What to Expect, How to Thrive

Introduction

The world is bigger than our experience of it. Even if we have traveled to every continent, sailed every sea, and climbed every mountain, there is still more that we can learn about the world. If we have been good students of it, we have come to understand this truth: no matter how much we learn about our world, there is still more to discover.

The same is true for the church; it’s much bigger than our experience of it. No matter how diverse our background may be, and no matter how many years we have attended a church, the fullness of the church is more profound than our experience of it. It’s true that many churches hold a few things in common, but each community of faith has a history and set of relationships that shape its actions and life. If we have ever visited churches other than our own, we are quick to realize that there are hymns, prayers, practices, and preaching styles that are not like the ones in our home church.

We can be thankful that God is also bigger than our experience. Whether we have sought a relationship with God for years or we began yesterday, there is more to God than what we have read, heard, or come to believe. While some may say that they like what they know about God, I believe that all of us count on God being considerably more vast than our little ideas and thoughts.

These truths point to what I think makes theological education important in every age. It’s not that we need a theological education to do ministry. We need a theological education so that we can do ministry well and do it without relying solely on our limited experiences and ideas. If we haven’t studied how believers have struggled throughout the centuries with ideas of God’s judgment and God’s mercy, we are likely to minister solely out of our particular history. If we haven’t studied how our ancestors dealt with their own failures in faith, how will we know what we might do when we are seduced by the powers and principalities of this world?

A theological education does even more than help us to have a deeper knowledge of the world, the church, and God. It helps us know ourselves more thoroughly, because we too are bigger than what we know of ourselves. Praise God for that! Immersing oneself in theology is a holistic experience. Our body, mind, spirit, race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, economic situation, denominational affiliation, religious heritage, and nationality will all be included in the work. There are very few educational experiences that involve a person to this extent. Identifying our location in theological conversations is more crucial than we usually imagine. Our faith attests that God meets us where we are, not where we ought to be. If this is true, then a central task of our theological reflection is to carefully identify and understand just where we are in the journey of our lives.

Whether you decide to live on campus, commute to campus, or enroll in an online program, seminary is an experience of tremendous grace and challenge for those who are called to participate in it. This book is meant to help you consider, discern, and decide if pursuing a theological education is for you. While the book does offer perspectives informed by contemporary scholarship, it is primarily a practical guide to help you successfully navigate the discernment process, the application process, the degree program, and the job-search process.

There are many different types of programs where one can study theology. Not all of them are degree programs, and not all of them are accredited degrees. I suggest in chapters 2 and 3 what to think about as you consider your options. Some of you may not be ready to enter a graduate-degree program. There are shorter and less complex learning opportunities that you can explore. Look at a variety of seminaries and ask about the various types of programs they offer. You may find it helpful to begin with an introductory course in a lifelong learning program designed for adults.

Chapter 2 of this book concentrates on schools accredited by the Association of Theological Schools, referred to as ATS. Some programs are available that are not accredited by ATS. Some of them are very good, and new schools receive accreditation each year. Much of what I have written applies to nonaccredited schools and would be helpful when looking at those programs as well.

I limited my review of degree programs to ATS schools for two main reasons. First, accredited schools have to demonstrate on a regular basis to the public and to their institutional peers that they follow the best commonly held standards. Accreditation doesn’t mean that a school is perfect, but it does mean that it holds itself accountable. The second reason that I focus on ATS member schools is that if a student is interested in pursuing further education beyond the master’s level, graduating from an accredited school is important. Doctoral programs and other graduate programs prefer applicants who have succeeded in schools that follow the best practices in the field of theology and religion. Some denominations also require a theological degree from an ATS-accredited school.

The book has three basic movements. Chapters 1–3 are devoted to helping you figure out if going to seminary is the right thing for you at this moment of your life. Within the chapters you’ll find discernment exercises and things to consider when making your decision. Chapters 4–7 are devoted to helping you make the most out of your seminary experience. I’ve arranged the material around the three main dimensions of degree programs that support ministry in theologically related fields: what you need to know; what you need to be able to do; and what kind of person you need to be. Chapter 7 focuses on the experience of those who decide to enter theological studies while pastoring a church. I think much of what is discussed in this chapter, nonetheless, applies to most students in theological degree programs today. Chapter 8 will help you with the job-search process, including suggestions for creating a portfolio of your work, a résumé, and a cover letter. The chapter also walks you through the interview process and the negotiation of your employment agreement. Don’t wait until you are ready to graduate to read this chapter. Some of what you need to do to find a job after graduation begins during your first year of studies.

If you have picked up this book, it’s likely that you are ready to learn more about God and what it means to have faith in God. You may or may not consider yourself a person of faith, but you want to know more about what faith is and what it means to be faithful. Some of you believe that God is calling you into ministry. Most of you have someone in your life who has confirmed your yearning to know God, to learn more about God, or to respond to God’s calling. Pursuing a theological education will offer you incredible access to what people have thought, said, and debated about God. It will expose you to what followers have done in the name of God. At its core, however, seminary is an invitation to know God, the world, and yourself better. This book will help you get the most out your engagement with theological education.

