One might find it odd that I would refer to the philosopher/theologian Dallas Willard as my favorite psychologist. But if a person traces the roots of modern psychology back through the centuries, it becomes easier to see him as one of that discipline’s best modern-day practitioners.

In the late 1970s I began studying psychology at a major southern university. I won’t tell you the name, but I will say that on Saturday afternoons during football season, most of the students drank too much beer and would commence barking like dogs. While I did not know it at the time, Dallas Willard had also majored in psychology at a much smaller and decidedly more sober institution about 120 miles north. Consequently, I’ve never known him to bark.

I also did not know that just over ten years prior to my first undergraduate class in psychology, the university I was attending had offered Dallas a job teaching in their philosophy department. But when another suitor institution offered a reduced teaching load—one more conducive to the writing he wanted to pursue—he took that job instead and began his storied career as a philosopher at the University of Southern California. Dallas never returned for more than a brief visit to his southern roots, thus inadvertently proving just how much someone can accomplish outside the will of God. But I digress—back to my first psychology class.

In our History and Systems course, we used a thick textbook that devoted about 95 percent of its attention to modern psychology, which the authors claimed sprang to life in the laboratory of Wilhelm Wundt in 1879. Forty-eight of the fifty psychologists working as professors in the department echoed the same sentiments; the other two were closer to retirement than they knew.

During these halcyon days of behaviorism, the prevailing feeling was that not much worth considering within the discipline of psychology had happened before the late 1800s. I drank the Kool-Aid, never pausing to ponder how it would have sounded if the literature department of the same institution had been telling the students, “No need to read Homer, Shakespeare or Dostoyevsky; real literature goes back only to the modernist writers of the early twentieth century.”

Years after graduating from that university and completing doctoral studies in clinical psychology at another institution, I was listening to a gifted communicator as he unpacked Norman Rockwell’s famous painting Breaking Home Ties. At some point in the middle of his discussion, I had an epiphany concerning the history of psychology and the debate over which ideas should be kept in and which culled out.

 

The storyteller described the Rockwell classic.

 

See the face of the young man. It is a canvas for excitement, anticipation. He stares out, wide-eyed, into the distance. An oversized red tie rests on the outside of a crisp white shirt. A brightly colored triangular banner featuring the words ‘State University’ decorates his battered suitcase. He looks like Huck Finn on Easter Sunday.

But look at the other figure, probably the boy’s father. He’s sitting beside his son on the running board of a dirt-caked truck. The man’s face is weathered and leathery-brown. He is wearing the faded denim overalls of a farmer. He stares downcast at the dusty ground, tenderly holding his son’s hat in his hand, perhaps as a way somehow to hold on to the boy a little longer. A large red handkerchief hangs down from an oak barrel as a signal for the next train to stop.

 

While the speaker was using the image to help a roomful of church leaders representing a small, rural denomination grieve a lost generation—a generation of young people who went off to college and never returned home, the image helped me process what had happened to the discipline of psychology.

Rural America and that particular Christian denomination were not the only “fathers” who have seen their “children” leave. Psychology (and subsequently pastoral and professional counseling) also left “home”—the ancient traditions of soul care—to seek new insights and opportunities in the “city”—methods of modern psychotherapy.

Hurding,Roger F. Hurding, The Tree of Healing (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1985). Gorsuch,R. L. Gorsuch, “Psychology and Religion, Beliefs, and Values,” Journal of Psychology and Christianity 5 (1986), 39–44. Benner,David G. Benner, Psychotherapy and the Spiritual Quest (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1988). and LeShanLawrence L. LeShan, The Dilemma of Psychology (New York: Dutton, 1990). provide interesting overviews that illuminate the migration of modern psychology from its home as a discipline of soul care practices to its present-day dwelling place in the city—or at least the suburbs—as a science of behavior.

Gorsuch and LeShan remind us that psychology distanced itself from the practices of soul care and its parents, philosophy and religion, when it turned toward the “hard sciences” as role models in the late 1900s. Much was gained, but much was also lost.

Psychology prospered in the “city.” It won a place in the academy—usually a few doors down from the biology department (if you get to anthropology, you’ve gone too far). Hundreds of new divisions, schools, and departments were spawned. Scores of new academic journals were launched. National organizations, some with considerable political clout, were initiated. Human behavior was squeezed under a microscope and studied from the outside in. For many students of the modern discipline of psychology, life on the farm was a dim memory.

