Soul Whispers: The Unspoken Questions of Our Lives

In his first epistle, Peter says that we must always "be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have." Further, we are to do so with "gentleness and respect," a phrase I repeated in the form of a prayer many times one year when I was a part of a Hare Krishna discussion group. I had been invited to join by a friendly orange-clad follower of Krishna as I walked down Byres Road in Glasgow years ago. I told the fellow I was a Christian, but he didn't seem to mind, so I went ahead and joined the group. I wanted to be a witness for the truth, but I also had to respect the fact that this was their discussion group, not mine. My witness usually took the form of questions about their faith, rather than statements about my own. This approach eventually allowed me the privilege of sharing some of my own beliefs with them, and through this gentle dialogue, we became friends.

It was obvious to me in that particular situation that tactfulness would be required. I could not hijack their topics or begin proselytizing the group members. The first goal was to take time to really get to know them and understand their beliefs. If I showed such respect, perhaps I might (and in fact did) win the right to speak gently and be heard with an open mind.

There are times when I have not shared my faith so gently or respectfully. My evangelical heritage sometimes tempts me to throw doctrine at nonbelievers, like little "thou shalt not" daggers of condemnation. True as it may be, "You're wrong" is not always the best approach, and may sometimes be the worst. Peter writes about giving an answer for the hope that is in us, and it is doubtful whether any healthy Christian would respond by talking primarily about their own sinfulness or that of others. The presence of sin is what makes hope necessary and what by contrast makes it so wonderful, but what embodies that hope? Forgiveness of the unforgiveable? Love for the unloveable? Healing for broken bodies and hearts? The promise of a future where the world will be made right again? To be sure, there is very bad news in the Bible - we are indeed sinful and separated from God. But that's only the lead-up to the Good News - the comedy that God loves us anyway and the fairy tale that there really is a "happily ever after" for those who will receive it in grace (I am borrowing here from Buechner's Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy and Fairy Tale).

Don't get me wrong, recognition of one's sin and genuine confession are essential for every person who would be saved; I'm just arguing that it's usually not the first thing a person needs to hear when being introduced to God: "Bob, this is Jesus. He says you're a scoundrel. Oh, and he loves you even though you don't deserve it." It's difficult for most of us to receive criticism well from our most trusted friends, how much more so from this Jesus, who to Bob is a total Stranger?

I've always thought of Peter's words in terms of responding to the direct question of a skeptic: "Becky, I was just wondering...what is the reason for the hope that is in you?" but the truth is I don't get asked that question all so much. In the rare moments when I probably should've spoken more directly to a person, I have tried to justify my cowardly silence with the quote (questionably attibuted to St Francis) "Preach the gospel at all times; use words when necessary." Actions, like words, are essential. But what words?

It's occurred to me recently that the most important questions people ask are rarely spoken with words, but whispered (although sometimes shouted) with their lives. If our words are to take root in the hearts of others, they must address those whispered questions they are asking with their lives rather than the questions we think they should be asking. This is powerful stuff. Time and again in the Gospels we see Jesus demonstrating this intimate understanding of people's hearts, fulfilling Simeon's prophesy that by him "the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed." A Samaritan woman asks him for water but he answers her deeper question by telling her about living water. The Pharisees are routinely confounded when he identifies the true, ugly motives behind their questions, sometimes by asking a question of his own. Even with good old Thomas, whose doubt keeps it real for the rest of us, Jesus knows what he really needs and invites him to touch Him and believe.

So with this idea of giving an answer to the often unspoken but deepest questions of others' lives, how can we "be prepared" to do so? We must rely on the work of the Holy Spirit, searching out and revealing the truth all around us, about ourselves and others. We must embody the love of God, who went to extreme lengths to show that love to the needy and deluded. And we must be like Jesus, taking the time to talk to people, meeting with and loving them right where they're at. We must be abiding in intimate relationship with these Three, so that our efforts are fueled by their wisdom and words, not our own.

