How to anticipate predictions about integration's future trends.

Predictions about integration's future offer dizzying and crisscrossing contradictions. The present special issue of the Journal threatens to add even more, arising, as it does, from a legitimate restlessness with the status quo in evangelical integrative literature of past decades. My own contribution here could best be described as meta-analytic. Mine is not an exercise in prognostication per se, or one more pronouncement about what integration's future is or ought to be, so much as it is a way to predict predictions--a way to organize and make sense of the competing recommendations that routinely surface. I also should add that I intentionally am not attempting to define integration because to do so would violate my main point that integration means different things to different people. Instead, I aim to account for why different people say integration is different things.

Because my focus is a hermeneutic for anticipating all predictions about integration's future trends, and not a critique of any one person's views in particular, in the first section of what follows I have omitted references to others that would directly link any comment to a specific leader in integration. I admit to having exercised my editorial prerogative by combining, rearranging, or accentuating certain comments for didactic effect, but none of what follows is otherwise entirely made up. The better you know the integrative literature, the more you may be able to construct your own examples to illustrate the points I make below. In the second section I propose a simple algorithm that employs three questions to put to anyone who addresses integration's future trends. I argue that knowing the answers to these questions, while certainly not infallible predictor in every case, nonetheless goes a surprisingly long way toward being able to anticipate what the person will say is the future of integration, thereby making sense of a vast array of integrative models with a simple rubric. I conclude by turning what I am proposing back on myself to determine how well my model accounts for what I am advocating.

CRISSCROSSING CONTRADICTIONS

Some say the integrative movement has been far too preoccupied with the concerns of clinicians. What is needed at this point, and is integration's future, is a greater emphasis on academic psychology. Advocates of this view may point to the volumes of the Annual Review of Psychology, whose dozen or more chapters each year on the various content domains of psychology rarely include more than one or two chapters that are clinical. Turn to evangelical Christian integrative journals, however, and the ratio is reversed: the vast majority of articles are written by practitioners for practitioners, with almost no emphasis on academic psychology. Advocates for a more academically oriented future for integration call for an array of topics covered in integrative journals much like what is presented in the Annual Review of Psychology. Not surprisingly, many of these advocates also tend to see psychotherapy as a sunset industry, on par with the 19th century whaling industry that produced oil for lamps and was superseded by the advent of electricity, or the railroad industry in the 20th century that was super seded by air transportation. As I have stated previously, the most pessimistic appraisal of clinical psychology's future goes like this:

Managed care companies say there are too many therapists, and that
roughly half of those now practicing will not be needed. Most
therapists should look for other lines of work, or else take an early
retirement. Third party reimbursement for psychotherapy is shrinking
rapidly. Fewer and fewer sessions are covered per year, if covered at
all, and the amount insurance will pay is also shrinking. Research has
shown little benefit beyond a handful of sessions, and no advantage to
the therapy being provided by trained professionals. If therapy is to
exist at all, it should ideally take the form of minimally trained
volunteers offering one-shot consultations. The role for the few
remaining professionals with training will be to supervise the providers
without the training, and to design studies for insurance companies
demonstrating that this arrangement is optimal. (Sorenson, 1997a, p.
110)

As one integrative leader recently pronounced in a prepared statement, for students to pursue a PhD or a PsyD in clinical psychology today, they "almost need to be brain dead." Advocates for a greater emphasis on academic psychology in integration often say that we devote too much of our energy toward training clinicians and that we should instead encourage our students to pursue careers in academia.

Recall that I said predictions about integration's future offer dizzying and crisscrossing contradictions. As proof of this, consider an alternative vision of integration's future. In this view, the problem is not that integrative training has been excessively clinical but that it has not been clinical enough. Advocates of this view contend that integration is typically taught by faculty who are full-time academics, who don't particularly believe in psychotherapy, who haven't pursued much of it themselves (and whatever they have pursued is by now many years distant), who didn't feel they benefited all that much from it personally, who currently don't practice much of it themselves beyond what could most charitably be characterized as a hobby, and who subtly if not overtly discourage their students from pursuing full-time clinical work. Such faculty not infrequently deem their own part-time clinical work as unfulfilling or tiresome, an activity akin to what one described as "sleeping with my eyes open."

