‘A Miracle of God’s Grace’—A CS Interview with Dr. John Castelein

Paul E. Boatman Talks to Dr. John Castelein About His Crisis of Faith 

After an honored career as professor of theology at Lincoln Christian University, Dr. John Castelein declared in 2019 that he “deconverted” from Christianity to agnosticism. In 2022 he announced his reconversion to a strong Christian faith. He agreed to this interview in the hope of providing help for others who may face a crisis of faith.  

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PAUL BOATMAN: John, are you now a Christian?  

JOHN CASTELEIN: God worked a miracle to draw me back to faith at a level I have never experienced before. Jesus Christ is my Lord and I am compelled to serve him. I see my reconversion as a miracle of God’s grace and of the Holy Spirit working in my heart.  

But for three years you were agnostic. Explain that.  

It has been a lifelong struggle, but for three years I could not affirm that I knew that God exists. I was in a desert. 

A lifelong struggle? 

As I grew up in Belgium, my father was a rigid, fundamentalist preacher. In our church we never questioned anything of the Bible, but we had religious education in public school where my Hebrew-reading teacher questioned everything about the Bible. By adolescence I was torn. Intelligent scholars discounted the Bible. The church would not even discuss critical questions, like a seven-day creation, talking snakes, 900-year-old patriarchs.  

Yet you continued in church? 

I was helping Dad in ministry, but in my heart I had already left the faith. After Dad died when I was 16, I was in the pulpit, translating for the American missionary preacher. I tried to fully follow Jesus, but I lived dualistically, with unresolved critical questions pulling at me.  

Even when I entered Bible college, there was nobody who would address the questions. After two frustrating years, I transferred to Lincoln Christian because they had professors who were willing to wrestle with the critical questions. That helped, but I wanted to know, and they seemed to accept by faith what could not be absolutely known.  

And you advanced in ministry while harboring these huge doubts . . .  

Yes, I ministered in the church, even preached revivals (which were more fellowship events than educational). I taught theology in college and seminary for 37 years, choosing a faith perspective, but wanting more. I even tried embracing tangents—dispensationalism, charismatic tongue-speaking, . . . young earth creationism, and such—all in a quest for experiencing the reality of God, but they failed to assure me. My PhD studies at University of Chicago further challenged me. Critical scholars from the 17^th century to the present issue a persistent chorus of questions which my church colleagues never adequately answered.  

Who were these scholars?  

[Immanuel] Kant, [Friedrich] Nietzsche, Peter Berger, Paul Ricoeur, [Sigmund] Freud, and [John] Dewey among many others. I vowed never to shipwreck anyone else’s faith, but my own faith was battered on rocky shoals. I could not ignore that.   

What led you to open agnosticism?  

I did a ministry at Lincoln Christian Church while still teaching at the LCU. The fellowship invigorated me, but it pushed me to look inside. In 2006, I confessed in a sermon that I have a hard time with praying. I understated it: I had never sensed that my prayers were actually talking to anybody. After that sermon, a church leader came to my home and said, “If you cannot pray, you should not be our preacher.” I agreed and resigned. I never preached again.  

When I retired from teaching at the school, restraints were gone, but I still wavered. I spent seven months with a mentor guiding me in devotions, Scripture reading, and singing, but God was still not real to me. Finally, in early 2019, I publicly declared my agnosticism and withdrew from the church, including the Sunday school class that had been like a tether to me.  

What was it like for you as a public non-Christian?  

That’s a hard and fair question. When I was in the desert, I did not realize how parched my soul was until I later rediscovered the fountain of life. It is lonely out there without the God of the universe, therefore no soul, no heaven, no hell. It seemed like a lot of freedom, but meant stark emptiness. I fought off my despair by priding myself for my integrity: “At least I have the guts to follow what I believe is truth!” I’ve had to repent of such deep arrogance.  

How did your Christian colleagues and friends respond to you?  

With tremendous patience and compassion. No one attacked me. Some tried to argue with me, but my teaching colleagues, and even my preacher and the elders from the church, never abandoned me. My “anchor people” kept praying for me, affirming their love, saying “We hope you’ll come back.” That had enormous impact on me.  

What was your turning point?  

In 2020 my wife, Marie, was diagnosed with Bulbar ALS, a disease that attacks the whole body, starting with preventing speaking and swallowing. I was her sole caregiver for 22 months, feeding her through a tube four times a day, suctioning her saliva since she could not swallow, sitting with her as she pointed to letters to spell out what she could no longer say. And I was bathing her. One time, while bending over to wash her feet, my mind flashed to the image of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. It hit me that nobody in his right mind would “invent” the concept of a Messiah, Son of David, King of kings, who comes and washes feet! That is certainly not what the crowds or his disciples wanted. This was not contrived. It actually happened. I could believe that.  

Ignore my tears and tell me more.  

I have always read books. But to keep me from being distracted from caring for Marie, I gave away my entire library. Later it hit me: I emptied my library to serve my wife. . . . Paul tells us that Jesus emptied himself to serve us even unto death (Philippians 2). The Holy Spirit used those two images to thaw my heart and I bowed to my Lord Jesus Christ. Almost immediately I got emails from two good friends, one telling of his wife’s diagnosis of brain cancer, the other of his own need for a bone-marrow transplant. For the first time in memory, I prayed for Linda and Chuck. When I finished praying and sobbing, I realized that I had been talking to someone, from my heart to the heart of God! And if God hears my prayer, I need to worship him.  

The next Sunday I slipped into the local Episcopal church, and had a moving experience reciting the Nicene Creed, realizing that by faith I fully believe all of it. Partaking of the [Lord’s Supper], the body and blood of Christ were very real to me. I’ve not missed church since that day (now at Lincoln Christian Church). The Christian church Sunday school class that first received the public announcement of my agnosticism has, since my reconversion, asked me to be their full-time teacher. And I accepted.  

This has been a whirlwind. Are there other “windows” you would like to open?  

I just read Calvin Miller’s Spirit, Word, and Story. He opens with, “Years ago I made up my mind to preach the Bible, rather than try to figure it out.” That’s where I have at last arrived.  

Can you summarize your complex spiritual trek, first away from the faith and the church, then to being a deeply committed believer? What happened to you? 

When we become believers, we accept the invitation to dare to believe! Believers trust the good news of God’s forgiveness and new life in Jesus Christ, repent of their sinful lifestyle, are immersed into the body of Christ and obey the Spirit of Christ within.  

However, in our modern world, educated believers, who are exposed to critical thinking about the Bible, are confronted with a different widespread, powerful command to dare to know! Immanuel Kant, the extremely influential 18th-century German philosopher, urged modern people to grow up intellectually, to dare to question and doubt traditional authorities like the Bible.  

Due to my very strict upbringing in the church, I understood my conservative faith to be telling me the opposite: don’t dare to know! Therefore [at the time when I was moving away from my faith], I felt my integrity in facing critical questions demanded I leave the church and a faith that insisted on a traditional, literal interpretation of Scripture.  

By God’s amazing grace, I now know that the opposite to “dare to know” (the modern mind) is not “don’t dare to know” (the premodern/antimodern mindset), but dare to not know (the postmodern mind). This means we must dare to humbly acknowledge that we are not God and that there are many things God alone knows that we will not and cannot know while living in a fallen creation.  

Welcome home, Brother.  

Paul E. Boatman serves as professor emeritus of pastoral care and counseling for the Seminary at Lincoln Christian University.