Cultural Dissonance

At least since the 1960s, being counter-cultural has been in. Paradoxically, we might go so far as to say that refusing to be counter-cultural is currently counter-cultural. Being at odds with our culture has become a virtue, not just in the culture at large, but also within the church. One of the ways we insult “the other side” in our arguments is to identify them as sold out to the culture.

In his book Bishop, Will Willimon notes: “From the first the church has had dissonance with every culture in which we found ourselves.”

Observe that this is not a normative or strategic statement. He is not saying – along with our current culture – that we ought to be dissonant with our host culture. He is speaking descriptively: this is the way things have been. This is an important point.

One troublesome point for the strategy of being counter-cultural is that our culture is not monolithic. There are diverse and contradictory elements in our culture. Different values and ways of being regulate different cultural spheres. Being counter-cultural in one area, might mean complete alignment with culture in another. Thus if one’s primary goal is to be counter-cultural, one will be hopelessly confused.

A second troublesome point for the church in particular is that over the past two millennia we have influenced our culture. Our culture, for instance, values love. Valuing love, counting it as a virtue, is a good thing. Admittedly, the culture doesn’t always have what we’d call a Christian understanding of love. Sometimes it gets it wrong. But we cannot aim to be completely counter-cultural when our culture has taken up some of our virtues.

A final troublesome point is that our culture, like most others, has good points that we can accept without difficulty. Cultures evolve over time to help people live in a particular environment. A culture that doesn’t “work,” won’t last. Insofar as our host culture enables people to live well, there is no reason to be counter0cultural.

Being counter-cultural should never be the direct goal of the church. Instead, our aim is to follow Jesus. As Willimon observes, that practice alone will ensure that there will be points of dissonance between the way the church lives and the way of the culture at large. Be refraining from a primary counter-cultural stance, we will also find it easier to love the people who are living in the culture, since we will not be defining ourselves in opposition to them. By defining ourselves in terms of Jesus and his mission, we can take the culture as it is, potentially full of sin and beauty, and be the light of the Gospel in our communities. We’ll open the possibility of being known for what we’re for, not what (or whom) we’re against.

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Just Whose Idea Was It?

Will Willimon notes:

Ministry, in any of its forms, is always God’s idea before it is ours. While we may eventually enjoy our clerical vocation, we do it first of all not because it causes us bliss but rather because it is the job to which God has called us. Jesus loves to summon off people to painful, impossible tasks – read the Bible.

I know the truth of this by my own experience. When I was in high school, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. Well, maybe not exactly, but I knew it had something to do with the conjunction of physics and astronomy. That’s what interested me the most. But then along came Jesus, messing with my life. He dragged me kicking and screaming into a life of ministry.

Ministry is my also my job, not just my calling. That causes some problems. First, it’s weird taking money for doing things I’d do for free since I believe in them so much. Of course, some of you may have noticed that whatever it is you like to do, and however good that activity might be, the bills keep coming. You need a place to live, food to eat, and a way to get from place to place. And if you have children, they suck money out of you fast than you can make it. We want to do it all for free, but in addition to the message that we shouldn’t seek to improve our financial lot in life (i.e., aspire to pay the bills), we also hear that we ought to provide for our families. That’s not just a modern notion. Even the Bible has strong hints in that direction.

The second problem is that we’ve gotten to the place where we think there are two classes of people in the church: the ministers and the ministered-unto. We assume that these categories much up pretty well with the pastors and the laity. Why is this a problem? We’re living on a distinction that seems more alien than not to the Bible.

If we look at God’s activity throughout the Bible, we see that God has a habit of calling people to join him in what he’s doing. As Willimon says, “Jesus loves to summon odd people to painful, impossible tasks.” And most of these off people don’t ever have anything like a profession we would recognize as pastoral ministry.

