Update: Frank Beckwith suggests that Corey’s “generous orthodoxy” may be problematic for a few faculty members. His assessment is fairly strong, in fact: “This appointment seems to represent a clear departure for Biola from its West Coast fundamentalist/dispensationalist roots.”

It’s hard to see how that is the case, though, given that Corey is ordained by a primarily dispensationalist denomination (Assemblies of God, which lists several dispensationalist planks in its 16 core teachings).

In addition, Biola’s actual roots may not be as “fundamentalist” as their history lends people to believe. This paper by smart-guy Dr. Fred Sanders illuminates how “fundamentalism” (of a bad sort) at Biola was resisted, but finally took hold. Quoting Sanders, “MacInnis’ sense of ministerial vocation had always been defined by his denominational commitment, which seemed to run in his Scottish blood. Biola’s other early leaders were comfortable in many denominations – -[R.A.] Torrey described himself as an Episcobaptipresbygationalist– but MacInnis was ethnically Presbyterian.”

Sanders has also done work exploding myths about the fundamentalism that was so important to the founders of Biola. Again, quoting Sanders:

Here Torrey waves the flag for ecumenical cooperation in the form of co-belligerence against a common foe. That foe is what the early fundamentalist movement (The Fundy Foundin’ Fathers!) identified as the main danger of the day: liberal denials of primary Christian doctrines. So the Methodists don’t agree with Torrey’s eschatology? Fine, that eschatology is not the main thing (or, frankly, the plain thing) in Scripture.

In other words, it’s hard to see how Corey won’t fit in exceptionally well with Biola’s tradition. For those who want to know more about Biola’s heritage, Torrey Honors has archived the first decade of The King’s Business, a magazine that Biola published in its early days.

Update: Silly spelling and name errors fixed. It was late. My apologies!
Update Update: From the comments, reader James (who is a Biola alumn and current Gordon-Conwell student) offers this opinion: “One of the more word of endorsement is that Dr. Corey has had the strong support and respect of the faculty of the seminary, and has shown his commitment to academic excellence as well as spiritual depth.
I suppose the best thing I can say is as a current GCTS student I will be very sad to see him go, but as a Biola alum, I am excited about what he will bring to my alma mater.”

Coming from James, that’s high praise.

For the past six months or so, Biola has been slowly moving through the process of selecting a new president. It’s somewhat surprising that they remember how to do it: Clyde Cook, who is stepping down, has served as president for 25 years.

But as we would expect, it seems like Biola has found another keeper. Barry Corey, the academic dean (among other things!) at Gordon-Conwell, is the only candidate remaining for the presidency. Barring any surprises, it seems he will be the next president of Biola.

The email released to all of Biola today included these thoughts from his application:

I am a product intellectually of Christian thought leaders who introduced me to the wonders of poetry, science, writing, philosophy and art through the lens of God’s creative design and all encompassing Truth (which I intentionally capitalize). But this has been more than an academic exercise. It has formed the way in which I think about all of life. The more I have studied and the more I have contemplated God’s creation, the more I have had to remind myself that learning must not become the altar to which I bow. My faith journey is replete with moments when I have surrendered my intellect (without abandoning it) to the will and Lordship of Christ. Academic study at its core must be a spiritual discipline, lest I become intoxicated by my own learning.

There is very little information about Dr. Corey available online. It is interesting to note that while he is ordained by the Assemblies of God, he is also on the board of the quite ecumenical Boston Theological Institute. In many ways, that seems to fit with the atmosphere of Biola, which encourages local church committments (it has no church on campus) while fostering and promoting “mere Christianity” as an institution.

It will be interesting to see and hear Dr. Corey in person. He is going to be on campus Monday and Tuesday of next week, and while I am extremely busy both days, I will make every effort to go hear him. In all, he seems on paper like a solid pick, someone that everyone can get excited about.

In order for educators to promote great discussions, it is crucial for them to understand the beliefs necessary for great discussions to occur. In other words, there are certain commitments that educators and participants need to have in place for important and meaningful discussions to occur. These presuppositions are like the foundation holding up the house: no progress is going to be made building the house if there is no solid foundation. While this worldview is not exempt from the process of discussion—indeed, it is a prime candidate!—the wrong answers here will erode one’s ability to grow and learn and change.