Students typically enter integrative clinical psychology doctoral programs awash with enthusiasm for the prospect of integration but exit at graduation much more jaded or even angry about the quality of integration they actually feel their programs offered (Staton, Sorenson & Vande Kemp, 1998, p. 340; see also Graham, 2002; Pearce, 1995). One explanation for students' disenchantment is that it is a result of who we are as faculty at integrative programs, along with the ways we teach integration. In my experience, faculty at integrative programs typically fall into one of two diagnostic categories: narcissistic or schizoid. (I'll pause for a moment for any who have ever been a student in an integrative program to let you make a private tally of the faculty members who you believe fall into one of these two categories; I think you will discover the two are surprisingly sufficient for the task. (1))

When I mentioned this impression to my class of first-year doctoral students, an intrepid soul waited for the appropriate opening, raised her hand and asked with genuine curiosity, "Which are you, Dr. Sorenson?" I nodded, raised my eyebrows, and admired her for her tact, timing, and courage--three invaluable qualities that will serve her well in becoming a terrific clinician. After a moment's reflection, I told her that I actually thought I was some of both, I told her that when persons I am working with clinically leave my therapy office, I don't say, "There but for the grace of God go I." Instead, I just say to myself, "There go I." I agree with Harry Stack Sullivan (1953, p. 32), who said that we are all more human than otherwise. Whatever psychopathology there is in any of us is, in varying degrees, common to us all. I told her I could also recall dimensions of my experience that, at one time or another, seemed psychotic, or borderline--or just about anything else--and that being in touch with all these aspects in myself let me make better contact with others I am seeking to understand; it takes one to know one.

National collaborative research shows that how students learn integration at four American Psychological Association (APA) accredited programs (Fuller, Rosemead, Wheaton, and George Fox) is surprisingly the same, much like Sullivan's dictum. Students at all these programs say that integration for them is as much caught as taught (Sorenson, 1994b, p. 342), and that not all of what they catch from us as faculty is benign (Sorenson, 1994a, p. 350). They say the most damaging experience to their integration is "when they encounter faculty whom students experience as rude, vain, or even cruel, while wielding a disproportionate amount of power over students' lives" (Sorenson, 1997b, p. 258). If this is right, it means that integration is mediated relationally for students, and how we handle our own characterologic vulnerabilities has a lot to do with the integration our students acquire from us.

Sometimes I show students a list of the more than 50 Divisions of the APA and ask them to guess which ones have the largest memberships. They have a hard time imagining that the answer is Division 42 (Psychologists In Independent Practice), 39 (Psychoanalysis), and 12 (Clinical), which highlights a problem with using the Annual Review of Psychology as the normative guide for integration's content. It is a review of academic psychology, which is of course a perfectly legitimate focus so long as we acknowledge it doesn't correspond with how most psychologists spend their time: APA surveys of its membership have repeatedly shown that most psychologists are involved in the delivery of clinical service of some sort. Were integrative literature to be patterned after what most psychologists actually do, a case could be made that how we teach integration ought to be more clinically focused, not less.

Calls for graduates of integrative clinical psychology doctoral programs to go into teaching in great numbers are similarly problematic for two reasons. First, it's difficult to find enough academic appointments that are available. I think psychologists who graduate from religiously affiliated programs are likely to find employment less readily in secular schools than in religiously affiliated colleges or universities such as those in the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities (CCCU). There are 101 CCCU schools, most of which are small, private liberal arts colleges. If each school had an average of 3 full-time psychologists as tenure-track professors, and each psychology professor stayed in a CCCU appointment at one school or another from age 30 to retirement at 65, across the entire United States there would be an average of less than nine positions opening up each year to psychologists who were interested in beginning their careers at a CCCU school. If APA-accredited integrative programs are currently graduating about 150 psychologists per year, with additional schools soon increasing that total to approximately 200 psychologists per year, this means just over four percent of our graduates would have full-time jobs available to them in religious colleges and universities-and this is assuming CCCU schools hire only graduates of religiously affiliated programs, a dubious assumption in my view. If CCCU schools also value those graduates of prestigious secular programs in psychology who are able to endorse the CCCU school's statement of faith, then of course the number of jobs available to religiously affiliated graduates drops to an even smaller percentage. I think that integrative clinical psychology doctoral programs would be doing exceptionally well if they managed to place one graduate in seven in full-time academia, and many programs will have fewer than that. (2)

