Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

 

Retired Bible Professor,

Bob Jones University

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Baccalaureate, Part 3

May 26, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 | Part 2 

But you’re thinking (I hope) that those aren’t our greatest needs. They’re just the temporal ones. We have greater needs: forgiveness, relationship, grace, mercy, peace. Love. 

What do you know? They’re all free, too. 

Everything you need is free. 

God is so, so good. 

Yes, bad things do happen. Yes, the world is broken. Suffering is real, and injustice is real, and hate is real. 

But God has assured us, and the experience of millions of his people has taught us, that these evil things are not senseless or purposeless or permanent. Paul tells us that 

tribulation worketh patience; 4 And patience, experience; and experience, hope: 5 And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us (Ro 5.3-5). 

Every athlete knows that the workouts—the suffering, if you will—are what strengthens you so that you can win. The coach is not a sadist; he is wise, and he is good. Any of the athletes on BJU’s national championship teams can tell us that. 

God is good. 

Another poet, the American e e cummings, captured that thought artfully, though surprisingly: 

i thank You God for most this amazing 
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees 
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything 
which is natural which is infinite which is yes 

(i who have died am alive again today, 
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth 
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay 
great happening illimitably earth) 

how should tasting touching hearing seeing 
breathing any—lifted from the no 
of all nothing—human merely being 
doubt unimaginable You? 

(now the ears of my ears awake and 
now the eyes of my eyes are opened) 

God is indeed good. 

So where do we go from here? What’s around the corner at this pivotal point in our graduates’ lives? 

Back to the child’s simple prayer: 

God is great. 
God is good. 
Let us thank him. 

And, I might add, let us trust him, even in a chaotic and, for some, frightful world. 

The British lyricist Michael Perry captured this spirit perfectly, I think, in just one stanza in his great hymn “O God Beyond All Praising”: 

Then hear, O gracious Savior, 
     accept the love we bring, 
that we who know your favor 
     may serve you as our king; 
and whether our tomorrows 
     be filled with good or ill, 
we’ll triumph through our sorrows 
     and rise to bless you still: 
to marvel at your beauty 
     and glory in your ways, 
and make a joyful duty 
     our sacrifice of praise. 

May it be so for all of us. Let’s pray. 

24 The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: 
25 The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: 
26 The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace (Numbers 6.24-26). 

Amen. 

Filed Under: Personal, Theology Tagged With: general revelation

Baccalaureate, Part 2

May 22, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 

Another, very different perspective: 

John Gillespie McGee Jr., a British pilot in WW1, captured this concept more lyrically in his poem High Flight: 

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth 
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; 
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth 
of sun-split clouds,—and done a hundred things 
You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung 
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there, 
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung 
My eager craft through footless halls of air …. 

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue 
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace 
Where never lark, or even eagle flew— 
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod 
The high untrespassed sanctity of space, 
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God. 

A century ago another poet, an American college English teacher named Odell Shepard, in one stanza of a poem he called “Whence Cometh My Help,” wrote of the mountains this way: 

All the wisdom, all the beauty I have lived for unaware 
Came upon me by the rote of highland rills; 
I have seen God walking there 
In the solemn soundless air 
When the morning wakened wonder in the hills. 

The greatness of God is vividly apparent all around us, even to those who deny he exists. 

God is indeed great. Insuperably great. Unimaginably great. 

Years ago there was a commercial for Sherwin Williams paint. The opening shot was of the space shuttle on the launch pad, with a voiceover counting down: “3 … 2 … 1 … ignition!” And those two solid-rocket boosters kick in, and the screen fills with flame and then white smoke, until all you can see is white. And then, the white subtly changes. A door opens away from you, and you’re looking at a typical American bathroom. The voice says, “We developed the paint for the space shuttle. [Door opens.] Chances are, we can handle your bathroom.” 

I say this reverently: Chances are the God who “made the stars also” can handle the challenges of your life. 

God Is Good 

To his protégé Timothy Paul calls God 

the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy (1Ti 6.17b). 

Years ago it occurred to me that everything we really need—literally everything—is free. That’s the way God has arranged the universe. 

Don’t believe me? Hear me out. 

What do you need more than anything else in the world? If you lack it for 30 seconds, it will be literally all you think about until you get some. 