But even with all the success, many look back with a sad nostalgia. Thomas Oden is one of these. He is arguably the most outspoken critic of modern pastoral counseling and professional Christian counseling and has made numerous assertions that these have lost touch with their historical roots. Oden, in his book Care of Souls in the Classic Tradition, provides a striking graphic to support his claim that pastoral counseling in particular has also left the farm and has “fallen into a pervasive amnesia toward its own classical pastoral past.”Thomas C. Oden, Care of Souls in the Classic Tradition (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984).

Oden selected ten key figures in classical pastoral care: Cyprian, Tertullian, Chrysostom, Augustine, Gregory the Great, Luther, Calvin, George Herbert, Richard Baxter, and Jeremy Taylor. He then checked the number of times they were referenced in seven standard works of pastoral theology in the nineteenth century. He found that each of these texts unfailingly quoted at least six of the ten classic figures he had selected. In all he found 314 references to them. He then selected seven representative twentieth-century pastoral writers and conducted a similar indexing procedure. What he found was mind-boggling. There were no references, none, to the classic figures. However, there were 330 references to the city-dwelling friends of their older brother, psychology: Freud (109), Jung (45), Rogers (101), Fromm (27), Sullivan (22), and Berne (26). With this research, undeniable credibility is added to his bold-faced assertion that “pastoral counseling has become in many cases little more than a thoughtless mimic of the most current psychological trends.”

While these surveys conducted by Oden have a specific focus on pastoral counseling, he and others make parallel observations concerning the youngest brother, professional Christian counseling. David Benner reflects on the wide variety of approaches to Christian counseling and determines that, with only two possible exceptions, “none of the other approaches have been explicitly developed from Christian theology. Rather, they are adapted forms of existing secular theories which the authors argue are consistent with Christian truth.”David G. Benner, ed., Baker Encyclopedia of Psychology (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1985). A friend of mine, who is less diplomatic than Benner, puts it like this: “It seems to me that a lot of Christian counseling/psychology is sacred glaze brushed onto a secular ham.”

 

Leslie D. Weatherhead, using less picturesque speech, states,

 

Psychology has its place as material medicine has, but neither is to be regarded as a substitute for the dynamic spiritual energy which the Church of the first century knew. We are trying to make do with both, because we are not prepared to pay the price which a healing Church costs. We pretend that the first-century healing miracles are being repeated by psychotherapeutic treatments. We interview a patient for two hundred separate hours, and then rejoice when he does not limp quite so badly. The Apostles could say, “In the name of Jesus Christ, rise and walk!”Leslie D. Weatherhead, The Transforming Friendship (London: Epworth Press, 1928).

 

By the late 1980s, after having completed doctoral studies and finding myself suddenly immersed in a thriving private practice, I began to experience a growing disillusionment with a psychology that would embrace the laboratory rat while ignoring the celestial soul. It wasn’t that I did not appreciate the rich contributions the discipline had to offer; I just wanted to know more about areas where it was often silent and sometimes condescending. I had also begun to wonder why I was selling the fruit of modern psychology to those who came to me in distress while I was drinking the wine of Christian spiritual formation to ease my own pain.

It was precisely at the height of this internal questioning that I discovered Dallas Willard’s book, The Spirit of the Disciplines: Understanding How God Changes Lives.Dallas Willard, The Spirit of the Disciplines: Understanding How God Changes Lives (San Francisco: Harper, 1988). After a slow reading that took almost three months, I came to the conclusion that this “amateur” theologian and professional philosopher knew more about the soul than any psychologist (literally “soul-ologist”) I had ever encountered. And his focus was not on helping people limp less; he was teaching people how to rise up and walk “with God.”

Within a couple of years of discovering Dallas, I invited him to come to the university where I was teaching to give a lecture series that was to celebrate the launch of something we were calling The Institute of Clinical Theology. I was shocked when he agreed to come and completely bewildered when he would not set a fee for his talks. While visiting with Dallas in our home, I discovered that this mere lad of 55 was the most authentic and genuine follower of Jesus that I had ever met. I was drawn to live as he lived, to know Jesus as he seemed to know Him.

