If I were a superstitious man, I’d say Somebody doesn’t want me to write this. I’ve begun this post once while I was in Orlando (and fell asleep before I was done), and once mere minutes before my notebook crashed this past week. So if my head suddenly explodes while I’m writing this … well, hopefully Margie will post it for me …
What are the duties of a Christian to “spread the Good News”?
What are the most effective ways to do that?
What exactly does that mean, anyway?
Okay, now that 95% of you have scrolled on to the next post, let me provide some background to those questions.
I’m a Christian. I regularly attend and participate in a Christian church (Good Shepherd Episcopal), and I have a belief system that, with a few tangents, would probably be identified by most people as being Christian. Of course, there are also Christians who would consider me, charitably, as a heretic, and many of my beliefs would have gotten me burned, stoned, or otherwise done away with at the behest of the Church during a number of periods in history.
Someone in a comment to a post a few days back noted that I was not a “knee-jerk Christian,” by which the person meant, I assume (and it seemed to be a good thing), that I don’t automatically rear back on my heels, point my finger at unorthodox stuff, and cry out for the Lord to Smite It/Them. Which is quite true, and points out the main problem, to my mind, with the whole evangelism thang, to wit, merely identifying yourself as a Christian these days carries with it a tremendous amount of negative baggage to many audiences.
I’ve been acting as a small group facilitator at a three month weekly course at the church called Alpha. It serves as a basic introduction to Christian beliefs, gives folks a chance to sort of explore, with others, where they are on their spiritual journey, etc. To be honest, I took the course the first time, along with Margie, a year ago, largely because it seemed like a good way to meet people in the congregation. And it was. But it was also interesting and educational.
Part of what was interesting was this: when you actually sit down with a bunch of Christians, you run into a full gamut of beliefs, questions, concerns, uncertainty, and faith. Granted, this group was self-selected as folks with questions, folks looking for guidance toward answers, etc. Plus these are Episcopalians, for the most part, and we’re a bunch of odd ducks to begin with. But the fact is, I haven’t run into any “knee-jerk Christians” in those small group discussions. And that includes when there have been clergy in the groups.
Anyway, last week’s discussion was on evangelism — “what do we tell others?” And that’s been a real tough one for me on a lot of levels. “The Great Commission” from Jesus was to tell the nations about the Good News. That direct command is behind all that missionary work you see going on, even today. It’s not just a bunch of pushy people looking to score points, or folks who want to lord their faith over the heathen. It’s as much an explicit directive from Christ as is “love your neighbor.”
But what does it mean?
One thing I notice among my circle of friends is that there is almost zero discussion of religion. Not just a lack of the bull session “So, if God is both omnipotent and omnibenevolent, how can evil and suffering exist?” sorts of discussions, but even in terms of just acknowledgment in passing of religious affiliation. There’s a bit, but it’s really minimal. It’s like religion in and of itself is not cool. Or it’s just too sensitive to discuss.
I have no idea how widespread this is. My circle of friends is a bunch of odd ducks, too.
But it seems to me that the last thing that anyone in my circle of friends is looking for is for me to buttonhole them and start handing them leaflets about Jesus and Salvation and Have You Been Saved and all that. And that’s a good thing because, frankly, I don’t want to do that, for a number of reasons.
First of all, it’s just not my style. I’ll recommend a movie, or loan out a cool comic book I read, but for the most part I try to avoid imposing my aesthetics, let alone my fundamental beliefs, upon others. Hell, I tend to be wishy-washy about what sort of pizza we should order in a crowd, or what restaurant we should go to, and things like that. “Whatever. I’m flexible.” That’s my mantra.
Secondly, I think it’s counterproductive. Many, many people these days see that sort of evangelism as a threat, if not as an insult. And the way it’s usually presented, it really is. “There’s something wrong with you. You are a sinner. You are going to suffer unending torment because of your present beliefs. Convert or face damnation.” Yeah, that’s the ticket. People respond oh-so-well to threats these days. And they respond so well, too, to the suggestion that their own spiritual beliefs, which may very well be deeply thought-out, based on family traditions, or whatever, are really just misguided (if not demonically-inspired) fantasies.