Yep, air. Or more specifically, oxygen. 

Free. 

We’re sitting at the bottom of an ocean of it—an ocean that God has kindly diluted with nitrogen so you won’t burst into flame at the slightest spark. God’s even given you a scoop on the front of your head so you’ll get your share of the stuff. Some of you he gave a larger scoop to, and you have the gall to be upset with him about that. Shame on you. 

What’s the second most necessary thing? Water. They say you can last 3 days without it—some maybe as much as 8 to 10 days under certain conditions. But not long. 

Most of the globe is covered with it. And that water mass feeds a delivery system that brings it right to your feet, purified, for free. (Unless you live in the Atacama Desert, which hardly anybody does.) And again, many of us complain when it rains. Especially at the beach. 

Granted, I pay a water bill, but I’m not really paying for the water; I’m paying for someone to clean it up and bring it to my house. But the water—it’s free. 

What’s next? Food. Grows right out of the ground, from plants that are already there. Free. Again, I pay for my food, but only because I don’t feel like growing it myself. So I pay somebody else to grow and harvest and deliver it; and sometimes I go out to a restaurant and pay somebody else to cook it and bring it to my table. But the food? The food’s free. 

And then there’s light, and heat, and all the other physical necessities. All free. 

God has been remarkably good to us. 

We’ll finish this thought—and the rest of the sermon—in the next post. 

Filed Under: Personal, Theology, Uncategorized Tagged With: general revelation

Baccalaureate, Part 1

May 19, 2025 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

The evening before I retired, I was privileged to be asked to deliver BJU’s Baccalaureate Sermon. I’ll publish the text here, in several parts.

__________

Theological students like to debate the complexities of theology: election and human will; theories and extent of the atonement; Trinity issues; the hypostatic union; the problem of evil.

These are consequential matters, and they should be debated. Such discussions and explorations are an important part of preparing the Christian student for whatever his divine calling may be.

But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found my appreciation increasing for the simple things, the basic things—the central things.

And it has occurred to me that these central things are perhaps best summed up in the simple child’s prayer:

God is great;
God is good;
Let us thank him.

The Apostle Paul began his magisterial epistle to the Romans by observing,

The invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and godhead; so that they are without excuse (Ro 1.20).

As you graduating students learned in your Bible Doctrines class, this concept is what theologians call “general revelation.” It’s most famously expressed in the opening to Psalm 19:

1 The heavens declare the glory of God;
And the firmament sheweth his handywork.
2 Day unto day uttereth speech,
And night unto night sheweth knowledge.
3 There is no speech nor language,
Where their voice is not heard.
4 Their line is gone out through all the earth,
And their words to the end of the world.
In them hath he set a tabernacle for the sun,
5 Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,
And rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race.
6 His going forth is from the end of the heaven,
And his circuit unto the ends of it:
And there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.

This is the concept that Paul used on Mars Hill, in presenting to the Athenians the basic things—the central things.

I’d like to attempt that here this evening.

God Is Great

Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, [that] the everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? [there is] no searching of his understanding (Isaiah 40:28).

Evidences of God’s limitless greatness lie all around us in His creation.

The fastest any human has ever traveled is 25,000 mph (Apollo 10’s return from the moon, being accelerated by the earth’s gravity). Now suppose we start at the surface of the sun—some of you are thinking, we shouldn’t do that; it’s way too hot. Well, I’ve solved that problem; we’ll go at night :-)—and we head out toward the planets at that fastest-ever speed. How long will our journey take us?

  • Mercury: 60 days
  • Venus: 56 (more) days
  • Earth: 39 days
  • Mars: 78 days
  • Jupiter (assuming we safely navigate the asteroid belt): 567 days
  • Saturn: 700 days
  • Uranus: 1500 days
  • Neptune: 1650 days

We’ve been traveling for a total of 12 years and 9 months, and we’ve just reached the edge of the solar system.

Now, to Boomers like me, we don’t believe that, because we still think Pluto is the outermost planet, because our first-grade teacher, Mrs. Devlin, wouldn’t have lied to us about that.

But at any rate, we find that now we’re headed toward the nearest star, Proxima Centauri, visible from the Southern Hemisphere, just to the left of the Southern Cross. That’ll take us 155,333 years.

