A Godless Fundamentalist: Chapter Five – A Freshman at Bob Jones University

That is depressing.

And it had been such an uplifting story up to this point :) j/k, of course.

Thanks for reading.

Point well taken. I’m just getting at how your account indicates a fairly strong “rebels” culture there that I might have guessed, or might have assumed as a cheap shot, but here you write about it. In other words, I get “onesie twosie” kids rebelling, but what you’re pointing me to is whole systems that are, per Deming, perfectly designed to produced exactly the results they’re seeing.

That’s…..special, and especially sad.

From my perspective, one of the problems with the system is that it was too naive. It was blinded to how deeply rebellious our hearts were - or, frankly, to the fact that our hearts were rebellious at all. Remember, at the time, BJU was filled mostly with Christian school kids whose parents were committed to the Christian School Movement. We were supposed to be the “cream of the crop,” so to speak.

The rules allowed for gradations of conformity without ever really confronting us with the fact that the problem was inside of us and not outside of us. Because of that there were hierarchies of rebellion that existed among us that I don’t think the adults were aware of. Kids rationalized their place within that hierarchy by comparing themselves to those lower in the ‘rebellious caste system.’ And we learned that from the overall system, from the adults.

So, yeah, the system was “perfectly designed to produce exactly the results they’re seeing.”

For me, since I rejected the system wholesale, I removed myself from the caste system and was able to leverage that into getting away with more than was usually feasible.

The fact that many of the authority figures were naive regarding life outside The Village created some interesting situations. Imagine a CDS chapel in which the speaker in describing the martyrdom of a reformer refers to burning “faggots” and then goes ballistic when the teenage boys can’t stifle their laughter. Imagine the older lady lecturing teen girls on proper dress who wishes to point out that flip-flops are not appropriate for formal occasions and tells the girls that they shouldn’t wear “thongs” to church and gets a similar reaction. Or the shocked reaction of the older lady teacher who conducts an internet search for “pictures of man with a hoe”.

It’s a terrible challenge. Fundamentalists are particularly prone to wall themselves off from “normal” people - particularly if your father is in ministry. They become Tupperware Christians; ghettoized and increasingly isolated from the real world. I believe this explains a great deal of the perplexing and bizarre echo-chamber leadership decisions made by many fundamentalist church and parachurch leaders in recent years. See, for example, Dan Unruh’s foolish article in the November 2016 issue of Frontline.

We must be separate from the world, no doubt. However, for all the emphasis we give to contextualization on the mission field, we so often fail to apply those same principles to the US of A in 2018. Some fundamentalists don’t know how “real people” live, and are hermetically seal off from reality, in that respect. This is why, to be honest, I’ve always preferred to spend my days among unbelievers. They’re more “real.” I love my co-workers.

Pastors who have lived in a fundamentalist bubble their entire lives, from cradle to the present, are at a terrible disadvantage. Some of these men don’t understand the world as it really is, because they’ve existed in an alternate reality - parallel to but never quite touching the real one. To be sure, some men aren’t like this. But, some are … the one’s whose wives tell teen girls to not wear thongs to church.

During my time in a Christian day school, most of my peers were fairly similar to me. Almost none of us showed any actual interest in the things of the Spirit. When we did, it was usually for the benefit of the adults watching and for our self-preservation. Alone, we rarely talked about the things we were hearing at church, in chapel, and in classes at school, unless, of course, we were mocking the rules. Not so at Bob Jones University.

For the first time in my life, I was surrounded by peers that openly displayed what appeared to be a genuine concern for the things of the Spirit. Even many of the so-called rebels talked about God in ways that my buddies back home never did. Sitting in prayer group every evening, I heard guys talk about what they were learning from their Bible reading. At work events, my co-workers expressed their desire to grow in grace and the knowledge of Jesus Christ and, worse, from my perspective, the ways in which they were attempting to do so. Everywhere I went, everywhere I turned, I was surrounded by people my own age who took their faith seriously.

My peer’s commitment to a faith that I was increasingly discounting as valid also served to make me feel even more alienated than I had back home.

This was so interesting, because my experience at my Christian high school, then college (N-land) was almost identical, but my response was the exact opposite.
I felt, instead, that finding young people who took their faith seriously was something that I had wanted for a long time—only I hadn’t even been aware of that longing myself, prior to encountering it. I usually share this as part of my testimony.
N-land, of course, had it’s flaws, and we students were aware of many of them even then. Some of these would eventually contribute to bring down the school. But in my observations, both then and now, the most onerous and problematic for students were those areas in which they tried to conform to the BJ model.

As one who practically “grew up” at BJU (7th grade through grad school, 1960-1972), I found this latest article interesting in a couple of ways. First, I could relate to some of what John said. I was there and experienced many of the same things. But second, I read things I did not experience as well. It’s as if there was another layer of student behavior that I missed. I guess everyone experiences BJU in his own individual way.

