what is a dissertation defense?

As my big day approaches (April 1st! No joke!), friends are asking, "What does it mean to defend your dissertation? You're done, right? Aren't you graduating in May?"

Yes and no and maybe.

In short, I'll find out on Friday afternoon if I'm graduating this year. It depends on how my defense goes.

Every school handles this a bit differently. Here's how it works at Wheaton:

First we think up an idea that needs further research. It has to be a project that hasn't been done yet. We write up a 20-page proposal for the project, plus another 10 pages of bibliography for sources we plan to read to get us started. When our day comes, we have a "proposal defense" or "proposal hearing," in which all the PhD faculty and students gather. They will have read our proposals beforehand. After a brief introduction, members of the faculty ask questions and make suggestions for how to improve our research agenda. Usually this involves narrowing the project considerably so that we're not biting off more than we can chew. At Wheaton this happens during the spring of our first year in the program, while we're in the middle of taking classes. If we pass, we're cleared to begin work on it. I passed my proposal defense on April 11, 2012.

We spend YEARS researching and writing a dissertation (in my case, four years). In the end, the body of the project needs to be under 100,000 words long (roughly 300 pages), plus bibliography. (Yes, I know. That's long enough to be a book. It is a book, and most of them get published.) While we're researching and writing, we work closely with our doctoral adviser and our "second reader," another member of Wheaton's faculty who agrees to read and respond to our work. When the project is complete and both readers are satisfied that it's ready to "defend," we turn in a "defense draft." I submitted mine last month.

While that's a major milestone, it is not the end of the process.

Copies of the defense draft are sent to all the committee members: the doctoral advisor, the committee chair, the second reader, and an "external reader" from outside the Wheaton community who agrees to travel to Wheaton for the defense. Another copy of the defense draft is placed in the PhD seminar room for students and faculty to read (in all their spare time). Forty-five days later, all the PhD students and faculty gather on campus for the defense (no visitors allowed, including family). Except for the doctoral advisor, who must remain silent, the student's committee members are seated in the front of the room with the student, facing each other. They are given 90 minutes to ask questions and offer critique of the student's dissertation. The student "defends" his or her work by offering explanation, clarification, push back, etc, or in some cases, agrees that something needs to be changed. After 90 minutes, the students are all dismissed to wait outside while the faculty deliberate and decide if the student's work is rigorous enough to earn a doctoral degree.

Most students who make it this far in the process pass, but many are required to do more revisions before they turn in a final copy. So even if my defense on Friday is successful, it won't be the end of the process. I'll need to take the feedback I receive and incorporate it into my project until the committee members are satisfied. Then I'll need to send it on to a "technical reader" who carefully checks for compliance with the style guide and identifies typos. All that back-and-forth can take months, after which I'll finally receive my diploma.

If I pass on Friday, I can walk in the May graduation even if I have more revisions to do, but I won't get a real diploma until the revisions are completely finished and I've submitted a final copy.

Who are my readers?

Daniel Block - my doctoral advisor (or doktorvater)
Karen Jobes - my (former) second reader, now retired, but still planning to attend the defense
Sandra Richter - my (new) second reader
Richard Averbeck - my external reader
Marc Cortez - my committee chair

Why is it such a long and complicated process?

If a PhD were easy to get, it wouldn't be worth much. Extreme pressure yields more learning, and it helps to ensure that anyone who has those three letters behind their name has truly earned the right to teach adult students. If I could turn back the clock and someone offered me the credentials without having to go through a program like this first I would say "NO WAY." This has been a really important (long) season of growth and learning. I've come to know and love the scholarly community that I am joining, and I'm so grateful for the journey!

So how do I feel about the defense?

Really grateful to be so close to the end. I feel like I'm pregnant and just days away from my due date. I fully expect the next part of the process will be painful (defenses usually are, at some level), but in a matter of days, I'll have my baby and I can be done with this pregnancy and leave the pain behind. Let's do this!

the gift and cost of social media

Perhaps you've noticed. (More likely not.)
I haven't blogged much lately.

