My turn came to enter the room. As if permanently imprinted on my memory, some of the members of that committee and their questions remain with me to this day.
John Gates, a retired professor in the religion department at Westminster College in Fulton, was responsible for asking questions in theology. I later discovered that he was a scholar in the writings of Soren Kierkegaard.
When his turn came, Dr. Gates said, “I have only one question.” With this news my pulse began to race. What doctrine in the whole field of Christian theology might I have to address? Calvin’s view of predestination? Barth’s view of the work of Jesus Christ? Or might it have something to do with ecclesiology? Beads of sweat began forming beneath my too tightly tied tie.
Gates proceeded. “Can God do anything?” I waited for more, but that was it. That was his question? After being initially stunned, my theological thoughts turned to strategic ones. What is this codger up to? How should I handle this? Is it a trick?
Feeling more and more like the Pharisee who tried to trap Jesus, I began weighing my options. If I said “yes,” then surely I could be branded as naïve and shallow, and then be asked about the problem of evil. If I said “no,” then my views about the sovereignty of God could be seriously questioned.
Finally, realizing that my hesitation might soon betray a sense of uncertainty about the question, I decided in favor of straightforwardness and a leap of faith rather than some serious intellectual repartee. The word “yes” emerged from my mouth.
I braced myself for the follow-up question. Instead, this kind, gracious, and learned professor/pastor/disciple of Jesus Christ simply replied, “I’m satisfied. I have no further questions.”
Hardly believing my ears, my anxiety melted into gratitude — not simply for refusing to torture a seminary graduate hoping to learn something of how to be a pastor by actually being one, but for reminding me in a few short minutes what Augustine and Anselm had said centuries before, namely, that confession of faith precedes understanding, both in importance and in time.
Twenty-four years later John Gates has long since entered the Church Triumphant, and my life has been touched by his declaration that we belong to a God who can do anything — “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them” (Matthew 11:5).
Karl Barth summarized his voluminous theological work with the words of the children’s song: “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” Theology does indeed matter, but not at the expense of acknowledging the prior faith we confess that Jesus Christ is Lord and that, yes, God can do anything — perhaps even breathe new life into a valley full of dry bones.
James Currie is pastor, Westminster church, Houston.
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