I should say at the outset that as this is not a piece on apologetics. I have no intention of arguing for these ideas here. If reader’s wish, we can take them up in the comments or in subsequent posts. While I expect these ideas to be some of the most controversial of the series, my aim is to simply explicate them and make it clear how not believing each particular idea would inhibit conversations. Without further ado, then, the foundation for great conversations.

The Existence of Truth. In C.S. Lewis’s masterful dream-like novel, The Great Divorce, he records a conversation with an Anglican priest who rejects heaven for hell. At the core of the priest’s resistance to heaven is the idea that heaven is a place of facts. He is far more interested in his opinion, and consequently refuses to enter heaven. “To travel hopefully is better to arrive,” he claims. Questions are more important than answers. Answers bring finality and stagnation—they are the way to dogmatism, which in our contemporary climate can only be said with a sneer.

But inquiry—discussion, questions, conversation—is about finding answers, not about endlessly questioning. It is about finding a deeper understanding of both the questions and the answers, whether those answers are revealed to us in Scripture or are simply products of experience. As the Priest’s friend from heaven puts it, “Once you were a child. Once you knew what inquiry was for. There was a time when you asked questions because you wanted answers…Thirst was made for water, inquiry for truth.”[1] The irony, of course, is that the Priest leaves heaven to return to an eternity of isolation and solitude. In fact, he laments the fact that his normal group of friends have lost their intellectual abilities. The conversation in heaven—a conversation of inquiry and understanding—is only possible in light of the fact that there are facts in the world. Outside the existence of answers, no genuine conversation is possible.

The point is a simple one: if no final answers exist, then ultimately the best that we can do is opinion. This has three potential effects, though, on conversation. One, it destroys the notion of progress. Because there are no facts to measure opinions or interpretations by, there is no standard to which opinions must be measured. And consequently, there is no possibility of progress in the discussion. The whole notion of progress depends upon a fixed goal, and in learning, that fixed goal is facts. It is easy to see how a rejection of facts is an invitation to despair.

The second effect of this worldview, though, is more pernicious. If only opinions count, then “persuasion” changes from persuading someone to see the way things are to persuading someone to see things how I see them. In other words, the discussion moves away from a spirit of inquiry to a spirit of power. May the most rhetorically persuasive person win. Besides being antithetical to the Christian gospel, that sort of environment will stifle any real conversation.

Thirdly, if a conversation is not focused on knowing the truth, then what often happens is “opinion-lobbing.” In other words, people simply say their opinions without opening themselves to hard questions or criticisms. This happens a lot, I think, in Church small groups. Because we are afraid of making others feel bad, we sometimes allow opinions to be stated without rebuttal or question. This sort of opinion-lobbing, though therapeutic and sometimes necessary, will eventually stifle conversation. The only thing that keeps a great conversation alive is the pursuit of a truth that is independent of anyone’s minds.

The existence of truth—whether about the world, about texts, about beauty, about anything—is absolutely essential if discussion is going to be something more than opinion-lobbing or power struggles. When societies and cultures reject it, screaming matches ensue. Much of contemporary political debate, to pick an easy target, operates in this way. People do not talk with others outside their political ideology: rather, they read and listen to opinions that reaffirm their own beliefs, and then yell at the other side (yes, I am far too guilty of this as well, but I try to be civil in my yelling!). But such discourse is only a branch on the tree–at the root, is a subtle replacement of power for truth.

The Goodness of Truth. Charles Williams, a friend of C.S. Lewis, member of “The Inklings,” and a prolific author in his own right once stated that, “All facts are facts of joy.” In other words, the truth—no matter how painful or difficult—is always good for us. We were made to live in reality, and will only be happy to the extent that we do live there.

This commitment to the goodness of truth is absolutely essential for great conversations. The reasoning is simple: if people are skeptical about whether facts—the ultimate answers of the universe—will actually be good for them, then desire for the truth will diminish. Why would we want the truth if lies are just as good? While itself a topic of conversation, over a long period of time, a rejection of the goodness of truth will result in the end of discussion and learning.