It even goes beyond that. There are people who not only see evangelizing as an attack on their beliefs, but who see Christianity, per se, as a threat, a bad thing, a force that, througout history and up to today, has sought to oppress and destroy. And the really sad part is that this perception is not without foundation. Leaving aside the historical record (which is a huge thing to leave aside), fact is that there are people today, a lot of people, here in this US of A, who believe that this nation is, and should act like, a Christian Nation. Who believe that atheists are not true citizens, that pagans ought to be locked up, that Muslims ought to be forcefully converted, that Catholics are disloyal papists, that … well, the list goes on and on and it frankly sickens me. Many Christians are their faith’s own worst enemy, and there’s cold comfort that the biggest restraint on them is not those of other faiths but other Christians (85% of Americans, or so, identify themselves as Christian).
(Hell, I would not at all be surprised to discover that some people, having read this far (if they’ve read this far), have already decided that I’m a menacing religious nut and they’ll never read this blog again. Which, of course, is just as blindly knee-jerk as some right-wing fundie responding that same way to something on their site. But I digress.)
And that gets into the thirdly thing, which is: I’m not morally convinced evangelism, or, rather, that being Christian, is necessary.
My present beliefs work for me. They bring me comfort. They offer me guidance. They make as much sense — more sense — than anything else I’ve encountered. I feel they are right. For me.
But that doesn’t mean they are absolute and universal. In fact, I’m pretty certain they are not. I don’t think everyone has to think as I do. I do not believe that my beliefs are the only valid, useful, truthful beliefs out there. I do not believe that Christianity is the One, True Way (that’s one of those heterodoxies I mentioned above that would have gotten me burned at the stake). I don’t think there is a One, True Way (that’s another one). Or, rather, I do, but I don’t think anyone here knows it, nor is likely to. And I don’t think knowing it or following it is a prerequisite to avoiding the Fiery Furnace. In fact, I don’t believe anyone ends up in the Fiery Furnace (that’s a third). But I digress once more …
So, given all of that, to portray myself as an Expert on the One, True Way would be, at best, hypocritical.
That having been said, I do make moral judgements. I think that’s something we all have to do. I do think some ways are better than others, and some beliefs closer to the truth than others. And I have found my own current beliefs and situation to be satisfying, as noted above. And I also feel that being an active member in an organized church is useful and supportive and necessary to keep those beliefs fresh and on the surface and appropriately challenged and nurtured. So I do feel some desire to share all that.
And, frankly, my spiritual life is a part of me. While I’m not out there grabbing folks by the collar and preaching to them, to go the opposite route and hide that part of me feels dishonest.
What to do, what to do?
What to do is this: what I feel comfortable doing, and what I feel is appropriate and useful.
To my mind, it’s become un-cool to be a church-goer. Hell, it’s uncool to be Christian. I joke about it, but look how much apologizing and “See, I’m not one of those sorts of Christians” I’ve done above. Before anyone is going to listen to even a gentle and respectful invitation to come to a church to visit, or to consider Christianity as a belief system, it’s a necessary prerequisite that the whole idea of being a church-going Christian isn’t automatically considered something seriously weird. (About 40% of Americans claim to be regular church-goers … but groups that have actually counted think the number is more like 20%, and I suspect that in certain demographics it’s significantly lower.)
So here’s part of my evangelism, probably the most radical part: I mention going to church in conversations.
I don’t do so as some deep, dark plan. It isn’t laid out in advance. “Hey, I’m going to be playing D&D tonight … better bring up that I’m going to be going to church on Sunday.” Instead, where it fits into the conversation, I don’t intentionally not mention it.
So if I’m going to be doing something with friends on a Sunday, I’ll schedule it for early afternoon, “after we’ve gone to church and had brunch.” I’ll mention the Alpha class I’m participating in. I’ll mention I’m on the Vestry at our parish.
I’ll mention it the same way I mention business trips I’m going on, or things happening at work, or stuff I did out in the yard, or whatever. I’ll mention it as part of my life, because it is.
And if that frees up someone to think, “Hey, there’s someone who goes to church. I guess that’s not some weird thing that nobody does any more,” then that’s cool. And if they then say, “Hmmmm … maybe I should give that a whirl, too,” then that’s even more cool, and if they want a suggestion of a place to attend, I’m happy to reply.
(Of course, now that I’ve said that, I’m going to be very self-conscious about it the next time I mention such things, particularly to friends that might read this blog.)
