I recently found myself at an international conference with scholars in my field from all over the world. In my field, ACU has developed a reputation among North Americans for producing excellent scholars in biblical languages and historical scholarship, but most of my colleagues from farther afield have never heard of our school. During coffee breaks, I often heard the question, “Abilene Christian University—where is that?” There are various ways I could explain why I want to live out my calling at ACU in the College of Biblical Studies, and I’ve tried them all on for size. I talk about my deep affection for the religious movement that taught me to love Jesus and his Body, the Church. I explain that I love the creative project of bringing the long and varied history of the Christian church into conversation with the lived experiences of modern ministers, churches, and persons. I love my students, and I rate their passion to serve Christ and the Church more highly than their academic performance (though I insist on high standards in the classroom too). I observe how invigorating teaching is for my scholarship; I don’t think I could thrive in a research university where I’d have less contact with students.

My friends from other academic institutions may or may not resonate with these reasons. I have quite a few friends who also work for seminaries and do understand my context, even if they haven’t heard of my school. Others are not religious. Some may be Christians, but insist on a careful division between their faith and their work as historians and scholars. Many, when they ask whether I “get good students” in my program, seem to mean students who could complete a terminal degree and land an academic job. (Of course, we “get” some of those students—in fact, we attract and produce an impressive number of successful PhD applicants for a seminary our size!—but that’s not the way that I think about what a “good” student is.)

But to a person, when I tell my peers from places near and far that I work with people I like, they understand what a precious treasure that is. They nod and say, “Never trade that.” My colleagues are people of goodwill whom I trust. We are partners in work that I believe has eternal significance. We don’t always agree, but even as we work through our differences, I sense openness, honesty, and kindness in each person. We bring different interests, skills, and perspectives to the table, but we share an overarching mission, and we know that many parts “form one body” (1 Cor. 12:12). 

But what do I contribute as a colleague to the GST and ACU? I feel pretty confident that my colleagues like me too, but they’re also nice people, so it’s hard to prove! In this section, I’ll describe how I’ve tried to contribute to making the university and my faculty a hospitable place to pursue the vocation of Christian higher education and specifically the formation and training of Christian ministers.

Next page: Collegiality: Evidence and Reflection