If pastoral scandals publicized in popular media do not convince us, if research informing us that young people avoid church because they think Christian leaders are not behaving like Christ does not convince us, at least we can appreciate the mandate required by the Association of Theological Schools Commission on Accrediting. We must address spiritual formation. The commission declares that “the learning outcomes for the MDiv shall encompass the instructional areas of religious heritage, cultural context, personal and spiritual formation, and capacity for ministerial and public leadership” (Degree Program Standards, A.2.1, italics mine). The Standards are specific. In addition to training students in theological disciplines and pastoral skills, seminary programs are required to “provide opportunities through which the student may grow in personal faith, emotional maturity, moral integrity, and public witness” (A.2.4). We simply must do something about our maturity in the Christian life during our years at seminary – and continuing through the years in our ministries.
Let me be clear right from the start that I support this direction. The modern “theological disciplines and pastoral skills” model of training was insufficient to equip men and women for a lifetime of pastoral ministry. The premoderns knew this. Gregory the Great (AD 540–604) titled the second chapter of his Book of Pastoral Rule “That none should enter on a place of government [the pastoral ministry] who practices not in life what they have learnt by study.” The second full part of this book is devoted to a discussion “Of the Life of the Pastor.” Similarly, Humbert of Romans, Master General of the Order of Preachers (Dominicans) from 1254–1263, commits the second part of his Treatise on the Formation of Preachers to “Things a Preacher Needs,” addressing the quality of the preacher’s life, the preacher’s knowledge, “his speech, his merits,” and “his person.” I am with the premoderns on this one. Who we are is perhaps the most valuable gift we have to offer God’s people. Consequently, our full-orbed formation in Christ – encompassing, but not limited to, theological education and development of pastoral skills – ought to be the outcome guiding the process of preparation for ordained ministry. Which brings me back to the question: How is this to be done?
One trend I am beginning to notice is the development of practice-based approaches to theological education. In this approach, theological students are encouraged toward spiritual formation by the assignment of “spiritual practices.” Sometimes seminaries offer entire courses on the “disciplines” or “practices of the faith.” I have taught some of these. Practice-based courses give students exposure to a wide-yet-defined set of means of grace. Having experienced meditative Scripture reading, celebrating liturgical seasons, healing prayer, group spiritual direction, hospitality, or other practices within a classroom environment, a seminarian is more likely to be equipped and motivated both to grow in their faith during their schooling and then to employ some of these practices as vehicles through which the Spirit of God will mature them further in life and ministry after graduation. Sometimes students experience the assigned celebration of discipline as a feast, a smorgasbord of untasted and nutritious delights. All well and good.
And yet often, in the lives of busy students who are trying to manage family, jobs, ministries, and school, a practice assignment is just that – an assignment. The opportunity to engage with the practice of personal, private retreat is experienced as one more required “activity” competing with all the other required activities of life. We may find ourselves approaching practice assignments just like other assignments: “What do I have to do in order to get a certain grade?” We may perform a variety of practices without any sense of how they fit our cultural background, our faith-journey, our personality. We cannot give the practice the investment needed to discover whether it might really work for us. More dangerous still is the atmosphere of “performance” that can accompany a practice-based approach to seminary education. Those of us with lots of curiosity, time, and will-power are able to have positive encounters with a number of practices and regard ourselves as spiritual discipline pharisees (though we would never really admit this). Just what our congregations need from us as ministers after we graduate, right? Others of us hit the wall trying to succeed at fasting or solitude and give the whole strive-for-maturity thing up. As someone with a PhD in Christian spirituality, I am very familiar with these dangers of performance.
So I ask again: How is this to be done? On the one hand, we might simply concede that collecting theological background, pastoral skills and exposure to some spiritual practices is the best we can expect in the context of a few years of seminary education. We may complain that the requirements of our program (especially combined with the demands of life) are simply not set up to permit deep personal integration. We may say, “Good enough for now. Perhaps when I graduate I will be able to devote some time to integrating all this into my life.” My response? Think again. If you don’t find a way to make time for integration during seminary you will probably not be able to make time for it in the midst of your ministry after seminary. What we need, then, is another approach to spiritual formation.
It was precisely to address these kinds of needs that I wrote A Guide to Christian Spiritual Formation: How Scripture, Spirit, Community, and Mission Shape Our Souls (Baker Academic, 2018). My aim in this book is to help Christians to help Christians mature in their relationship with Christ and the gospel. I did not use this phrase in the book, but the more I write and talk about this topic, the more I realize that what I am trying to do is to promote something of a relational-wisdom model of Christian spiritual formation. I think that when we approach our formation in Christ out of respect for our relationships and regard for the honest wisdom required to follow Scripture and Spirit in our lives, we become better equipped to take appropriate steps of maturity. In what follows I will offer a few words about wisdom, and then about relationships. I will conclude with some reflections on how a relational-wisdom model of spiritual formation might be employed by seminary students and other maturing Christians.