That initial encounter with Dallas was so positive, so life-giving that I spent much of the next 20 years looking for excuses—a journal to establish, an institute to launch, DVD projects to film—for immersing myself and others in Dallas’ ideas and presence. I’m not sure I’ve ever stood in front of a class for more than an hour without referencing Dallas Willard; it is not unusual for me to do so while standing in the express line at a grocery store.

To speak boldly, it would not surprise me if Church historians of the future peer back through the centuries and judge Dallas Willard’s contributions to the Kingdom to be of equal importance to those of other reformers such as Martin Luther and Ignatius of Loyola. It also would not surprise me if future psychologists look back and see Dallas Willard as a giant in that discipline as well.

For the remainder of this article, I will limit my comments to just three of the psychology lessons I have learned from “psychologist” Dallas Willard. These lessons are about (1) the components of the person, (2) the process of transformation, and (3) the implications to the field of Jesus’ being very smart.

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01.  The Components of the Person

As we have discussed, modern psychology has had the tendency to ignore things that cannot be measured. It is rare to find the word “soul” mentioned in an American Psychological Association (APA) sponsored journal; or a psyche-ologist who would be willing to focus attention on that aspect (the psyche-logical) of his or her client.

Don’t get me wrong; I am a huge fan of modern psychology. Most training programs in counseling or clinical psychology offer a curriculum that provides a breadth of exposure to scientific approaches to ameliorating dysfunction, including classes in the biological, cognitive, social, and relational aspects of behavior. However, the soul and its integrative functioning within the person is not part of APA’s suggested course of study. So perhaps you can imagine my delight when I discovered a psyche-ologist who wrote and taught about the entirety of the person.

Examining the soul is not an easy task, even for a theologian. Even beginning with the Bible may not help. Attempting to understand what is written in scripture about the soul or spirit—for that matter, about any of the components of a person—is confusing. But I have found Dallas Willard to be very helpful in elucidating matters of our inner world and navigating past three of the primary problems posed to our understanding.

 

1. He reminds us that the words soul and spirit, while often used as parallel expressions, should not be viewed as synonymous.
2. If you decide to lower the microscope to find distinctions between soul and spirit, you discover that in Scripture spirit can also refer to both heart and will.Dallas Willard, Renovation of the Heart: Putting on the Character of Christ (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2002), 33–35.
3. Hebrew and Greek conceptions of the soul’s relationship to the body were very different. While Greek thought often presented a view of the soul as a separate entity from the body, Hebrew anthropology was more holistic than compartmentalized.

 

It seems that modern theology has gravitated toward the more unitive Hebrew view. It is no longer in vogue to debate as to whether human beings are composed of two parts (soul and body) or three parts (soul, spirit, body). For most scholars today, the soul/spirit is not considered to be “part” of a person’s make up, but instead characterizes the individual in his or her totality. When asked in class if I’m a dichotomist or a trichotomist, I will think of Dallas and simply say, “Either is a good start.”

In contemporary usage it is safe to say that the terms soul and spirit refer to the nonmaterial aspect of a human being that gives individuality. In Christian theology these terms carry the further connotation of being the part of a person that has the potential to partake of divinity and survives the death of the physical body.

Against this slightly blurred background, I believe Dallas Willard offers more help than most in attempting to bring the entire “person” into focus. In Renovation of the Heart: Putting on the Character of Christ, Dallas Willard proposes there are six basic aspects of a human being, which together and in interplay make up “human nature.”Willard, Renovation of the Heart, 30.

• Thought (images, concepts, judgments, inferences)
• Feeling (sensations, emotion)
• Body (action, interaction with the physical world)
• Social Context (personal and structural relations with others)
• Spirit (choice, will, heart, decision, CEO of the person)
• Soul (the factor that integrates all the above into one life).

In this model (please see Figure 1), we are presented with not only the components of the person but also the only five things a human being can do. Humans can think, feel, behave, interact with others, and choose. Spirit/will/heart is the center or core of a person’s life and may be called the “ego”—especially when functioning separate and apart from God as the source of life.I hope I am not being confusing here; I believe that we both need a healthy ego and that as part of a Christian’s journey of experiencing a greater sense of union with God, we need to lay it down. In this sense I am using “ego” to represent what has been called the “false self,” or that aspect of the person which is holding on to the notion that a life separate from God is good and desirable. “Choice” is perhaps the best one-word encapsulation for the activity of this spirit/will/heart dimension. It underscores the most fundamental decision faced by humanity. Like their foreparents, Christians awaken each day to the choice of living in an intimate, conversational, and communal relationship with God, or of initiating and maintaining a separate existence. The spirit/CEO’s critical decision is between willingness, surrender, and obedience versus willfulness, autonomy, and separation from the Source of life.