As to the second part … When I was a kid going to Catechism class, there was a popular church folk tune with the chorus “They will know we are Christians by our love.” While I’m not sure that’s a particularly PC attitude to have any more (since the implication is that Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, etc. don’t act in a loving fashion), it ties in with the way I think a lot of Christians feel: that the best way to draw people to the Christian faith is to demonstrate that Christians are not intolerant ogres, but to lead loving, caring lives of service and faith. To preach by example and action, not by words. Which, frankly, also serves to do what Jesus wanted us to do anyway.
So I try to do that, too — though I don’t do it to lure folks into the church, but because it’s the right thing to do, in and of itself.
So why am I writing this?
Well, like I said, the subject of evangelism came up, which set me to thinking about it. And I try to use this blog not just to post interesting news items, or the results of goofy personality tests, or links to funny sites, but to talk about what I’m thinking about, about my beliefs and what’s going on with me. And this fits right in with that.
And maybe, from an evangelical point of view, that’s not a bad thing, either.
From my outsider, hardened atheist viewpoint:
The Good Message/ Eu angel has bee spread most places already. Certainly in the US we’ve all been exposed to the writings. There remains the more subtle ‘message’ of _representing_. Non Christians and, I suppose, Christians of other denominations look at you and observe how your ‘good message’ informs your words and actions. Do your beliefs make you dangerous? (Jihad, anyone?) Do they make you irrational? (One of my ex-in-laws, a _retired nurse_, believed that cancer was caused by demons.) Do they make you hateful? (Pat Buchanan comes to mind.) Do they make you obnoxious? (That’s a long list.)
In your case your beliefs don’t interfere with you being a benevolent, rational, kindly, fun person. They might even help. This is a kind of evangelism that is far more effective than the proselytisers who occasionally show up on my doorstep.
One of my special “on the side” projects for some time has been a “faith blog,” and I (honestly) was hoping to invite you in… not a place for vigourous debate, but rather more of a “compare and contrast” situation.
There are a lot of jobs with churches in my particular field of work, and many of them require that along with your resume you offer what they call a “statement of faith.” Several positions in the area even offer a “quiz” (including questions like, “What are the ten commandments? Which ones are you breaking right now?”) I have been honest and up-front with each when I have applied, and have said that while I may not share the same faith, I do believe I share the majority of the values.
Of course, I’m still unemployed.
I’ve said before, and I will likely say again that the most pressure to “convert” I have ever felt (or been exposed to) has been from the pagan community. Part of my “living on the fringe,” such as it is. I’ve noticed that each of the communities I skirt tend to feel that “belonging” is almost a salvation of its own. It may be one of the reasons I no longer participate in my family’s Passover dinner: even their most reformed views require too much “chosen people” rhetoric. It’s hard for me not to see the connection between that and the gamer/sexual deviant/whatever other minority group, “Being one of us is good,”-style discussions.
I enjoy reading your statements on faith. I fear that it’s too easy to focus on the failures than on the success. There is a level of peace in faith that surprises me. There’s allowing it to be poked at and questioned, rather than using it as something to swing around and hit someone else with, it’s the whole “living the life,” as opposed to “declaring the lie,” I guess.
Maybe it’s another perversion of my own that it fascinates me. I read Penn & Teller’s statements on atheism and am just as impressed: it’s very hard to not believe in a “nebulous something” (as most so-called atheists I know still do). That strength of belief (even in disbelief) is yet very similar to the “glow” I observe after speaking to people who believe they have communed with a goddess.
Maybe it’s a rebuttal against fear…and that is worth a lot, these days.
Randy, that’s a lot of what I was trying to say — ultimately, actions speak louder than words (and are, to my mind, more important, especially since the “evangelism” thing is not, to my mind, on top of the list, Great Mission or not). To my mind, though, the idea that if I am a good person, folks will automatically consider my particular brand of Christianity as a Good Thing is no longer true in this country; folks may be “good people” of a variety of faiths (or none at all). Thus it’s needful to at least subtlely add the appropriate label if we’re going that route.
That’s even more true since the term “evangelism” itself has gotten a bad twist at the hands of televangelists, who seem as a general group much more interested in spreading the 800 number to send in contributions rather than the Good News.