So what should we make of it? Whatever your location in the social network we call church, assume that Jesus is calling you. If you’re not hearing the call yet, keep listening. Expect the call to be to something impossible, something beyond your current capacity and ability: something that requires the life of the resurrected Jesus to see to fruition. Don’t let the pastors hog the joy of experiencing the power of Jesus working through a life. Don’t settle for Jesus the shepherd who just exists to pat your hand when you feel down. Settle for nothing less than the Jesus who makes the audacious claim of John 14:12:

Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father.

 

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Change or Die, part 2

Change is good! New is good! Growth is good! It’s so nice to deal with abstractions.

In my last post I mentioned some forms of growth that aren’t very desirable. Cancer. The bloat of decomposition. In this post I’m going to go farther, and try to edge out of abstraction. As long as the United Methodist Church stays in the realm of abstraction, even abstractions with positive connotations, we will never recover our life.

Willimon know this. In his book he says,

Any leader who is guardian of an organization’s guiding purposes must be a big talked, relentlessly reiterating our core values. While the church is a frail, thoroughly human organization, it is not exclusively human. A bishop [and a pastor] must reiterate our theological identity as the Body of Christ. The Trinity not only determines the purposes of the church but also provides our agency to fulfill those purposes…. Of all the things needed in my churches, hardly a church has any problems that couldn’t be solved by having more people worshiping the Trinity.

Back in in the olden days, families used to do things like a Sunday afternoon drive. They’d pile into the car and just go. The whole point was being together and enjoying the scenery. With the high price of gas, our hyper-busy schedules, and our practices of being absent from each other even when physically together, we don’t do that any more.

The success of a Sunday afternoon drive was not measured in terms of a destination. We started at home and ended at home. We could go anywhere.

When we consider successful change in the church, we need to be thinking of something more than mere activity. We need to have two things in mind:

1. How is our action mapping onto what God is up to – through time and in our current world?

2. Is our manner of traveling in accord with the ways of Jesus?

I used to live in Houston. One of the highways that defines Houston is I-10. It’s a long highway. LA on one end, Jacksonville, Florida on the other. If you hop on I-10 in Houston, you can drive for days in either direction. You can pile up the miles. But however long you drive on I-10, you’ll never get to Dallas. I-10 doesn’t go to Dallas. If you want to go from Houston to Dallas, I-45 is a likely way to go. The experience of driving on I-45 and on I-10 is essentially the same. The scenery will be different, but the road surface will be easily recognizable. As a church, we need to not only do the equivalent of driving, but also do so on the road that takes us to the right destination.

The manner of our travel also matters. This is not just because it’s a bother to ride so far with fussy kids. As the driver, it’s not just my job to get to Dallas, but to get the whole family to Dallas. When we look at the church in the Book of Acts we see the story of growth. More and more people and more and more types of people come to faith in Jesus. They are added to the church. In the midst of the growth story (the “let’s go to Dallas” story), there’s also the “all people will know you are my disciples by the love you have for one another.” As long as the “one another” are limited to the folks we choose (and we’re free to kick them out when the going gets tough), that might not be too hard. But when churches have healthy growth, that growth includes adding people who are obvious sinners, not just people who are moral, upstanding, and successful like us. Some of those added will rub us the wrong way. Some will be culturally and behaviorally distant from in of our visions of holiness. And here we are on the bus, on our way to Dallas, and Jesus says, “love one another as I have loved you.”

As an individual follower of Christ, God has a vision for what I become. I know some of the details of that vision. I can make progress toward that goal; I can also wander aimlessly. I can seek buddy-ship with Jesus and try to take him where I want to go (like the Israelites took the Ark of the Covenant into battle, thinking their God-fetish would guarantee victory). I can change all day, every day, but if my change is not in accord with the particular change desired by Jesus, I’m missing out.

But if I’m a genuine follower of Christ, I’m not just an individual follower of Christ. I’m stuck with some other people. I know some of them. Some are more mature than I, others less so. God has a vision for what we become, where we go, together. We can change our institution(s) all day every day, but if our change is not in accord with the particular change desired by Jesus, we’re missing out.