I began my first theology degree at the age of twenty-two. Attending seminary enriched my relationship with God, expanded my understanding of God, and brought meaning to my life in ways that I could never have imagined. Studying theology hasn’t answered all my questions, but it has helped me to respond to God’s call.

I rejoice that I’m able to introduce you to the seminary world and to theological studies. May God bless you abundantly each step of the way!

1

Searching for a Meaningful Life

Annie Dillard, in her book The Writing Life, explores how someone begins a profession, how it enters a person’s body. In her exploration she shares,

A well-known writer got collared by a university student who asked, Do you think I could be a writer?

Well, the writer said, I don’t know. … Do you like sentences?

The writer could see the student’s amazement. Sentences? Do I like sentences? I am twenty years old and do I like sentences? If he had liked sentences, of course, he could begin, like a joyful painter I knew. I asked him how he came to be a painter. He said, I liked the smell of the paint.

I have shared this passage with many people over the years and have asked them what they would ask of the person who inquired, Do you think I could be a pastor? How would they fill in this question, I don’t know. … Do you like _____?

God, conflict, people, the Bible, listening, human frailty, and meetings are among the answers that I have gotten. But I don’t think that’s how one begins. Dillard’s story suggests that the initial attraction should be more basic, primal, and pleasurable. These items sound like what a pastor is supposed to like at the beginning.

There isn’t one way to fill in this question. At the moment, I would reply to the person who asked if I thought the person could be a pastor, I don’t know. Do you like metaphor?

As you are reading this, you may respond to my question like the student above inquiring about being a writer: "Do I like metaphor? I don’t want to be an English teacher. I asked about being a minister. Do I like metaphor? I don’t get it."

At its heart, ministry requires a comfort, dexterity, and fascination with using words from one context to better understand another context. That’s what metaphor is. Every time we talk about God, we use metaphors. It’s all we have to talk about the Power, the Being, the One that upholds everything. All we have is metaphor to describe what is indescribable.

If you like metaphor, you’ll be able to begin reading the Bible and listening for the numerous metaphors used for God: song, creator, lily of the valley, rose of Sharon, ancient of days, lord, sun, bridegroom, father of lights, shade, shepherd of Israel, spring of living water, and so forth.

If you like metaphor, you can begin listening for the many words and expressions that people use when talking about Christianity: heavenly, yoke, deliverance, born again, mother of God, land of milk and honey, resurrected, the lamb of God, dying with Christ, and so on.

If you like metaphor, you can start to appreciate the diversity of religious experience and expression that exists within a religious community and among the various religious communities around the world. You’ll be able to hear the variations of God language: mother, bagworm, ultimate reality, daddy God, cosmic controller, clockmaker, architect of the universe, and many others.

If you like metaphor, you’ll be able to listen for the subtleties that lie within the metaphors used in the questions that haunt us. How do you measure a year in one’s life? That’s the question that the Broadway show Rent explores in its popular song Seasons of Love. The show tune offers a number of metaphors in response: daylights, sunsets, cups of coffee, inches, miles, the bridges that we burned, the way that we died, seasons of love.

The song and its extravagant use of metaphor taps into something poignant about being human. We all ask questions about our experiences, both individual and communal experiences. We may be asking, Who am I becoming? What season am I in right now? How do I get out of this wilderness? Why is life such a feast for some and so bankrupt for others? Why does God smile on some but not on others? Why is love such a battlefield?

Underneath all these metaphors is our desire to understand our human experience more deeply. Trying various metaphors and testing their ability to help us understand our lives and the world around us is fundamental to being human. We want to know if our lives have any meaning. We want our lives to matter, to make a difference—to our families, our friends, God, the world, ourselves. We are also compelled to make sense of the issues and challenges that face us communally as well as individually. Stories of disease, war, racism, environmental catastrophe, greed, sexism, classism, and heterosexism surround us and compel us to wonder what we can do to address the issues that plague our world. In addition to our role in finding solutions, we wonder about God’s role.

The metaphors that we use as we go about making meaning for our lives and exploring these human problems depend on a number of factors: age, national context, family background, sexual identity, gender, economic status, place of residence, race, ethnicity, individual history, education, religious tradition. Furthermore, how we bring all these factors together in our lives is one way in which we create meaning for our life.

Major societal and personal experiences emerge, destabilizing our language and meaning making. Sometimes these interruptions force us to rethink where we are going. New ideas, new experiences, and new relationships all have the power to call into question the choices we have made. The metaphors under which we were living can fall apart. A story that we had been telling to ourselves and to others about who we are and what is important to us can fail to satisfy. We wonder who we are and how we got here.

