“Some insisted it boils down to personality. I’m a pretty serious extrovert. I’m comfortable in a lively conversation. Does this mean I should pastor? Not necessarily. Many of my pastoral heroes are serious introverts. Besides, my most skilled professors took a relational approach to students and were also devoted churchmen.”

John Calvin was certain God had called and gifted him to serve the burgeoning reform movement in France through biblical scholarship. He would retire to Strasbourg and lead the quiet life of a scholar. Having published the first edition of his Institutes, Calvin had unwittingly invented a new category of investigation: systematic theology. The ivory tower beckoned.

But divine providence, by means of a red-haired firebrand of a preacher named William (or Guillaume) Farel, intercepted the would-be academic on a summer evening in 1536. Forced by the Hapsburg-Valois War to travel an alternate path from Basel to Strasbourg, Calvin ended up spending a night in Geneva. There he encountered Farel, who urged Calvin to stay and serve the reformation’s cause as a pastor. Calvin viewed himself as an academic, not a pastor, so he resisted Farel’s overtures. In desperation, Farel called down a curse on his studies and, surprisingly, Calvin caved.

Calvin spent much of the remainder of his life as a pastor, penning many of the works that provided theological pillars for the Protestant Reformation and set a standard for biblical and theological scholarship that endures today.

Hardly Alone

Calvin hardly stands alone on the landscape of church history as a pastor who also labored to produce works of enduring scholarship for the instruction and edification of Christ’s church. Saint Augustine of Hippo (354–430) was a preacher of God’s Word and a scholar. Jonathan Edwards (1703–1758), arguably America’s greatest theological mind, was a longtime pastor in Northampton, Massachusetts. When he died unexpectedly at the age of 54, Edwards had just been elected president of the College of New Jersey (Princeton). His pastoral, philosophical, and theological works are voluminous—a result of rigorous study. And Edwards’s Puritan forebears, consistent with the broader Reformed tradition, valued a well-educated pulpit.

Of course, the pastor-scholar or pastor-theologian par excellence is found in the apostle Paul. Having studied at the feet of the Jewish rabbi Gamaliel, he was converted to Christ and then planted churches across the Mediterranean Basin. His letters are among the greatest theological treatises ever written. Paul’s pen dripped pastoral love—a shepherd’s heart and a scholar’s mind, both inspired by God’s Spirit.

Contemporary Dilemma Too 

Today, the church is rich with pastors who produce rigorous scholarship and scholars who are skilled pastors or local church leaders, including men such as TGC co-founders Don Carson and Tim Keller; John Piper; R. C. Sproul; Ligon Duncan; and Sinclair Ferguson, among scores of others. Carson and Piper’s helpful 2011 book (edited by Owen Strachan and David Mathis) The Pastor as Scholar and the Scholar as Pastor: Reflections on Life and Ministry (Crossway) examines this question through the ministries of Piper and Carson. It is recommended reading for all prayerfully weighing their ministerial options.

Many training for the ministry still face Calvin’s dilemma: Has God called me to be a pastor, a professor, or both? Is it possible to do both well, or will that lead to a ministerial mediocrity that’ll sap my strength and dishonor God? There have been fruitful, ongoing discussions on these issues of late. One of the most insightful articles is Michael Kruger’s taxonomy of the various combinations of the pastor-scholar. Others, including Andrew Wilson and Mark Jones, have offered valuable pushback on wedding the two.

For me, the question is filled with personal and practical significance.

Personal Journey

In 1997 I surrendered to the gospel ministry with a strong desire to plant a theologically solid church in my hometown and spend the rest of my life shepherding that flock. I attended seminary, and soon realized that I loved reading, studying, teaching, and writing about theology and church history. Encouraged by mentors and church elders, I pursued a PhD—a profound course change for my family. I also gained opportunities to teach and found it particularly satisfying. Still, I possessed a gnawing desire to preach God’s Word and shepherd his flock. Was I a pastor or was I a scholar? I spent years prayerfully wrestling with the Lord over my calling and ministerial identity. Numerous seminary friends were pursuing the same degrees and asking the same questions.

Someone suggested it could be determined by my level of desire. But I’m moved in both the pulpit and sick room because I believe the gospel is the unique saving, sanctifying, healing balm from the Lord. I also enjoy what Pulitzer-winning historian David McCullough once called “picking through other people’s mail”: historical research. Teaching future pastors about giants in church history—Augustine, Athanasius, Luther, Calvin, Bunyan, Edwards, Ryle, Spurgeon, Lloyd-Jones—excites me. Writing about the past and showing how it can help the church today is exhilarating. My affections didn’t really settled the matter.

Some insisted it boils down to personality. I’m a pretty serious extrovert. I’m comfortable in a lively conversation. Does this mean I should pastor? Not necessarily. Many of my pastoral heroes are serious introverts. Besides, my most skilled professors took a relational approach to students and were also devoted churchmen. Many were or had been pastors. Personality may be a determinative for some, but it wasn’t in my case.

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