According to Dallas, the soul, as distinguished from the spirit/CEO, can be viewed as the invisible computer that keeps everything running and integrated into one person. The soul is the aspect that integrates all of the components of the person to form one life. The soul is not the “person.” The person includes all aspects of the self, including the soul. The soul, Dallas pens, “is that aspect of your whole being that correlates, integrates, and enlivens everything going on in the various dimensions of the self. It is the life center of the human being.”Dallas Willard, Renovation of the Heart, 199.

Why is this important? For starters, I’ve referenced being exposed to psychology at a time when many major universities saw the discipline primarily concerned with only one aspect of the entire person: behavior. It was very interesting for me to return to my alma mater a decade after my undergraduate graduation only to discover that the psychology department had been taken over by those who were lobbying for the primacy of cognition, a second aspect of the person. If you traveled far enough back in time, you would see that still other aspects of the person (emotional, relational) had been given their decade (or so) in the sun. The point is, I do not mean to be merely contrasting Dallas Willard’s conceptualization of the person with behaviorism, but rather with any approach of modern psychology that is not both holistic and inclusive of the non-physical aspects of the individual.

What am I saying? I have found that Dallas Willard provides me with a more comprehensive model for understanding the person that what I was offered by modern psychology. And as an added bonus, it includes biblically and philosophically informed formulations about the soul (basic organizing mechanism) of the person and the spirit (or CEO) of the person and the importance of its moment-by-moment choices between willingness and surrender versus willfulness and independence from Life and Love.

I believe Dallas Willard’s model of human functioning provides a holistic way of conceptualizing and working with individuals that easily embraces abnormal psychology, positive psychology, and the soul/spirit. That is to say, each component (let’s think “cognitive” aspect as one illustration) can be focused on for the purpose of (1) improving maladaptive functioning (e.g., reframing and restructuring thought patterns that lead to negative outcomes); (2) increasing positive outcome (e.g., strengthening and enhancing existing thought patterns that support positive functioning); and (3) enhancing Christian spiritual formation (e.g., examining an individual’s views and concepts of God for the purpose of facilitating the process of learning to live more moments “with” God). Now, that is a psychology I can be excited about.

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02.  The Process of Transformation: Real Change Can Happen

Several years ago, while I was producing a DVD for a small-group resource based on Renovation of the Heart, something very memorable happened. It had been a long day. That morning, Dallas had done a remarkable job summarizing each of the thirteen chapters from his book in front of a live studio audience. That afternoon he, John Ortberg, and Larry Crabb had been sitting around a small café table discussing the topics from that morning over coffee and on camera. The idea behind the casual recap was that since some people find Dallas painfully smart, it would be a good idea if a couple of colleagues helped him bring things down a few notches so the rest of us could get it.

We were two hours into the afternoon taping, and I was beginning to feel it was past time to take a break. I was moving to get the director’s attention so he would call for a break in the action when I heard John begin to make a tearful confession.

“Dallas, I could take you to the time and the seat on the airplane when I read the words in your book that changed my life.”

While I wasn’t a seasoned producer, I knew that was not the time to yell, “Cut!”

John went on to quote the line from The Divine Conspiracy that states, “My central claim is that we can become like Jesus by doing one thing—by following him in the overall style of life he chose for himself.”Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering our Hidden Life in God (San Francisco: Harper, 1998), ix. There were tears in John’s eyes as he went on to confess that these words impacted him deeply and filled him with hope because, even as a successful pastor, he had begun to doubt if real change, authentic transformation, was possible.

This cuts to the heart of the second indelible psychology lesson I learned from Dallas. Real change—not just alterations of thought and behavior but also a transformation of will and character—is possible. But it will require an inspired CEO.