Once we get there, we find that we’re on one of the spiral arms of the Milky Way galaxy, pretty far out toward the edge. So we head for the nearest edge of the galaxy.

670 million years.

And we find that there are other galaxies. The closest, Andromeda, will take us 53 billion more years.

I hope you brought a book to read.

The astronomers tell us that there are clusters of galaxies out there. I have no idea how they know that, but we’ll take them at their word. Let’s head for the nearest edge of our galaxy cluster.

2.67 trillion years.

How about the edge of the observed universe?

131 trillion years.

After a while these numbers just become meaningless, don’t they? Fee, fi, fo-fillion, trillion.

And it’s not over; I suspect that when we reach the “edge” of the observed universe, we’ll just see more universe. How much farther? No one knows.

Now, these numbers are actually unrealistically low, for a couple of reasons:

  • They assume that the planets are all lined up perfectly on one side of the sun, which has never happened and is never likely to happen.
  • They also ignore a basic tactic of interplanetary travel, which involves the physics of sling-shotting the spacecraft around the heavenly bodies so you don’t have to keep the rocket engines firing constantly. In our example, you couldn’t possibly carry enough fuel to make the journey even to the nearest planet.

But the numbers speak for themselves.

God is great.

Now, I’ve said all that to say this.

Do you know how the Bible recounts God’s creation of what we’ve just described?

Genesis 1.16—“He made the stars also.” Five English words; two in Hebrew.

That’s just a side remark, almost a throwaway line: “Oh, yeah, he did that too.”

God is indeed great.

To be continued.

Filed Under: Personal, Theology Tagged With: general revelation

On Retiring, Part 2: How 

May 15, 2025 by Dan Olinger 10 Comments

Part 1: Why 

Several weeks ago, when my decision to retire was made official, I posted my reasons for making that decision. Welp, now it’s happened. As of 5 pm last Friday, I am retired and no longer an appointed member of the Bible faculty at BJU. 

My colleague in a neighboring office, who teaches Biblical Counseling, had asked a few days earlier how I was doing as The Event approached. I told him that I wasn’t sad or nervous; the word I gave him was “contemplative.” It’s natural to think back over the career—I was a full-time employee for 44 years, and a teaching GA for 5 years before that—and just reminisce a little. It’s good to look back. I’ve found that the contemplation leads to thankfulness, and that the thankfulness leads to peace. 

It’s all good. 

Even in these first few days I’ve noticed some other changes in my thinking. I thought I’d share how the days have gone and thereby note those changes. 

This will be the only issue of my Retirement Journal: take comfort in that. :-) 

On Friday Commencement ended a bit before 4pm, about an hour before my official retirement. I walked around the campus for a bit, greeting my former students and their parents, and rejoicing with them over their academic success. Then I turned in my regalia before 5. (As is customary, I kept the tassel—black for PhD—figuring it would make a better ornament than fuzzy dice). Dropped by a reception for the graduating online students. The Official Retirement at 5 happened while I was there, so I didn’t even notice it. 

Walked home (I hadn’t driven onto campus, since I knew there wouldn’t be any place to park), greeted my wife, and announced that I was going to change into my “retirement outfit.” Jeans and long-sleeved black tee. In the process I decided to take my watch off; why would I need a watch? There are clocks around the house and in the cars, and there’s always my phone for backup. I used to make fun of my students for not wearing watches—I could twist my left forearm and look at my watch in one-fifth the time it took for them to pull out their phones and look at them—but now, it seems, I’ve adopted their inefficient ways. 

I’d been avoiding dairy all week so I wouldn’t be clearing my throat when reading student names during the Commencement ceremony, but now all that was over, so I did the logical thing: I made myself a big ol’ decaf latte with an impressive layer of crema. Very refreshing. 

Now what? Let’s do the daily crossword puzzle, plus the one I didn’t have time to get to yesterday. 

I’m surprised at how quickly my thinking changed from time management mode—makin’ a list, checkin’ it 9 or 10 times, getting’ it done, all day every day—to a sense of utter flexibility. Still have things to do, and I intend to add things along the way (see Part 1), but now I have pretty much unlimited flexibility as to when I do them. That’s a major mental reset. 