The Knowability of Truth.Aristotle, the greek philosopher, began his Metaphysics with the simple claim that “All men by nature desire to know” (”understand” is probably a better translation). As Lewis pointed out in the section above, thirst is for water. And thirst indicates the existence of water—because we desire to know, it seems plausible that we can know. The goodness and existence of truth are of little value to us if we cannot. The third foundational idea, then, is the knowability of truth.

This does not mean, of course that we have absolute certainty, especially about difficult truths such as the existence of God. As cliched as it is, we may actually be in The Matrix, completely deceived about the nature of our reality. But certainty seems like an unreasonable standard for knowledge. It seems possible to be reasonably confident in the things we know, including the truths of Christianity. We “see in a glass darkly,” of course, which means we must be appropriately humble about our claims. But humility does not entail denying knowledge or understanding.

If the truth is unknowable, then it is easy to see how motivation to think hard and come to understanding might be lost. Perpetual agnosticism breeds bitter skepticism—questioning everything for the sake of destroying people’s confidence in what they know—or an apathy about finding the truth. Conversation—at least healthy conversation—can last only so long in that sort of environment.

Learning, Not Winning. When people think of discussion classes, they tend to think of them in terms of debates. In other words, they are battle grounds where students duke it out with words. Discussion is about winning arguments, not coming to a more profound understanding of truths. But by setting up a standard of winning, individuals must compete with each other, rather than work together. Fundamentally, great discussions are about inquiry, not about conquest. And inquiry can only exist where understanding matters more than winning. (Yup, I made this point earlier, but it bears repeating!)

The Incarnation. It is no surprise that the bottom of the foundation for great discussions is one of the central truths of the Christian faith. The stunning and powerful message of the gospel is that Jesus—the eternally begotten Son of God—laid aside his own interests for the sake of redeeming mankind. As Phillipians 2:5-11 indicates, He gave up his claim to equality with God and submitted himself to the hands of men. The rest, as they say, is history.

A firm belief in the Incarnation and a willingness to follow in Jesus’s path are essential for great discussions. Often, when people gather to talk everyone comes with their own agenda. It is crucial, though, to know how to set that agenda aside and submit to the best interest of the group, even as the leader of the discussion. Some people feel better by talking: it is crucial to know when to stay silent. Others feel good if they can hide in a corner and not speak, but that too must be let go of when the good of the group demands it. In order to work together effectively, to make progress, groups must embrace an incarnational and sacrificial approach to learning. While such benevolent altruism is certainly fitting for all of human activity, and hence may be available to natural reason (rather than revelation), it is the life of Christ who most perfectly exemplifies it, and hence it is Him that discussion leaders (and participants!) must imitate.

A Sense of Mission. Communities—groups of people—are formed when they have common objects of interest and love, and when they have common experiences based upon those objects of interest. For instance, the Church is formed when individuals who have the same object of interest—namely, pursuing Jesus Christ and His Kingdom—gather together for that purpose. As conflicts arise, this basic commitment to the same goal and the shared experience of pursuing it keeps people together. The mission of worshipping Jesus and living out the Kingdom draws people together.

In many ways, great discussions are similarly mission oriented. They are focused on a purpose that brings everyone together. In many cases, that purpose can be simply understanding the text or issue under consideration. But the more invested the members of the group are in the mission, the more invested they will be in the fulfillment of it and in the fulfillment of it as a group. This suggests, though, that learning is a communal process, with communal aims. The point is worth making, but not surprising. Learning is a human activity, and humans are communal beings with communal aims. The stronger the bonds that bring the community together–namely, an object of inquiry or love that is outside the community–the stronger the bonds within the community. The cheeky, but true, way of putting this is, “Seek first the text, and all else shall be added unto it.”

