Conversations with an Atheist

I've mentioned my friend and carpool buddy more than once on this blog, and I get the feeling that she's going to pop up fairly often. :) This is because, from time to time, our conversations move beyond the shallow and dip into the personal or profound.

This week we had a discussion about differences in belief - namely, how I can believe in God with as much conviction as she disbelieves. And though our conversation was interesting, I won't detail it here. There are too many personal things shared in these discussions for me to feel comfortable putting them in such a public place. However, I think the driving force behind our conversation was something that should be looked at.

I've often thought that the church as a whole, and Fundyism in particular, lacks the ability to really connect with those who don't agree with it. I think this is partially because religion and spirituality are such personal issues that it's harder to move beyond the differences between us to find our common ground than it is for two people who happen to root for two different teams. But I also think it has to do with the awareness of those differences that the church grinds into people. Add to this the emphasis on soul-winning, and you create a group of people who can't help but see everyone outside their immediate circle of belief through a religious filter. You're either saved or unsaved, easy to relate to or living in a completely different world. There's no room for a middle ground.

On the one hand these views have some truth to them, but I think we need to view our relationships with non-Christ followers differently. I think that seeing our differences in a way that alienates us can't be a good thing, particularly if this creates an "us vs. them" mentality or makes us think we are better. Instead, I think we need to recognize and emphasize our similarities. We are all people walking through this world. We all have grief, pain, joy, trials and fears. We all have weaknesses. We all have the fatal disease of sin (I love how Donald Miller explores this concept in Blue Like Jazz. He describes the sin nature as the fact that we are all flawed and that something in us is broken, making it easier for us to do bad when we know we should do good.). This is true for every man, woman and child who has ever walked this planet. The only difference between the Christian and non-Christian is that the Christian has accepted the antidote for that fatal disease. It's not a perfect cure in this lifetime - meaning that as long as a person lives on this earth, he or she will still have to fight that disease - but it does guarantee that for those who take the antidote, the disease won't be fatal and that before all is said and done, he or she will have a better chance of not giving in to the temptations of that disease. When we can begin to see ourselves as one in that we are all carriers of this same disease, we can begin to find our common ground again.

That being said, I want to focus back in on my conversation with my friend. What I feel was so revoluationary about our conversation was not the fact that it took place. It was the undertone of that conversation. We're certainly not the first atheist and Christ follower to ever discuss our different religious views, but we're in the minority in that our conversation was one in which we sought to come to a place of understanding, not a place of agreement. I think this is crucial. Neither one of us was coming to the conversation with an agenda. I wasn't there to convince her that I'm right and she's wrong, or that she should abandon her beliefs (which she has embraced for legitimate reasons) in favor of mine. I was there to hear her opinion, listen to her perspectives, see through her eyes. I can only presume she was attempting to do the same with me. In short, we were laying the foundations of friendship. We were seeking to know one another better. And because we weren't behaving like two used car salesmen trying to pawn off our beliefs on an unsuspecting sucker, we succeeded. I know her better now. I understand her stance more fully. That doesn't mean I agree with it, but coming to a place of agreement wasn't the objective. The objective was relationship.

I've noticed that the Fundy church only endorses close friendships with unbelievers for the purpose of "winning the lost to Christ." As long as your goal is conversion, it's okay to form bonds with sinners. Otherwise, stay away. They'll only corrupt you. But I think this is wrong. I don't think we should go into the world with a hidden agenda. In fact, I think this well-meaning agenda is poorly hidden, and its existence is one of the reasons we fail so miserably. That's not to say that we shouldn't seek to share Jesus with others. In fact, more and more every year I gain a heart and burden for people who don't know Jesus. I can't help but hope and pray that my friendship with my atheist carpool buddy will plant truth in her that will lead her to Jesus, but my only agenda is loving relationship. In other words, whether she ever embraces Jesus or not, I will love her and offer her my friendship. I'm reaching out to her unconditionally, just as Jesus reaches out to me. After all, how much would you want to be friends with someone if you sensed his real agenda wasn't friendship but an effort to convince you to buy into his Amway upline, or whatever the hell they say? Thanks, but no thanks. When you sense someone is coming into a relationship with an agenda, you can't help but feel that they don't really give a damn about you as a person; they just want you to buy into whatever it is they're selling. Again, no thanks.

Honestly, I think relationship without agenda is more loving, more Christ-like, and more likely to yield honest-to-goodness fruit than the alternative. So that's why I'm trying to come to a place of understanding with my friend. That's why I'm not fighting to convince her that I'm right. That's why I'm not desperate to get her to agree with me. And the payoff? Because I'm willing to listen to her, she's willing to listen to me. Because she gets to share her religious perspectives, I also get the chance to share mine. In other words, I'm sowing seeds. I'm sharing truth, but I'm doing it in a way that gives it a chance to take root and grow. I'm not watering it down, but neither am I throwing it at her like bricks through a window.

I can't help but think that I'm on the right track here, even if I'm still groping my way through the dark. A day or two after our conversation she came to me and shared a very personal concern she and her husband are dealing with. She hasn't chosen to share it with anyone else, and I can't tell you how honored I was that she would entrust it to me. And as we talked last week, she said something that touched me so deeply. She told me that she doesn't feel she has to censor herself with me. She can be real with me and not put up a front or be fake. The only other person in her life she feels that kind of freedom with is her husband. To be honest, that blows me away. To be given such a thing from another human being is truly a gift, and it tells me that somehow, in all my faulty attempts and in this blind searching to find a balance between authentic faith, friendship, and sharing Jesus, I've managed to be Jesus to this woman. I've managed to offer her the same safety He offers me - a place to go where I don't have to censor myself or pretend I'm something that I'm not. It doesn't mean He agrees with me on everything, but He offers me that safety and that unconditional love.

I know there's a balance to this. I know that I have to be prepared for the possibility that I may speak the truth and offend. That's the nature of truth, I'm afraid. I freely admit that I haven't got this all right or all figured out, and I may never get to that place. But I also think the current approach used by the Fundies doesn't work, and maybe I'm onto something. Maybe this is a worthwhile alternative to consider.