Newsletter #120
On Scholarly Accountability and Meeting Preparation
An Overlooked Form of Accountability
Recently I noticed that an institution which I’m affiliated with was hosting a theological gathering later this year. It caught my eye for two reasons. First, it was a meeting which I had previously attended, and enjoyed immensely. Second, this year’s theme was a subject I had done extensive research and writing on: technology and the church.
When I saw that their call for papers had been issued and the deadline was the next day, this struck a nerve with me. I had somehow overlooked that they solicited paper proposals/abstracts for this event, and more importantly, the looming deadline. I couldn’t resist; I had a proposal in by the deadline. Within a week, it was accepted.
First, an important distinction. An abstract and proposal aren’t typically the same thing, though people often use them interchangeably. The latter is a brief statement of a paper you intend to write and present. It provides the subject, a tentative argument or thesis, and some other relevant details such as key figures, works, or themes that may come into view. The former is a type of summary of a paper one has already written, setting forth what the paper does and/or argues. Some will quibble with these descriptions, but I think they’re fair.
Second, the fact that I submitted a proposal says everything. It means I intend to write and argue what I have submitted. I haven’t done it yet, at least not in the form mentioned. My proposal was accepted. Now I must write.
I wanted to contribute something to an institution I love, and on a subject I deeply value. But in the process, I got myself on the hook to write something fresh, thoughtful, and hopefully scholarly.
I agree very much with the sentiments of a former professor: “I am not a scholar, though occasionally I do scholarly things.”
As an aside, imagine if someone said: “I am not a criminal, but occasionally I commit crimes.” Doesn’t feel quite the same does it, in terms of how we correlate identity to behavior or character? But I’ll leave that for another day.
To be painfully clear, I do not consider myself a scholar (because I’m not), and I wouldn’t want people thinking that I am. I do, however, try to think, learn, research, and occasionally write in ways that the average person (and maybe some others) would consider “scholarly.” Perhaps “academic” might be a better word, but I’ll leave those descriptions to others.
My main point is this: there is a form of scholarly accountability (you can call it “intellectual accountability” if you prefer, though I think that’s broader) which is often overlooked. It involves the commitment of a person to perform and deliver on a promise to contribute something valuable to the intellectual and spiritual life of a group of people. Whether this group convenes at a college, university, seminary, church, VFW post or elsewhere is irrelevant. What matters is what we owe those who show up to hear what we have to say.
The moment you accept an invitation, have a proposal or abstracted accepted, or even sign a book contract, you have a moral, intellectual, and possibly scholarly obligation to follow through and deliver the goods. You are letting your ‘yes’ by ‘yes’.
Moreover, you must now discipline yourself to give the time, energy, and other resources to producing your talk, lecture, paper, seminar, sermon, or any other sort of contribution you’ve signed up for.
With each passing year I find myself learning that it is a hundred times easier to sign up for such “opportunities” (Now there’s a word that covers a range of sins!) than to decline them.
Having children (and a reasonable wife) has been one of the greatest checks on my hubris when it comes to what I can reasonably do beyond the scope of my weekly familial and pastoral responsibilities. Thankfully, saying “no” has been mostly pain-free. I increasingly don't want to be away from home, and this is likely a noble desire. Yet I still want to be involved with the wider array of wonderful ministries God is working out in the world, whether they be denominational/ecclesiastical, academic/scholarly, or in some other arena.
Each man or woman will have to discern God’s gifts and how those translate into their vocation and beyond. Yet along the way we find ourselves chastened by both the opportunities (there’s that shady word again) we must decline, as well as those we accept.
In the case of my theological gathering this September, I’m grateful to participate. I intend to learn and grow through this. But now the opportunity creates accountability. I have said what I would do, now I begin the months of preparations and writing which will prepare me to fulfill what I have pledged.
Remember the Gavel
One week from today I will moderate my first State Association meeting for my church body, beginning with our State General Board meeting on Monday afternoon. I was elected at the conclusion of last year’s meeting to serve as Moderator. Since then, I have been busy with many different tasks—formal and informal. Some of these tasks were fully expected, and one or two were unexpected. However, if it is a privilege to serve Christ’s church, then this is simply another special opportunity to serve that Church on a larger scale.
I have lately been thinking of all the things I need to do to prepare for this meeting. Obviously, some preparations are particular to this type of meeting, as well as the specific role I play in presiding over the proceedings. Yet there are also some more general preparations one needs to make to position himself to lead a meeting well. So, setting aside the need to bring the gavel and a copy of the Missouri FWB State Bylaws, what should you do in preparation for leading a meeting?
