“I’m going to be a Samford cheerleader and an Auburn cheerleader!”
My four-year-old grinned in the rearview, eyes crinkled, already splitting her loyalty between mom and dad’s alma mater and an SEC empire – the inescapable second religion of Alabama. Since then, our Samford indoctrination attempts have kept pace: campus visits, bulldog stuffies, a fight song or two.
But at times, I find myself hesitating.
Not because I prefer a public university. Rather, it’s because I no longer trust what’s being packaged as “Christian” on so many Christ-professing private campuses.
Progressive theological drift rarely announces itself with a label. It borrows the vocabulary of justice, love and compassion, while quietly rewiring the moral scaffolding beneath.
My husband and I take responsibility for our children’s formation. But should higher ed be part of their path, I’d rather my children face overt secularism than risk being quietly catechized by repackaged humanism or compassion-laced relativism.
When the Classroom Shakes the Foundation
I didn’t attend a perfect institution – no one does – but I loved Samford deeply, and still do.
I shook poms on the sidelines as a dance team member, served my sorority as chapter president, wore the red polo and walked backward on campus tours for the Student Recruitment Team, and typed late into the night, staring at an InDesign screen, as a news editor for the Samford Crimson. Some of my most precious memories are backdropped on Lakeshore Drive. Senior year, I was honored with the Gail Hyle Memorial Award, recognizing the graduating woman who best exemplifies Christian character, leadership, school spirit, and service.
I came to Samford seeking what it claimed to offer: something more intimate than a large state school – a liberal arts education governed by a biblical worldview. Having been shaped by a biblically-grounded K–12 education, I wanted more than Christian lingo sprinkled across syllabi. I wanted convictional, Christ-centered intellectual formation rooted in a fixed principle: that all truth is God’s truth, and all knowledge finds its coherence in Him. I wanted to become a better apologist for the Christian faith by way of my academic endeavors.
And yet, by the fall of my sophomore year, I came home doubting the inerrancy of Scripture. Not from late-night dorm debates or coffeehouse chats – but because of my coursework.
One professor in particular delivered compelling lectures suggesting that biblical authors selectively incorporated Ancient Near Eastern mythologies, overlaying them with a monotheistic, “big-G God” framework. He also employed synoptic discrepancies as grounds to question the historical reliability of broader biblical claims. These positions are not the domain of fringe scholarship; they’re widely discussed within the academy of biblical perspectives.
Yet I’m grateful to have encountered these positions. What unsettled me was not their presence – but their unchallenged presentation.
I’d expected (perhaps naively) that this course would help me wrestle with hard questions through a lens of convictional Christian orthodoxy – Wesley Huff, but make it 2007. If the pedagogical goal was to sharpen our thinking through contrast and competing frameworks, I respect that approach … that’s the fun of education.
But if that aim existed, it wasn’t made explicit. Nearly two decades later, my roommate and I still joke about how disoriented we felt in that class.
Curiously, Samford follows the same pattern seen in dozens of denominational institutions, even our nation’s first institutions of higher education, which were originally grounded in theological clarity, but now distance themselves from those roots to broaden out. As far as I’m aware, Samford maintains a Baptist identity in its governance, but its doctrinal scaffolding or statement of faith – if there is one – was more opaque in the classroom itself, in my experience.
The Lord was kind to use a strong apologetics foundation and back-porch debates with my patient dad to help me rebuild what was quietly eroded in college. I eventually came to recognize the postmodern ideology undergirding that professor’s lectures for what it was: persuasive, yes – but hollow when tested.
I don’t share this to accuse; I pray it’s clear that I love Samford University. I’m one of those types who gets a bit emotional over my alma mater – I can’t stop yapping when I visit with my children:
“There’s where mama went to art history class.”
“I jumped in this fountain senior year – oh, and I saw your dad rightttt there for the first time.”
But I share because the call is coming from inside the building. I share because we have what could be something of a Hillsdale College, with its 7 million newsletter readership, right here in our Alabama backyard. I share because I’ve lived in the soup of theological drift dressed in academia. I waded out, by God’s grace.
This isn’t a hit piece – it’s a love letter written with concern. Because when you love something, you care enough to tell the truth about where it’s veering off course. And I want more clarity – not less – for the students who come next.
Ashlyn Carter is a wife and mother of three living in Montgomery, Ala. A Samford alumna, she is also a messaging strategist and former journalist who founded Copywriting for Creatives™ and The Copy Bar, serving 20,000+ students worldwide.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to [email protected].
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