Ten years. That’s how long I carried this idea that I just couldn’t seem to activate. I aimed to speak candidly about the tension I experienced as both an academic and an ordained minister. Yes, the misleading belief that my academic life and my spiritual life had to operate on distinct tracks. Not only did I aspire to openly converse about this tension; I sought to take action. I intended to close the gap. The question then emerged, of course, how?
I regularly incorporate educational theories and methods alongside Scriptures in my sermons. After listening to one such discourse, my father enthusiastically declared, “This deserves to be on TV.” I simply smiled. I suppose the aspiration for TV felt too far-fetched for me, so here’s my course of action. I contacted a local radio station in 2015, compiled all the necessary information, and drafted an outline for a radio show that would address this misconception of a divide.
What occurred next? Nothing. Unfortunately, I allowed the idea to languish like a dusty book on a shelf, accumulating more dust each day. Fast forward to 2023, which turned out to be the most stressful year of the last three (data from my wearable device confirms this). On the early morning of October 27, 2023, after ten years of postponing and overanalyzing this idea, my beloved father passed away.
Through numerous days of intense self-reflection, I had to confront the truth: This delay wasn’t about striving for perfection. It wasn’t due to a lack of motivation or self-confidence. It was centered around that four-letter word: F-E-A-R. Fear of how my colleagues would react. Fear of how my church family would respond. Fear of entering a domain that many strive to keep separate, at least in public. That domain where faith intersects with academia; where scholarship and spirituality meet candidly and boldly.
Fear often masquerades as rational thought. I’m referring to those self-defeating beliefs such as, “It’s not the right moment,” “I don’t have the capacity,” or “What if this isn’t accepted?” But the reality is, fear only breeds more delay, and delay results in a loss of impact. The loss of my dad was a pivotal moment that pushed me into action. I recognized that another decade of waiting would simply mean another decade of missing opportunities to make a difference in the world. I understood that people aren’t looking for flawless, perfect presentations. They’re yearning for authenticity. They’re waiting for someone to articulate the tension they silently experience; the struggle between their faith and their professional existence.
In the realm of higher education, faith is frequently regarded as a private matter, even unscientific. Within faith-based communities, academic ideas and frameworks are sometimes dismissed as overly worldly or abstract. And here’s where I found myself entangled, trapped in this false dichotomy: feeling as though I had to favor one over the other. In my opinion, faith and academia were never designed to be in competition. And medicine? It was never intended to stand apart from faith. Don’t forget that Luke, Paul’s esteemed companion and author of two of the four Gospels, was the “beloved physician” (Colossians 4:14).
As a certified learning coach in medical education, I witness how self-doubt creeps into the lives of medical students. I hear it reflected in statements like, “I’ve always been a poor test-taker” or, “What’s wrong with me? I can’t understand concepts as my friends do.” In these instances, I reach for frameworks such as Carol Dweck’s research on growth mindset or Mezirow’s transformative learning theory to rebuild confidence and enhance self-awareness. On the spiritual front, I find solace in the reminder from Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” That’s when these two realms of faith and academia converge: The theory aids me in diagnosing the mindset and prescribing practical, research-backed strategies. The Scripture empowers me with the belief that transformation is not just possible but anticipated.
No! I am not quoting Scriptures on campus, but let’s be real. Philippians 4:13 translates to, “Hey! You’ve got this.” To be completely transparent, when my self-doubt resurfaces, whether during a conference presentation or even at this moment as I compose this article, that Scripture transforms into my superpower.
Let’s be honest here. You can dedicate sixty hours a week in your department, publishing peer-reviewed articles, coaching or mentoring students, and still feel unfulfilled. You can lead in ministry, invest in others, and still feel exhausted, running on empty. Where does this sensation come from? Let’s refer to Romans 8:28: “All things work together for good to them that love God.” The aspect we often overlook is the “together.” Many of us have