 

The CEO of the Person

If God created the spirit/heart/will as the key influence (read, CEO) of one’s life, then how the heart becomes transformed from “darkened and secretly idolatrous” (Deut. 29:18, 19, Mt. 15:8; Rom. 1:21) to “honest, good and open to God” (Lu. 8:15; Rom. 10:9) becomes the most important question that can be asked in theology, philosophy, and psychology. To get a better grasp of the person in the context of transformation, I like to use the Dallas-inspired imagery of a Fortune 500 company.I originally described this my book Renovation of the Heart: Leader’s Guide (Franklin Springs, GA: LifeSprings, 2003).

Picture an executive meeting of a large company. The CEO (spirit/heart/will), who makes the key choices, sits at the head of the table in a conference room. She is surrounded by five division heads representing research and development (thought), human resources (feeling), labor (body), corporate relations (social context) and information services (soul). In an ideal situation for your company, all essential parts are effectively organized around its mission statement—its purpose and reason for existence—which was put in place by the board of directors (the Trinity). The CEO (spirit/heart/will) seeks the higher good of the organization and its mission. In the best of worlds, the five division heads cooperate and comply with the administrative will of the CEO, which is one with the will of the board of directors.

The problem is, however, that most “companies” (or “human beings”) are not headed by a CEO who operates in perfect alignment with the “board.” And the key question is how transformation can occur in me that will realign the vision of the CEO (spirit/heart/will) to comply with the mission statement of loving God with my whole heart and my neighbor as myself.

The biblical answer is clear. The spirit/heart/CEO is changed through a relationship with the Trinity—most specifically, Jesus Christ. When Jesus says as part of his commencement address to his disciples, “Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent” (John 17.3, NIVScripture quotations marked (NIV) are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™ ), he is pointing the CEO of our person to an intimate and interactive friendship with God. It is the CEO in relationship with the Board that produces singleness of purpose, willing surrender, and the ultimate organization of all the division heads around one purpose. Spiritual formation in Christ is the process leading to that ideal end where all essential parts of the human self are effectively organized around God. The ideal result is love of God with all one’s heart, soul, mind, and strength and of one’s neighbor as oneself (Mark 12:29–31; Deut. 6:4–9; Lev. 19:18).

Christian spiritual transformation involves “knowing” God at such a deep, relational level that one’s spirit is progressively aligned to Divine will while the soul is humming in the background like a well-functioning computer, integrating all the components of the person into one fully functioning organism.

 

From Fortune 500 Companies to the Desert Fathers

This all sounds almost too easy; most find the journey of transformation difficult to the point of seeming to be impossible. But it is precisely here that Dallas offers both hope concerning the possibility of real change and descriptions that seem to me surprisingly at home with the early traditions of the Church Fathers and Mothers and Orthodox traditions of Christian faith. Let me explain.

Kallistos Ware tells the story of a fourth-century desert father, St. Sarapion the Sindonite, who traveled on a pilgrimage to Rome. Once there, he was told of a respected recluse who spent all of her time in a small room. Sarapion was skeptical of her way of life because of its contrast to his own approach, which included much travel. He called on her and asked, “Why are you sitting here?”

To this she replied: “I’m not sitting, I am on a journey.”Kallistos Ware, The Orthodox Way (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1979), 7.

To be a Christian is to be on a journey—from the pigpen of self-rule to the outstretched arms of a loving father. Not surprisingly, one of the most ancient names for Christianity is simply “the Way.”See Ware, 7, and Acts 19:23. It is possible that some Protestants have become fascinated with spiritual direction because of the partial loss of the richness and texture in viewing Christian transformation as a journey. Even though Reformers such as Calvin discussed three broad stages of the journey—conversion, sanctification, and glorification—in practice it seems that many modern Protestants are more likely to expect a microwave instead of a crock-pot approach to transformation.

As Rogers observes, one of the most striking differences between ancient and modern Christianity concerns the view of salvation. “At the risk of oversimplification,” he states, “Protestants generally define salvation in legal, juridical, or forensic terms. Christ’s death pays the just penalty for man’s sin. We receive salvation (forgiveness of sins) by virtue of our faith in His meritorious sacrifice on our behalf.”F. G. Roger, “Spiritual Direction in the Orthodox Christian Tradition,” in Spiritual Direction and the Care of Souls: A Guide to Christian Approaches and Practices, ed. Gary W. Moon and David G. Benner (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2004). While not denying the sacrificial aspect of salvation, ancient Christianity, according to Rogers, believes it is better to view salvation as a process of transformation and the fulfillment of the image of God in humankind.