The second reason why a substantial percentage of religiously affiliated graduates will have difficulty getting jobs in academia is economic. Unlike their secular counterparts, integrative doctoral programs are heavily dependent on student tuition dollars in order to meet the annual academic budget. Because religiously affiliated programs typically have little to offer in terms of grants or aid, it is not uncommon for students to graduate with six-figure debt, an amount that an assistant professor's salary at a typical CCCU school does not easily offset. Don't get me wrong. I am all for university teaching. I do it myself. I think it is wonderful work. But we owe it to our graduates to be candid with them. Even when a comparatively rare job in the professorate is available and is offered to one of our graduates, it will be difficult for some of them to afford it or to justify it economically if they have a family to support.

The tensions between academic and clinical concerns in integration are not the only dizzying and crisscrossing contradictions. Others say integration has been idolatrous by letting the secular culture of American psychology define the criteria and agenda for Christians' involvement in the profession. For these critics, integration's best future lies in reclamation of a theological priority in integration in such a way that theological commitments can organize integrative questions and integrative research. Some years ago a prominent theologian produced a chart that tallied the number of times Freud, Jung, Rogers, Skinner, and other 20th century psychologists were cited in mainstream textbooks for pastoral counseling. The columns were filled with substantial numbers. Next he tallied how often these same pastoral counseling textbooks cited historic figures in the Christian tradition who had developed theological anthropologies that served as biblical theories of personality. These included biblical authors, early church fathers, Augustine, Aquinas, Luther, Calvin, Wesley, and other influential theologians from the 20th century. All these columns were filled with zeroes. His point was that we neglect rich resources for dialogue when we ignore millennia of theological reflection within our own spiritual traditions. I agree, and have argued previously that

superficial integration is often a result of superficial theology.
Christians often have an experience of conversion in their youth or
young adulthood, accompanied by an initial investigation of their
commitment of faith. By the time of doctoral study in psychology,
however, their theological sophistication in systematics, for example,
pales in comparison to their clinical sophistication in differential
diagnosis. What gets left to integrate is a doctoral level psychology
with an underdeveloped faith. When this occurs, it is easy for almost
any or all expressions of faith to look "sick." Psychology becomes the
new Gospel, psychotherapy the new church, insight or authenticity the
new sanctification. (Sorenson, 1996b, p. 190).

Sympathetic to the value of teaching students about historic Christian anthropologies alongside secular personality theories, I once assigned first-year doctoral students a book that surveyed what the finest theological minds during the past 2,000 years had to say about the Christian virtue of patience, a quality I believe has relevance for becoming a good psychotherapist. The students liked the course but confessed somewhat sheepishly, perhaps because they knew I liked the book, that they found reading Augustine, Gregory, Thomas a Kempis, Kierkegaard and others "boring." When I told them that was precisely the point, that needing to be entertained was itself evidence of impatience, I think they were chagrinned momentarily but then reverted to their original impression. They were still bored.

Others argue that integration's future success depends upon methodological rigor, creative operational definitions, and the empirical sophistication that coincides with well designed studies. These critics rightly complain that without proper empirical inspection, integrative queries are condemned to endless speculation and cannot properly advance. Integration is only as good as the quality of what is being integrated: according to the acronym of computer programmers, GIGO ("garbage in, garbage out"). Integrative articles from previous decades have all too often picked instruments that lack empirical validity, and then used these measures in studies whose designs were less than rigorous--if not, even more typically, wholly theoretical, with no consideration of empirical scrutiny whatever. For integration to progress in the future, it requires investigators who are competent in not just analysis of variance and multiple regression, but also structural equation modeling, item response theory, time series analysis, multidimensional scaling, and hierarchical linear modeling, to name just a few, and to say nothing of facility with qualitative software and sophisticated lexical processing such as latent semantic analysis. There is a danger, of course, in becoming a slave to methodology, but without methodological competence we also risk becoming a slave to endless speculation. The field of empirical psychology has moved on from the techniques that were prevalent 40 years ago when the Protestant evangelical integrative movement was just forming; for integration to keep up, its empirical methodologies must also keep pace--or else risk becoming anachronistic.