At first, it was because I finally joined Facebook. That took up much of my discretionary time. Finding and "friending" friends from all the places we've lived was quite an undertaking. Looking at their family photos and reading their walls and checking my newsfeed filled more hours. Within a week I had 300 friends. Within a month 500. Now two months have passed and I have over 600 friends, though I haven't been actively looking for more and have yet to scour my contacts for those I've missed. It all happened too fast to properly "catch up" on each one's journey. I told myself it was a "training" period, and that life would get back to normal. That I would find a new and sustainable rhythm. That I would get back to blogging. But weeks passed.

Other factors interfered.

Mere days after I joined Facebook, George Fox asked me to teach a class for them immediately. I scrambled to put together a syllabus, fill out all the paperwork, and get ready for classes to start. With less than 2 weeks' notice to prepare, this left little time for blogging.

Then there was Danny's 10-day trip to Thailand and my looming dissertation deadline (now past), the girls' theatre performance (see Facebook for details :)), my parents' visit from out of town, a series of meetings at church, etc, etc.

Life has been busy enough that my virtual disappearance from this blog is justifiable. But what's been nagging at me is that time itself cannot explain my silence. On many a quiet evening I could have been blogging, but I didn't. Why not?

My swirling thoughts have coalesced around two reasons. The first is personal, but the second may point to issues more universal.

First, I am teaching. I find that having a regular "outlet" -- real people with whom I can speak about deeper issues -- brings enough satisfaction that I feel less compelled to write. I found this to be true last spring as well, while teaching at Multnomah. I am still speaking, thinking, teaching, but the venue has shifted from blog to classroom. ("Carmen, you mean to say that you blog because you need to write, not because we need to read?" "Um, yes. If you benefit, too, that's a bonus.")

The second issue is deeply ironic. A big reason that I joined Facebook was to have a naturally wider network with which to share my blog posts. I had noticed that whenever a friend re-posted one of my blog posts on Facebook I had a LOT more readers. I figured if I was going to take the time to write, all my real-life friends should know about it, not just the few who think to check my blog. However, Facebook has not only swallowed up time that I could be blogging, but it's sapped the reflective impulse as well. These days, if I have a share-able thought I can release it to the world in a matter of moments -- a few sentences and I'm done. This preempts the deeper reflection and harder work of developing a blog post worth reading. This one, for example, has already taken me more than 30 minutes took me over an hour. I could have made the same point on Facebook in a matter of seconds:

"I joined Facebook so that I could share my blog with all of you. But now I have no time to blog, so all you get is a picture of what I ate for dinner."

Facebook can also leave me feeling scattered. Between birthday parties and memes and videos mocking Donald Trump and articles about ADHD and funny pet stories, I lack the singularity of focus that writing a blog post requires.

It's not all bad. I've done a lot more "listening" over the past 2 months. Facebook has become a virtual reunion, as I've reconnected with friends from all the places where I've lived -- Colorado, Oregon, the Philippines, North Carolina, Illinois -- who are themselves scattered the world over. That is such a gift.

What I didn't expect was deeper connections with people right here in my own community. After all, I was mostly joining Facebook for the far away folks that I won't see in church on Sunday. But pretty quickly I found "friends" from church as well, and we're still new enough here that it's helping me keep names and faces straight and enhancing conversations at fellowship time between services. ("Congrats on your new . . . "; "I was sorry to see that . . . "; "How was your big meeting this week?")

Another fun surprise has been the professional networking. Instead of seeing colleagues once a year an academic conference, I am glimpsing the rhythm of their life and work the whole year through, and I'm seeing them more holistically -- as real people with families and birthdays and ministry involvement and vacations. In the long run, I think this is a win-win.