In the main, I found my BJU experience beneficial. However, there were aspects that bothered me. I was thankful to leave Greenville in 1973, not only to begin a life-time of ministry elsewhere, but also to put enough distance between BJU and me to be able to evaluate the teaching and experiences from Scripture without the pressure of conformity. I think it took me four or five years to decompress. With that process behind me, I was able to appreciate what was true, and set aside the aspects that were merely cultural and human opinions. My conclusion? The BJU experience was more beneficial than harmful. We sent three of our four daughters to BJU with good results. They arrived at BJU with a better Biblical understanding than I, and had therefore, a more beneficial experience than I, but not a perfect one either.

No human institution is perfect. Some have found our church to be lacking in various ways. Does that mean that everyone who decides to seek another church is bad? Nope. Its simply a reminder that we are all sinners living in a sin-cursed world, and we must await Heaven for a perfect example of Christianity.

I hope that I’m not coming across as anti-BJU.

I just emailed a brother this:

One of the struggles I’m having with writing my story out is being honest with the tension between the system’s unintentional (mostly, I think) failings and the rebelliousness of my own heart.

I don’t want to come across as anti-fundamentalism, but I also don’t want to ignore that the system did some harm in the hearts and lives of many from our generation. In some ways, I think, my story provides a sharper relief against which other’s can see their own experiences, questions, and confusion that many people I know are still working through.

Lord willing, though, the “positive” side of that tension will begin to shine a little brighter as my story progresses through my time at BJU, demonstrating the stark contrast between my increasingly harmful and rebellious behavior and the gracious, loving responses from those around me at BJU.

John, no, I do not read your article as anti-BJU in the least. I appreciate your honesty about your experiences there, the rebelliousness of your own heart, and a window into some of the aspects of BJU which are familiar to all who attended there. Actually, I think you have been very kind. There was plenty to criticize, as many have done. There was also much to praise, as others do. For my part, I realized that one of BJU’s weaknesses was their too-high opinion of themselves, the frequent declarations that they were better than everybody else. I think that’s what made their flaws seem larger than they really were. A little more humility would have made BJU much more attractive and effective. it was a good school with a large ego. That’s all too common. May God enable us all to manifest Christ-like humility.

“A little more humility would have made BJU much more attractive and effective.”

That’s a good point, G.N. Barkman.

At the beginning of this current chapter, as you know, I briefly wrote about my impressions of the school when I was in elementary school (and even into middle and high school, to a lessening degree). I could’ve written much more. There was a palpable aura surrounding BJU. Surely, the level of importance the school gained within its kingdom had to at least tempt egos, right?

On a related note, even though that kingdom seemed huge to me as a ten-year old, in reality, even back then, it was never as large as we imagined. But prior to the internet, it was much easier to view your pond as a lake or your lake as an ocean.

Two summers ago, I attended the FBFI annual meeting (my dad, who was retiring, was being honored at one of the services - which has a funny story regarding my daughter and the speaker that evening that has nothing to do with any of this, so I’ll save it for another time). While at the meeting, and I only attended one session - on Tim Keller - and one service, I stood on the sideline and watched a few of the “famous fundys” from my youth. The aura was missing; the presence was muted; the gravitational pull was gone. But there was also a quietness and peace around them that I had never before seen. In that moment, I realized that BJU is probably going to be fine. More than fine, in fact. By God’s grace, I believe that the school is poised to become the best version of BJU that has always been there, but frequently overshadowed by The World’s Most Unusual University.

Jon, that’s my impression as well. Some pretty hard blows have knocked the starch out. What’s left is greater Christ-like humility and love. That, built upon a foundation of Biblical fidelity and strong academic standards can yield some excellent fruit in days to come.

1. I didn’t know what I was, but I knew that I wasn’t whatever my parents and BJU were. Things like the existence of God, the problem of evil, and the veracity of the Bible were growing problems in my mind that had existed and been growing since I was a little kid. By the first semester of my freshman year at BJU, I didn’t think of myself as a Christian, but I also didn’t think of myself as not a Christian. I didn’t really have any categories to help me move into a decided identity of “not a Christian.” Ironically, some of my BJU classes provided the categories for that identity. (My next chapter is going to make all of this confusing, but I can’t help that. It’s titled “My Year as a BJU Preacher Boy” - how’s that for a tease?)

2. I did have to sign a statement of faith to attend BJU. As far as references, my teachers and youth pastor would’ve simply rubber stamped whatever was placed in front of them. As Ron has pointed out in other threads, it wasn’t in their best interest to stop and think too hard about what they were doing. I didn’t feel any remorse at essentially lying because, 1) the Holy Spirit wasn’t indwelling me. 2) I was simply doing what I had to do to “survive.” It goes back to an earlier chapter about how the system didn’t provide us good options beyond lying in those situations.

3. It wasn’t that I felt like I didn’t have a choice. I did NOT have a choice. That’s hard to explain to people who correctly point out that I was legally an adult. Learning to be an adult and make decisions was often problematic for those in my generation who were raised like I was.

3(b). I broached the subject about going to PCC and being a town student with my parents a couple of times. It didn’t go badly (I didn’t get in trouble), but I was shut down pretty quickly each time. My parent’s knew that I wanted to be with my girlfriend. The whole PCC conversation is complicated, though, because of my dad’s relationship with Dr. Horton (they were once friends; at that point, they weren’t even speaking to each other).