Ukraine has been a relatively frequent destination for me over the past fifteen years. Although I've not kept track of such things, I suspect that I've probably spent as much time here as in any foreign country, save Russia and perhaps South Africa and/or China. I've had the opportunity to visit many parts of the country, from the eastern regions that are culturally closer to southern Russia to the western, Ukrainian-speaking areas near L'viv. This trip takes me only to the capital, Kyiv, for a meeting of theological educators from across the former Soviet Union. Overseas Council is co-sponsoring this conference together with our partner, the Eurasian Accrediting Association. Approximately 150 people are expected at the conference from Ukraine, Russia, Belarus, Moldova, Uzbekistan, and Lithuania. I will be speaking on Wednesday about trends in theological education globally.
What do I hope for in this week together? In the 1990s, Protestant (and Orthodox and Catholic) theological schools proliferated in the former Soviet Union, all serving a kind of pent-up desire for training. At the time, there was a huge interest in the west to assist this part of the world. This led to many schools that were modeled strongly on North American seminaries with costly infrastructure and curricula that followed classic divisions. Most institutions drew the vast majority of their financial support from overseas. For a few years, this worked well. Yet around 2000, things began to change as the pool of students began to dry up and interest in this part of the world lessened in the west. Quite a few schools closed or were forced to change significantly. By the middle of the past decade, I don't believe that it is an overstatement to say that theological education in Eurasia was in crisis. Some may argue that it still is. Yet in many programs, I have seen the development of new, flexible programs, often in modular forms that allow people to receive training without commiting to multiple years of uprooted residence. More programs are providing non-traditional training to lay leaders. More schools are offering on-line training. Many schools have found creative ways to generate local income. Perhaps most importantly, I see here a younger generation of leaders who are committed to building on the strengths of generations before and finding ways to make theological education more responsive to the needs of a changing church. The program for the week and my own presentation on Wednesday all seek to probe these innovations, to think about what it looks like to lead in a time of remarkable change, and to raise questions of how to bring even greater sustainability to theological education in the region.
Change does not come easily. Although the entire world has changed remarkably since 1991, the depth and scope of change has been nearly overwhelming here. This period of change has been very difficult for many of the traditional Protestant denominations and their members. During the Soviet years and the immediate post-Soviet period, many of these groups found their identity in their traditions that had been painstakingly preserved through periods of persecution. To be Baptist or Pentecostal was not only a religious identity, but a way of life, a worldview. Social and theological realities together focused attention on the interior of the community, since any real ability for the church to influence broader society was severely limited. This, of course, has changed markedly. Yet the transition from that safe, sure world to today's multifaceted, ever-changing situation has not been easy. Many still long for that secure, traditional church world that was a blessing to many. Yet many, especially younger leaders of my generation, seem to realize increasingly the need for new models that express scriptural truths in ways that respond to and resonate with the culture and that allow the church to have a positive influence in broader society. Navigation of this reality remains a leadership challenge. Leading change is not a simple matter anywhere. Yet I suspect that is an especially great challenge here.
My presentation on Wednesday will not be a monologue. Rather, it is framed around several sets of questions and observations. What challenges do you as a leader know that your institution will face in the coming two years? What are the predominant questions of men, women, and young people in the church and broader society? Why exactly do our schools exist? What purpose do they seek to serve? And most importantly, is there alignment between our schools' ultimate purposes, what we actually do, and the questions being asked by those we serve? It would unquestionably be easier to simply give a lecture, to present my ideas and leave them on the table. Yet the educator in me knows that this is insufficient. The soils must be plowed open with provocative questions that engage leaders where they are. There must be adequate space for people to think about any question and make application in the context of their own situation. There must be engagement with reality, not just remote theory. It is my hope that my tiny part, together with the work of colleagues here in the region, can encourage those who are seeking to innovate, can calm fears that accompany change for all of us, and can be a small part of strengthening the leadership of the church in this part of the world. It is my hope that my small, insignificant part can contribute to this greater reality.
What do I hope for in this week together? In the 1990s, Protestant (and Orthodox and Catholic) theological schools proliferated in the former Soviet Union, all serving a kind of pent-up desire for training. At the time, there was a huge interest in the west to assist this part of the world. This led to many schools that were modeled strongly on North American seminaries with costly infrastructure and curricula that followed classic divisions. Most institutions drew the vast majority of their financial support from overseas. For a few years, this worked well. Yet around 2000, things began to change as the pool of students began to dry up and interest in this part of the world lessened in the west. Quite a few schools closed or were forced to change significantly. By the middle of the past decade, I don't believe that it is an overstatement to say that theological education in Eurasia was in crisis. Some may argue that it still is. Yet in many programs, I have seen the development of new, flexible programs, often in modular forms that allow people to receive training without commiting to multiple years of uprooted residence. More programs are providing non-traditional training to lay leaders. More schools are offering on-line training. Many schools have found creative ways to generate local income. Perhaps most importantly, I see here a younger generation of leaders who are committed to building on the strengths of generations before and finding ways to make theological education more responsive to the needs of a changing church. The program for the week and my own presentation on Wednesday all seek to probe these innovations, to think about what it looks like to lead in a time of remarkable change, and to raise questions of how to bring even greater sustainability to theological education in the region.
Change does not come easily. Although the entire world has changed remarkably since 1991, the depth and scope of change has been nearly overwhelming here. This period of change has been very difficult for many of the traditional Protestant denominations and their members. During the Soviet years and the immediate post-Soviet period, many of these groups found their identity in their traditions that had been painstakingly preserved through periods of persecution. To be Baptist or Pentecostal was not only a religious identity, but a way of life, a worldview. Social and theological realities together focused attention on the interior of the community, since any real ability for the church to influence broader society was severely limited. This, of course, has changed markedly. Yet the transition from that safe, sure world to today's multifaceted, ever-changing situation has not been easy. Many still long for that secure, traditional church world that was a blessing to many. Yet many, especially younger leaders of my generation, seem to realize increasingly the need for new models that express scriptural truths in ways that respond to and resonate with the culture and that allow the church to have a positive influence in broader society. Navigation of this reality remains a leadership challenge. Leading change is not a simple matter anywhere. Yet I suspect that is an especially great challenge here.
My presentation on Wednesday will not be a monologue. Rather, it is framed around several sets of questions and observations. What challenges do you as a leader know that your institution will face in the coming two years? What are the predominant questions of men, women, and young people in the church and broader society? Why exactly do our schools exist? What purpose do they seek to serve? And most importantly, is there alignment between our schools' ultimate purposes, what we actually do, and the questions being asked by those we serve? It would unquestionably be easier to simply give a lecture, to present my ideas and leave them on the table. Yet the educator in me knows that this is insufficient. The soils must be plowed open with provocative questions that engage leaders where they are. There must be adequate space for people to think about any question and make application in the context of their own situation. There must be engagement with reality, not just remote theory. It is my hope that my tiny part, together with the work of colleagues here in the region, can encourage those who are seeking to innovate, can calm fears that accompany change for all of us, and can be a small part of strengthening the leadership of the church in this part of the world. It is my hope that my small, insignificant part can contribute to this greater reality.
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