Aside from answering the unspoken questions, we may be called to help people discover exactly what question or questions their own uniquely-loved-by-God souls are struggling to ask. It seems likely that most of us couldn't put our deepest questions into words even if we tried. Ideas, emotions, opinions, and experiences hover like the mists of Avalon between the worlds of our conscious and our subconscious. I have spent the past two years trying to articulate a few of my own questions, and I've only recently begun to discover some of the key words, thanks to several Spirit-led friends who have taken the time to get to know me and my struggles.

So instead of telling our friends that they should do this or don't do that, maybe we can point them beyond the command to the Spirit from whom it came. Darrell Johnson gave me a new perspective on the Ten Commandments. Yes, they are rules. But they are there because of God's love for us. He writes,

The Law is given not to tie us up but to release us into the fullness of freedom. How do the commandments do this? By telling us who we are, by revealing who we were created to be..."You shall have no other gods before me." Why? Because God is an egoist and cannot handle rivals? No. "You shall have no other gods" because we were created in such a way that only the one, true, Living God can satisfy us. We finite creatures were made in such a away that only the Infinite God can fill and fulfill us. God speaks the commandment to protect us, to keep us from ruining our lives by seeking satisfaction in what ultimately does not satisfy. (from Fifty-Seven Words, pp 59-60)

People need to know that God has a standard for living. But the way we present that information can do much to help or hinder a person's receptivity to spiritual matters. Pharisaic zeal for rules is a spirit-crushing, hypocrite-inducing, us-versus-them approach. It is motivated by anger or resentment that someone else might "get away" with doing something they've denied themselves. Godly zeal is for souls to be reconciled to Christ. Jesus addressed people's sin, but only after first pouring out kindness and healing and friendship on the broken and outcast: "Go and sin no more." 

God and His word can speak to people about rules and standards; who is more able to soften a heart for repentance than God Himself? I believe our job is primarily to show unbelievers the deep, deep love of Jesus in word and deed, so that when the time comes for the Holy Spirit to convict and guide them into wholeness and holiness, we will have helped Jesus win the "right" to be heard. If our words are motivated by repulsion at a person's sinfulness, they might be better left unsaid - I am especially referring to the case of an unbeliever. But if our words are motivated by a sincere and nonjudmental desire to see a person freed from the weight of sin and released into the full joy of life as God intended it for him or her, then it might be appropriate to speak...but only after listening to the Holy Spirit and being assured that it's His words we speak, and not our own.

Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing. ~ Proverbs 12:18

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Incarnational Conversion

Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith, by Kathleen Norris
progress: 168/384

The last time communion was served at our church, our three-and-a-half-year-old R reached his hand out to take the sacraments. As Steve gently told him that he couldn't have the bread or juice, he leaned over and whispered to me, "It's hard to say no when he's asked Jesus into his heart about a thousand times." I felt the awkwardness, too.

It started last summer, when our five-year-old T prayed the simple and unsolicited prayer, “God, please you be in my heart, and help me do good things." Although I thought this prayer was sweet and certainly a heartfelt response to a recent punishment, I didn't know whether T really knew what he was saying, so I explained the five-year-old basics of what it means to ask Jesus into your heart. Then I asked him if he’d like to ask Jesus to come and live in his heart, and he replied, “But I already did, Mama!” The next morning he woke up with the words, "I a new boy!" and ever since it has been clear to Steve and me that the seed of faith had indeed taken root in his life.

As T exercised his newfound pleasure in praying at meals and bedtime, R picked up on the excitement. He began to pray, "JesusGod, please you be in my heart" at every opportunity. He occasionally talks about Jesus' death on the cross and is impressed enough with God's greatness that he'll sometimes announce, "I'm God!" while wrestling with Steve, because God is obviously the greatest Superhero of them all, right? (Does that fall under the category of "being imitators of God" or sacrilege? I like to think it might elicit a grin from God. Surely Amazing Superhero from an awestruck three-year-old beats a Decrepit Old Grandpa or Lightning Rod Thrower from sarcastic adults. It's better than Bibleman, at any rate.)