As to exposure to the Good News — I suspect you are right, at least to some degree. Most people are aware of Christianity, and have at least some general idea its basic tenets. One thing I’ve found is that many, even most, among Christians don’t know more than basic outward concepts — Jesus, resurrection, “salvation” — without the meaning behind it. It’s like saying that most people have been exposed to communism, when all they know is what they’ve heard about socialism from TV shows. The underlying theory may still be unsound, but it’s still unexamined by most people.
So on some level, some deeper, more direct and detailed form of evangelism is needed. But that’s a lot of steps down the road from just basically offering, implicitly, the invitation to find out more. And that’s basically all I feel I’m justified (and able) to do, or am interested.
As to the nice things you have to say about me — well, who can trust the judgment of an outsider, hardened atheist.
MT, I think churches who quiz their prospective employees about their faith for what are essentially non-ministerial positions are goofy and counterproductive. Hell, if I were a church and were actually interested in bringing people into the fold, I’d welcome anyone who walked in the door, and then, once they were there, bwah-ha-ha, work on them in a subtle and insidious fashion to inevitably suck them into the church warm and inviting way to see what the church had to offer to them.
But, then, maybe that’s why I’m not running my own church.
It’s interesting what you say about pressure from other groups to belong. The dymanic is, in some ways, different, even while the end-result is the same. Judaism does not, for example, proselytize, because they are already Chosen; that leads to exclusivity, the same “Us vs. Them” that characterizes some Christian groups, but without the added impulse to try to make all of Them into Us for Their sake.
Similarly, I would expect that many pagan groups (which, amongst the pagans I know, do not usually have a salvation theology per se) would get into an Us vs. Them sort of bunker mentality, a reflection perhaps of the lines that are drawn against them. In a world that seems largely disrespectful, when not actually hostile, to many pagan groups, the natural (if unfortunate) reaction would be to circle the wagons and become just as “if you are not for me, you are against me,” with the greatest scorn for those who are on the edges, or don’t fit the “right” model of paganism.
The idea of a “faith blog” is interesting. Similar fora exist, though mostly as listserv and discussion board sort of lists. A more episodic sort of blog approach might have some unexpected dynamics.
Thanks for your thoughts.
As a nearly life-long pagan (I was disaffected with organized religion at the age of 5, if you can believe that….they shouldn’t have tried to scare me), I tell you that your attitude might be the salvation of your religion.
Well, leaving aside whether paganism isn’t, at least in some instances, also “organized,” all I can say is “Thanks.” To be honest, I think the majority of Christians feel the same way. They’re just as frightened, disgusted, turned-off, or otherwise cowed into silence (or out of church) by the vocal idiots who have hijacked the public perception of the Church as everyone else is.
It’s an irony of the Communications Age that it’s the extremists that tend to shout the loudest, get the most press, generate the picture of their movements. Republicans, Democrats, Environmentalists, Christians, Gays, Blacks, Conservatives, Liberals … all these ideologies have, to some degree, been stolen by the fringe in each group.
Once upon a time, a person might draw their picture of Christianity (to use that as an example) from the churchgoing folks in their town, from the local preacher, maybe from an inspiring book. While that might still turn someone off, chances are it was a more or less positive, comfortable picture.
Now folks draw their picture of Christianity from Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell and Ian Paisley and John Ashcroft, while the Christians around them sit in shamed silence. No wonder people get turned off, feel excluded, and either drift away or flee.
That, maybe, is the message I’m trying to convey in my own life — that being a Christian doesn’t mean one is necessarily a narrow-minded domineering bigot, out to convert the heathen by gun and pike, and to throw the undesirables into reducation camps. It can mean that one is a socially liberal, D&D-playing, comic-book-reading, blog-writing, father and husband and whatever-the-hell-else-I-am.
(Gee. Do you think this is an issue I feel strongly about or something?)
And if that encourages someone to consider Christianity, I have no problem with that. And if they just say, “Well, not my cuppa, but glad there are folks around like that Dave chap, regardless of his oddball beliefs,” that’s not a bad day’s work, either.
I’ll say a little bit about this here, and maybe some more later, here or elsewhere. (Oh, that’s so mysterious… where oh where would I be talking about this but here, I wonder.)
“One thing I notice among my circle of friends is that there is almost zero discussion of religion. […] It’s like religion in and of itself is […] just too sensitive to discuss.”