In the meantime, I still need to find a sustainable rhythm for Facebook and Blogger that will help me stay connected without disrupting deeper reflection. If anyone out there has ideas, message me or leave a comment below. I'm going to post this post on Facebook and call it a day...

Pacific Northwest Regional ETS Meeting

Calling all evangelical pastors, theologians, and biblical scholars in Oregon and Washington! 

The NW regional meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society will be held 

THIS SATURDAY, March 5 

at Multnomah University

8435 NE Glisan Street

Portland, OR 

Dr. Karen Jobes, Professor Emerita, Wheaton College

Non-members are welcome to attend this stimulating day of paper presentations, including a plenary address by Dr. Karen Jobes, professor emerita of Wheaton College. Her talk is entitled, “It Is Written: The Septuagint and Our Doctrine of Scripture.” Dr. Jobes is known for her work on the Septuagint, her commentaries on 1 Peter and the Johannine epistles, her participation on the NIV translation committee, and a lengthy list of other professional accomplishments. Last year her commentary on the Johannine epistles earned the Christian Book Award for "Best in Bible Reference"!

Until her retirement last year, Dr. Jobes was a member of my dissertation committee and I had the honor of working as her research assistant during my last semester on campus. I assisted her in the writing and editing of a guided reader on the Septuagint, due out this month from Kregel Academic. 

I'm thrilled to welcome Dr. Jobes to the Pacific Northwest. You are warmly invited to join us! The cost is only $10. More information is available here.

a scholar grows up

A paradigm shift. A coming-of-age of sorts.

In one week, three milestones:

1. A senior professor at Wheaton, known around the world, told me to call him by his first name.
2. A Wheaton student invited me to "Dine with a Mind." (This is Wheaton's meal benefit that encourages students to share a meal with their professors. Normally I am the student. That time, I was the "Mind.")
3. A Wheaton student asked me to fill our a reference form for a mission trip.

These milestones marked the beginning of my transition from student to teacher, a transition that is still not complete, though at least 2 years have elapsed since these events. But this week, more milestones:

1. A student at George Fox asks me to fill out a reference form for a summer job.
2. Two recently-published authors ask me to help them get the word out about their books.
3. A pastor asks me to go head to head with him in his Sunday School class, talking about Romans, ethnic Israel's future, and the nature of biblical theology.

Clearly, it's a new season. And I'm grateful!

the refugee risk

It was missions Sunday, so naturally I issued a challenge to extend God's love to those outside the reach of the gospel. In this case, refugees.

What made this challenge a risk was its timing:

• Less than three months after Muslim extremists carried out a series of coordinated terror attacks in Paris.
• Less than two months after Muslim sympathizers of ISIS opened fire in San Bernadino, CA.
• Just one month after refugees so generously welcomed by Germany returned the favor by allegedly sexually assaulting hundreds of German women.
• Just one day before Iowa's caucuses and the start of the Presidential Primary election season, with its polarized and publicized debate on this issue, and Donald Trump's pronouncement still ringing in our ears (like it or not) amid the cheers of thousands. 

Let's face it. The refugee crisis will not be solved overnight.
As a nation, we do not see eye to eye on this issue.

And yet, I felt compelled to speak. Politics aside, the church is called to welcome the stranger.

As I sat waiting for my turn with the microphone, Sarah stood up with an announcement. Her arms were full of towels and she carried a plastic grocery bag laden with toothbrushes, soap, and combs. She issued a challenge of her own, calling for the collection of funds and supplies such as these . . . to be given to refugees.

I relaxed. Clearly the Spirit was already at work.

At the close of my message (an abbreviated version of which is here), Pastor Kevin stood and addressed the congregation, thanking me for my message and sharing that he had already offered to have refugees move in with his own family.

Beautiful. Already the congregation was mobilizing to help refugees far and near, refusing to allow campaign rhetoric define or limit their faithful obedience to God's call. I merely reinforced what the Spirit was stirring in their midst.

The hands and feet of the gospel cannot be bound.

refugees and religious extremists -- what to do?

