Time To Return

I'm 27. My personality is starting to solidify. I had rules and boundaries for myself that I have pushed more than I would care to admit, particularly over the last few years while I have been outside of a Christian environment. Church was not a practical thing to keep up with while on the island, and I felt the Spirit telling me not to attend when I got back (this occurred after trying a visit my old church in an effort to reconnect), and I continued with that perspective afterwards. But the election time passed, Russian propaganda had fooled countless Christians into taking the side of the racist sexual assaulting bigot, and our witness as a community of believers was largely discredited. And few leaders seem to have grown a backbone to speak up against it since then either.

But now I think it is time to return. I pushed my own boundaries in order to understand and pursue what the Apostle Paul meant in 1 Corinthians 9:19-23.

"Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all means I might save some. I do this all for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings."

To my queer friends, I became white cis straight and tried to address others by their preferred pronouns; I tried being accepting, even arguing in favor of their lifestyle choices within Biblical contexts, because I would rather a gay friend who is going to heaven than one who is going to hell. And before that upsets anyone, it is also because my easy interpretation of those Biblical passages could be wrong, so I will assume so if it will bring someone closer to Christ. To Muslim friends, I tried to find common ground within our holy texts (and even purchased a Quran to read, though studying has made it hard to find the time). To atheist friends, and all friends really, I tried to be a good accepting person with a fun and self-depreciating sense of humor, always willing to criticize my faith (and race) as readily as anyone else's. I say this as if I have really accomplished much. Aside from friends suddenly wanting prayer before a major exam, I was doing far more in the way of making friends than I was sharing my faith. And given that I am still learning my faith and tend to assume that my previous understanding could very well be incorrect, I often played devil's advocate against my own assumptions. In any case, this has been training.

See, my time in the secular (or just "not explicitly Christian") world taught me some important lessons. For one thing, we tend to view Christian culture as a well-known faith, the basic knowledge of which is ubiquitous within all groups. This is not the case any more than the idea that every Christian has an appreciation of Muslim or Buddhist culture. My roommate in med school knew nothing about Christianity. He asked basic questions like why we have church on Sunday, and I had thought of such insignificant things so little that I could not even remember when he first asked. Given the bigoted rhetoric strongly projected by Christians against Muslims from many Christian leaders and friends, I spent much of my time simply correcting that false interpretation rather than actually sharing my faith. Jesus taught us to live everyone, even those whose beliefs differ from our own. Jesus was also against racism, as displayed in His interactions with Samaritans. For these reasons, I have felt the need to advocate for the rights of other peoples and faiths, as a demonstration of the love that Christ truly does have for everyone (even if they do not believe in Him).

Here is another observation. At the end of my three months of journeying through Europe, I was in Ireland. I made friends with a German guy and we went drinking first in Cork (southern), then met up again in Galway (west). He showed me the bar with the cheapest beer, and after attempting to understand the thick accent of the Irishman next to us, we cut our losses there and spoke to one another. It came up in conversation that I am a Christian, and he said "I don't like Christians". I asked him to tell me why, and maybe I could clarify whatever he did not like. Then he asked something so simple that I had no quick answer even though it was debated for centuries by church leaders. "How can God be three people and one person? That doesn't make sense." I gave some dumb answer, but it taught me that even with things that I readily accept about the Christian faith without thinking, sometimes the thinking is not for our sake; it is for the sake of those with whom we are sharing our faith.

Perhaps the greatest takeaway from that conversation, and from many more to follow, was not how to prepare to share the gospel, but rather the setting in which to share it. Bars are magical places. Whether you meet someone for a drink or go alone, you are likely to have conversations with someone you have not met. I have tried to put coffee shops in a similar category, but that is comparing apples to oranges, caffeine to alcohol, a stimulant to a depressant. And it is far less common to start conversations with a stranger in a coffee shop than in a bar. Why did that buddy of mine tell me, after days of knowing me, that he did not like my kind? Because the initial reservations that we all share, that keep us polite and proper enough to hold back, those begin to crumble in the first wave of the effects of alcohol. As a depressant, it inhibits those inhibitors, those things that keep us from being as expressive as we might. Another important aspect is the knowledge that everyone there is under those effects. I do not expect everyone in a bar to be drunk (I myself have rarely been publicly intoxicated), but once a drink is in your hand, you and the other patrons find yourselves on common ground.

As the Christian faith seems to be on its decline among my generation in the States (statistically), I think that it is time to recognize both flaws and opportunities. I have many more examples of sharing my faith over a drink and a joke, but few instances in sober contexts outside of the mission field. In my view, God gave me standards and convictions, but I have no right to place those on others; that is the job of the Holy Spirit. Christians need some better PR work, and maybe I can drudge up enough lessons learned to actually let some community leaders know of a better approach.