That’s probably at least part of it. When our group consists of several indeterminates, some good christians (and you and Margie are, truly, good Christians), some pagans with the defensive mentality you mentioned above, a few lasped-Protestants-turned agnostic (which I number myself among), and an “angry atheist” (hey, Randy!), there just aren’t many ways that a conversation could go well.
“There are people who not only see evangelizing as an attack on their beliefs, but who see Christianity, per se, as a threat.”
I don’t see Christianity-the-faith as a threat. I do see evangelism as a poorly-executed tactic, however.
“I don’t think there is a One, True Way. Or, rather, I do, but I don’t think anyone here knows it, nor is likely to.”
I find that really interesting, since that’s essentially how I define myself as a Baptist-turned-agnostic: “I think there’s a belief system out there that works for everyone — a truth. I don’t think anyone’s really found it yet.”
The difference here is that while you have found a faith that (at the very least) works for you, I haven’t gotten even that far, only acknowledging that there must be some ‘nebulous something’ out there, and trying to respect everyone’s right (including my own) to try and find it. I don’t think that’s atheism.
I profess to be Taoist. However, I don’t consider that a religion — it’s a philosophy about how to live one’s life, I suppose, which is one way to define Christianity or any religion, after stripping away the … religion, which is a bit counterproductive.
“That having been said, I do make moral judgements.”
You are, and I say this in a good way, one of the most moral people I know — maybe have ever known. I know other people who do right “because it’s right, dammit”, but your reasons seem to stem from a careful consideration of the good and evil of a thing — an intelligent man’s morality, and I respect that more than someone who does right out of blind obedience.
It doesn’t always jive with me, but give it a few hours, and dammit if I don’t realize that it’s probably the right thing. Pisses me off, but there it is.
“I mention going to church in conversations.”
I’ve taken a certain weird vicarious pleasure in explaining your current time commitments to our mutual acquaintances (simultaneously marveling at the work you and Margie are doing), but there is something I’ve noticed: in doing this, I see a certain wariness come over their features — I’m talking not about my own activities, in fact about someone who isn’t even there, and somehow by mentioning church in the abstract, there is a certain uncomfortable fear that I might start ‘preaching’. Probably a small portion of what you might experience.
It’s a sad comment on both myself and the way the world works today that I can feel virtuous simply remembering (without being reminded) to plan for your Church-related commitments into my schedule, as though even accounting for religion makes me a better person 😛
I don’t have much more to say about this — nothing that wrap it all up in a nice tight bow. I’m glad you are who you are, Dave — it keeps me honest 🙂
Kudos to you Dave. I grew up in Southern Ca the land of the religious nutzo’s so “religion” has always turned me off. 5 years ago I stumbled across a church where I live now in Pa and met some neat people from it. The church is not traditional in any way except to stick by the bible. The worship is contemporary, the people are all real from all walks of life all with real life situations whether good or bad.
Some of them are a little extreme but the thing is I now can live my faith with others who are real.
I totally understood what you were saying about How do you bring up your faith? I struggle with that not because I fear hell and damnation if I don’t spread the “Gospel” but because my faith in Jesus is just a part of me just as my taste in music or books anything about me. I don’t believe in Religion but I do believe in coming together in a way to learn, grow and stretch your faith. If I say right off the bat “I’m a Christian or I mention the Jesus word” then automatically people are turned off. I don’t hide it I am not ashamed of my faith but I want people to know me for me without labeling me does that make sense? I want people to know my faith is real and not some kind of point system that I need to rack up other believers for. Since blogging has happened in my life I have learned a great deal of other people’s lifestyles and while I might not agree with them all I have come to respect a great many of them for their honesty. I live my life with some standards that other’s might not agree with but no one said we all had to agree on everything 🙂
I thank you Dave for your encouraging post as it has come to help me understand where I am at too 🙂
my stated opinion that you didn’t seem to be a knee-jerk christian was indeed a compliment.
to give some background, i grew up a catholic in the midwest, among a family of strict catholics. that’s my extended family. my mother herself is relatively open-minded. she still has knee-jerk reactions about christianity, but give her a couple of years, and she’ll be able to have a discussion about the issue. my father is a good man and a humbly religious one, but i the extent my discussions with him are that i should do what my mother says.