In a stuck system, mere change for the sake of change can be a lifesaver. But we need to keep our eyes and hearts set on the particular changes that Jesus desires.

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Change or Die

I’m picky when it comes to shoes. I want shoes that fit well and are comfortable all day. I want to spend as little time and money as I can when I acquire them. For now, I’ve settled on a particular model from Academy. For the last few years I’ve worn them almost every day, working my way through several pairs. Amazingly, I get the same size each time. Why is that amazing?

In his book Bishop, Will Willimon says:

A living God gives churches two choices: grow (that is, change) or die (dead doesn’t change).

I understand this claim. Living things are dynamic. They change. They are in constant flux. But things aren’t so simple.

My feet are not dead. My body as a whole is not dead. Yet my body is not growing. I don’t want it to grow. It can be healthy and not grow. It will change, but this change is not necessarily growth.

It is also not entirely true that dead things don’t change. We have a stump in our yard. That stump is the remnant of a long-dead tree. The stump is dead. This dead thing is changing; it’s rotting.

Have you ever seen a dead animal lying alongside the road? An early part of the decomposition process includes bloating. Sometimes the bloating is so grotesque that some say, “That’s no dog, that has to be a Chupacabra!” Bloating is a form of growth. It’s not a form of growth I would want.

Or we could look inward. Sometimes we have growth inside our bodies. We call it cancer. Huge disfiguring tumors can result; solid, substantial, visible growth. Good growth? I don’t think so.

Of course, all metaphors and analogies break down eventually. Using the organic metaphor for the church can be remarkably fruitful: it’s certainly biblical. But it doesn’t tell us everything or answer all our questions.

Here are some of my convictions that touch on this issue:

  1. God intends for all Christians to grow in likeness and obedience to Jesus.
  2. God desires that followers of Jesus be progressively set free from all forms of sin.
  3. God wants all people to become followers of Jesus, i.e., people who have become willing recipients of his grace and willing participants in his story.
  4. God has established the church as the major means by which people are drawn to and connected with Jesus.
  5. A church that is in contact with people who are not now followers of Jesus, yet not intentionally engaged with Jesus’ work to draw them in is missing a major point of being the church.
  6. Choosing between the “spiritual” growth of individual believers and the numerical growth of the church is a false dilemma. Neither can be sustained without the other.
  7. Some church outposts (i.e., congregations) are better situated and equipped to perform one of these dimensions of ministry. The downfall is when in their specialization they become isolated from the other essential dimension.
  8. A church full of nice people can be dead.
  9. A church full of obvious sinners can be powerfully alive.
  10. Neither dimension of life is possible without the ongoing power of the Holy Spirit, though the simulacra of both can be done apart from the Spirit.
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Individual vs. Collective

Listening to Peter Harrison’s fifth Gifford Lecture as I drove to Marshall today, I heard his description of a shift from natural philosophy to science in the early modern period. Under the old paradigm (and I use Kuhn’s term intentionally), natural philosophy (what we would today call science) was done to bring about change in the individual. One learned about nature so as to conform oneself more fully and appropriately with it, to grow in moral character, to better oneself. Progress on this model was measured in individual terms.

In the early 17th century, a shift took place. Now progress began to be seen as cumulative, as encompassing all the changes that took place in humanity together. It was no longer an issue of MY getting closer to a goal (Christ-like-ness, say), but OUR knowing and understanding more. In one sense, it is a movement from the internal to the external.

A similar shift may be taking place in church leadership theory these days. I see it as I read Bishop Willimon’s book, Bishop. Once upon a time the effectiveness of pastoral leadership was measured in terms of what happened in the lives of congregants. Were they happy and holy? Were they growing in Christlikeness? Did love rule? Now effectiveness is measured in terms of growth. Are more people becoming Christians? Are more people engaging in ministry? Are people tithing and generous?