Perhaps it should not be surprising to hear Christians described as “forgiven sinners” instead of “beloved children of God on a transformational journey that will lead to restoration of the imago dei, and spiritual union.” Nor is it startling that someone whose identity is that of absolved reprobate might dance for joy at the notion of being offered a personal invitation to live in union with God.

 

Three Stages

The journey motif for spiritual formation was adopted by both Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Christians and is conceived of as including three stages: purgation, illumination, and union.

Purgation is the process by which one’s character is purified through confession of sin and a growing detachment from worldly values. Using the imagery of Dallas Willard’s model of the person (see Figure 1), foundational to purgation is a metanoia, or a radical reorientation of all the dimensions of the person (thoughts, emotions, will, behavior, social interactions, life of the soul) toward God. It is here the seeker battles, along with the grace of God, against the passions and habit patterns of sin within the human body and soul that corrupt human nature. In the imagery of the parable of the prodigal son, purgation describes the stage of thinking things through again—leaving the pigs to begin the journey back home.

Illumination refers to a deepening experience of the love, joy, and peace of God, along with a growing desire to surrender the will to God. It is characterized as a time of becoming dispassionate for all things not God and passionately attached to God and his kingdom. During this stage, conversations with God increase and begin to deepen into communion and movement toward unceasing prayer from the heart.

With reference to Figure 1, illumination can be visualized as an increasing interior surrender to the presence and passion of the indwelling Spirit of Christ within each dimension of the person until the person’s character becomes a better mirror of Christ. For the prodigal, illumination describes the time of staring into the eyes of the father, realizing the extent of his boundless love, and then becoming lost in his embrace.

Union with God is the final stage of spiritual formation. This state will not reach ultimate fruition until heaven. It involves complete interior surrender to the presence and will of God. As this stage is approached, there is little to distinguish the character of the believer from that of Christ. The mystery of “Christ in me” is realized as an interior surrender of all components of the person—thought, emotion, will, behavior, relationships, and soul functioning—is made to the transforming presence of Christ. For the prodigal son, union would mean a full re-entry into the family and taking on the mind of the father with such a deep appreciation for his love that he has become pig-proofed for life.

Willard describes the process of spiritual transformation as the renovation of the human heart. He believes that “spiritual formation for the Christian basically refers to the Spirit-driven process of forming the inner world of the human self in such a way that it becomes like the inner being of Christ himself.”Dallas Willard, Renovation of the Heart, 22. It also involves a progressive union with God that takes the form of a conversational relationship that is personal, concrete, and ongoing.

As the process of Christian spiritual formation reaches fruition, several things become evident. (1) One begins to awaken to one’s true identity and, with God’s grace, dethrones the false self. (2) Conversation and communion with God increase and deepen into a sense of spiritual union. (3) The various dimensions of the person become united by the presence and love of the indwelling Christ. The truly important thing, the common thread of spiritual formation, according to Thomas Merton, is the journey of surrender to the will of God and his love.Thomas Merton, Spiritual Direction and Meditation (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1960).

By way of summary, Dallas Willard rightly reminds us that the “Spirit of the Disciplines” is “nothing more than the love of Jesus with its resolute will to be like him whom we love.” He also reminds us there is but one “way,” one “truth,” and one “life.” We must become like him and follow him in overall lifestyle. “And [you] have put on the new self who is being renewed to a true knowledge according to the image of the One who created him” (Colossians 3:10, NASB 1995Scripture quotations marked (NASB 1995) are taken from the New American Standard Bible®, Copyright © 1960, 1971, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation Used by permission. (www.lockman.org)).

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03.  Jesus Was Really Smart

The third psychology lesson I learned from Dallas is to always remember that Jesus was really smart. Let me explain.

I liked the title Slums of Beverly Hills more than I liked the movie. I think it struck a chord because it reminded me that many academics seem to think possessing Christian faith automatically relegates a person to the intellectual slums.

I recently received an invitation from the same psychology department of the major southern university I referenced earlier. They wanted me to send them some money. In a section of the appeal labeled “past milestones,” a brief psychological history of the department was offered.