As further evidence of integration's dizzying and crisscrossing contradictions, still others say repeated calls for greater methodologic sophistication are misguided and beside the point because no amount of empirical study can ever address the power of philosophic assumptions that drive and delimit science. Implicit in most psychological research is a philosophic positivism that has been thoroughly challenged, if not altogether discredited, by contemporary philosophers of science. This means it's not enough merely to have sophistication in theology and psychology. A good working knowledge of the philosophy of science is also essential (Sorenson, 1996a, p. 207). When authors lack this, their appeals are embarrassingly evident in the integrative literature to combine, say, "the data of scripture" with the "data of psychology," as though these facts were free-standing entities unlinked to history, culture, or theory, and awaiting assembly through the hypothetico-deductive method. A related strategy that is slightly more sophisticated, but just as profoundly lacking, in my view, is a so-called filter strategy, in which psychological data are said to be filtered through Christian presuppositions, retaining what is deemed compatible with Scripture and rejecting what is not. At least this approach acknowledges that data are always interpreted, but it errs in the direction of rationalism to the degree that it underappreciates how theories are inextricably embedded in culture and group practices.

Others say integration's future must take account of the body and biology. For these critics, the integrative literature--whether academic, clinical, theological, or empirical--has tended to treat people almost as though they were disembodied spirits. What has been underemphasized in integration is our corporeal existence. Champions of this view hope that integrative literature can avoid the missteps of biblical literalism for psychology in the 21st century that occurred for biology in the 19th and 20th centuries, and for astronomy in the 16th and 17th centuries. To do so, advocates want a biochemistry of biblical personhood to be positioned in such a way that it is not easily dismissed by 21st century advances in the human genome or neurobiology. Critics from this view also want to patrol spurious neurobiological "findings" that are otherwise used to advance a secular social agenda that is at odds with historic Christian orthodoxy.

There are others who see integration's future linked to still other causes. Some see it as being inescapably about the church and missions. Others see it as ministry to underserved populations. Others yet believe integration ultimately must address demonic influence, spiritual warfare, and exorcism. And a final group that I will mention here values the personal spirituality of the integrator, either in terms of being filled with the Holy Spirit and exercising spiritual discernment, or in terms of contemplative spirituality and the classic disciplines associated with spiritual direction.

A simple algorithm

As evidence of the dizzying and crisscrossing contradictions surrounding integration's future, I have mentioned 10 topics that surface in the literature. Integration must become more academic (1) or more clinical (2), more theological (3) or more quantitatively empirical (4). Greater sophistication is needed in the philosophy of science (5) or neurobiology (6). What is required is greater attention to the church and missions (7), to the underserved (8), to spiritual warfare (9) or to contemplative spirituality (10). While not all of these visions for integration's future are mutually exclusive, they are not all compatible in practical terms, and they move out centrifugally in many different directions, often with little bearing on one another. How are we who read the integrative literature to make sense of these diverse and competing claims for our attention, allegiance, and energy?

I propose a simple algorithm of three questions by which it is possible to order and make sense of competing claims for integration's future. Whenever we encounter people who are speaking or writing about what they view as integration's probable or preferred future, I propose asking three questions: (1) What did they get their degree in?, (2) Where was it from?, and (3) How do they spend their days now? I submit that by knowing the answers to these three questions it is possible to anticipate what they will say are integration's future trends.

My algorithm begins with this: If their degree is in anything other than clinical psychology, stop. You need go no further. Whatever their degree is in is what they will say is integration's future. If their degree is in theology, they will say integration's future is theology. If their degree is in ethics, they will say integration's future is all about ethics. If their degree is in philosophy or the philosophy of science, then they will say integration's future hinges on philosophy or the philosophy of science. If their degree is in brain physiology or neuropsychology, they will say integration's future is inescapably about brain physiology or neuropsychology. If their degree is in social or experimental or developmental psychology, they will say that integration's future, if it is to have any hope, must address social or experimental or developmental psychology. I am sure by now you get the point; I will spare you any further illustrations of the implication of answers to my first question. What matters is that the degree is in anything other than clinical psychology.