Beneath and behind the work of ministers is an attraction to the language, questions, and struggles of the human heart and to understanding how God and we have navigated those things over time. This is theological work. At its heart, the work of Christian theology is an active exploration of what it means to be human. That means that it involves practice, study, reflection, and transformation.

Seminary is the best place to explore these interests. It’s not the only place where that should be happening. Ideally it occurs in every community, family, congregation, and denomination. But in seminaries and other schools of theology it more often happens at the depth that changes lives and quickens a person’s vocational path.

The truth is that most people don’t arrive at seminary with a clear sense of what they want to do with their degree. Many are interested in thinking about some form of ministry, congregational ministry in particular. But most seminarians are far less settled on the question of what they imagine to be their future vocation. In fact, this vagueness has increased over the years. People have more vocational choices than our ancestors did just a few decades ago.

Even when attending seminary was associated solely with the pursuit of becoming an ordained clergy person, people were more fluid in their vocational aspirations than many think. One of the reasons for this was that the seminary process demanded that students examine every aspect of their lives, including their motivations, dreams, values, and weaknesses. No one emerges from that experience unchanged. Some ended up pursuing other professions yet still carrying the skills and dispositions that they cultivated in seminary.

To begin your theological studies, then, you don’t need to be able to say that you want to be a pastor or an ordained minister. Theological schools do more than prepare people for a variety of ministries in the world. They help you to explore what it means to be human. They help you become yourself. If you are drawn to the beauty of metaphors and the stirrings of the human heart, God may be inviting you to take the next step in your discipleship by entering into deeper theological reflection.

THEOLOGICAL EDUCATION

AND THEOLOGICAL REFLECTION

There are many formal components of theological education, which we’ll review in chapter 2. At its core I would propose that theological education is dominated by the exposure of students to the history of Christian thought and practice, with the aim of helping students make their own response to God and walk their own path of faith. No one can live the life of faith for us. We must do it ourselves. I don’t mean that we do it on our own. To the contrary, we do it in the community of believers who are with us now and who have gone before us. We need the wisdom of others to guide us, but they can’t make the choices for us. Only we can take responsibility for our lives.

To put it another way, theological education is an initiation into the ongoing conversation with God, others, and ourselves. The process is complex, involving many languages, cultures, and forms of communication. Participation in the conversation and reflection on that participation are required. Theological education, then, is built on the practice of theological reflection.

Patricia O’Connell Killen and John de Beer, authors of The Art of Theological Reflection, define theological reflection as

the discipline of exploring individual and corporate experience in conversation with the wisdom of a religious heritage. The conversation is a genuine dialogue that seeks to hear from our own beliefs, actions, and perspectives, as well as those of the tradition. It respects the integrity of both. Theological reflection therefore may confirm, challenge, clarify, and expand how we understand our own experience and how we understand the religious tradition. The outcome is new truth and meaning for living.¹

This is all to say that each of us has participated in what Christianity calls theological reflection, even if we haven’t called it that. Whenever we have sought to understand our experience, to explore the language that we use to describe that experience, or to address the condition of our lives in the light of our own personal history and our religious traditions, we have engaged in theological reflection.

There are a number of models for theological reflection, but all of them involve a conversation between individual and corporate experiences and the resources of our religious traditions.² The Bible, the lives of the saints, church history, poetry, stories, church teachings, and hymns are among those resources.

Most of us, however, have more experiences and questions than we have exposure to our religious heritage or to the skills needed to understand those resources. Maybe we have gone to church, Sunday school, or catechism classes. We may have gone to church camp or taken introductory courses in religion in college. At some point we realize that our familiarity with our religious tradition is not sufficient for engaging our questions. The ideas, language, stories, and perspectives we received from our classes, churches, parents, and mentors are helpful, but they leave us wanting more. We know that we aren’t the first people to ask these questions or to struggle with these problems. It would be helpful to know how our ancestors and contemporaries in our religious heritage wrestled with these questions, to know what language they used, and to know the impact of the decisions that they made.

This is why theological education is so important, necessary, and exciting. We are able to bring our own experience, language, and choices to a much larger conversation that has been happening for millennia. We find colleagues, conspirators, and collaborators—people with whom we can study, breathe, and act together. Theological education gives us the tools to pay attention to the metaphors we use for God, the world, and ourselves. On understanding our own religious experience and the language that we use, we can explore the experiences and languages of others, which will lead us into a place where we are empowered to make choices about our lives and about the language we will use to describe our lives. Through the rigorous examination of our own religious lexicon, we begin to comprehend the impact of our language for God. We get a glimpse of how our language doesn’t simply reflect how we think and act; it also shapes how we think and act. This is to say, there are ethical consequences to our language. Some metaphors bear good fruit. Others, most certainly not. We are responsible for how we talk, most especially when we attempt to speak about those things that ultimately can’t be limited or defined through our speech. This includes