Men’s prayer breakfast at church 7.30 Saturday morning. Went, of course, but hung around for further fellowship afterwards, because I had no commitments until after 2pm, so no sense of needing to Finish This Conversation and Get on to the Next Thing. Ask questions, and listen for as long as my brother wants to talk. Drive home, letting people cut in front of me, and obeying the speed limit, and stopping for yellow lights. 

This is really, really weird. 

I like it. 

Sit down with the to-do list and pick 3 priorities for the coming week: 

  • Get the Medicare / Medigap process started. (We have some time on that.) 
  • Condense and pack up the office. 
  • Order a laptop to replace the one I’ll be turning in at the end of the summer; I’ll need some time to set it up, install software that won’t be provided by the university anymore, and transfer stuff over. I intend to keep pretty much all my academic records in electronic form in case issues come up down the road that I need verification for. 

“Up down.” That’s funny. 

As well as a few end-of-year academic things: 

  • Upload the commentary that my students wrote in Romans class, so they can add it to their portfolios if they want to; 
  • End-of-year program assessments and division report; 
  • Polished versions of a couple of division processes for the Next Guy. Maybe this week, maybe later. 

And yeah, faculty are being paid this week after Commencement. 

So a plan is in place, and we’ll adjust as needed. 

This is fun. 

Photo by Stefan Steinbauer on Unsplash

Filed Under: Personal, Uncategorized Tagged With: announcement, retire

On Silence During Chaos, Part 4: Peace 1

May 8, 2025 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: Personal | Part 2: Political | Part 3: Panic 

I can’t discuss any life application—indeed, any topic at all—without basing my thinking on Scripture. I’ve studied the Scripture professionally all my adult life, and I am more convinced than ever that that was a good choice, informed even in my many ignorant times by the kind providence of God. I’ve written about my reasons for seeing the Scripture as more than an ancient book written by well-meaning but primitive people that has received outsized attention throughout cultural history, so I won’t repeat them here; but they inform all my thinking. 

I have a couple of bases in biblical theology for the reticence I’ve been advocating. Maybe two posts can cover them. 

The first theological basis is far broader than just politics or social upheaval; it covers literally everything in this world, and everywhere else, throughout all time and forever. 

God is in charge. 

I have social media connections, whom I care for, who disagree profoundly with that statement. But I’ve never seen them refute it. 

Oh, they’ll complain about it—“If there’s a God, why did he …”—but logically that’s not a refutation; it’s just an assertion that they disagree with him. 

I’m a lot older than most of them are, and with time I’ve come to recognize the foolish arrogance of a “lifted from the no of all nothing, human merely being” thinking that his disagreement with the Creator of heaven and earth, the covenant-keeping God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, “Yahweh God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in lovingkindness and truth, who keeps lovingkindness for thousands, who forgives iniquity, transgression and sin, yet he will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of fathers on the children and on the grandchildren to the third and fourth generations” (Ex 34.6-7)—whew—is in some way the basis for argument, application, or wisdom in life. 

God is in charge. 

Applying that principle to the current topic is fairly straightforward. 

First, history makes sense; it’s not a random sequence of events, but the outworking of a plan that leads to a sensible, rational conclusion—and that plan is from the mind of a great and good God. 

Now, that fact raises all kinds of questions. Why does God include in his plan things that make people miserable, that harm them in significant ways? I don’t know the answer to that, and neither does anybody else. But I do know God, and I have decades of experience, in both the lab and the field, that he is in fact great and good. And I expect that a great God, who is by definition infinite, will occasionally (!) go beyond the horizon of my understanding. When he does that, I trust him. 

I’ve never been disappointed. 

It should be said, of course, that we should do what we can to ease suffering. We ought to feed the hungry; we ought to clothe the needy; we ought to shelter the homeless. There are many ways to do that, including any number of organizations that have been doing those things long enough to have some expertise in the field, and whom we ought to support. 

(I’ll note as an aside that human nature these days is to assume that the government should be that default organization—and it’s precisely that kind of thinking that has gotten us into the unsustainable economic crisis we’re in now. The current administration claims to have cut $150 billion in spending—whether they actually have or not, I don’t know—but the naked truth is that the spending cuts are going to have to be an order of magnitude larger than that if the nation is going to be on a sustainable footing.) 

So. There is a God in heaven, who raises up kings and sets them down again, and who is so much greater than evil that he uses the greatest evil in all the world to accomplish his good plans (see “Crucifixion”). He knows infinitely better than I do, and I trust him. 

