Last Thursday I began my third year of seminary. As of three o'clock this afternoon, I had survived the first class in each of my five classes this semester. The period of syllabus reading and workload panicking is over. The ebbs and flows of another semester are upon me.
But in the midst of my mental weariness and ongoing adjustment, I am reminded of the blessing seminary continues to be for me.
A place where relationships form and grow as people study, learn, pray, and fellowship together.
A place where prayer is preached and practiced. The prayers of the professors are passionate, steeped in Scripture, genuine, God-honoring, and, often times, on behalf of the students.
A place where knowledge and study supplements personal intimacy and communion with God.
A place where grace is preached day in and day out to sinners in desperate need of it.
A place where one learns more about themselves as they learn more about their Creator.
I know there is a lot in store for this semester, but unlike the ones prior I enter with great anticipation for what God will do in and through it.
But in the midst of my mental weariness and ongoing adjustment, I am reminded of the blessing seminary continues to be for me.
A place where relationships form and grow as people study, learn, pray, and fellowship together.
A place where prayer is preached and practiced. The prayers of the professors are passionate, steeped in Scripture, genuine, God-honoring, and, often times, on behalf of the students.
A place where knowledge and study supplements personal intimacy and communion with God.
A place where grace is preached day in and day out to sinners in desperate need of it.
A place where one learns more about themselves as they learn more about their Creator.
I know there is a lot in store for this semester, but unlike the ones prior I enter with great anticipation for what God will do in and through it.
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