By nature, I’m something of a skeptic, perhaps by this point in my life even a cynic, and I’ve never been a person who puts much stock in seeking signs from God.
My rational disposition, as well as my training as a biblical scholar, incline me to be cautious, judicious — dare I even say conservative — in assigning meaning to events and objects I encounter. However, 20 years ago last month, I had an experience I could construe as nothing other than a sign from God, and to this day I cannot think of it otherwise.
It was a momentous marker in my vocational journey to Baptist Seminary of Kentucky, which will observe its 20th anniversary when fall classes begin next week.
Dalen Jackson
In spring 2002, my world had been turned upside down when I was terminated from my position at a small Baptist college in the South. The executive director of the state’s Baptist convention had pressured the interim president to dismiss me from the institution I had served for eight years as head of the theology department and chair of the humanities division. While I felt my academic freedom was blatantly violated, that state leader wasn’t entirely wrong to note that my theological convictions were out of step with the convention’s steady imposition of fundamentalist dogma on the institutions it controlled.
My options were limited. Teaching positions were few and far between. I clearly was no longer a fit for institutions that remained in step with the “taken-over” Southern Baptist Convention, but I would be looked upon with suspicion by more progressive schools because my heritage was so thoroughly tied to the old SBC.
Perhaps some small signs had presented themselves over several years leading to this point. More than one friend had passed along to me notices about the formation of a new seminary in Kentucky supported by “moderate” Baptists grieving the loss of the kind of institution that had nurtured them. I previously dismissed the suggestion of these friends that this was an opportunity I should look into; it sounded precarious to me, an uphill struggle to establish a new school in a landscape crowded with other “moderate” seminaries, theology and divinity schools and Baptist houses of study.
Without a job, of course, my interest level heightened. When Greg Earwood, who had been selected as the first president of Baptist Seminary of Kentucky, contacted me, I was open to a conversation. (A gracious former professor, who had served on my doctoral committee and was now dean of one of the other new Baptist schools, had passed along my résumé.)
To make a long story short, I visited BSK over a weekend in mid-July, toured the site and engaged in a lengthy interview with President Earwood. The first classes were scheduled to start in August, with one full-time faculty member (yet to be named) and a strong roster of adjunct faculty. I was impressed with Greg’s confidence in and passion for the vision of this seminary, his genuine pastoral presence, and his command of the necessary details. I returned home to ponder the opportunity, while Greg deliberated over whether to offer me the position.
A few days later, I took my children, 9 and 11 at the time, on an outing at Tallulah Gorge State Park in Northeast Georgia. Both brought a friend on the day trip, and we hiked in the gorge, above which Karl Wallenda once performed a death-defying tightrope walk, and in which scenes from the movie Deliverance had been filmed years before. After a picnic lunch, we escaped the rising heat into the park’s interpretive center, winding our way upward from the lower level through various exhibits highlighting the flora and fauna of the area.
On the top level of the center were the only live exhibits, species that could be cared for in small cages or terraria. I don’t remember how many different kinds of creatures we saw there, but there was a variety of snakes. All indigenous to the region, most were harmless — rat snakes, black snakes, garter snakes.
But there also were a few venomous snakes, the largest and most threatening of which was a timber rattlesnake. Its terrarium was set up high, perhaps to provide some distance from small children who might be frightened by it.
As I moved in for a closer look, I saw that the terrarium was lined with newspaper, with a rock and a water bowl covering part of the front area. The paper was oriented so that an article faced me. Imagine my shock when I read the headline: “New Baptist seminary offers a moderate alternative.” And there, below the headline, was Greg Earwood sitting behind a desk and smiling up at me!
“And there, below the headline, was Greg Earwood sitting behind a desk and smiling up at me!”
What were the odds? How did an article about a seminary that had not even opened its doors wind up in a newspaper more than 300 miles away? How did that paper end up in this rattlesnake’s cage? How was the paper turned to this particular part of this particular page, oriented so that it was facing me?
My mind raced, and I wanted to tell everyone else there about it, but I realized no one except my children would have even the slightest idea what I was talking about. I lifted the kids up where they could see the paper, but I don’t think even they quite grasped the significance. Fortunately, although this was long before any of us had smart phones, I had brought along a camera for the outing and was able to snap a picture just as the snake moved across the article.
Returning to my bewilderment, I began to ponder the meaning of this extraordinary coincidence. Surely this was a sign from God!? But what kind of sign? A deadly serpent slithering across the story of the seminary to which I was about to commit? Was this a warning? A test of faith? An assurance?
A primary focus of my New Testament scholarship has been the Gospel of Mark, and I was well aware of the alternate ending of that Gospel with its evocation of the “sign” of handling serpents. In fact, I had a fascination with the phenomenon of snake-handling churches and the extraordinary faith they practiced. Among other books and articles, I had read Salvation on Sand Mountain and listened to Kate Campbell’s eerie song inspired by it, “Signs Following.”
And now, from an admittedly safe vantage point, I began to think of this coincidence as a sign for me to step out on faith into this new venture. This wasn’t exactly a tightrope walk over a vast gorge, but neither was I sure how much of a net I had beneath me. Not exactly a white-knuckle whitewater excursion in the hostile wilderness, but definitely a venture into the unknown. Certainly not an encounter with a deadly serpent, but risks and sacrifices lay ahead if I chose this route.
I can’t say I’ve ever experienced a sign of this magnitude again, or that I even routinely perceive events or sightings as signs, but I never will forget this one.
“I can’t say I’ve ever experienced a sign of this magnitude again.”
“And they went forth, and preached everywhere, the Lord working with them, and confirming the word with signs following. Amen” (Mark 16:20).
The 20 years that have elapsed since that day have brought me great fulfillment in my work at BSK. I’ve been blessed with wonderful, faithful colleagues, students and seminary supporters all along the way. We have faced many challenges, but each day also seems to bring new opportunities that position us to play a meaningful role in helping folks prepare for the daunting tasks of leading churches and offering pastoral care in diverse and contested ministry contexts.
I have no simple moral or lesson to offer from this story, just the story itself as, I hope, a reminder of the mysterious ways God’s good news breaks out into the open once in a while. Moments like this may be once-in-a-lifetime, but I trust that God is present and at work in our world and in our lives all the other times as well with more mundane, but still extraordinary, signs of faith and hope and love to sustain us.
Dalen Jackson has served as academic dean and professor of biblical studies at Baptist Seminary of Kentucky since its founding in August 2002.
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