Sam Matteson, Physics
University of North Texas
[Octo 20, 2008]—I read the e-mail from my dean:
“There has been a complaint regarding your upcoming lecture. I would like to talk with you about it immediately.”
I had agreed to give a public lecture during Arts and Sciences Week about the historical dating of the crucifixion of Jesus. I had come to appreciate this study not just as a fun bit of extra-curricular sleuthing but also as a demonstration that Jesus of Nazareth was a historical figure as real as Tiberius Caesar or Pontius Pilate.
The Ominous Email
I was excited and expectant, looking forward to sharing a synthesis of scholarly work in history, archaeology, and astronomy that had relevance to our life even today. Excited — until I had received the ominous email.
I entered the dean’s office apprehensively that afternoon. She detailed the contents of the complaint: that the sponsorship of my lecture by the College violated the “separation of church and state.”
I assured the dean that my lecture was a scholarly examination of a historical event and not in the least overtly theological or philosophical. I further argued that the interdisciplinary scholarship represented by my research was in no way a constitutional violation, and in fact was totally appropriate to the occasion in the first week of April. She acquiesced finally to my assurances and persuasion—although a little too reluctantly, I thought.
Father, Forgive My Weakness
I left her office in a funk. I felt awful. I felt oppressed by the implied criticism; I felt foolish for being surprised and intimidated by a simple complaint; but even more, I felt embarrassed that I was so puny of spirit that the slightest criticism made my heart quake.
I silently called out to God: “Father, forgive my weakness please, but will You send me some encouragement that will affirm my faith in what I am doing?”
I had scarcely stepped outside when I saw Oliver Chyan from the chemistry department stride directly toward me from across the street.
Before we were even close enough to shake hands, he said, “I am so glad that you are giving a talk on the dating of the crucifixion. I am a new Christian and everything about the historical Jesus makes my faith stronger.”
The next Wednesday I presented my lecture to an overflow crowd. There were no negative repercussions. My greatest fears turned out to be groundless.
The Dean Contacted Me Again
A few weeks later the dean contacted me again. This time she asked me to tell her father, a Presbyterian elder visiting from West Virginia, the facts of my talk.
I often bring this incident to mind to recall how silly my timidity can be. I have resolved ever since to be listening for God’s voice for words of encouragement that I could share with another brother or sister.
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© 2008 Samuel E. Matteson Used by permission of Faculty Commons