Maxie Dunnam:  Revival on the Horizon

Maxie Dunnam: Revival on the Horizon

Maxie Dunnam: Revival on the Horizon — 

Several years ago, the Good News Board of Directors met in Memphis, Tennessee, and bestowed the United Methodist Renewal Award on the Rev. Dr. Maxie Dunnam. In the previous issue of Good News, we published the first part of our conversation with him and touched upon his spiritual journey as local pastor, social activist, influential author, seminary president, and former world editor of The Upper Room.

Good News’ award is presented to a person that has demonstrated dedication to the renewal of Methodism. It was named after the late Rev. Edmund W. Robb Jr., an unforgettable evangelist and author who served as chairman of the Good News board of directors.

For the occasion of the award presentation in 2016, friends gathered at a Good News dinner at Christ United Methodist Church in Memphis. At the ceremony, the Rev. Rob Renfroe, president and publisher of Good News, accentuated Dunnam’s focus on a Christ-centered ministry, as well as his commitment to civil rights and education for underprivileged children. My colleague also touched upon Dunnam’s winsome disposition.

“When he steps up to a pulpit, within a few words people think to themselves, ‘I like that man. I’d like to be his friend. Or I wish he were my uncle.’ And when people like you, they listen to you and you have a real opportunity to influence them for Christ,” said Renfroe.

“And the reason people like Maxie is because you immediately get the impression that he likes you,” observed Renfroe, a long-time friend. “The reason you love Maxie is because you sense that he loves you.”

Maxie has had a great impact on Methodism because “people know that he cares,” said Renfroe. “So they have listened when he spoke, they have followed when he led, and they have given their time and their talents and their treasure when he has challenged them to a worthy cause.”

The award presentation also celebrated his influence as a faithful delegate to numerous United Methodist General Conferences, as well as his pivotal roles in helping create both the Confessing Movement and the Wesleyan Covenant Association.

“Maxie, by nature, is a lover with a heart of grace. But, there is a commitment to the truth of the gospel that has propelled him into the fray, at times reluctantly,” concluded Renfroe. “And for who he is and for all he has done, we honor him.”

In the previous issue of Good News, we spoke with Maxie about his childhood, call to ministry, his signature on the “Born of Conviction” statement, Bishop Gerald Kennedy, Brother E. Stanley Jones, and the mystery of prayer. What follows is the second-half of our colorful conversation.

– Steve Beard, editor of Good News

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Because of the [previously discussed] “Born of Conviction” statement, you moved from Mississippi to California in the 1960s. That was a shift for your family.

I was excited about going to something new and fresh. One of our friends – who was not a signer of the “Born of Conviction” statement – was out in California. He had nurtured me in the ministry. We visited him six months before we went. We saw San Clemente and I said, Wouldn’t it be would it be wonderful to live in a place like this? That’s where I planted the church.

What did you learn spiritually on that journey?

I didn’t know anything about anything. That was another confirmation of God’s guidance in a way that you don’t even recognize it until it’s over.

The district superintendent had given us the name of two couples in San Clemente. That’s all we knew and those two couples just took us in and welcomed us. They were happy because they knew they were getting an evangelical pastor.

What that taught us at a deep level is that it really doesn’t matter where you go, God’s people are there – it’s a matter of getting connected with them. Not all of them are on the same level of the relationship, but they know themselves to be God’s people and that was confirmed.

After 10 years of ministry in Southern California, you moved your family to Nashville to work at The Upper Room. Big shift.

The Upper Room was a huge chapter in my life. That’s really when I became what I call a “world Christian.” How I got there is really a mystery. I had begun to lead some retreats and speaking at conferences.

I received a letter from Wilson O. Weldon, the world editor of The Upper Room, saying that they were starting a new ministry that was going to try to resource and engage the readership of The Upper Room – 4 million back then – as a prayer fellowship and get their energy directed.

I just felt, my Lord, I don’t know anything about that.

What year was this?

That would have been 1974. About the same time, I had been involved with some people in Mississippi who were friends and lay people committed on the racial issue – which was a rare kind of thing – and they had become involved with people in Maryland who had a retreat center. We had been in an interview to become the head of that retreat center. It was so attractive because my wife Jerry and I have had a faint, and sometimes passionate, desire to live in a deliberate Christian community. That’s been a thing that has stirred in me through the years and that would have been it.

That ends up being the most exciting thing that you never ended up doing. [laughter]

We got on the plane headed back to California. We hadn’t been in the air 30 minutes before we looked at each other and said, We can’t do that. We both had the same feeling.