There’s a second theological basis for my reticence. More on that next time. 

Part 5: Peace 2

Photo by Jonathan Harrison on Unsplash

Filed Under: Personal, Politics, Theology

On Silence During Chaos, Part 3: Panic

May 5, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Personal | Part 2: Political 

You didn’t really think we were going to get through the sociopolitical situation in one post, did you? 

At the end of the previous post, I noted the almost constant pressure to see the current sociopolitical situation as apocalyptic: if we don’t do something now, everything will be ruined! 

A few thoughts about that. 

First, one of the basic rules of detecting and preventing fraud is to resist salespeople who are pressuring you to Act Now!, to get this special deal that won’t be available later. This technique happens in sales flyers for grocery stores; it happens at Wal-Mart; it happens at car lots; it happens when people are trying to lure you into a timeshare, or an investment in gold, or some hot stock, or some dark horse at the track. 

And it’s bogus. People who listen to those salespeople are going to lose their money, or at least they’re going to get less than they paid for. Fear makes for lousy decisions. 

Now, politicians and pundits are salespeople too. And they know, from long experience, that pressure tactics work. As one former advisor to President Obama famously said, “Never let a serious crisis go to waste.” (That was Rahm Emanuel, in 2008.) Sometimes it’s a war; sometimes it’s an economic issue such as inflation or recession. Sometimes it’s an environmental catastrophe, or even just an apparent one, that serves as an opportunity to goose the level of governmental control. But it’s always something. 

So Trump is “a danger to democracy.” Biden’s immigration policy—or lack of one—will eventuate in “the last election of our lifetime.” Gotta do something. And the something you gotta do is vote for our guy, or support our policy. 

And thus has it ever been. Goldwater was going to bring nuclear death to that little girl picking daisies. Johnson was a warmonger, and Humphrey would bring us back to peace. Then Nixon was the warmonger, and McGovern would bring peace. Then Carter was going to destroy the economy. Then Reagan—oh, boy, did they unload on Reagan. “We begin bombing in five minutes!” Clinton. Bush 43 and the “weapons of mass destruction” in Iraq. Obamacare. Trump the First. Biden and the immigration invasion. And now Trump the Second. 

One of the benefits of living for a while is that you realize that the news never changes. 

And in a day when everybody has a publishing platform, the simplest thing for individual citizens to do is to cooperate by spreading the story or the meme that confirms your bias, that makes the side you want to be on look right and righteous and rigorous. 

And here’s the thing. Most of the people who are doing this have no idea what they’re talking about. They think they’re fighting the good fight, but they can’t possibly be sure, at least not in an informed way. And some of them even post—after having done their “research,” which consists of reading an outlet that they have chosen to trust specifically because it tells them what they have already decided to believe—that their friends should “educate themselves.” 

So given the likelihood that any given political crisis is being overhyped—perhaps by both sides—I would conclude that waiting for a bit and seeing how things go is the better part of wisdom. Most of the predicted catastrophes never happen. 

I have an acquaintance, a Facebook friend, who’s professionally in a position to interact with influential people, including some people whose names you would likely recognize if you follow the news. He’s no fan of Trump. And the other day he posted that the likelihood is that things are going to turn out all right. 

But what if it’s a real crisis? What if we really do need to act immediately? In the previous post I noted the importance of being informed, and cool-headed, in a crisis. That means that even if the current situation is in fact a crisis, and not just a manufactured one, those who are acting out of fear or ignorance—that’s most of them—are unlikely to be of any real help, and in fact are likely to do harm. 

I don’t want to be one of those people. 

If I’m not an expert on tariffs or immigration or law enforcement or military readiness—as, apparently, everyone else on Facebook is—then I’m going to get out of the way and let the people who know what they’re doing take care of the situation. I’m not going to add to the chaos on-scene by shouting uninformed opinions at the people who are actually trying to accomplish something. 

Now, if they need help with Koine Greek, or biblical exegesis, or Christian theology, or online teaching, or experiential learning, or poaching an egg, or roasting a Thanksgiving turkey, I’ll be glad to help. But in the meantime I’ll stay in my corner. 

