“As a seminary professor and a churchman, I fully understand that seminaries don’t ‘make’ pastors, nor do they equip would-be pastors, missionaries, etc. with everything they need to thrive in ministry. Neither do medical schools, law schools, and so forth.”

Friends over at The Gospel Coalition have been promoting a new book, 15 Things Seminary Couldn’t Teach Me, for several weeks. They have also featured videos of big-name pastors sharing about the things they could only learn in day-to-day ministry, not in seminary.

As a seminary professor and a churchman, I fully understand that seminaries don’t ‘make’ pastors, nor do they equip would-be pastors, missionaries, etc. with everything they need to thrive in ministry. Neither do medical schools, law schools, and so forth.

But I’m not sure seminaries have ever claimed that, nor have other professional schools.

Thus, I want gently to push back a bit on this motif—or at least an unintended side effect it may have. Even in my short tenure at RTS, I have noticed a general rise in the opinion that ‘seminaries are all about head knowledge’ and that they are unnecessary gatekeepers to ‘real ministry.’ This opinion tends to ebb and flow over time, but it is a strong force at present particularly among the non-denominational networks that do not generally require ministry degrees. The idea is that—if you must—you pay your dues and get your book knowledge at seminary, and then learn the ‘real stuff of ministry’ from your local pastor. Or better yet: try to make it without seminary at all.

No one doubts the value of on-the-job experience. My own internship was invaluable. It’s a major part of my dean of students role at RTS. It’s the reason why we, along with most if not all seminaries, emphasize greatly the ‘field ed’ component of our training (internships, apprenticeships, ordination prep, attending presbytery, etc.). But an unfortunate side-effect of the ‘what seminary can’t teach me’ motif is that it can unintentionally validate the broader trend that undermines the utility and role of seminary training altogether—though I know that is not the editors’ or contributors’ goal.

So I’d like to offer a different perspective that, I hope, will be received as simply a humble attempt at complementing the discussion. Here are 15 things seminary teaches you that your busy pastor(ate) can’t, in no particular order:

1. Gaining theological perspective from those who are unlike you

Every church where you will work and every pastor from whom you will learn unavoidably tend to think within a given tradition about theological matters. That’s as it should be. But there is something immensely valuable in studying the theologies of other parts of Christendom than your own. To read books written by those with whom you disagree; to converse with students and faculty who hold, with strong biblical convictions, a different position than your own. To study their arguments first-hand, rather than filtered second-hand through someone else from within your neck of the woods.

There are few opportunities to do this in such a rigorous way when one is grappling with day-to-day ministry. When push comes to shove, you are always pulled towards only engaging with your own theological tradition. But, as some of our Baptist students acknowledged, your beliefs are often tremendously sharpened when you engage with those who do not share your beliefs, rather than always hearing from an insider in your own church tradition. For instance, I recall being far more influenced by Olson’s robust defense of Arminianism than by any off-the-shelf book on Calvinism (particularly those that tend towards caricaturization).

This dynamic extends beyond denominational lines, however. Seminary is an amazing opportunity for male students in particular to interact with and learn from female students. One of the best parts of my Acts-Paul course is when the women share how the ‘hard passages’ (pastorals, 1 Cor 11, 14, etc.) impact them theologically and personally. It’s invaluable also to receive feedback from women in the preaching lab—especially since they will make up at least half of the congregation on Sunday!

2. Gaining practical perspectives from those who are outside your own church

Working in day-to-day ministry engender a kind of myopia in terms of how to ‘do’ church. Your philosophy of ministry will be profoundly shaped by your direct ministry experiences. Either you will look back on a prior golden-age experience as ‘how things should be done,’ or you will tend to think that your church now is the exemplar for all things.

While things like presbytery meetings and conferences can help broaden your horizon (learning how that church does their liturgy, or how this church does youth ministry, or how their website does helpful things from which you can learn), such opportunities are relatively rare. And, to be honest, we tend to sit at the lunch table (metaphorically and literally) with like-minded people.

Seminary—particularly one that is not exclusively wed to a single denomination—provides an unparalleled opportunity to learn how other sincere, thoughtful, historically-informed Christians do practical things in ministry: liturgy, preaching, music, men’s ministry, women’s ministry, evangelism, etc. You do not have to agree with them, but learning from them is essential to being well-rounded.

3. Thinking self-critically about yourself and your dominant influences

We live in an era of personality-driven churches. Particularly in big churches, there is a tendency for young men and women in ministry to idolize how their ministry team or senior pastor does things. At a certain level this is fine. But when one is immersed in a church full-time, the siren call is towards treating your own pastors/mentors as the fount of all things. To become a chip off the ole’ block. To fashion yourself after him or her.

Seminary—due to the presence of numerous seasoned voices (faculty, guest speakers, fellow students)—causes you to think critically about yourself, your own church, and your own pastoral mentors. You will have the chance to learn from other veterans and not just the heroes of your own tribe or church, so that you can with more clarity assess the strengths, weaknesses, and blind spots in yourself and your dominant ministry influences.