It wasn’t but a couple of months later before we got this word from Wilson Weldon at The Upper Room. I think that I’m honest emotionally – and I always try to be honest with other people if I’m involved relationally – when they began to talk about me leading a prayer movement I just said to him, “Look I am not an expert in prayer and I think you’re talking to the wrong person.”

You felt like this was a mistake? 

I still have a letter that I wrote them on the plane going back to California telling them that I just didn’t think I was the person for that job because of my weakness in prayer.

The long and the short of it is that they called me and offered me the job. It’s one of the two or three times in my life when I accepted a position that I knew I was incapable of really performing. That’s also what I felt about becoming the president of Asbury Theological Seminary.

Every reader can relate to feeling inadequate. All you have to do is see the phrase “Prayer Specialist” and we all feel inadequate. We’re all amateurs, right?

That’s right. Absolutely.

There’s nothing that we are asked to do “spiritually” – and I put that in quotation marks – that we are capable of doing. We are equipped as we move along and as we are obedient. If we are obedient, we are equipped supernaturally.

That’s really what happened at The Upper Room. We need to be humble enough to recognize our deficiency, to confess it to those who are part of the responsible bodies, and trust that God has other instruments that he’s using to accomplish his will. When they invited me, I had to say, Well, they know what they need better than I do. Both Jerry and I felt that we should do it.

How did your name emerge at The Upper Room?

I tried to find out how in the world they had ever chosen to interview me for that job. Ira Galloway had become the General Secretary of the Board of Evangelism. Ira didn’t know me. And I knew Wilson at The Upper Room didn’t know me.

The General Board of Evangelism had a program where it sent young ministers to Mexico to preach revivals. I was one of the ten they sent to Monterrey, Mexico. The visiting preachers and our hosts would get together every morning for prayer and sharing before we started teaching and preaching at 10 o’clock in the morning. One of the guys on the team was from Texas. He is the one who told Ira, “Maxie is the guy you need to look at.”

Earlier, you used the phrase “world Christian.” What do you mean by that term?

Being in that position at The Upper Room, there is lots of travel involved because we had all these editions all over the globe. That was a tough part of the job, but it was a great part of the job. We visited the different editors all over the world and began to share life with them. For a country boy from Mississippi, California was an eye opener, but this was even beyond that.

I also began to see the expression of the gospel and the church in different ways – and how it was effective and not effective.

I met dynamic Christians – some of them world-class. I met Christians who were laboring in very difficult situations but were radiant and faithful. Some of that became clear when I traveled with Dr. Tom Carruth and Brother E. Stanley Jones at Ashram meetings.

[Editor’s note: Carruth taught on prayer at Asbury Theological Seminary and authored 15 books on the subject. He died in 1991. E. Stanley Jones (1884-1973), of course, was a historic international Christian leader who developed the Christian Ashram movement.]

I am who I am and I’ve done what I’ve done because there’s been three or four big occasions when I was called and I knew I was incapable – but I thought it was a genuine call and that I would be enabled to do the job. We’re enabled as we move out. The Upper Room was a big example of that.

You began at The Upper Room as the director of Prayer Life and Fellowship. You then became the world editor of The Upper Room daily devotional guide. It had a worldwide circulation in the millions at the time and was printed in 38 different languages.

When I went to The Upper Room I was responsible for the area of work that was related to the fellowship of prayer and developing resources. I wasn’t proficient in prayer or spiritual direction. I began to read everything I could read and talk to everybody I could talk to. As a result, I came in touch with the saints of the ages. I saw people in East Germany that were oppressed, but faithful. I saw the prophetic witness of Dr. Peter Storey and Bishop Desmond Tutu in South Africa. We saw the humble saints that were without fame – as well as those with well-known names. Both had deep commitments. I had a chance to be exposed to all kinds of people.

You once had a meeting with a very consequential man: Pope John Paul II.

I met Pope John Paul while I was the editor of The Upper Room and on the board of the World Methodist Council.

What struck you about him?

His humility. Pope John Paul knew he was under a heavy burden and a heavy responsibility but there was nothing haughty about him. Nothing. In fact, quite the opposite. The only reason my picture was taken with him was really accidental. Wherever the Pope goes, there are photographers. I didn’t even know that picture was taken. These photographers post those pictures on bulletin boards all over the place.

I’ve been thinking about Pope Francis, the current pontiff. He’s rare. I’m not sure he’s going to be as popular as others but sometimes he tickles me. I don’t see how a man could even function there – but they have to know that they’re the spiritual head of millions and millions of people.

