Tribute to a Mentor Stanley J. Grenz 1950-2005
A beginning seminary student has many anxieties: am at
the right school? Can I handle the graduate level study? What will
God do to prepare me for the spiritual ministry of being a pastor?
Countless other stressors lie beneath the surface. But on this warm
September evening in Sioux Falls, S.D. in 1981 my anxiety was specific:
Would I pass the Greek qualifying exam in the morning? I asked Dr.
Stanley J. Grenz, the newly minted professor of theology who was
setting up books in his office. He pulled a study grammar off the
shelf and with pastoral warmth and that trademark smile, he loaned
it to me. He reassured me that I would be successful and should
have confidence in reviewing what I had already learned.
That was the first of countless assurances that Stan would give
me in my journey in ministry over the past twenty-four years. Stan
had a unique capacity to bring out the best in others; he loved
to see emerging theologians take their first steps towards critical
inquiry and independent thinking. He relished in the successes of
those he mentored and he was constantly pushing his students to
deeper reflection on God’s purposes in the world. He loved
the Church; and he taught us to participate in the pioneer community
of God. He was passionate about doing theology; and he taught us
to pay attention to the contours of the inner life of God the Trinity.
He was devoted to his vocation as a scholar and a teacher and we
benefited from his erudition, his contemplation and his constant
reflection on the shape of theology in the postmodern context.
It’s hard to put into words the meaning of a friendship like
this. During an intense racquetball game in my second year of Seminary,
I almost put out his eye; when he forgave me I knew our friendship
would go far. At my ordination service, Stan Grenz gave the prayer
of dedication; some twenty years later, Stan gave the prayer of
dedication at my installation service as the Principal of ACTS Seminaries
of Trinity Western University. Stan mentored me through all the
stages of my academic career – writing letters of reference
that would open doors to fulfill my doctoral work; suggesting my
name to the Baptist World Alliance Christian Ethics Commission and
as a suitable adjunct faculty member to replace him while on sabbatical.
Stan believed in his students and took generous risks to make possible
their progress in academic. Like other first time authors, Stan
walked with me over the last three years on a book project that
he believed in and was guiding towards publication.
Stan prayed with me when I was making significant career changes;
he offered considered wisdom when the church I was serving as pastor
needed a fresh and thoughtful perspective; he stood with me when,
time and again, our daughter was in serious medical crisis. He showed
me to how to explore the deeper questions. He inspired me and brought
out the best in me. He opened me up to what God was doing in the
world. I would have missed so much without my mentor.
This week I have begun to name some of the significant lessons learned
from Stan
Grenz, as mentor and friend:
- take risks – but to ensure those risks will honor God
- make efforts to advance understanding – but keep in step
with the Holy Spirit
- receive criticism with grace – but don’t be governed
by your critics
- discipline your mind – but rely on the wisdom that comes
from above
- pursue excellence in everything you do – but walk humbly
with your God
- stay grounded in reality, but live with an eternal perspective
- don’t do ‘whatever it takes’ but do whatever
God asks
- study the theology of prayer but don’t forget to pray
- pursue the unique path of your life, but stay connected to
the wisdom of the community
Parker Palmer reminds us that the season of ‘winter’
in life is ‘the most dismaying season of all’. The loss
of a loved one is a cold and cruel winter. He speaks about how such
winters of the soul move us to rely on a deeper grace that our ‘mentors’
in the spiritual taught us about. His words capture my own sense
of what Stan’s sudden death means to me: “When my
[mentor] was alive, I confused the teaching with the teacher. My
teacher is gone now, but the grace is still there – and my
clarity about that fact has allowed his teaching to take deeper
root in me. Winter clears the landscape, however brutally, giving
us a chance to see ourselves and each other more clearly, to see
the very ground of our being.”
It is too early to process what Stan really meant to me. I don’t
know why we laughed so hard when we were together but that laughter
comforts me in a very deep place now. I don’t know why we
confided our searching to each other but those holy moments of sharing
and prayer ground me now in the reality of the infinite community
of God. I don’t know why our lives were woven together in
so many ways, but I am strengthened in the inner person by ‘ruthless
trust’ in the future he articulated so well. I don’t
know why God called him home in this terrible way but I am inspired
to imitate the pattern of a life well lived. I don’t know
why we have to grapple with the tragic moments of brain aneurysms,
but I remain inspired by the vision he had of our certain future
life with God.
This vision of our future with God was most tenderly expressed
to my daughter Chelsey last February where she was recovering from
a severe lung collapse in ICU. Having been prompted by me days earlier,
Chelsey lowered the oxygen mask that was helping her inflate her
lungs and asked softly, “What’s the eschaton?”
You will recognize that Stan was seldom caught off guard with questions
of theology. This was an exception. Realizing the sacred opportunity,
he leaned in and explained tenderly, “The eschaton is the
certain coming day when God himself will be with His people. God
will fulfill all of His promises to us. God will live right with
us and will wipe away every tear from our eyes. And there will be
no more death or mourning or crying or pain.” She placed her
mask back on her face and nodded with a knowing grin and Stan knew
he had just done his best theology ever.
Last Friday was a difficult day and the days following have been
days of bewilderment, pangs of sorrow, coming to terms, and grappling
for words to express what we glimpse lightly and know so deeply
at soul. Edna, Joel, Corrina, on behalf of all of his students and
all who benefited from his servant scholarship to the church we
have gathered with you today, offering you our love and support
for these difficult days. We do not “grieve as those who have
no hope” (I Thess. 4:13) but we do indeed “grieve”.
For me, today, there is not a single word to say this ache, this
agony, this immense, vast sea of loss. Together, as the community
of God, we cling to the hope of the resurrection and the certain
confidence we share that we will meet again.
I would like to close my tribute with a brief excerpt from the
book that Stan and I were working on together on the theme of God
and suffering.
"To believe the biblical promises of hope
requires a courage to face up to the mystery of suffering itself.
It requires a confident assurance that the God who created this
world is also the God who also suffers with us in the turmoil and
uncertainty of the dark hours of life. The divine call is to share
the journey of solidarity with the brokenhearted. As those who carry
the name of the biblical God, we are called to walk by faith in
the darkest corners of the earth. And we are called to wait for
the consummation of creation in the completion of the divine promises.
En route to that day, we travel as pilgrims, and as a pilgrim people
we engage in the vocation of walking as faithful disciples in a
broken world"
- Stan Grenz and Phil Zylla
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