My dissertation external examiner was a person of intimidating bearing. His large frame seemed to add power to himself and drain it from me. “Looking forward to doing business with you,” he said. His greeting seemed more of a threat than a welcome. Somehow, I saw him holding in his hand not my document but a knife and fork. And the piece of meat on his plate—was me.
The defense seemed to be progressing well as adviser after adviser asked their questions. Then came my external examiner. With one sentence I was transported from the center of the ring to the ropes. “I have no problem with what you’ve included,” he said, “I just have a problem with what you’ve excluded.”
I had been told to go over my dissertation multiple times to ensure I knew what I had written, why I had written it, and where I had written it. The problem, though, was not what I had left in—it was what I had left out.
Neglecting the abused
The children of Israel had left something out. During the period of their return to Jerusalem after being exiled in Babylon, Israel’s External Examiner told the people of God they had a definite passion for worship. They planned weeks of prayer, spiritual revival, and regular fasting. Clearly, sincerity was present, piety was evident, and holiness was apparent. Then came the Examiner’s devastating analysis. “I have no problem with what you’ve included. I have a problem with what you’ve excluded.” There are the defenseless in communities being attacked, there are the vulnerable in churches being overlooked, there are the abused in families being neglected, and there are the abusers in power being unchecked. Meanwhile regular seasons of prayer and fasting are being scheduled. The Examiner elaborated:
“This is the kind of fast day I’m after: / to break the chains of injustice, / get rid of exploitation in the workplace, / free the oppressed, / cancel debts. / What I’m interested in seeing you do is: / sharing your food with the hungry, / inviting the homeless poor into your homes, / putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad, / being available to your own families. / . . .
“If you get rid of unfair practices, / quit blaming victims, / quit gossiping about other people’s sins, / If you are generous with the hungry / and start giving yourselves to the down-and-out, / Your lives will begin to glow in the darkness. / . . . [You will] make the community livable again” (Isa. 58:6–12, The Message).
True worship
God’s external examiners have been consistent in their messaging:
“The worship that God wants is this: caring for orphans or widows who need help and keeping yourself free from the world’s evil influence. This is the kind of worship that God accepts as pure and good” (James 1:27, ERV). This is true worship, central to the everlasting gospel (Rev. 14:7).
Orphans and widows symbolize the marginalized and oppressed. Our prayer rooms are our war rooms where battles are won even before the contest. But we still have to emerge and engage. We still have to fight for the marginalized and fight off oppression. It’s the everlasting gospel. Let’s not leave this out.
In my doctoral defense I learned the hard way to include what I had excluded. “Systems theory!” bellowed my external examiner. “I have supervised scores of dissertations on your topic, and you must deal with the concept of systems theory.” They told me not to pull out anything I had written, just put in something I had not. “Insert a section on systems theory,” they said. “Then we think you will pass.”
Passion and compassion
We must insert compassion for the world without reducing passion for the Word. I understand David saying, “I was glad when they said to me, / ‘Let us go into the house of the Lord’ ” (Ps. 122:1, NKJV). But I also hear Jesus saying, “For I was hungry and you gave Me no food; I was thirsty and you gave Me no drink; I was a stranger and you did not take Me in, naked and you did not clothe Me, sick and in prison and you did not visit Me” (Matt. 25:42, 43, NKJV). Our call is to go back to the altar and forward to the world.
Our External Examiner doesn’t seem to have a problem with what we have included, just with what we have excluded. Pious postures must lead to compassionate conduct. Then I think we will pass.
