When My Seminary Started To Turn Into A Cemetery

I went to seminary. I earned a Master’s of Divinity with a concentration in Church Development and I received a Doctor of Ministry with a concentration in Global Christian Leadership.

I did all the things.

Preaching classes - check.

Language classes - check.

Theology classes - check.

Spiritual Formation classes - check.

Check.

Check.

Check.

I went to seminary and I loved it. Like, I literally loved every moment of it - I loved the reading, I loved the classes, I loved the lectures, I loved writing papers, I loved exams, I loved the presentations. I loved my professors.

And so let me start by saying this loud and clear:

I wouldn’t trade even a day of my seminary experience for anything; it was a valuable time of my life that I will forever be grateful I had the opportunity to have.

BUT.

(You knew that was coming.)

Seminary did something to me that I only started to sense towards the end of my time there. I was in seminary for a total of 7 years over the course of almost 15 years and towards the end of the doctoral program I realized that something in me was struggling to breath beneath the expectations that were layered on top of me by the system or the machine that the seminary was part of.

My seminary was part of the Christian and Missionary Alliance, which is a wonderful denomination that has a heart for doing good in the world. They focus heavily on bringing heaven to earth and extinguishing the hells around us. As good and wonderful and amazing as that is, however, they also have a heavy focus on making sure people “accept Christ as their Lord and Savior” so that they can “go to heaven when they die instead of hell”.

That’s an OVERLY simplified explanation, of course, but if we were to cut away some of the fatty language, something like that would be at the core along with a fairly heavy focus on the “Return of Christ” where Jesus will one day come back; and although nobody is really clear on what that will look like, one thing seems to be for certain - those who accepted Jesus as their Lord and Savior will be OK and those who didn’t … they won’t be quite as fortunate.

And so all through …

Private Christian school (4th - 12th grades).

Bible College.

Seminary.

And seminary again.

… This was the message that was ingrained into my brain through various books, lectures, chapel services, sermons, conversations, etc, etc, etc. - “Believe in Jesus or you’ll be in hell.”

About halfway through the doctoral program, though, something within me started to rumble and declare, “that’s not true. There is no hell. Nobody gets tortured. Nobody is separated from God. The system is wrong.”

It was as if …

Something in me that was dead.

OR.

Maybe a hope within me that had been buried?

A spark of a thought that I had been conditioned to believe was wrong and heretical?

… Whatever it was, it was as if it began screaming out, trying desperately to breath and come to life.

And so I went back to re-read Rob Bell’s, “Love Wins” as well as his “Love Wins Companion Guide” and the many resources that he shared in the bibliography of the book because I was sensing a real need to rethink some of this stuff and dig a little bit deeper than I had in the past.

And so I read the books.

And then I read them again.

And I went back and read my highlights AGAIN.

I took notes.

I journaled.

I prayed.

I wrestled.

And then I started to post stuff on Facebook like I do with all of the books that I read - pictures of the books with my fancy coffee mugs, graphics of various quotes, etc. I would post a picture with a quote and provide a small bit of commentary about the questions it raised or whatever and then one day something happened in school that made me realize that if I continued in the direction I was going, exploring the things that I was exploring.

Well.

… I’d have a very big decision to make.

I was on a break and I went to get some coffee. One of the people on staff at the school had an office where he’d have coffee brewing all day and students could go in to fill up their cups whenever they wanted to and so I went in, got my coffee, took a short walk to stretch my legs, and then headed back to the classroom.

When I got to the classroom everyone was standing around and talking, but I was tired, and so I made my way back to my seat to get myself ready for the next part of class. As I made my way to the desk a group of students was standing around a professor in the school and they were laughing and joking and talking about stuff. I could have stopped to join in, but I remember feeling really, really exhausted …

The class I was a week long intensive, 8 hours a day.

We had an infant at home.

I was behind on my coursework.

We were planning to move a few months later and still didn’t know where we’d be going.

My eyes were bloodshot.

My nerves were shot.

… I could barely stand and so I went to sit down and just as I got myself settled the professor turned to me and said something I’ll never forget.

“Hey Glenn. It’s find that you read Rob Bell, but you better stop posting about him so much because people are going to start thinking weird things about you.”

I felt exposed.

You know?

Like, he said that and the people around him started laughing - looking at me, pointing at me with their eyes, and snickering. And then he went into this monologue about how one day he was able to confront Rob Bell about hell and Rob didn’t know how to answer his questions, which is complete bullish*t, mind you, because the video of this event is online and I went home and listened to it … and Rob gave him a thoughtful and wonderful answer.

But, whatever.

I remember sitting in my seat feeling exposed. Realizing that the seminary where I had once found so much life and fulfillment … I remember realizing that I couldn't stay in this place anymore, as part of this Evangelical machine, because the longer I did and the longer I stayed quiet and the longer I skated around the issues that I was struggling with, and the longer I kept my questions and doubts quiet … the more and more and more dead I would become on the inside.

Do I keep exploring and become alive?

OR.

Do I do what this professor and others expect me to do and become dead inside?

That was the dilemma.

The walls of that building that once provided me a place to grow and mature had suddenly become way too small for me and I began to sense the need to break free. The seminary was becoming a cemetery and before the last shovel full of dirt was heaped on my head …

I had to get up.

I had to get out.

I had to speak up.

I had to follow my heart.

I tell you all of this because sometimes the things that once helped you to grow can actually begin to stunt your growth if you stay with them for too long. Just as the seminary that once gave me life was slowly becoming a cemetery that was threatening to take that life away, so things in your life …

Jobs.

Relationships.

Belief systems.

Etc.

… That once gave you life can quickly begin to drain you of life if you stick with them for too long out of some sense of obedience or desire to please the people around you.

It’s OK to outgrow those things.

It’s OK to move beyond them.

It’s OK to break free.

Much love,