Summary

Dr. Johnson, a former Evangelical seminary teacher, is haunted by a recurring nightmare about being ostracized for his unorthodox views on experiencing God beyond traditional Evangelical teachings.

Abstract

Dr. Johnson, once a respected teacher at an Evangelical seminary, is tormented by a persistent dream where he is confronted by the seminary's administration for his contemporary beliefs. In his dream, he is accused of straying from the church's doctrines by suggesting that God's presence can be felt in diverse forms, including nature, dreams, and other religions. The dream reflects his real-life experience of being alienated from the Evangelical community for his progressive theological perspectives. Despite the distress caused by this recurring nightmare, it also serves as a reminder of the personal cost he bore for embracing a broader understanding of the divine, prompting him to consider the experiences he might have missed had he conformed to the Evangelical Tribe's expectations.

Opinions

The author conveys a sense of alienation and conflict between Dr. Johnson's contemporary spiritual beliefs and the traditional Evangelical doctrines.
There is a clear tension between the seminary's emphasis on rational understanding of God through the Bible and Dr. Johnson's more experiential and inclusive approach to divinity.
The dream sequence suggests that Dr. Johnson's departure from the seminary was not a voluntary choice but a forced exit due to his divergent views.
The narrative implies a critique of the Evangelical church's rigidity and its inability to adapt to or tolerate differing spiritual perspectives.
The recurring nightmare symbolizes the ongoing internal struggle and the lasting impact of the conflict between personal belief and institutional doctrine.
The author seems to empathize with those who leave Evangelical churches in search of a more fulfilling spiritual path, indicating that this exodus is both necessary and understandable.
Dr. Johnson's internal dialogue and physical reactions in the dream underscore the profound emotional toll caused by his expulsion from the seminary.

The Many Faces of God

Photo by Andres Molina, Image Source, on Unsplash

What if God was one of us?

Just a slob like one of us

Just a stranger on the bus

Tryin’ to make his/her way home? — Joan Osborne

The seminary building seems faintly familiar. Students drift between classrooms in a dreamlike state. They seem so young. Someone stops and asks if I need help because I seem lost. I smile and say “I’m okay” but I feel out of place. Then a student glances at me and says, “Dr. Johnson? Didn’t you use to teach here?”

I give her a strained smile and nod. Do I know her? It’s been years since I was here. But the start time for my new class is getting closer. I nervously check my watch every few seconds. I hate to be late, but right now I am going nowhere.

I notice a large room where the President and Dean of the Seminary and several elders from my Evangelical church are seated at a conference table. They beckon me in. I do as they say, seating myself on the opposite side of the table, but I am spooked. What do these people want? The chair is uncomfortable and hurts my back.

”Why are you here today?” the president begins, grim-faced. “Did you not get our letter informing you that we no longer want you to teach?”

“That can’t be true,” I say, puzzled. “I have tenure. I can’t be terminated without due process.” My blood pressure starts to rise, and I clench my fists under the table. I am angry and confused. I lean forward. “Precisely what did I do to deserve this?”

“It’s no use trying to defend yourself,” he replies, with an air of arrogance and spiritual authority. “You’ve gone wa-a-ay over the line. In fact, you’ve passed the point of no return!

“Students report that you challenge our belief that God can be primarily understood with our rational minds, as long as we get those ideas from the Bible.”

“And then you claim to see the face of God in others, nature, your dog, dreams, pain, and Buddha.”

“Have you no shame?”

He pauses to catch his breath, and then, with gravitas, adds, “We find that tragic since a few years ago you sat right here with us as a peer.”

Is this guy clueless? I think to myself. Doesn’t he know that millions of people, especially young people, are deserting Evangelical churches? And for good reason!

My heart pounds and I fight the urge to jump to my feet and shout, “Many church exiles are seekers, you fool!” but I don’t have the courage. Sweat pours down my face. I can’t catch my breath.

And my eyes snap open. Above me, I see vigas. I glance around, disoriented. The bedding lies disheveled on the floor, and my T-shirt is wet with perspiration. I get out of bed, stagger to the kitchen, and steady myself on the back of a chair. I notice my ashen face in the mirror. I need a couple of shots of caffeine.

“Damn,” I mutter to myself, “that was thirty years ago. When will this stop?” I stand in the dark and empty kitchen, alone. This nightmare haunts me. Like a horror movie, it plays again and again. Even after decades, it still rocks my foundations, reminding me of the price I paid to leave the Evangelical Tribe.

But then, what price would I have paid if I had stayed?

Maybe I would have missed other ways of experiencing the face of God.