If it is in clinical psychology, the next question in my algorithm pertains: Where did they get their degree? What matters is whether it is from a secular or a religiously affiliated program. If it's from a secular program, they will often tell you, in a confessional tone, that they don't really relate to the term "integration." (3) They will say they rarely use the word in their professional writing or teaching, and don't find it particularly relevant for their scholarship, which tends to address social issues that involve moral considerations of interest to Christians, such as forgiveness, social justice, genocide, altruism and prosocial behavior, or the quality of marriage and relationships between men and women. In their personal life, however, they are typically very committed Christians, are active in their local church and donate time and expertise to Christian and other nonprofit charitable organizations. They may have a personal interest in the "unseen world" of spiritual matters and often take an interest in making sure that Christians receive fair treatment within organized bodies of secular psychology, but they also urge Christians' participation in the most selective secular journals and book publishers by meeting or exceeding the highest standards of professionalism established by secular criteria.

If their degree in clinical is from an integrative program, one of two outcomes is likely. The first is that they will be very comfortable with the term "integration," will use sophisticated multivariate techniques if they do empirical research, and will be moving toward greater dialogue with their own theological tradition, whatever that might be. In the earliest years when the Protestant evangelical clinical psychology integrative movement was coalescing, it seemed as though there only was one tradition: the dominant theological heritage of the integrative movement was Reformed. In the 1950s the Christian Association for Psychological Studies arose out of Grand Rapids, Michigan and Reformed theological sensibilities, as did its journal, the CAPS Bulletin, later renamed the Journal of Psychology and Christianity. Fuller Seminary's School of Psychology, which organized in the early 1960s, although part of an interdenominational seminary, had more Presbyterians than anything else. Rosemead School of Psychology, which formed in the late 1960s, although more pietistic and dispensational in its initial years than I think Fuller ever was, nonetheless expressed integrative models in the first decade of the Journal of Psychology and Theology that were shaped by Reformed theological categories.

According to the sociology of knowledge, for something to be plausible, enough people must interact with enough other people who believe something is so (Berger and Luckmann, 1966). It is not just that knowledge is power, as the old cliche affirms, but power is also knowledge in so far as those in power shape the plausibility structures that guide persons' commitments. It has been my impression that integrative articles that deviate from the presumed normative influence of Reformed theology are not discredited by competitors, and they are also not attacked; apart from a special issue of the Journal like this, they are simply ignored. According to the sociology of knowledge, if a majority ignores its minority opposition, this is an especially effective way of silencing them. Nearly a decade ago I took two exemplars from this early integrative literature that were written from a theologically Reformed orientation, and two others from an Anabaptist theological orientation. I analyzed each pair of articles using the Social Science Citation Index, a database that tallies how often previous articles appear in subsequent articles' reference lists. I found that the Reformed articles were cited were cited, on average, two and one-half times as often as the Anabaptist articles in subsequent integrative scholarship (Sorenson, 1996b, pp. 188-190). If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, it may make a sound; if other-than-Reformed articles in integration appear in the literature but then are generally ignored, they don't make much of a sound at all.

Today, however, the leading proponents of theological resources for integration often prefer something other than Reformed, and are likely to be graduates of integrative programs. Some of the most popular theological traditions now being championed by integrative graduates are Anabaptist (including Mennonite and Quaker), Eastern Orthodox, Wesleyan, and Roman Catholic. These trends are hard for some early authors of integration to comprehend, and who are apt to view such theological diversity in their graduates as tantamount to squandering an inheritance, if not outright apostasy. I even had one early leader of integration tell me in a personal conversation that he was baffled why I was publishing integrative articles that were sympathetic to Anabaptist theologies. He said, "Randy, that's not integration!" Later, when our conversation touched on dialogue about a Reformed theologian, he thumped the table with approbation: "Now that's integration!"