Agreed. Switching to a different lane of leadership, let’s talk about how you became president of Asbury Theological Seminary.

Again, it was Tom Carruth. I had been invited to serve on the Asbury Seminary board after having been given an honorary degree. I was at Christ Methodist Church in Memphis and I got to know the Asbury community a little bit after being on the board. I discovered Asbury was a place I wish I had gone to for my own seminary education.

Jerry and I went to a meeting with the World Methodist Evangelism to England with Eddie Fox [longtime leader of World Methodist Evangelism] to dedicate the statue of John Wesley feeling his heart “strangely warmed.” We knelt at that statue and prayed. Three months later the Asbury presidency opened up. Six months later I was offered the job.

How did that come about?

I had resigned as chair of the presidential search committee. It was a time of obedience because we could not have been happier at Christ Church. It was dynamic. It was growing. Two of the greatest missional expressions that are going on in Memphis were birthed at Christ Church. It was just a great church and it was growing. The person that teetered me in the direction of being interested in the presidency was Jimmy Buskirk.

Dr. Jimmy Buskirk was a precious soul. He was the long time pastor of First United Methodist Church in Tulsa. He served on the Asbury Seminary board with you. He had also been the founding dean of the School of Theology at Oral Roberts University. 

I was happy at Christ Church but Jimmy came to see me and said, “Your ministry, Maxie, at Christ Church is a ministry of addition. If you become the president of Asbury, it’ll be a ministry of multiplication.”

He was right. Pivoting in a different direction, I am going to list some names. Give me your thoughts.

Bishop William R. Cannon (1916-1997).

I have a real love and attraction for people who are themselves – and don’t try to be anything else – but have some uniqueness that just sets them apart. Bishop Cannon was one of those people. When I went to Candler School of Theology in Atlanta, he was the Dean.

He would preach in chapel now and then and I remember two or three occasions when everybody would just remain, just linger – not talking to each other. Our relationship was very loving – it wasn’t formal. When I went to The Upper Room, we had dinner and he said, “Maxie, don’t stay there too long. You need to be preaching.”

Wise advice.

Yeah, beautiful. He didn’t pretend to be anything he wasn’t. But he did emphasize his eccentricities. He was the chair of the General Board of Evangelism. He gave a speech at the Confessing Movement. He was as orthodox as you can get. He was an evangelical – not in the popular sense of the word – but he really wanted people to be won to Christ. There’s a sense in which he really was a lot like Bishop Gerald Kennedy from California. Very different personalities. You never knew how they were going to express their passion.

Dr. William J. Abraham (1947-2021). Our dear Irish friend, Billy, who taught for ages at Perkins School of Theology in Dallas.

First, I felt he died too early. He was one of the best theological leaders we had – as smart as any of the theologians I knew, but he did not let that smartness keep him from communicating the gospel in an understandable way. Our friendship was really growing. We had been friends a long time, but I didn’t see him a lot. I’m sure he knew that I had become the president of Asbury Seminary when he was a primary candidate, but we never talked about it. I get the feeling that Billy would have loved to have been the president of Asbury Seminary. I think he was that kind of leader.

One more mutual friend: Dr. Thomas C. Oden (1931-2016) from Drew Theological School.

There’s a sense in which Tom was a little bit more of a churchman. Tom would have never been the communicator that Billy was  – I don’t think he ever was – but their theology is very much the same. They’re both brilliant. Both of them loved the academy – and championed the academy. I don’t think Tom ever wanted to be anything other than what he was.

Tom and Billy rarely faced a battle they weren’t willing to fight.

That’s right. Both of them were fighters but Billy was a feisty fighter. Tom was a conservative fighter.

Let’s talk about the launch of the Global Methodist Church.

I really have come to believe that the Global Methodist Church is an answer to prayer. It isn’t that we’ve been praying for a new denomination – we’ve been praying for revival. I’ve been a Methodist preacher longer than there’s been a United Methodist Church and I have been totally – maybe more than I should have been – committed to the United Methodist Church.

I’ve poured my life into that denomination and the World Methodist Council. I’ve been a part of Methodism and have fought the battles to conserve what the UM Church has always said she was in terms of how we define ourselves. I could have lived basically with the Book of Discipline of the UM Church the rest of my life, except I’d want to change some things about the bishops.

The obvious pattern of the church, it seems to me, developed a strong vocal, very influential liberal presence. That’s not just theological. There was a another group – not evangelical, really – we would really label as “centrist.” I really have been a part of that.