i considered joining a convent when i was twelve; we moved away from my extended family when i was sixteen; i began breaking with the church when i was seventeen. the reason i began the break was that few of the people around me cared about religion at all, and merely showed up because it was expected in that community. i didn’t finish breaking with the church until i was twenty-two; by that time i was unable to say that i believed in catholicism or christianity in general. i didn’t stop believing because of any lack in christianity; i stopped believing because i knew too much about other religions to be able to have faith in a single one.
i’ve gotten over being pissed at christianity in general for trying to convince people that it’s the only truth (it is a religion, after all), but i’m still mad at all the jerks i encounter that brag about being christians. it isn’t bad in colorado (except for focus on the family), one of the many reasons i love it here, but it’s bad in the midwest.
…but none of this means that i don’t like hearing discussions about religion, and it doesn’t mean that i don’t admire the pope, and it doesn’t mean that i haven’t met some asinine atheists and pagans. so if my opinion helps encourage you, do carry on with discussions of religion.
you handle it well.
Is religion what we say or what we do? And do we get to find the path that is ours or do we find that people around us (mainly our families) make us feel like traitors for not seeing god the way they do? Do we encourage people to learn about other religions so that we may see their adherents as “real” people who have a different perspective? There are many paths through the woods, we cannot all travel the same one. We can judge people by whether their actions bring about harmony and understanding or violence and strife.
I don’t know anyone who is more interested in religion and how people look at it than I am(bad sentance structure), it takes practice to accept others religious beliefs and I’m not sure we practice enough. An example – When I was in Morocco last year, we were introduced to the concept of “Inshallah.” The literal meaning is “god willing,” but is more actuately translated as “in god’s time.” Any prdiction for the future is usually accompanied by this phase – “the plane will leave at 3pm, Inshallah” meaning if we don’t leave at 3 we’ll leave when we leave. Sort of totological (sp). This means that although plans are made, they often change with little concern about what may happen as a result. It may or may not be that Islam is a fatalistic releigion (I don’t think so but others do), however with regard to Inshallah, things happen when they happen. Very un-Western, takes some getting used to, but means that its hard to stress over being late or missing a bus, since it’s not really your fault; its “at the will of God.”
If by spreading the ‘good news’ we remind people to take a look at how they live their lives and whether they give any thought to god, the reminder may be more important that converting them to our point of view. You must however, realize that you are unusual even for an Episcopalian, when you consider that you appointed me, with what are described best as unusual and non-Christian beliefs, to be responsibile for your daughter’s godmother. I’m thrilled you did, but it’s sort of a stretch. Better go; I’ve got to get back to work.
I feel the need to actually add another comment in here, but damned if I know what it should be, aside from that the thoughtful comments here were all really neat and made the time and effort I put into the original post worthwhile.
As to the nice things people had to say about me … well, that wasn’t the goal of the post (no, really — at most, perhaps, I was looking for a little reality check as to the congruence of my stated beliefs and my evident actions), but thanks nonetheless.
I find it interesting that these are matters much more easily discussed in this forum than in person. Hell, I was with Doyce and Randy last evening, and nary a word passed about this. And that was fine, but still sort of odd in some ways.
Actually, I’ll add one comment to something you said above, Doyce.
I’ve taken a certain weird vicarious pleasure in explaining your current time commitments to our mutual acquaintances (simultaneously marveling at the work you and Margie are doing), but there is something I’ve noticed: in doing this, I see a certain wariness come over their features — I’m talking not about my own activities, in fact about someone who isn’t even there, and somehow by mentioning church in the abstract, there is a certain uncomfortable fear that I might start ‘preaching’. Probably a small portion of what you might experience.
Nothing explicit (“You’re doing what?! You evil tyrannical bastard!”), but, yeah, sometimes there’s sort of a sense that the other shoe is waiting to drop. My personal goal is to (a) not shrink away from saying something just because someone might look askance, and (b) not give them any reason to look askance when I do. When folks’ immediate reactions to even hearing second-hand about something church-related is to draw back in apprehension, then there’s something way wrong with the church’s “PR” — and if I can do even the slightest bit to show that, at least for from my perspective and in how the church is a part of my life, that bad rep is undeserved, then I’ll have done something of value.
More on this in the future, no doubt. Thanks for the feedback, all.
Just a thought…. doesn’t God exist merely because people believe?