The other outcome for graduates of integrative clinical programs goes in an opposite direction. Instead of a warm embrace of their own theological tradition, these graduates generally give faith the cold shoulder. It is difficult to estimate just exactly how many graduates of integrative programs fall into this category because they do not publish in integration or give talks about it at professional meetings. They tend to surprise others who naively assume Christian commitment in integrative graduates. These folks typically only participate in church life on the margins, if at all. Personal religious faith becomes more remote or untenable, and they join liberal Protestant denominations or become agnostics or Unitarians. They tend not to have much interest in integration per se, and tend to be virtually distinguishable from, say, other secular neuropsychologists, psychoanalysts, or community psychologists who received secular training. Some in this category never had much interest in integration to begin with, and only matriculated in a religiously affiliated program because they didn't get in to the other secular clinical psychology doctoral programs to which they applied. Their career goal was to become a psychologist, and an APA-accredited integrative program was simply a means to that end. That the program also happened to be religiously affiliated was a nuisance at best, an embarrassment at worst, and in either case something to jettison at graduation. I had my own PhD training in clinical psychology from an integrative program whose diplomas are in Latin. While I was in school, some of my colleagues became interested in knowing what exactly the diploma said, and they had hoped to initiate a movement to have it published in English instead. When they learned through translation that the diploma began, "Greetings in the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ," they were horrified. They insisted that the diplomas stay in Latin in order to obscure the Christian distinctives of the program from which they were getting their degree. The thought of their colleagues or patients being able to read in English the salutation from the diploma hanging on their professional wall made these integrative grads feel like the figure in Edvard Munch's "The Scream."

There is empirical support for the categorizations my little algorithm employs. In a qualitative study of female psychotherapists who trained at secular or religiously affiliated programs, for example, Athena Patelis and I found that women who graduated from integrative programs better identified with the term "integration" and were more confident in their own ability to understand and contribute to the integrative literature (Patelis and Sorenson, 1997). In another study, Shawn Hales and I compared 400 Christian psychologists who trained at secular versus religiously affiliated programs. We found that Christians trained at secular schools were comparatively more conservative on ethical positions, and more likely to value and use explicitly religious interventions with all clients than were their counterparts trained at integrative programs. One explanation for these results comes from social psychological theory on persuasion and attitude change. Christians trained at religious and secular psychology programs may experience very different processes of socialization. Because psychologists tend to be far less religious than the North American population, Christian clinical psychology doctoral students

who face secular faculty may have an experience of "us versus them" that
forces a defensive posture on the students' part in order to protect an
embattled and sequestered faith. Students at religiously affiliated
programs, by contrast, are exposed to a broad array of religious
scholarship and religious opinion among faculty, in a climate that
typically presumes personal questioning and the inevitability of doubt
as a part of faith. Because all the faculty endorse a variety of
religious commitments personally, and many have graduate theological
degrees, students cannot dismiss faculty influence as uniformed or
unsympathetic to religious faith, thus making student rigidity or
unexamined dogmatism much less tenable. (Sorenson & Hales, 2002, pp.
167-168)

Although the raison d'etre of some religiously affiliated education is to provide a safe haven in which to protect and buttress students from the wiles of secularism, our data suggested something more complicated. "Ironically, if arch conservatism or religious fundamentalism was the desired outcome," we concluded, "proponents of training in religiously affiliated psychology might be better served by directing prospective students to secular programs in psychology" (p. 169). A third study found that in least one integrative program, more than one in four students chose the school primarily for reasons other than integration (Staton, Sorenson & Vande Kemp, 1998), and these students placed less of a value on knowing the faculty members' personal expressions of faith--a result consistent with my experience decades earlier concerning fellow students' reaction to knowing what their Latin diplomas said.

The last question in my little algorithm is, How do they spend their days now? If they spend most of their time doing clinical work, and any university involvement they might have is less than full-time, they will tend to see integration in more process-oriented terms and to envision integration's future in those terms as well. If they are full-time academics, they will wish that integration was more academic and intellectually rigorous. If they work in an integrative graduate school or are active participants in Christian Association for Psychological Studies (CAPS), they are more likely to behave like the first group of integrative clinical grads I described, even if these psychologists are not them-selves graduates of religiously affiliated programs. Faculty members who teach in an integrative program but have a doctoral degree in something other than clinical psychology tend to feel somewhat lonely. It is not that they are overtly ostracized; if anything, they are often highly valued by students and university administration. These faculty discover, however, that as students progress through the program, they are increasingly interested in socialization from psychologists and they show less enthusiasm for mentoring by someone outside the field. Faculty in integrative programs who are non-psychologists will say they enjoy the intellectual stimulation and emotional authenticity of clinical psychology doctoral students--particularly compared to what they are used to from students in the faculty members' own disciplines--but such faculty find their most receptive "disciples" are in the first or second year of the program. After that, most of their students turn from them to pursue other psychology-related interests, and non-psychology faculty often eventually leave the department, if not the entire university, in search of kindred spirits elsewhere. When they leave, the nonpsychologist faculty member's next academic appointment typically is not in a department of psychology.