You would consider yourself a centrist?

I have, through the years.

These categories can be confusing, sometimes overlapping.

I’m clearly traditionalist now, but I think it’s because of my pastoral inclination of wanting people to be together. And then I saw the glaring violation of the Book of Discipline with one of our retired bishops performing a same-sex wedding ten years ago in Alabama, and the effort to liberalize the UM Church.

In the southeast, we always seemingly elected bishops that were different than that – we thought. I decided that something needed to happen. I didn’t think about it in terms of division, but I knew it had to be some sort of division and that happened to me at the 2019 special General Conference when the bishops brought the four ways forward.

The bishops themselves didn’t want to consider the traditional one – being what the UM church has said she is, but with more accountability for the episcopacy.

That’s the way I saw it. I left that General Conference just really down.

I had a small group of people scheduled to go to Cuba. There’s been a revival going on in Cuba for a long time. I really needed that and it was terrific. I’d been to Cuba before, but I’d never really experienced the depth of spirituality there.

The 2019 General Conference reaffirmed what we had affirmed the four years preceding but it turned into a shouting match. As you know, the Western Jurisdiction publicly announced that it was not going to abide by what we had decided. The bishops had come to the General Conference divided themselves.

Are you optimistic about the future?

I’m excited about the Global Methodist Church because I believe it is a great expression of revival. I think the structures are too great and the interest groups are too firmly established in the United Methodist Church. It could be a fresh start for everybody. It will give us an opportunity to really be serious about how we, as a body, are going to preach and teach and experience the Holy Spirit.

I believe we’re going to have a demonstrable revival.

Steve Beard is the editor of Good News. All of us at Good News are grateful for the Christian witness of our friend Maxie Dunnam. Photo: Anthony Thaxton. Used by permission.Maxie Du

Confessions of a Grieving Seminary Professor

Confessions of a Grieving Seminary Professor

Confessions of a Grieving Seminary Professor

By Thomas C. Oden

January/February 1994

Lay persons are increasingly demanding the right to know why their parish pastors are so often going astray like lost sheep – with political indiscretions, sexual escapades, and ideological binges. I hate to be the bearer of rotten news, but after a lifetime of teaching in a tradition-deprived seminary ethos, I am nearly convinced that its present system is practically irreformable.

My hypothesis is: That form of education for ministry which has attached itself like a leech to modernity is dying as modernity dies. The seminary that weds itself to modernity is already a widow as we enter the era of post-modernity. Here is the dreary list of characteristic symptoms of rapid depreciation:

  1. The tenure principle which was designed to protect academic freedom has become so exploited that it now protects academic license, absenteeism, incompetence, and at times moral turpitude. Once tenure is offered, it is virtually impossible to dismiss a professor. It requires many strata of grievance procedures before the tenured professor can even begin to be challenged, regardless of the offense.

Whenever the seminary faculty feels or imagines that it is being subjected to review by anyone, the battle-cry goes out: Safeguard academic freedom! Yes, the seminary has a duty to defend its faculty from unjust challenges that would inordinately invade the sanctuary of the classroom and dictate to faculty what they are to teach. I do not want the KKK or the neo-Nazi party to tell me what I should be teaching and the textbooks I should be using. But neither do I want liberal dogmatists or ideological advocates of someone’s ideas of political correctness to be dictating what textbooks I should be using.

It simply will no longer do for seminaries to continue avoiding dialogue with church constituencies by claiming that professors have the freedom to teach whatever they please. If they teach apostasy, the believing church has no moral obligation to give them support or to bless their follies.

When academic freedom becomes a strategy by which the seminary sidesteps every critic, then academic freedom itself has been prostituted. When the Wesleyan tradition and doctrinal standards – standards clearly defined in every Book of Discipline since Wesley – can no longer be implement in the seminaries, then the United Methodist governing bodies do not have a responsibility to protect the freedom of a faculty to disavow that solemnly pledged doctrinal tradition.