Next time: about that Christian theology … 

Part 4: Peace 1 | Part 5: Peace 2

Photo by Jonathan Harrison on Unsplash

Filed Under: Culture, Personal, Politics

On Silence During Chaos, Part 1: Personal

April 28, 2025 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

We live in a noisy time. The combination of national polarization, political controversy, and social media—the fact that literally everyone has a public platform now—encourages everyone to have a stake, an opinion, and to express it vociferously, even apocalyptically. 

I don’t say much about politics, at least not publicly. I’ve been asked, by people on both sides of the proverbial aisle, why I don’t say more—why I don’t “take a stand” for MAGA, or against it, or on some other hot-button issue. 

What am I afraid of? Rejection? Losing my job? (That’s funny, since I’m retiring in 2 weeks. But just for the record, I’ve never been afraid of losing my job. I have confronted people up the chain of command—all the way to the top—when I thought that was called for, and I still have my job. :-) ) 

So why don’t I speak up more? That’s a good question, and the answer is multi-faceted, touching on personal history, political philosophy, and theology. I think it would be worthwhile, as an exercise in integrating these and other disciplines, to work through an answer. 

That means that I’m going to be talking about myself for a few posts. I don’t normally do that, either; I’d much rather lay the Word out there and trust the Holy Spirit’s work in believers, and unbelievers, to make it profitable, even in ways I’m not necessarily intending. 

But for better or worse, here goes. 

First, personal history. 

  1. All my life I’ve had a problem with my mouth. My late parents and my older sisters could bear abundant testimony to that, as could any number of teachers, fellow students, former students, and colleagues. I haven’t typically been driven by malice; usually it’s just an attempt to be funny. But I have had enough of shooting off my mouth and then seeing the hurt on the face of someone I cared about. And I see my friends, on the left and on the right, posting hurtful things, often with actual malice aforethought, and I just don’t want any part of it. 

Grace. Mercy. Peace. That’s what I’d like my words to sow. 

  1. Shortly after our two daughters were born, I decided to get certified as an EMT, so I’d know what to do in an emergency. A key part of that training was the importance of surveying the scene: you don’t just rush into a situation (hurry! lives are at stake!!!!) without taking some time to see whether there’s ongoing danger, and if so, where it is. If you don’t do that, you’ll likely become just another person who needs medical attention, another person some other responder is going to have to expend the effort to rescue. Just jumping into an emergency situation isn’t helping anybody. 
  1. A few years later I got certified as a security guard by the South Carolina State Law Enforcement Division (SLED) so that I would be more reliable as a concealed carrier of a firearm. With that certification I was then approved to carry on school and church property. (South Carolina doesn’t allow carrying there without board approval.) Again, a key part of that training is the importance of staying calm in a chaotic situation; if there’s a shooter in a church sanctuary, and everybody’s running in all directions, and there’s loud noise and the smell of gunpowder in the air, you don’t want to be firing wildly in random directions; you want to observe, determine the threat, determine whether you’re in a position to neutralize the threat (from your angle, is there an innocent person in the line of fire? even beyond the target?), and only then take action. You’re responsible for the final location of every bullet that leaves your weapon, and everything it touches along the way.

We’re responsible, too, for every word we speak. Words can do great damage, often even greater damage than bullets can. We will give account to the one who knows all things (Mt 12.36): Jesus himself said that. 

In the current culture, everyone’s encouraged to shoot his mouth off in public forums. Here’s the outrage of the day; what side do you have to be on, based on your vote in the last election? Well, then, assume that position; shoot first, ask questions later. Could the situation be more complicated than it appears at first glance? Who cares? Fire away! 

I see that kind of behavior every day—and yes, on both sides.* 

I’m not gonna have it. 

Next time, we’ll begin looking at the socio-political environment. 

* And no, I’m not engaging in “both-sidesism.” That’s saying, “The other side does this bad thing, so my side can do it too.” That’s not what I’m saying; I’m rejecting them both and refusing to do the bad thing. 

Part 2: Political | Part 3: Panic | Part 4: Peace 1 | Part 5: Peace 2

Photo by Jonathan Harrison on Unsplash

Filed Under: Culture, Personal, Politics, Theology

On Retiring, Part 1: Why

February 24, 2025 by Dan Olinger 35 Comments

I’ve made the decision to retire. 