Given that my algorithm is heavily weighted by our own predilections, does this mean predictions for integration's future involve nothing more than rank narcissism, on par with the Hollywood producer who had been droning on and on about himself, and then, in a moment of self consciousness exclaimed, "Enough about me. Let's talk about you. What do you think of me?"? I don't think so. It simply means that people speak in the language and dialect that they know, that language is less about words that stand for things and is instead the way through which we come to experience ourselves as human and to participate in communal life. I am also aware that some will experience my little algorithm as depressingly deterministic. I must confess I don't see it that way. It should come as no surprise that advocates for integration are always more than simply a function of their backgrounds and the communities of which they are a part. And I am certain that there are people who fit my algorithm only partially, and others not at all. But I also believe that our communities play a substantial role in helping us articulate our vision of integration's preferred future, which is really the premise that undergirds everything I have to say here.

As a concluding observation, if my algorithm is robust it ought to be able to account not only for others but also for me and my own integrative inclinations as well. In my case, I have PhD in clinical psychology from an integrative program (along with an M.A. in Theology from a different school, and a PsyD in Psychoanalysis from a psychoanalytic institute). For 20 years I have supervised or taught in another integrative program, although all of it has been part-time, and every week I spend more time doing clinical work than I do teaching. This is by design. Clinical work is what makes my heart sing. It is the center of what I do professionally, the home base from which I venture to write and teach and do research. It is the first thing and the last thing I usually do in the day professionally, and I do more of it than any other professional activity. It is also the last thing I would want to give up if I had to forfeit various professional involvements. Not surprisingly, my algorithm is thus heavily weighted by interpersonal and clinical considerations: I believe we are shaped by the people who have known us and loved us, as well as by those we have known and loved in return. My model of making sense of persons' predictions for integration's future is developmentally informed by our history of attachments, and, not surprisingly, I am a clinical psychoanalyst. By these criteria, I think my model doesn't just accurately predict what I say is integration's future. It even accounts for why someone like me would come up with it.

(1) When presenting this information to students and faculty, I have discovered the two groups have dramatically different responses. Many faculty find the prospect of what I'm proposing to range somewhere between "sobering" and "horrifying." If the latter, some faculty view this prospect as a nasty secret that we should hope the public never finds out about; if the former, they may think my two classifications are implausible because, according to DSM criteria, very few people warrant these diagnoses, and, for such people ever to have become faculty, they'd never have made it through doctoral training hurdles. To this I reply that I am using narcissistic or schizoid in the sense developed by Kohut (1971, 1977, 1984) and Guntrip (1968, 1971), who widened their respective categories to apply to a broad spectrum of the population. Thus, if it's any solace, I think these diagnoses are ubiquitous among secular faculty, too, and not something unique to faculty of religiously affiliated institutions. As for clinical education intercepting all serious psychopathology, that's just not my experience. Apparently it's not students' experience either. When they encounter what I'm proposing, instead of reporting sobriety or horror, they usually laugh. It is my sense that theirs is a laughter of recognition rather than disbelief.

(2) When I have presented these figures to fellow faculty at our various integrative doctoral programs, one objection that's occasionally raised pertains to our interns: Don't their placements in some of the most competitive internship sites in the country count as counterevidence to my argument about the dearth of integrative grads in the secular academy? And, given that these schools (whether Harvard, or Johns Hopkins, or the most selective of secular state universities) ... are obviously not members of the CCCU, might not the scarcity ... of integrative grads in the secular professorate be a function of a bogus desire for the safety and familiarity of Christian schools, when in fact there is an opportunity to be salt and light (Mat 5:13-16) to a fallen world?