Did you hear the story about the Christian man from Syria? To protect his identity, let's call him "Hanan." Unlike most of his neighbors, Hanan is a follower of Jesus. I don't know a lot about his life, but I know that being a Christian is dangerous in his part of the world. It's a volatile place, with various factions vying for control. Hanan is respected by his neighbors, even those of other faiths, but still he has to be careful. You never know who can really be trusted. One day Hanan had a vision. The Lord directed him to go into Syria's capital to a specific house and ask for a man by name. When Hanan heard the name, he shuddered. The man he was to seek out was a religious extremist, bent on destroying the Christian faith. He had made a name for himself capturing Christians, imprisoning them, and torturing them to the death. Would the Lord really ask Hanan to go into harm's way? This didn't make sense! He protested, but Jesus reassured him and so he obeyed. He went to the house he had seen in his vision, asked for the terrorist by name, and prayed for him, inviting him to surrender his life to Jesus.

Are you curious how the story ends?

Actually, I don't know how things turned out for Hanan. What I do know is that the terrorist he met that day was a transformed man. He went on to spread Jesus' teachings all over Syria, Turkey, Greece, and then Rome. He corresponded with those who came to Christ, and those letters were collected in the New Testament. We call him Paul. The man I called "Hanan" is Hananias, or Ananias, and we meet him in Acts 9. Did you recognize his story?

Acts 9 is a key chapter in the study of Paul and his writings, but we don't typically spend much time thinking about Ananias. All we know about him is that when Jesus called, he obeyed, even at risk to himself. That single act of obedience changed the course of history.

Our obedience does not guarantee our safety, but it gives us a front-row seat to watch God transform lives.

In the words of Jim Elliot, "The will of God is always a bigger thing than we bargain for, but we must believe that whatever it involves, it is good, acceptable, and perfect." Or in the words of the popular song, "Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the water, wherever you would call me." (c. Hillsong United, 2013)

Ananias was a peacemaker. He walked into danger at God's command and extended Christian love to a dangerous man named Paul. Because Paul had not yet encountered Jesus, his religious zeal was misplaced.

Syrian Refugees (Photo: Angelos Tzortzinis/Getty)

Even today, across the Muslim world, the risen Lord is appearing in dreams and visions to our monotheistic cousins. Some of them — driven by war or propelled by opportunity — will cross oceans and arrive on our own shores. Many are zealous for the faith of their parents. Will we meet them with scowls and tell them to go somewhere else? Or will we welcome them warmly, building bridges so that in this place of religious freedom and physical safety they can openly pursue a relationship with him? In other words, will we view this as a problem or as an opportunity?

A friend of ours who has lived and worked closely with Muslims in the Middle East and Asia for many years explained to me that Muslim extremism thrives wherever Muslims experience rejection and hatred from others. One of the best ways to prevent Muslims from radicalizing is to offer them a warm welcome and a place to call home. It's much harder to hate those who reach out in love. Muslims who encounter suspicion, fear, and rejection become vulnerable to the clever recruitment tactics of radical Islam.

Last month, Evangelical leaders gathered to pen a declaration of Christian response to the refugee crisis. They remind us, "the refugees fleeing this violence are not our enemies; they are victims." The statistics of this burgeoning humanitarian crisis are staggering: "Never have so many people been recorded as being displaced, put in danger, and sent on the move. In Syria alone, more than 13 million children and their parents need humanitarian aid. Nearly 4.4 million have been forced to flee to neighboring countries for safety."

I am not writing as a politician, or even as a politically active citizen. Our nation's leaders will decide how to handle the refugee crisis. Beginning today, American citizens can cast their vote to decide who is best equipped to make those decisions. My challenge relates to the 'now what?' If and when the refugees arrive in our own communities, what would a Christian response look like? Are we willing to welcome them in the name of Jesus?

Our obedience does not guarantee our safety, but it gives us a front-row seat to watch God transform lives.

