Every year at Easter, thousands of Christians across the UK make the holy journey to their nearest Butlins (that well-known seaside-holiday-resort-cum-Christian-house-of-praise) for the 'Spring Harvest' conferences. If you were to ask any of these devotees why they make this special pilgrimage, few would tell you that it is because of the bustling worship or dynamic Bible teaching – far less for a week of church/family bonding.
No, masses upon masses descend upon Spring Harvest each year for one thing and one thing only: the exhibition tent. The exhibition tent is as thrilling as it gets. A fantastic blend of stands, shops, and stalls showcasing the best resources and organisations that the Christian world has to offer, the exhibition tent is where the party is at. This year I had the privilege of going 'behind-the-stalls' with London School of Theology (LST), where I currently study.
I quickly found out that there is nothing better than strangers asking you questions all day. What follows is a short highlight reel of some of my favourites, which may hopefully be edifying as much as it is entertaining.
"My husband/wife/son/daughter/friend/anyone-vaguely-know studied here 30 years ago. Do you know them?"
"Funnily enough that was actually ten years before I was born, so I'm afraid that I don't know them. Sorry!"
Not that that ever stopped anyone from telling me all about their graduate relation, and I do quite like helping people reminisce about their times at LST/LBC (London Bridal/Bible College). It is encouraging to see how the institution has affected people over the years, and not to mention comforting that there really is life after graduation.
You also get some cracking stories. One more 'mature' gentleman (shall we say) even alleged that once upon a time, "before all this health and safety nonsense", he and his friends borrowed (in the loosest sense of the word) a minibus from a rival college, Spurgeon's. That man went on to be a Baptist minister.
"Have you had many people sign up?"
Not really. Because let's be honest, nobody really comes to Spring Harvest to find out which Bible college to go to. They come for 'Splash WaterWorld'. However, the water at 'Splash WaterWorld' seems to do something strange to people. It makes them think they want to study theology.
As a result, tens of thousands of would-be students poured past our stand looking for sage-like guidance. I can't say that they found this, but I can say that it was a pleasure to help these people – with a myriad of different calls, backgrounds, stories, and dreams – to explore what studying theology might look like for them. I like to think that many of them left the stand one, maybe two steps closer to dipping their toes in the waters of theological education (and don't tell LST, but I think this is far more important than getting them to sign up to one of our courses).
"So why study theology? It's never seemed like water I'd like to dip my toe in..."
For some people, studying theology is simply a small step on a long ladder to an illustrious religious career. They're going to be the best pastor at the biggest church in the busiest area, and they know that no-one will take them seriously unless they have an appropriate degree to authenticate their Christian stature.
Others study because it is a step on a ladder. They weren't sure what else to do, but have some experience in youth work so figure theology must be an easy transition. Still some more study theology because they know that it is far from easy and up to the challenge of conquering it.
Then finally you have some who study theology because they know that God shows himself to creation. They know they'll never fully grasp this revelation, but not even a dislocated hip will stop them from wrestling with it. Theology is a place of encounter and these people know it. The best theology bears the birthmarks of this grappling – and this is the best (and maybe only) reason to study theology.
Of course, you do not need to study theology to seek God, but it can help. It gives you questions to ask, space to process them, and words to answer them.
Obedience is ingrained into this: you live out what you learn – and you do not stop once you graduate. Theology is a pursuit of the Holy, and a sharing and implementing of what we learn along the way.
"Are those donuts free?"
"Yeah for sure – if you can get them without using your hands." (We had a big wooden board
peppered with big wooden pegs, and on these pegs we hung whole families of donuts. I think we
discovered an added circle to Dante's inferno.)
"Wow, that's so cool! What are they for?" (Note: most parents did not share this enthusiasm.)
"First of all, to get your attention. (Bingo.) Secondly, to send nightmares to your blood sugar levels. And maybe also thirdly because here at LST we want to be able to satisfy your physical sweet-tooth and your theological one – but this involves challenge, much like getting the donut without your hands."
"How witty and clever of you. But what could be so challenging about theology?"
A Christian studying theology is someone who studies the fundamental thread which weaves its way through the very fabric of their existence. We all have presuppositions and core beliefs which take residence at the centre of our beings and evolve into certain frameworks by which we make sense of reality. These frameworks are almost like our own little outdoor playsets – complete with rungs, bars and ladders – upon which we play, swing, jump, fly and rest. To study theology is to invite other people to come and join the fun. But sometimes, just sometimes, these very nice people have different ideas of fun to our own. They bounce wildly about and start shaking our playset. Some of these now-scoundrels even have the cheek to tell us that certain bars and frames need changing!
We can do either of two things at this point: tell them to get lost, or patiently and painfully listen to their ideas and watch as they tear our playset apart. This is unhappy, because we love our playset and now we don't have anything to play on. Yet at the height (which is really a trough) of our anguish and discombobulation, fresh foundations are set. Blinded by angry tears (and often facing the wrong direction anyway), we often fail to see that slowly and surely, in creative consultation with friends and enemies, a new playset with higher hoops and sturdier bars starts to climb out of the ground – a majestic, metal, book-laden phoenix of a playset. It was sad to see
our old playset go, but we know that our new one is much better. It is more intricate, more articulate, more bespoke, more flexible, and far more accommodating.
This is what it is like to study theology. Our notions of God, faith, self, and reality get shaken, stretched and restructured – sometimes from the ground up. Mostly this feels like torture. We don't like other people toying with our ideas and re-shaping our conceptions; but we give them consent and readily go along, because we know that it's worth it.
"Aren't you supposed to lose your faith at Bible college?"
I think this is one of the biggest misconceptions in the history of misconceptions. You could lose your faith anywhere doing anything. Studying theology twists and bends and sometimes breaks you, but – if you will co-operate – then your faith emerges even stronger. Theology becomes prayer when you approach in open and obedient humility. And when theology becomes prayer. And when theology is prayer, there is no fear of losing your faith: only hope of a new playset.
"Can we please pray for you?"
This was my favourite question. Two young girls had been hovering (not to be mistaken hoovering) around the stand for a while, presumably mesmerised by the array of sugar we had to offer. I was stumped when they asked if they could pray for us. Of course they could. They prayed that God would help LST as it trained the future leaders and Christian witnesses of the next generations. We thanked them, gave them some sweets, and they went on their way; two glistening witnesses of their own generation.
Archie Catchpole is a student at London School of Theology.