Though Dr. Sanders has made me scared to say it, I think the the incarnation and mission point to the Trinitarian basis for discussion. Jesus’ mission is to lay aside his own interests for the sake of others. He is co-missioned by the Father to reveal the Father’s love to the world. And at the core of His mission is bringing glory to God. His perfect communion with the Father enables Him to complete and fulfill the task he had been given—he takes individual responsibility and sacrifices his own interests in order to promote the interests of the community who is God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. That is the model for great discussions: a sense of mission and purpose that empowers individuals to sacrifice their own interests for the sake of the community.Conclusion. Such a worldview, as I said, is certainly open for discussion. Indeed, it is crucial to question the foundations of discussion as much as anything else. While it is possible to have discussions without having this sort of worldview, my interest is not in what’s possible, but what makes for great discussions–for discussions that bring people together into community, discussions that transform lives, discussions that allow us to conform our opinions to the truth in healthy fashion, and discussions that contribute to our human flourishing. And it is my claim that the above beliefs are crucial for understanding and experiencing those sorts of discussions.

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[1] C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce, page 41.>Update:  The tags for some reason were screwing up the rest of the site.  They have hopefully been corrected.

Readers in the Chicago area may be interested in this opportunity.  If I were already out there, I’d be there:

Americans United for Life presents their annual

AUL Legal Institute

June 18-21, 2007 in Chicago

“I have learned more pro-life strategies from AUL in the past month than I ever learned from all my Congressional internships and public policy experiences in Washington, D.C. combined.  The experience and lessons I have gained here have been invaluable, and will continue long beyond my time this summer.”

- Katie Moulthrop (J.D. candidate 2007)

Catholic University of America, Columbus School of Law 

Each year, AUL provides cutting-edge training for pro-life students and allies at their annual AUL Legal Institute held in downtown Chicago.  AUL staff and outside experts train future leaders of the pro-life movement on the full spectrum of life issues, the legislative and political processes, and emerging opportunities to advance a culture of life.

This year, AUL’s expanded program of speakers includes:

Donna Harrison, M.D.,

President-Elect, American Association of

Pro-Life Obstetricians & Gynecologists

Frank Manion, J.D.,

Senior Counsel, American Center for Law and Justice

O. Carter Snead, J.D.,

Associate Professor of Law, University of Notre Dame

Edward R. Grant, J.D.,

Member of the Board of Immigration Appeals &

former AUL Executive Director & General Counsel

Attendees will also participate in a hands-on media training session, conducted by

Teri Goudie,

President, Goudie Media Services

 

Key sessions will be led by AUL experts:

Clarke Forsythe, J.D.,

Mailee Smith, J.D.,

Daniel McConchie, M.A.,

Matthew Eppinette, M.B.A., M.A.
 

To register, contact AUL today.

Visit us at www.AUL.org\li  

or call 312-492-7234.

Limited travel scholarships are available.   

I walked the city tonight.

I walked the city tonight with eyes wide open and wept over what I saw. I went looking for life but saw death and pain and sin all around me.

Pavement beneath my feet. Pavement for miles on end. Rock, concrete, brick, plaster and stone enclose and entomb. The heart of the city must be cold, too, to survive in such a coffin. Why do I return to the city?

Neon signs blink, stammer, and beckon to the moths who have grown accustomed to the language of the night. Brakes squeal in protest as the city bus slides to a stop on the side of the mountain of Babel. The worn out discs aren’t the only thing protesting. A glance at the face of my waiter, the face of the man climbing the sidewalk towards me, the face of the musician, the barrista, the student, the street-dweller reveal that none of these understand stopping when it’s so much easier to roll on down the hill—so much easier to slide on down the line. Why do I return to the city? (more…)

It is a theme that I have touched on in several posts now, so I thought I would put it into an installment of its own.

Managing the interaction between questions and answers is a challenge for any institution, but particularly for Christian institutions. On the one hand, Christians have the creeds and Scripture, which make definite truth claims about the world. We think we have the answers. On the other hand, Christians value free inquiry and questions, as we want to make sure the answers we have are actually true.

This is going to be a tension for any discussion leader, and I won’t pretend to resolve it. But here are a few thoughts:

Leaving students with questions, rather than answers, moves the authority away from the teacher and transfers it to the home or the church. As a Christian educator, I understood my role to be fairly limited: I was not a pastor, nor was I a parent. While some students looked to me for both of those roles at times, I always attempted to transfer them to the proper spheres of authority in their lives.