I’d rather not have to choose between the two, though I understand why Willimon and others are suggesting the shift. The old model of individual change toward Christlikeness has been so watered down that our only goal is niceness. (Check out Stanley Hauerwas’s autobiography, Hannah’s Child, if you want to see some illustrations of this.) In my assessment, this is not because individual holiness is a bad idea, but because we’ve shorn it of solid and substantive theological content. H. Richard Niebuhr summarized the loss pithily:

A God without wrath brought men without sin into a Kingdom without judgment through the ministrations of a Christ without a Cross.

Deprived of substantial theological vision, we took as our goals tepid secular values like niceness and tolerance, poor substitutes for Christian virtues like love, patience and self-control.

So how ought we to measure pastoral (or church) effectiveness? Is it the individual or the collective? Do we look inside people or at institutional numbers?

I want to look inside. Any ministry, any church, that’s not leading to real life change in the direction of Jesus, is not a ministry worth keeping. But this inside work is not a work that is adequately described only in terms of what happens on the inside. There will be real world consequences for a soul renewed in the image of Jesus.

I also want to look outside. Any ministry, any church, that’s not drawing more people to faith in Jesus, is missing the boat. Jesus clearly says in scripture that he wants all people to come to him. He clearly teaches that our following him in the world has effects in the world. But this outside work is just as complicated and problematic as the inside work. If we take Jesus as our example of Christian leadership, we see a man who eventually developed a following of thousands – til he lost them all. His ministry elicited not only excitement and power, but fear and opposition. A truly healthy Jesus-style ministry today should expect nothing less.

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Original Sin

Though ostensibly a theological doctrine, original sin has been secularized at least since the time of Thomas Hobbes. (David Brook’s recent column is not too far afield.) Hobbes described the original and natural state of humans as the “war of all against all.” In this state life was normally “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”

Our two major political cultures in the US, the liberals and the conservatives, tend to take somewhat different perspectives on original sin. Speaking hyperbolically, conservatives will see the root human problem as laziness and violence, liberals as ignorance and helplessness. With original sin differently conceived, redemption is also differently conceived. For the conservative, redemption lies in a government that removes the incentive toward laziness and protects citizens from the violence of others. For the liberal, redemption lies in a government that takes educates people and takes care of them.

Framed in this simplistic manner, the liberals and conservatives in view are obviously only those who look for salvation purely in the political realm. Both think government can contribute to redemption, though conservatives are more likely to see government, at least in its recent versions, as increasing the laziness of citizens rather than pushing them out of it.

Recognizing that there is at least some truth in these simplified descriptions of the human plight, what ought the Christian to say? It’s not hard to find biblical support for the notion that people ought to work and take care of themselves and their families, rather than looking for a handout. It’s also not hard to find biblical support for the notion that we are our brother’s keeper and ought to take care of the weak and helpless. But I’d say both views are too simplistic for the Christian.

First, the human problem is larger than our laziness, ignorance and lack of ability. Our essential relationships, with God, each other, ourselves and creation, are broken.

Second, redemption, deliverance from our plight, is not something we possess the power to completely bring about on our own. Hubris is as much a problem for the one who thinks she doesn’t need anything of government except to be left alone as for the one who thinks omnicompetent government can solve all our problems, if only fed enough money with the proper elite at the top directing the way.

Christians too often buy into the secular solutions because they’ve dropped their own doctrine of original sin by the wayside or because they’ve bought in to a more secularized version. Sure, it’s unpleasant to admit that we might be broken; not just those other folks over there, but we ourselves. Our brokenness is partly what has happened to us, the effect of living in a sinful world. But we also make whole-hearted contributions to that sinfulness, often holding nothing back.

Original sin, taken as a doctrine of the universality and depth of the human plight, precisely in terms of contrast with God’s original intent, is a healthy doctrine for us to remember and implement in our relations with the world.