 

• 1800 Psychology first represented in the university’s curriculum as “moral and mental philosophy”
• 1897 “Psychology” first appeared as a university course, but remained philosophically rather than scientifically oriented.
• 1902 First laboratory course in psychology taught
• 1970s Department represents psychology as the “science of behavior.”
• 1990s Major research grants awarded for achievements in neuroscience and the biological basis of behavior

 

In just five lines taken from the history of the department, one can see an overview of psychology’s evolution from “moral philosophy” to a “science” that can be used as a basis of reliable prediction and control of human behavior.Dallas Willard, Knowing Christ Today: Why We Can Trust Spiritual Knowledge (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 2009), 78. But in the century-long, cross-campus move, two very important things were lost, moral understanding and the human soul.

And yet, in spite of agreeing to this heavy tariff, psychology, for the most part, has existed for over a century in the slums of the natural sciences—physics, biology, chemistry, neurology—it has sought to imitate. As a psychologist interested in the integration of theology and a Christian worldview into professional practice, I’m keenly aware of another slum. As Dallas Willard articulates so well in his most recent book, Knowing Christ Today: Why We Can Trust Spiritual Knowledge, faith in Jesus Christ and living life as his students has been repositioned outside the category of knowledge. “Serious and thoughtful Christians today . . . are urged to treat their central beliefs as something other than knowledge—something, in fact, far short of knowledge.”Dallas Willard, Knowing Christ Today, 1.

For most of my professional career I created a hierarchy of value for the various “schools” of psychology based on how closely they resembled the natural sciences. Neuropsychology and the biological explanations of behavior were at the top, closely followed by behavioral and cognitive approaches. I gave some credence to person-centered approaches as a safe way to spend time with clients before the “real psychology” could be brought in, and I tolerated the existence of Freudian approaches in a manner similar to the way I would tolerate a beloved, senile grandparent.

At the same time, I came to accept the Western view that the term “knowledge” should be reserved for subjects like math and the natural sciences. Religion—even Christianity—dealt in matters of faith, belief, and profession, but not knowledge. Indeed, how could one make a “leap of faith” if one’s faith were grounded in actual knowledge?

For several decades I have been a teacher and a practitioner of integration—integrating “knowledge” from the science of psychology with “beliefs and practices” from Christianity. Initially, I viewed Christians as an underserved population who could benefit from the knowledge psychology had to offer. I later began to view various soul-care strategies (e.g., practice with a variety of Christian disciplines) as outside-the-box techniques for some Christian clients who might benefit in a variety of ways from participating in these “practices.”

Recently, however, a slow change in my way of thinking has percolated to the surface and now causes me to believe that I have been dramatically short-changing what Jesus has to offer. I believe it is time for me—and perhaps others in the integration enterprise—to reposition faith in Jesus Christ and the ability to live interactively with him back within the category of knowledge.

Have I decided to join the ever-present band of psychology bashers who have dogged the integration movement since its inception? God forbid! What I am confessing is that before encountering Dallas’ line of thinking, I had not given Christianity its rightful place at the table as a source of not merely belief and practice, but knowledge.

As just one example, consider afresh for a moment the following table, which presents the four most fundamental worldview questions in the universe: (1) What is real? (2) Who is well off? (3) Who is a good person? and (4) How do I become one?For a more detailed treatment of worldview and Knowledge see Knowing Christ Today, 39–58.

In reviewing this table, I am convinced that Jesus offers a source of exquisite knowledge to life’s most important questions and that his answers deserve—at minimum—equal attention as that received by psychology’s pioneers. I also believe that profound psychological good could be accomplished by moving this knowledge from the academic slums to Beverly Hills. The mental health benefits of becoming a person pervaded with love are simply too enormous to ignore, as is the possibility of living more and more moments of each day in firsthand interaction (knowing by acquaintance) with Jesus and his kingdom.

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04.  Conclusion

I began this article with the statement that “one might find it odd that I would refer to the philosopher/theologian Dallas Willard as my favorite psychologist.” Only you can decide if I’ve made the case that this “amateur” theologian and professional philosopher has made praiseworthy contributions in a third domain. I can simply say that when it comes to better understanding the person, the process of transformation, and the psychological implications for Jesus’ being very smart, no one has helped me more with these matters of the psyche than Dallas Willard.