  1. Once a tradition-deprived faculty has been fully tenured, its members have the unique privilege of cloning themselves with look-alike colleagues in the future. The tenured f acuity has learned well the fine art of cloning itself politically, repeating ever anew its own ideological biases, making sure that no one comes in who might upset the prevailing ideological momentum.
  2. The wall-to-wall redefinition of an entire field of study and its subsequent renovation is the fervent dream of many tenured radicals, whose chief peer group is the professional society that meets once a year in an elegant hotel to talk about oppression.
  3. It is a common practice to offer teaching appointments in counter-traditional seminaries without reference to any experience whatever in the actual practice of ministry. If those who had extensive church experience applied, it might even tend to be a negative factor in their selection. Candidates are preferred who have not been contaminated by a strong church tradition. This is analogous to someone who had never drawn up a contract for a client teaching about contracts in a law school.
  4. Seminarians ordinarily do not become angry until their last year, as they belatedly realize that they are leaving seminary with heavy debts; yet may not be deemed by their annual conferences as ready to preach, administer sacraments, or take on actual tasks of pastoral care. When they are appointed to a parish, they recognize how little of their theological education they can use, and how much of it they must hide.
  5. The disciplines of the seminary have become a playground of competing methodologies thar bicker constantly for recognition, sanction, and approval, especially through scientific methods of inquiry. It is as if the disciplines were constantly combatting for higher status in a rigid pecking order. In the evaluation-methods employed at the higher end of the pecking order, there is little or no room to accept Scripture as the Word of God or divine revelation as a serious intellectual premise.
  6. Each discipline of theological education, now awash in antisupernatural assumptions, finds itself desperately seeking an alternative to the premises of orthodox Christian reasoning: incarnation, resurrection, and scriptural revelation. Each discipline feels compelled to legitimize its teaching by some form of empirical data-gathering that would only grudgingly be acceptable in a chemistry laboratory. The so-called scientific study of religion has gradually flooded the seminary.
  7. Under these conditions, theological inquiry may pretend to proceed, but almost entirely without reference to the worshipping community, its laity, its historic apostolic mission, its classical texts. The critics who mean most to modern scholars are only those who have written during the last 20 years, or 50 at most. They often do not include the theologians of the previous 1900 years. The serious study of Christian thought is assumed to begin with Paul Tillich or, at the earliest, with Friedrich Schleiermacher, the father of theological liberalism. It is easy to see how this premise affects the study of classical Christi.an texts. Its modem chauvinism constitutes an attack on premodern wisdom.
  8. The fact that their theology has no grass roots support or lies with a worshipping community is considered a badge of honor.

Now you see why I have trouble even accurately describing the depth of the problems of the liberated seminary. My leading hypothesis: Modernity has belatedly triumphed in the seminary just as it was dying out in the real world. The triumph of modernity is most decisively felt in the special hothouse arena of a fully tenured and fully liberated seminary faculty.

 

The Consequent Moral Dilemma

This problem presents me with serious moral difficulties: Should I even remain in a seminary system that I think has gone so far toward corruption? The major reason for staying is: if I leave, along with others who are like me, doesn’t that simply risk abandoning the seminary tradition into the hands of its most creative deconstructers and articulate detractors?

My personal dilemma: If I stay, I cooperate with a corrupted and corrupting system. Yet, if the few remaining classic Christians in leadership positions leave the present seminary system, they leave behind the legacy, the bequests, the institutions, the resources that have been many generations in the building. Walking away may have stickier moral impediments than hanging in.

I am pouring out my heart about a broken love affair. This is so difficult because, on the one hand, I love the people who suffer in the institutions served by prodigal theological education, and in many ways I love the institutions – like loving the feel of an old shoe. This, after all, is where I have spent my life. Modern theological education has given me a home, defended my right to teach according to my conscience, paid me well for my labors, given me enviable job security, protected me against critics who would limit my range of operation, given me guarantees that my life and livelihood would not be threatened by capricious charges – how could I now be so irascibly ungrateful as to bring the troubles of telling the truth to my own community?

I have been a serious defender of the tenure principle during most of my adult life, on the grounds that this is the best way to underwrite academic freedom has been challenged, the system shielded me. But now I wonder if I can in good conscience accept any longer its safety, defense and smug invulnerability.

It seems absurd for me to probe the vulnerabilities of an institution – one that I love – that has put bread on my table, a university with an enviable reputation and colleagues with whom I have worked amiably for many years. I do not want to be read as implying that there is nothing good left in liberated theological education. But there remains a question of proportionality. Do its present corruptions outweigh its potential promise?

The Temptation to Jump Ship

So what is ahead for the next generation of seminarians? Is the seminary as it now stands virtually irreformable? Probably.

Should we then abandon the present seminary structure? I doubt it, even though that may seem inconsistent with the premise of irreformability. Why not vacate the premises, concede defeat, and capitulate to inevitability?