Perhaps among the throngs of refugees there is another Paul, one whose determination to destroy Christianity is fueled by deep devotion to Allah and a desire to purge the world of untruth. At any moment, Jesus could reveal himself to one such as this as the Lord of all the earth. And when he does, would we be as responsive as Ananias? When Jesus calls, are we ready to step out in obedient faith?

Our single act of obedience could change the course of history.

learning to see

Two events, miles apart and so very different, linked hands in plain view, inviting me to consider them side by side.

The first, a memorial service. I had only met the man once in church before a dreadful disease took hold of his mind and dragged him on a downward spiral that ended this New Year's Day. I knew only the severity of his illness and saw the sorrow and courage of his wife as she came alone on Sundays. We connected briefly, the day I learned of his condition, and I held her in my heart for the ensuing weeks. When I heard of his death, I had to be there. For Char.

... for Dear Life (Photo: C Imes)

In that hour I learned volumes about the man whose rich life was cut short. An optometrist by profession, Don spent decades helping others to see. And on weekends? He explored the outdoors — camping, fishing, hunting, hiking — toting heavy camera lenses everywhere he went. Before the service started we were treated to a sampling of his award-winning work. He had such an eye for beauty! Butterflies up close, wildebeests crossing muddy rivers, birds in flight. Anyone can whip out a cell phone and snap a picture of nice scenery. It takes a special "eye" (and sophisticated equipment) to get the angle and the lighting and the aperture just right so that the picture comes alive. Don possessed that special sight.

From the service I headed directly to Newberg to teach my class on Wisdom Literature. The order of the day was understanding how Hebrew poetry works, especially proverbs. We began by discussing a chapter from Leland Ryken's Words of Delight: A Literary Introduction to the Bible. One student spoke up, "I really like how he related proverbs to photography. That's such an interesting way of thinking about it." Aha! Indeed, Ryken refers to these "wisdom teachers" as "the photographers of the Bible" (316, paraphrasing Robert Short, A Time to Be Born—A Time to Die).

And it's true, isn't it? The writers of proverbs have an extraordinary eye for ordinary things. They look at the same ship, the same busy street, the same plants, but they see beyond the surface, making connections that enlighten our minds and dazzle our ears. Here's a glimpse through the eyes of a sage:

"The LORD tears down the house of the proud,
but he sets the widow's boundary stones in place." (Proverbs 15:25)

The images evoked by this proverb, chosen at random, are so vivid! See Yahweh himself, muscles gleaming in the hot Mediterranean sun, as he demolishes a stone house. See him cross the field with stone after plaster-crusted stone and place each deliberately as a boundary, while the grateful widow looks on, tears streaming down her face. See the proud man with arms crossed and furrowed brow, sputtering frustration, but unable to defend himself.

The sage could have said, "It is inadvisable to be proud" and "You should not take advantage of the poor." But here instead we have a living image, painted in words, that joins both ideas. Yahweh himself takes action. We watch him at work. We stand at the sidelines feeling chastened or grateful or energized -- depending on the state of our own hearts.

Captured Alive (Photo: C Imes)

And as we seek to understand this picture in words, we begin to see what the wise one sees. We are overtaken by wonder.

More than one person at the memorial service told us that they had one of Don's stunning pictures on display at home. They were grateful to have been given his eyes, to experience his love of creation, and to have had their own wonder awakened. Don, a modern sage, helped others to see the wisdom and beauty of God's handiwork.

Ironically, in the final months of his life, Don's eyesight faded until he was completely blind. His caregiver spoke about the doctor's blindness. As he lost physical sight, he began to experience vivid visions of glory. He would take the hands of those around him and ask, "Do you see it? Do you see Jesus in all of his glory?" Don was learning to see in other dimensions, and his faith grew in leaps and bounds over those dark weeks and months. The eye doctor who possessed such extraordinary vision in this life far preferred his new-found spiritual sight.

May we, too, learn to see.