4.Using biblical languages in a responsible way

You can learn Hebrew vocabulary or Greek paradigms online, and you may even pass an online Greek course. You can do the videocasts or BibleMesh courses. You can learn how to click around in BibleWorks or Accordance, or use Strong’s or an interlinear. You can drop some ‘the original really is…’ in your sermons. But none of that necessarily cultivates the habits and instincts of responsible exegesis.

Apart from very rare exceptions, the tyranny of the urgent in day-to-day ministry will drown out the use of languages. It is simply not incented. Increasingly rare are pastors who can, or even want to, read the text in Hebrew or Greek (beyond merely ‘translating,’ which is a misnomer anyhow). Though the Word of God is the fountain of our existence, the upkeep of actual competence—not the appearance of competence—in the biblical languages in which the Word was written is increasingly difficult.

Seminary—at least those that still offer robust language training and not simply ‘how to use the computer’ shortcuts—is, ultimately, the only place you can not only learn the languages, but, more importantly, see them being used in a responsible way. That happens in community, in day-to-day grinding it out, showing how the stuff you learned in Mounce actually matters.

To use an analogy: anyone can ‘learn’ carpentry by watching YouTube videos. But you only have the appearance of competency until you actually grasp the tools and apprentice yourself under a skilled carpenter, watching them in action and then doing it yourself before their watchful eyes. There is absolutely no substitute for this, however fancy computers and video streaming and phone apps get.

For instance, when or where else in life can you sit in the office of Mark Futato—who literally wrote the book on Hebrew—and read Hebrew out loud, pick his brain on syntax in the psalms, ask him to check your work? When else in your life can you listen to Chuck Hill—one of a minuscule number of Reformed scholars inducted into the Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas—and watch him pick apart a knotty bit of text in Galatians and describe (I’ve even heard that he’s welled up in tears before) the gospel implications?

5. Thinking theologically about important issues, not just pragmatically responding to fires

As anyone who works in a church knows, the week quickly fills up with crises. It’s inevitable in soul care. The temptation, then, is to slip into reaction mode. To do whatever works—whatever keeps staff happy, whatever the elders will agree to, whatever will keep the budget balanced, and whatever will keep attendance high.

This is all normal. We all do it. But one of the underemphasized blessings of seminary education is that it forces you (through assignments, lectures, guest speakers, etc.) to pause and think, rather than just respond. To study the broad biblical and church-historical teaching on something before it becomes a fire in your own church. To develop a theology of various issues that can ground how you respond—or, for new things brewing, to learn how to think theologically about them when they arise.

6. Receiving impartial feedback on your sermons/teaching from peers and instructors

When one is immersed in church ministry, two things happen: (a) your pastor becomes the only real source of feedback for your sermons/lessons (if you’re an assistant or intern, and if you’re lucky to receive anything at all), and/or (b) people in your own congregation (the ‘nice old lady’ or the ‘grumpy elder’ or your own spouse) become the only source of feedback.

It’s a remarkably one-sided setup, with the only sources of feedback coming from people who have relational skin in the game with you. It can become quite the echo chamber. Some pastors ask a group of other pastors or trusted advisors to listen to some of their sermons on occasion and give them feedback, but such efforts are extremely rare and/or very hard to sustain over time. Who has the energy?

Seminary is one of those rare opportunities to get serious critique of your preaching/teaching from people who have no skin in the game with you. Your classmates are not impressed by your senior pastor’s rhetorical abilities and have no interest in cutting you from the same cloth. Generally your peers do not have to worship with you on Sunday, so there is greater freedom to be honest. Your preaching professor(s) will not hesitate lovingly to give you a thorough evaluation of where you are and where you can improve. They don’t, honestly, care that your senior pastor wants you to do more clever anecdotes. This objectivity is immensely valuable, at least for those students who will allow themselves to be sanctified by it.

7. Cultivating friendships with those who will have similar ministry roles, but not be in your church

Nearly everyone who is new in ministry admits that one of the hardest things is loneliness and isolation. You are always ‘on.’ Few are the moments when people don’t look at you as ‘the pastor’ or ‘the youth worker.’ Everyone in your life either is (a) your boss or (b) your flock. It becomes difficult to be vulnerable. It becomes difficult to have friends.

Seminary is one of the few times in your life you can develop deep relationships with others who will be in a similar situation—and thus ‘get’ what you’re going through—but who are not in the same church as you.

Seminary friends are the few people in your life who are ‘safe’ for you to contact when you’re having a blowup with your Session or staff. And the seminary friends of your spouse play the same role, for they, too, understand the fishbowl but aren’t in your fishbowl. (For this reason, we at RTS-O invest a lot of time cultivating relationships among students and spouses).

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