It seems unthinkable to abandon, without further prayers for special grace, an institution to which so many of the faithful have both committed themselves and provided support from their personal and often sparse resources over so long a time. The libraries and endowments and alumni cannot simply be abdicated. But can the institution be significantly reshaped? Not without an elementary reversal of tenure abuses. I see no way both to continue the present tenure system and reform the tradition-impaired seminary. And there is virtually no hope for reforming the tenure system. I wish it were otherwise. The dilemma: A clean sweep seems both necessary and impossible.

But can the tenure system be even slightly or moderately or gradually amended? Realistically, it cannot be abruptly abandoned; except by a strongly organized and intentional laity who, with astute leadership, enters directly into and dismantles the present abuses with determination. Might tenure be incrementally redefined? In a reasonable world that is what one might think ought to happen, but during the course of a multi-decade attempt at the gradual amendment of tenure policies, what would be happening to the suffering church? Who, but the laity, would have to abide faithful during those slow decades – the laity who have trusted the clergy for the transmission of the apostolic tradition and for sufficient remedies when that does not occur. A cruel hand as been dealt the long-suffering laity.

Those who love the church, but have endured its undennining by permissiveness, would like to see some reform in their institutions before the millennium ends. If you approach the reform of seminary education by the  slight or incremental modification of tenure, then you are talking about the hundred years that it might take the present institutions to die, and the  present theological faculties to redesign themselves into an academic society which would, in turn, study the collapse of Christianity. This is why the prognosis is dismal.

 

The Lust for Academic Takeovers

Well-educated, innovation-addicted young Ph.D.s lust after fiscally healthy institutions to swarm and take over, because they offer job security, even if they do not have Princeton-like prestige. This is why relatively well-funded United Methodist institutions of higher education have been special targets of shrewd, liberated Machiavellians who couldn’t make it at Harvard or Yale. Since these United Methodist institutions were desperately seeking upward academic mobility and lusting to join the Ivy-League look-alike elite, they have been willing to pay for academic stars, and have suffered most from the academic version of statutory rape.

Where tenured faculties have been formed so as to systematically block out ancient ecumenical teaching, they cannot expect evangelical or moderate support. Funds may need to be withdrawn if the pattern persists. That may be the only available mechanism by which defiant faculties can be taught that they must become accountable to their actual constituencies and to the apostolic faith.

 

The Complete Absence of Heresy

It seems worth noting that the modern seminary has finally achieved a condition that has never before prevailed in Christian history: heresy simply does not exist. Church teaching, after long centuries of struggle against heresy, has finally found a way of overcoming heterodoxy altogether, by banishing it as a concept legitimately taught within the walls of the institution.

Doing entirely away with the concepts of apostasy and infidelity is a triumphal achievement of latitudinarianism, a term Wesley used to describe those who were so broad-minded that they lacked a firm commitment to Christian essentials. This is an unexcelled accomplishment in all the annals of Christian history. It seems to give final expression  to the quest for the flawless community.

No heresy of any kind exists any longer. You cannot find one anywhere in the liberated  seminary – unless, perhaps, you might consider offenses against inclusiveness. There can be absolutely no corruption of Christian teaching because, under the present rules, all notions of corruption are radically relativized. There is  not only no concept of heresy, but also no way to raise the question of boundaries for legitimate or correct Christian belief where absolute relativism holds sway.

The very thought of asking about heresy has itself become the new arch-heresy. The arch-heretic is the one who hints that some distinction is required between right and wrong, truth and falsehood, good and evil. Such a person, if untenured, is subject to suspicion and abrupt termination by a cloned faculty-majority magnanimously composed of both absolute relativists and relative relativists.

And yes, all this was accomplished by modernity. But what an untimely event it is; because modernity is dead, and now they have post-modernity to deal with.

Surely I must be exaggerating! But if you doubt my accuracy, ask any recent seminary graduate who still defiantly holds on to belief in the incarnation and resurrection. Far from exaggerating, I have been holding back my fire concerning certain vulnerabilities that are even more difficult to talk about publicly – especially sexual experimentation and ideological harassment.

How do institutional processes guarantee that the next generation will not systematically destroy everything they have fought and worked for? That is precisely the dilemma of apostolic Christians. That is the reason why a serious view of the transmission of the apostolic tradition has always been a prime concern of the church and its laity-and an unresolved problem for Protestant liberalism.

Author’s note: This article, which is a brief abstract of a portion from a book-length argument, is not rightly interpreted if directed to my own Seminary or its leadership. It is directed rather to the problems of seminary education generally, of which my institution is only an incidental example, and by no means the worst.