My job, then, was to ask questions and to cause them to reflect more deeply on what their parents and churches had taught them. As I am interested in working in Christian education, my goal is not to persuade students of the truths of a particular denomination or of Christianity in general, but to get them to ask questions for themselves. At the same time…..

Wanting students to believe the right answers isn’t bad. Had one of my students started questioning their faith, I would have discussed it with them after class or (if appropriate) during the discussion. While I would encourage them to keep questioning, I would do everything in my power to convince them of the truth of Christianity. While not ultimately responsible for that student’s soul, I also recognize the influence that comes with being an educator and want to use such influence for the good. Becoming a participant in the discussion and offering reasons for what you think is true isn’t always off-limits for the discussion leader, but should be done only with fear and trembling.

Students jump to answers far too quickly. Quick, unreflective answers almost always are cliches, and students are full of them. We’re all full of them, for that matter. Moving beyond cliches is difficult, but a well-framed question can help students look at old truths in a new light.

For Christian educators, there is no book more difficult to lead discussion on than Scripture, as students all think they “get it” from the moment they walk into class. Demonstrating the depth of the book takes an immense amount of work for a discussion leader, or it takes a sly and subtle question. When I led discussions on the Gospel of John, the most effective question I ever asked was, “Why does it matter that it was John, and not Peter or Thomas or Nathaniel, that wrote John?” The question struck them as so odd that it forced them to evaluate the book from a brand-new perspective.

Good questions incite desire in students. Most of the students I meet don’t care a whole lot about genuine learning. They care about grades, yes, but few are willing to work hard to gain understanding about the world. Good questions and discussion leading tactics can expose their false beliefs though, and deepen their desire for genuine understanding. “All men by nature desire to know” (or understand, which is probably a better translation) Aristotle said, and that desire arises when men realize they don’t know. Good questions help students realize that.

Conclusion: Those are a few more thoughts about the relationship between questions and answers for Christian educators, for whom the struggle is (I think) most prominent. (See here for Brother Jim’s interesting thoughts on the dilemma from a secular perspective, and read the helpful comments too). If nothing else, I hope they promote (heh) further dialogue about the role of philosophical committments on the part of teachers. It’s a minefield that takes an extraordinary amount of wisdom to navigate.

Want to have Matthew speak to the leaders of your church, youth group, business, or school about leading discussions? Contact him at Matthew Dot L Dot Anderson At Gmail Dot Com. Rates are negotiable.

Other posts in the series:

• Becoming an Excellent Discussion Leader (Series Intro)
• What is discussion?
• The Goals of Discussion
• Why Discussion?
• Only Discussion?
• The Biblical Basis for Discussion

But is it biblical?

Such an issue is of probably no interest to most educators or businessmen, but to those who work in Christian ministry (or Christian education in general) it is essential. I have interacted with some more conservative adherants to Christianity (including this exchange!) who have argued that “open-ended” discussions are against the teachings of the Bible.

While we don’t see Jesus engaging in Socratic type discussion with people, he does use a lot of questions. When the rich young ruler asks Jesus what he must do to be saved, Jesus draws him in by questioning his greeting: “Why do you call me good?” It is a technique he frequently uses (see Randy Newman’s Questioning Evangelism for more). But that clearly isn’t discussion.

Luke 24: Probably the closest we see Jesus to using discussion as an educational method is in Luke 24. Jesus has been crucified and has risen again, but the two disciples who are walking together on the road to Emmaus do not know that all has been made well. Luke records that as the disciples were talking together–which is the word Plato uses for “dialectic”–Jesus came to them and travelled with them. Rather than reveal who he is and answer their questions, though, Jesus intentionally hides his identity from them and asks them what has happened. He engages in them in conversation, during which he opens the Scriptures to them. At the end of this conversation, he acts as though he going to leave them. Why? Presumably to draw them out and see how much they want to follow him. Only in their fellowship—as they eat together—does Jesus reveal his identity before disappearing again.

The “hiding” of Jesus is, I think, very similar to the difference between discussion and a lecture or a sermon. In my classes, I would “hide” what I thought the truth was from students in order to find out who among them wanted to see it. The goal, after all, is not simply knowing what the truth is but understanding why it is true and what the truth means. Finding the latter, though, requires work and patience, at least if such revelations are going to last.