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Permanence

Some places up north, the ground is frosty in the winter time. If you want to dig a hole, you wait until the spring thaw. Even farther north, one might find permafrost. If you want to dig there, get your jackhammer or wait until Global Warming progresses.

Sometimes our churches are like permafrost. In his book Bishop, Will Willimon observes:

We build our churches to look at least two hundred years older than they are. Inside, the pews are bolted down, heavy and substantial. That the world around the church is chaotic and unstable is further justification for the church to be fixed and final.

As good steward of our money, we like to build our church buildings so they last forever. The more sturdy and inflexible the better, it seems. In light of the coming Death Tsunami, these blessed buildings will be one of the two things that do us in (the other being expensive full-time pastors).

Since I moved to a teaching job in January, I’ve had the occasion to visit several churches, sometimes as congregant, sometimes as guest preacher. I’ve been pained to see not only how empty the churches are, but how weighted the attendance is toward the back of the sanctuary. We built these large sanctuaries many years ago, when attendance was higher. We picked our pews and staked out our territory. I guess the area closer to the front was unhealthy, since most of those folks seem to have moved on to glory, leaving mostly the folks in the back.

When I preach, I wander. I move around. I go where the people are. If they’re sitting in the back, I go back to where they are. In conversation afterward, a few of the people talk about the phenomenon. They lament how hard it is to get people to move forward. One suggestion offered was to rope off the back pews. I didn’t think that would work. Removing the back pews altogether would be more successful. Then who people could sit in the back while still being closer to the front.

But that’s not the solution either. Why do people sit in the back? Some might sit there for an easier escape. Some sit in the back, finding that an easier way to accommodate their disruptive children. Others might be uncomfortable being too close to the divine action they take to be happening in front. My own reason for sitting in the back (see – I’m not just picking on other people!) is that I can see what’s happening from that angle. If I’m leading worship, I’m up front and can see. If I’m not leading, I can see best from the back. Maybe other folks are thinking that way too.

But why can’t we accommodate all these needs by eliminating no man’s land, the expanse of empty pews between the altar area and where people want to sit? Well, as Bishop Willimon notes, our old buildings are solid, dependable, and designed to be inflexible. As he notes, the world is chaotic. Many seek a safe haven, a place where they can find the comfort of constancy and predictability.

Which constancy? Which predictability? That’s the important question. The church is not up for grabs. In a constantly changing culture it’s not our call to contort ourselves to the every passing fancy of that culture. We’re called to offer Jesus, in word, deed and life. That much ought to be consistent. Offering Jesus may not be easy: we’re sinners, after all. Offering Jesus may not be popular: they crucified him when he originally offered himself. His original apostles experienced more societal abuse than acceptance.

We’re constant. We’re comfortable. We’re stable. Not in the way that people can be sure of finding Jesus, but in the way of being mostly sidelined and ignored.

What’s the answer? I see a couple of things that would help.

First, we need to become less building-centered. Given our huger investment in buildings (and their maintenance), that’ll be tough. But perhaps at least in our newer churches we can start finding ways to use temporary buildings (if we need buildings).

Second, we need to develop more ministry away from the building. Sometimes this will be in our workplaces. Sometimes it will be in our homes and neighborhoods. Wherever we do it, we need to be less defined by our buildings.

Third, and most importantly, we need a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit. We need God to do a work in our midst that marginalizes our buildings and our dependence on them. The world doesn’t need another experience with a beautiful and profound building. The worlds needs Jesus.

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Insouciance

One of the books I’m reading is Will Willimon’s latest, Bishop. Ok, since it came out a couple of months ago it’s probably not his latest any more, but it’s close. I find that Willimon’s snarky style provokes so many thoughts that I have to limit my dosage. I’ve read a fair number of his works over the years, subscribed to his podcast, and heard him live. I think he’s a force for good in the UMC. If for nothing else, he stokes the fires of possibly productive argument.