My answer to both these questions is No, and I believe this objection misses the point. The point is not that our interns cannot perform admirably in the most selective of circumstances. The most certainly do. The point, rather, is that getting a job as an intern and getting a job as a professor are two very different things. An internship is normally for just 12 months and typically involves the delivery of clinical services of some sort. Employment as a tenure-track professor extends across many years, if not decades, and typically involves classroom teaching and the production of scholarship. The two jobs have almost nothing in common. The employment placement of our integrative graduates bears this out. From the 1960s through December 2002, a total of 1,724 psychologists graduated from our APA-accredited integrative programs (Morris, Sorenson, Gooden & Pike, 2004). If the same number of integrative grads took jobs as professors in secular universities in the United States as are the number of jobs available in CCCU schools each year, there should be roughly 70 faculty at Berkeley, Stanford, the University of Chicago and other elite schools who are graduates of our integrative doctoral programs. Where are they? The reasons for their absence are complex (most of our grads are clinicians but universities hire experimental academic psychologists, a bias in secular universities against religiously affiliated programs, etc.) but have nothing to do with personal fears of our graduates or their failed witness. (For a discussion of integrative graduates serving as professors in the secular academy, see Morris, Sorenson, Gooden & Pike, 2004, pp. 86-89)

(3) Exceptions to this outcome are psychologists trained at secular programs who now serve as faculty members at integrative programs or who actively participate in the Christian Association for Psychological Studies. For reasons I clarify later in this article, these psychologists are more like the integrative clinical grads that are described in the three paragraphs that follow the present one.

REFERENCES

Berger, P. L. & Luckmann, T. (1966). The social construction of reality. Garden City, NY: Doubleday.

Guntrip, H. (1968). Schizoid phenomena, object-relations, and the self. New York: International Universities Press.

Guntrip, H. (1971). Psychoanalytic theory, therapy, and the self. New York: Basic Books.

Graham, S. D. (2002). Relational Interactions that Facilitate the Integration of Psychology and Faith for Doctoral Students in Psychology. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Biola University.

Kohut, H. (1971). The analysis of the self. New York: International Universities Press.

Kohut, H. (1977). The restoration of the self. New York: International Universities Press.

Kohut, H. (1984). How does analysis cure? Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Morris, J. D., Sorenson, R. L., Gooden, W. and Pike, P. (2004). Thirty years of explicitly integrative scholarship: Comparing PhD and PsyD contributions. Journal of Psychology and Theology, 32, 79-91.

Patelis, A. R. & Sorenson, R. L. (1997). The "silence" of women in integration: Exploratory qualitative research. Journal of Psychology and Theology, 25, 188-198.

Pearce, R. L. (1995). The impact of graduate school training in psychology on students' concept of god: A qualitative study. DAI, 57, no. 04A, (1995): 1519.

Sorenson, R. L. (1994a). Reply to Cohen. Journal of Psychology and Theology, 22, 348-351.

Sorenson, R. L. (1994b). Therapists' (and their therapists') God representations in clinical practice. Journal of Psychology and Theology, 22, 325-344.

Sorenson, R. L. (1996a). The tenth leper. Journal of Psychology and Theology, 24, 197-211.

Sorenson, R. L. (1996b). Where are the nine? Journal of Psychology and Theology, 24, 179-196.

Sorenson, R. L. (1997a). Is psychotherapy dead? Journal of Psychology and Christianity, 17, 110-124.

Sorenson, R. L. (1997b). Janusian integration. Journal of Psychology and Theology, 25, 254-259.

Sorenson, R. L. & Hales, S. (2002). Comparing Evangelical Protestant psychologists trained at secular versus religiously affiliated programs. Psychotherapy, 39, 163-170.

Staton, R. Sorenson, R. L., & Vande Kemp, H. (1998). How students learn integration: Replication of the Sorenson (1997a) model. Journal of Psychology and Theology, 26, 340-350.

Sullivan, H. S. (1953). The interpersonal theory of psychiatry. In The collected works of Harry Stack Sullivan, M.D., Volume 1, pp. iii-393. New York: Norton.

RANDALL LEHMANN SORENSON

Rosemead School of Psychology

LaMirada, CA

AUTHOR

SORENSON, RANDALL LEHMANN. Address: Rosemead School of Psychology, Biola University, 13800 Biola Avenue, La Mirada, CA 90639, Title: Professor of Psychology. Degrees: MA Theology, Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary; PhD Clinical Psychology, Fuller School of Psychology; PsyD Psychoanalysis, Institute of Contemporary Psychoanalysis. Specializations: Integration, contemporary Psychoanalysis.

Correspondence concerning this article may be sent to Randall Lehmann Sorenson, PhD, PsyD, Rosemead School of Psychology, Biola University, 13800 Biola Avenue, La Mirada, CA 90639. Email: [e-mail]