Over the years I’ve thought about when would be the best time to do that. My university turns 100 at Commencement 2027—just a couple of years away—and that would make sense. Shortly after that, after the fall semester in 2027, I would reach 50 official years of service, and that would make sense too. 

But in the last few years I’ve noticed that my ability to produce is declining. I have increasing difficulty hearing my students’ questions, especially when the air circulation fans are going, even though I have hearing aids—good ones—and wear them all the time. My eyesight is also getting fuzzier, even with glasses, and I have trouble recognizing my students even at a middling distance. I also have difficulty looking toward a light source—I noticed it first at night, and I even got a pair of those polarized yellow “sunglasses” that they advertise to people my age on social media. They help—at night—but they don’t really solve the problem. The other day a student greeted me in the hallway; he was standing in front of a window on a sunny day, and I called him by another student’s name, based on his blond hair; I couldn’t distinguish anything about his face. 

So my effectiveness as a teacher is being affected. I think my work is still good enough, but I can see the handwriting on the wall—if it’s big enough and isn’t right next to a window. Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin. 

As I’ve been meditating on these things, this year my university is needing to reduce its faculty count—which means that if I retire, that’s one less younger, highly qualified faculty member they’ll have to let go. 

My family’s financial situation is appropriate for retirement. 

I’m 70. 

It’s time. 

That decision brings with it a lot of contemplation and rememberizing, of course. I’ve been on the same campus for 52 years, and virtually every location brings back specific memories. 

Four years as an undergraduate, first in humanities (because I had no idea what I was doing) and then in Bible. Then I left, expecting to have to work for a year or two to earn money for graduate school. But exactly in the middle of the summer, I got a letter from the famed and sometimes feared Dr. Guenter Salter, Dean of the College of Arts and Science, offering me a grad assistantship in English. (That actually makes more sense than it may sound. Freshman English was 2 semesters of grammar and composition, and as a Greek minor, I had more grammar than the English majors, who spent a lot of their time in literature.) 

So five years as a GA, learning the terminology of English grammar rather than Greek—I learned that a “gerund” is just a substantival use of the participle—grading freshman themes, doing some lecturing, and taking 90 hours of Seminary work for a PhD. Then 19 years on staff at the University Press, as an editor (thanks to all those freshman themes), then an author, then an authors’ supervisor, and finally, briefly, manager of strategic planning. 

Toward the end of those 19 years I began to get restless. I was using the PhD skills to some extent, but not to their fullest; my responsibilities included a lot of other stuff too. The Bible faculty was solid and stable. 

One day I thought, maybe I should go teach someplace else. 

The next day Dr. Bob Bell, the Seminary’s curriculum rabbi, stopped me at lunch and asked if I was interested in teaching. 

Sure was. So 25 years on the faculty, eventually settling into 18 years as the chair of the undergrad division, working under and alongside remarkable, godly, competent men and women. 

That makes 53 years here, with 47.5 years of official employment. (Undergrad doesn’t count, and GA years get half credit.) 

It is enough, in the most positive sense of that clause. The Lord gives good gifts to his people, and he gives them abundantly. 

So what’s next? 

Don’t know. I’ve done some thinking about it, but I haven’t finalized my priorities yet. Here’s a start: 

  1. Enjoy a more flexible time with my wife, and stay out of her way :-) when appropriate. 
  1. Spend time with our grandson, who lives in town. 
  1. Exercise faithfully. 
  1. Offer my skills at BJU and at church, as desired and appropriate. 
  1. Leverage my flexible schedule for other kinds of service as they may come up. 
  1. Keep the mind sharp, as much as possible. My Dad presented with dementia at 85, so I’ll be keeping an eye on the passage of time. I suppose I could do that in a couple of ways—

a. Read, read, read. Especially long reads. And stuff I’m not already familiar with. New things.

b. Write. Got a few ideas, but nothing firm. FWIW, I do intend to continue the blog on its current schedule.

I even told ChatGPT to read my blog site and suggest possible retirement activities. It came up with a few ideas that I hadn’t. 

So we’ll see how it goes, and we’ll revel in the flexibility. 

Hallelujah, in its original sense. 

Part 2: How

Photo by Stefan Steinbauer on Unsplash

Filed Under: Personal Tagged With: announcement, retire

Top Ten 2024

December 30, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Welp, it’s the final post of the year and time for the Top Ten lists.