John 4: In John chapter four, Jesus engages the woman at the well in conversation. Like the passage in Luke, I can only offer a stunted interpretation. When the woman misunderstands Jesus’ statement, Jesus pushes through her misunderstanding by pointing out her adultery to her. Throughout the discussion, the woman repeatedly deflects his advances, putting up what she thinks she knows as a means of keeping him close enough to keep talking, but far enough away that he would not expose her shamefulness any further. Jesus’ goal, though is to help her achieve understanding, not simply correct her bad beliefs. Along the way, he systematically destroys the barriers she puts up between them, and at the end reveals His identity. Here, Jesus uses the process of conversation to destroy the woman’s emotional barriers to the truth by destroying “what seems to be true” for her.

The Covenant: Discussions depend upon a covenant, at least if they are going to last. One person makes a comment, and if the conversation is to go forward, that comment must be acknowledged and accepted, or left aside. If the person is going to stay engaged when their comment is left aside, they must believe that it is better for the whole and for themselves that it was not acknowledged. In other words, the community must be for each other–it must be a community built upon “yes’s” to each other. At the core of great conversations is a fundamental commitment to each other and to the process of growing together.

But here is the basic theological foundation of discussion: Jesus is the Word who enters into conversation with us. He speaks, we listen, and then we talk back. He makes a comment and it is upon us to either accept or reject. If the conversation is to continue, we must make it clear why we are rejecting it and then allow him to respond. (I think at some point, we would probably have to accept his comment, though it seems from Moses’ interaction with God in Exodus that sometimes he says things to test whether we will respond in a certain fashion). The covenant that he has with us, though, will not be broken because of the silly or sinful things that we say and do. Instead, at the core of His relationship to us is a fundamental commitment to His creation, and to the process of helping us grow. God is the ultimate discussion partner.

Conclusion: Is there a Biblical basis for discussion? There are no explicit verses, but I would contend that the relationship between God and the world could be conceived of as a discussion, where God has the answers and hides them from us in order to sanctify us and make us comfortable with our limitations. As such, I think Christian educators stand on solid ground in employing discussion within their educational program, even discussion that completely hides the truth from students.

Updated:  Removed a confusion from the last paragraph.   Also, Hugh is furious at NBC, as are these folks.  On the other side of the aisle, this bloke wants the tapes released to everyone.  (End Update)
The tragedy at Virginia Tech took a bizarre turn today that I certainly didn’t expect, and my hunch is others didn’t either. I have no doubt it will be used as effective rhetoric against the slow response of the administration and security at the school (John from Verum Serum has asked some very pointed questions in this regard).

Cho Seung-Hui went to the mailbox inbetween the stops on his rampage and dropped a package in the mail. To NBC. It has some very disturbing pictures, as well as CD containing an 1800 word manifesto. From the AP story:

Cho repeatedly suggests he was picked on or otherwise hurt.

“You have vandalized my heart, raped my soul and torched my conscience,” he says, apparently reading from his manifesto. “You thought it was one pathetic boy’s life you were extinguishing. Thanks to you, I die like Jesus Christ, to inspire generations of the weak and the defenseless people.”

The comparison to Jesus obviously couldn’t be more off-base. James Taranto wisely pointed out yesterday that these sorts of events are difficult to speak about because they are senseless.

The murder of 32 people by South Korea native Cho Seung-hui is no less evil than massacres carried out by suicide bombers or hijackers, but it is harder to comprehend. Terrorism is carried out by an organized enemy with a political agenda; we can rally to defeat the enemy. The Virginia Tech shooter seems to have been a lone nut. He murdered all those people only to render his own life a nullity by committing suicide in the end.

The struggle, of course, is now to understand Cho’s apparent sense of mission and purpose. He was a “lone nut,” to be sure, but had enough presence of mind to mail NBC a package to ensure his actions were that much more prominently featured in the nightly news. There is something about it that suggests it was not senseless, but calculated and coldblooded, with the sort of sense that is only found in a madman–one that is perfectly clear to him, but obscure and opaque to everyone else. The saga of Cho Seung-Hui is certainly a disturbing one.