How does paying attention to wisdom affect our approach to spiritual formation? First, wisdom acknowledges that people are different. Some people have a hard time with solitude. Some settle into their faith by setting up coffee and taking down chairs. Still others mature through reading challenging books. What this means is that we must pay attention to context. We can't simply hand out a “formula for formation” and expect believers to mature. Our broad exposure to the means of grace must be accompanied by our awareness of the manifestation of grace given to us through the real circumstances of our varied lives.
Second, spiritual formation aims somewhere. Both Scripture and experience confirm that growth in maturity can actually be gained in this life and that we would do well to aim there. We may debate about the possibility of “perfection” or “entire sanctification.” There are no debates about the possibility of improvement. Empirically based research and common sense both suggest that if we set good goals we are more likely to make progress. Wisdom is about seeing our small aims in light of the Big Aim. I like to think of the Big Aim as “all things new” (Rev 21:5). However, as we noticed in the previous paragraph, which of the “all things” is currently important for me (perhaps contemplative silence) may be different than that which may be front and center for you (perhaps missional action). It is all about the appropriate next step. Christian wisdom neither imposes models (even subtly) nor abandons movement (intention toward Christ), but rather views our approach to spiritual practice in light of a discerning desire to “make every effort” in a manner that fits the small aims of one’s real growth in Christ (see 2 Pet 1:5-8).
This process of appropriating formation in light of our contexts and aims requires experimentation. The word I use is play. We must learn how to play in the presence of God and within the family of Christ. Christian spiritual formation – particularly in a wisdom-based approach – is not a program to be mastered but a loving relationship with God to be lived. A figure skater must repeat a move time and time again, exploring just how it feels, checking with her coach, knowing that a few falls along the way are not “failures” but rather are the path to greatness. In the same way we explore what it might mean for us to love strangers, to follow God's will, to pray. We do something (or refrain from doing), we explore how it feels, we check with others, we adjust, all the while knowing that a few falls along the way are not “failures” but rather are the path to greater maturity in Christ.
And with the mention of “coach,” we are now talking about relationships. How do we discern which practices are really ours, for this time? How do we identify our small aims, our personal mission, our own authentic thirst, in light of the vast comprehensiveness of the gospel of Christ? I think we do this best through relationships. More specifically I like to talk about the agents of our spiritual formation.
The Holy Spirit is the primary agent of our formation. Antony of Egypt, considered by many to be the Father of Christian monasticism, writes regarding the Holy Spirit: “He delivers to them works [also translated “rules”] whereby they may constrain their soul and their body, that both may be purified and enter together into their inheritance” (First Letter). How do we know what our “rule of life” should be: the practices that best promote the journey to realize our inheritance? The Spirit of Christ guides us. This is what it means to live according to the Spirit (see Rom 8:4).
This brings us to the question of how we know where the wind of the Spirit is blowing. I want to suggest that while there is no fool-proof technique for immediately discerning the Spirit’s leading, we recognize it best in the context of ongoing experimentation (read play) and open relationship with a network of loving partners in Christ. When we give a few others permission to have some responsibility for our maturity, we empower them to watch us in love, to notice the work of the Spirit in our lives, and to help guide us in our own appropriate formation and vocation. Wisdom and relationship (both Spirit-ual and interpersonal) join in what I call the ministry of Christian spiritual formation.
So now we are left with the question of how this might work in seminary or elsewhere. With regard to seminary education, it is interesting to remember that some denominations have tried to address these very issues through their structures of ordination and candidacy. In theory, the ideal of being “under care” of a Presbytery or receiving the nurture and guidance of the Board of Ordained Ministry in a United Methodist Conference means to have this kind of ongoing relational guidance with regard to vocation and Christian maturity though one’s process toward ordination. In this context, students process not only theological viewpoints and pastoral skills, but also spiritual practices: personalizing them in the context of a larger community of faith (and perhaps also within the context of a local congregation). Within a context of being “under care” seminarians need not be daunted by practices that may not seem to work. Within the context of their “care” they can discern where to invest more or less energy. The relationship serves as an environment within which theology, pastoral calling, spiritual growth, and more can all be integrated in a way that educational institutions and classroom teachers cannot possibly reproduce.
Nevertheless, the ideal of being under care is quite often just that – an ideal. The reality experienced by the student is different. Academic institutions, perceiving the need, are themselves beginning to take up this ministry. Some schools are repackaging the “advisee groups” within which students talked with their advisors about class offerings and perhaps a prayer request or two. We are now seeing Vocation or Formation Groups being developed where mentors and students can process academic, vocational, and spiritual issues all together, either within the context of a single class or over the course of a student’s entire seminary career. I think there is hope in these structures.
In the end, for those both in and out of seminary, I urge believers themselves to take a measure of responsibility. When the structures are not in place, we must find our own mentors. Sometimes we must piece together a network of friends, counselors, spiritual directors, spouses, and such that together provide the kind of guidance we need to integrate theology, skill development, and spiritual maturity. We play, we let others watch our play, and we talk about it with others. And over time we grow. If we make these kinds of choices, I have great hope that the Christian ministry and the Body of Christ can once again become an attractive fragrance in the world.