I was not a geek in high school. I know this because I never had a
slushee tossed in my face (which, according to no less an authority
than Glee, is the leading indicator of geek status in high
school), and I never suffered the distinct indignity of a “wedgie,” and I
never went to high school. As a top-ranked gymnast, I worked through
our high school’s “independent study” program, which meant that every
person in every class I took thought I was perfectly wonderful.
Neither
was I particularly uncool at college. I was a varsity athlete, a
relatively sociable person, and a leader in student Christian
fellowships. There were times when my counter-cultural Christianness
was painfully clear. I did not go to drinking parties, had no interest
in joining a fraternity, and made no effort to bed the young ladies at
Stanford University. But, honestly, I never felt like an outsider.
Stanford had many thousands of students from hundreds of different
cultures and faiths and value systems. I was just a part of the mosaic.
It
surprised me, therefore, when I found that I felt like an outsider at
seminary.
We were all Christians. Princeton Theological Seminary is a
fine institution, and I enjoyed my time there. I formed friendships
with fascinating people, found mentors in excellent professors, and
enjoyed the classes immensely.
And yet…I did feel like an
outsider. There was a single prevailing culture there — and I did not
belong to it. I am an evangelical with conservative leanings. I came
to PTS at the recommendation of my famously-agnostic undergraduate
mentor, Van Harvey, who strongly believed that I should gain a
three-year seminary education before going on to a secular research
institution for the more specialized work of a doctorate. (He was
right, but more on that later.) Keep Reading >>>
See Also: Series on Sex in Seminary
See Also: Series on Sex in Seminary