Step One: Pray.
Step Two: Notify everyone properly of the agenda and schedule.
Step Three: Have all the “meetings before the meeting” that need to be had to ensure the peace, purity, and progress of the organization are promoted.
Step Four: Refresh yourself on organizational guidelines, rules, procedures, and recent history, as well as history that may be pertinent to items to be discussed.
Step Five: Double-check that all lodging/travel arrangements have been properly made, and that you have a back-up plan if someone has dropped the ball, including you.
Step Six: Give some thought to how your spouse and children (if applicable) will spend their time during the meeting. Do your best to ensure that they might find a way to not only survive the trip but find some enjoyment in it.
Step Seven: Assume you will annoy or frustrate at least a few people, though don’t plan to do so intentionally.
Step Eight: Shine your shoes. (Yes, I said it.)
Step Nine: Pack some snacks to munch on so you won’t be tempted to eat heavy late or at other inopportune times.
Step Ten: Prepare yourself emotionally for when you don’t satisfactorily accomplish everything on your list of goals or dreams for the organization at the meeting.
Step Eleven: Pray some more. You likely forgot a step.
Follow-Up:
In a recent post I shared my commencement address to the 2024 graduates of Randall University. That address can be viewed at Randall’s YouTube channel here.
Quote of the Week:
Anyway, there’s no denying that like is a versatile word. Noun, verb, adjective, adverb, preposition, conjunction, suffix: It can do them all without breaking a sweat . . . Serious students of language have a hard time knowing what to do with [the other] all-too-familiar use of like. They call it “filler,” and it’s hard not to regard it as something bordering on the sublinguistic, an almost intolerable torturing of the magnificent instrument bequeathed to us by Shakespeare and his successors. For those of us who teach and spend a lot of our time talking to young people, the endless supply of self-interrupting likes that litter their speech and impede the flow of their thoughts can be very hard to take. . .
. . . The ways we learn to speak will say much about the men and women we will become. There is a certain kind of resolution, of self-knowledge, of discipline in bringing the soul to a rational and settled point, that is entailed in learning to use the precise words one needs when one speaks, no more and no less, and to pronounce them without hemming and hawing. It is the quality we find in all great oratory. We need to foster that quality in our own speech, especially our public speech. If we do, we will discover that composure in one’s speech can have a feedback effect, and foster composure in one’s soul.
Wilfred McClay, “Like: A Lack of Confidence in Language Itself.”
What I’m Reading, Rereading, or STILL Reading:
James K. Dew and Ronnie P. Campbell, Natural Theology: Five Views.
Jonathan Leeman, How the Nations Rage: Rethinking Faith and Politics in a Divided Age.
Gordon T. Smith, Institutional Intelligence: How to Build an Effective Organization.
Common Grace Wisdom (CGW): One Wise Reply to John MacArthur’s Comments on Mental Illness
Alan Noble has distinguished himself as a Christian professor and author over the last decade. With important titles such as Disruptive Witness, You Are Not Your Own, and On Getting Out of Bed, I heartily commend his work.
In his wise and brief reply to some recent remarks by well known pastor and author, John MacArthur, he offers a helpful corrective to some critical comments about mental illness diagnoses. In short, Noble (1) affirms what he thinks is behind some of MacArthur’s concerns, (2) responds with grace and gravity, and (3) invokes the doctrine of common grace, one that this newsletter section is designed to highlight.
Check out his article/post: “Why John MacArthur is Dangerously Wrong about Mental Health but Everything is Still a Mess.”
Announcement:
The latest volume of the Southwestern D6 Family Ministry Journal has recently been released and is now available for purchase. I was grateful to have contributed an article on infertility. You can purchase/download the individual article, or the entire journal.
Out and About (an occasional nugget from my travels):
Recently I was driving down a state highway in North Carolina which I had never driven before. I was struck by “Evil Soul Lane.” Not sure what the story behind that was, but I doubt I want to know.
Parting Shot
A little humor (and sobriety) from Kevin Williamson, as he envisions what his first question would be to presidential candidates in a debate:
“The vast majority of federal spending consists of popular entitlements such as Social Security and Medicare, national defense, and interest on the debt. We could cut SNAP, means-tested welfare payments, and foreign aid to $0 and not even eliminate the annual deficit. So, a multiple-choice question. Should we:
1. Cut spending on national security and popular entitlement programs?
2. Raise taxes?
3. 1 and 2?
4. Run deficits pretty much forever until there’s a fiscal crisis precipitating national, and, in all likelihood, worldwide economic collapse, because you are too cowardly to do anything hard?”