In his Introduction he says, “Insouciance about bishops is probably a sign of right priorities.” Taken in context, Willimon’s claim is ambiguous. He says this in response to Russell Richey’s statement that, “United Methodists generally exhibit little interest in the actual office of bishop.” Given this context, one might expect Willimon to speak of “insouciance about the episcopacy,” making clear reference to the office rather than “about bishops,” a possible reference to those who occupy that office.

I’ve noticed that United Methodists who have a role in the church hierarchy tend to speak up quickly for episcopacy. While we may not have as clear a theory of episcopacy as other episcopal denominations, we take the office to be a necessary marker of our connectionalism, and a bulwark against the dreaded congregationalism.

But about particular bishops diverse opinion abounds. As long as we live in a connectional system where bishops have power over pastors, those pastors may show reticence in expressing their insouciance toward their bishops too loudly. Not too much reticence, however, and surely not as much insouciance as workers in other professions might show their bosses.

After all, in the UMC bishops are still elders. They’re not a separate order of ministry. We don’t take there to be any sort of ontological difference between them and the rest of us elders. If our bishops are not of a completely different sort than we are, then perhaps insouciance is justified. I’d say, however, that our insouciance, if it is at its best, will be rooted not in our focus on bishops, but on our insouciance toward ourselves. We refuse to take bishops entirely seriously because we refuse to take ourselves entirely seriously.

That’s one of the things I like about Willimon. As a theologian, preacher, prophet, and bishop, he is utterly serious. He wants people to come to faith in Jesus. He wants the church to be a place of powerful and prevailing ministry. In spite of this seriousness, he doesn’t take himself entirely seriously. I think that’s a key reason for his effectiveness. Maybe it can be a part of our effectiveness also.

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Changing Religion

When I was a young Christian, I used to hear a lot about cults. We had to be on the watch for them. Among the groups so identified were the Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses, the Moonies, and the Worldwide Church of God. Each had their obvious peculiarities. I read not only the anti-cult literature (like Walter Martin), but also thought it a good idea to read primary sources. It seemed only fair.

I remember reading issues of The Plain Truth back in those days. The major publication of the Worldwide Church of God, one of the strangest things I found in their doctrine was British-Isralism, the teaching the the British people are the true descendants of the “ten lost tribes” of Israel. Sure, they were plenty heterodox in other areas, but this was the point that for me most set them apart as weird.

But then something happened. Herbert W. Armstrong, founder of the Worldwide Church of God died, and was succeeded by Joseph Tkach. The church began changing – toward Christian orthodoxy. It was an amazing story – an institution that was once labeled a cult entered mainstream Christianity.

Could it happen again?

It looks like Mitt Romney will be the Republican candidate for president. Other than being an evil conservative and capitalist, he seems to be a nice guy. Since many American Christians also count themselves as conservatives, they are inclined toward Romney. But there’s a problem: Romney is a Mormon – a member of a church they’ve been taught to call a cult. Some have trouble imaging a cultist as president. But an increasing number aren’t having that trouble. The Christian estimation of Mormons is improving a bit. Sure, some of this is due to the relativism that infects almost all sectors of our culture. Who am I to say Mormonism is wrong? Who am I to call them a cult or say that they’re wrong. Some of it is the age old “the enemy of my enemy must be my friend;” maybe Mormons can be our allies against regnant liberalism. For these and other reasons, there is at least a shift of perception of Mormons.

But could there be more? Mormons have plenty of weird items in their closet: a founding story of Israelite migration to America, secret golden tablets and magic translating glasses, special underwear and secret temple activities. They also have plenty of heterodox views including polytheism and the lack of an ontological distinction between humans and God (just remember Joseph Smith’s “As man is, God once was; as God is, man shall become.” These teachings and others are a challenge for mainstream Christians. My prayer, however, has been that the Mormons – the LDS Church – would follow the path of the Worldwide Church of God and track toward mainstream Christianity in its faith. Surely this will be more difficult. The WCG had more centralized authority, making change at the top more constitutive of change in the organization as a whole. The LDS, though it has a single Prophet/President, is a much more democratic organization. Current doctrine is not merely a top-down imposition, but is supported by multiple institutions on many levels.