Top Ten New Posts 2024

  1. On Magic (July 18)
  2. On Reading The Message (January 4)
  3. On Death (September 5)
  4. On Congregational Singing As a Team Sport (January 8)
  5. On Valentine’s Day (February 12)
  6. About That Hiatus … (October 14)
  7. On Widows in the Church (August 29)
  8. A Little Story about Worship (January 11)
  9. On Winning the War (series) (November 18)
  10. More Thoughts on AI (August 26)

Top Ten Posts of All Time

Same rankings as last year, except #8 and #9 switched.

  1. The Great Sin of the Evangelical Right (September 4, 2017)
  2. On Calling God by His First Name (November 16, 2017)
  3. Are We Doing Church Wrong? (July 31, 2017)
  4. On Deconversion (March 18, 2021)
  5. On How You’re Remembered (Strategery) (August 6, 2020)
  6. I Was Born That Way (August 9, 2018)
  7. Pants on Fire (August 16, 2018)
  8. On Sin: I’m Guilty of Adam’s Sin? How Is That Fair? (October 4, 2018)
  9. Freak Out Thou Not. This Means You. (January 8, 2018)
  10. What Jury Duty Taught Me about Comment Threads (July 20, 2017 [first post])

Photo by HENCE THE BOOM on Unsplash

Filed Under: Personal Tagged With: top ten

On Christmas

December 23, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

This is my last blog post before Christmas. Feels like I should write about that. I suppose I could consider my just-concluded series on “Immanuel” an extended Christmas post, especially considering the photo I chose for it, but I feel like writing more directly about the holiday. So here goes. 

Aging changes your perspective on things, and Christmas is no exception. 

When I was a kid, Christmas was all about the anticipation: What am I gonna get for Christmas? In those days my family was relatively poor. That’s not quite the right word; we had a place to live, and food to eat, and clothes to wear. But we didn’t have what you might call high liquidity, so not much discretionary income. At Christmas each of us kids would get one present. (I remember one Christmas—I guess I was about 8—when I got a football and a helmet, and I could scarcely contain myself.) 

Eventually I realized that I should give gifts as well as receive them. I picked a book off our bookshelf and wrapped it up for my Mom. She was highly amused, especially since it was a book she had owned since the 1940s. 

And yes, eventually I decided to buy gifts rather than just scrounge them from around the house. 

But now I think differently, in ways that most people my age do. 

When loved ones ask me what I want for Christmas, I usually can’t think of anything. I have all I need, and a lot of things I don’t need. These days I’m trying to get rid of stuff. I’ve even tried offering my books to my students, and I find that hardly anybody uses books anymore; they use electronic, and so do I. (I love the fact that when I teach overseas, I can take my entire electronic library—thousands of titles—on my laptop, which fits comfortably under the seat in front of me. And I also love the fact that I can make the type bigger. And that I can search my ebooks electronically. And I like lots of other stuff about them.) 

Anybody want some books? I’m serious. 

Um, back to Christmas gifts. 

If something I have breaks—most recently, my espresso maker—I can just get a new one; no need to wait for Christmas. And just for the record, I don’t wear ties anymore, so don’t even. 

I find it’s not about the presents anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time. 

What is it for me? 

It’s family. All of us together, enjoying the experience. Feasting together. Telling stories. Reminiscing. Opening presents, sure, but the joy I get is more from watching them open theirs.  

Recently I’ve noticed that I’m also enjoying the season more. Christmas music—the sacred kind—is meaning more to me than it used to. I find the secular stuff mostly just irritating; I have no desire to rock around the Christmas tree, and I wouldn’t recognize Mariah Carey’s voice if I heard it. Though, come to think of it, I can still dream about a white Christmas, though of course it’ll never happen here in the upstate of South Carolina. And the occasional silver bell is okay too. 

Another nice feature of the season is the lights and decorations. The neighborhoods look good, and I especially like the decorations along the main street in the small southern towns—you know, with the single row of brick storefronts and the railroad tracks just across the street. Banners from the light posts and strings of lights crisscrossing the street, just high enough for the trucks to get under. 

Calm. Contentment. Joy. Peace. 

Merry Christmas. 

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

Filed Under: Culture, Personal Tagged With: Christmas, holidays

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