Despite the difficulties, I am prayerfully optimistic for change in the LDS. Having one of their own in the presidential race might even give them reason to consider such change.

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The Future of Lon Morris

Lon Morris College has been in the news lately, but not in a good way. Most recently almost all faculty and staff have been released because of their deep financial problems. I am not an alumnus of Lon Morris and have never attended the school. I do have some connection to the school, beyond being a member of the Texas Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church. My in laws are both Lon Morris grads. My brother was chaplain there many years ago. Finally, Lon Morris himself was a member of the church I pastored in Pittsburg. Though Lon Morris lived here long before my tenure, I heard stories about him from long-time church member Dave Abernathy.

What will become of Lon Morris College? Higher education is going through hard times lately. Many colleges have been closing, so Lon Morris’ situation is not unique. Outgoing president Miles McCall has made a go of it these past few years, working hard to make the institution viable.

As an outsider, it looks to me like the major strike against Lon Morris continuing is structural. It is a two-year college. Being a private school, Lon Morris relies on tuition and giving. It cannot rely on the state (even booming community colleges will tell you the state cannot be relied upon) or taxation for funding. Like other private schools it relies on the generosity of its successful graduates. Two year schools, however, typically send their successful graduates on to four year institutions to finish their education. Once they graduate from these four year schools, these students are more likely inclined to give their money to those institutions, not the school they started at. It is thus very difficult for private two year colleges to remain economically viable.

Can the school survive? I can think of two situations in which the school might continue.

First, the school might decide to become a four year school. This will give it a shot at viability. This will be a terribly difficult route to follow, however, and will require a large infusion of cash to acquire a faculty willing and able to fight the way (back) to full accreditation.

Second, the school might go the non-traditional route. Higher education in America is in the midst of massive change. While the model of college as a highly structured credentialing institution – finish a degree and we’ll certify that you’re equipped to hold down a job in a particular field – is still entrenched, it is facing challenges. From one side, online learning is offering new opportunities to students. From another, that traditional model is being undermined by two factors. The first, the huge cost of the traditional model, is leading many to look for alternatives (including the $10k degree here in Texas). The second, is the growing perception that the traditional model doesn’t deliver on its promises. The key promise has been something like, “Paying for this degree is worth your while because you’ll end up making much more over your life time than if you hadn’t earned the degree.” This is the story told students as far back as when their high school days. Get a bachelors degree and you’ll earn more than you would if you only had a high school diploma. And graduate school? Master and doctoral degrees will only ratchet up your income. Seeing that (a) many recent college graduates are having difficulty finding a job that uses their degrees, and (b) stories of PhD graduates on food stamps, some have begun to question what they’ve been told. Doubts about the traditional model have not reached critical mass yet (if they ever will), but they are growing.

Given these doubts, Lon Morris might develop an alternative vision for education rather than trying again to do what they’ve always done. What might such a vision look like? Here are some suggestions of a possibility.

Lon Morris is a church related institution. One of the recent movements in the church has been what is called the “New Monasticism.” I can imagine the Lon Morris campus becoming the home of a monastic community that takes education to be its mission. Likely with few permanent residents, the college would offer scholars temporary residency for prayer, study and community with other scholars and learners. I can imagine such an institution providing continuing education and spiritual formation for clergy. I can also imagine it providing a liberal arts education for students, though a liberal arts education that turns away from the modern reduction of education to the means to get a well paying job.

Would pursuing such a model of higher education work? Probably not. The traditional model of education in our culture has huge economic and political support. United Methodism as an institution has been strongly committed to the traditional model, so it would be difficult to break away from it. But such a project might be just what the church needs in our age.

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