Hero worship and Bible trivia aside, we've sort of assumed that Rowan has not yet "officially" received Jesus into his heart. The words are the there, the information is there, but repentance has yet to replace the indignation or smirks that are his typical response to his own naughtiness. Hence the communion rejection. And hence the question, who are we to determine the state of his heart?

I think we have good reasons for making our kids wait to take communion until we're assured that they will take it with seriousness and at least some understanding of what's involved. Even with T, we walk him through it every time, talking about the bread and the juice and the thankfulness we have for what God has done. But I have sometimes wondered, how will we know when the time comes that R is ready?

Kathleen Norris views "conversion as a daily and lifelong process." (44) Believers have long debated whether conversion is a process or a point, with the real question being about where we draw the line between conversion and sanctification. Sometimes I feel like chalking it all up to semantics. Like T, I asked Jesus into my heart at a very young age and never questioned my faith in all my thirty-five years. I tend to view my own conversion more in terms of having a specific starting point, but this is limited to my own perspective - my decision was a result of a process already in place, and initiated by God. The "point" of my conversion has also stretched out into my present, and I trust, will continue into my future as long as I live. Bit by bit, little pieces of me are being converted, drawn into the light and redeemed. Thank God that He allows time to work out His salvation within us, deeper and deeper into our souls! I couldn't handle so much transformation in an instant.

The problem is that we sometimes would prefer to know exactly where a person (more often than not, someone other than ourselves) stands in spiritual terms. We'd like to think it's a helpful way to know and understand a person better, but it more often is a means by which to label and categorize who's in and who's out. It is a tool which helps us decide how to behave around a person. It's so much easier to deal with sheep and goats when you know who's who, right? Kathleen rejects the idea of conversion as a "a product we consume" (42) and challenges those who would try to define the mechanics of conversion too narrowly. But we humans so like to have things nailed down, defined, compartmentalized, checked off the lists of our own making. To refrain from what she refers to as the "idol called 'This is the way we've always done it'" leaves us in a much more tenuous position, one which forces us to acknowledge the unknowable and move foward anyway. It might even force us to shift our attentions from others' conversions to our own. She writes

Maybe the real scariness of conversion lies in admitting that God can work in us however, whenever, and through whatever means God chooses. If the incarnation of Jesus Christ teaches us anything it is that conversion is not one-size-fits-all. Christian conversion is, in fact, incarnational; it is worked out by each individual within the conmmunity of faith. (42)

People often mean well. I once had a man challenge Steve and me to "throw away the birth control and let God be in charge of how many children you have" because this is what God had told him in a powerful way. I truly believe he was transformed by his obedience (resulting in a total of nine children). What he failed to acknowledge is that the ways in which God works are as unique as each person He has created. I believe what the man really wanted us to experience was the joy of following God's calling in our lives. His mistake was in trying to define our calling in terms of his own. I do this sometimes when I think every twentysomething Christian should go to Regent College for at least a year - it was so incredibly transformational for me, surely it would be for everyone! But God has such unique paths for each of us to follow.

Along with the incarnational individuality that Kathleen writes about comes divine unpredicability, which can mean a loss of human control over both people and situations. It's hard to relinquish our attempts to control in this way, but it must be done. In humility and reverance, we must continually place our trust in the Spirit. This means believing that He is working in people, and that His ways are better than our ways, and uniquely suited to each soul, which He knows so well and we do not. Regardless of which shade of converted a person is or isn't, my responsibility is the same: to welcome that person into the love of Christ. Leaving the mechanics of conversion to God, we are freed to experience gracious and authentic relationship with others who are different from us. We can help rather than hinder what God is doing in others - and in the process become more aware of and receptive to what He is doing in ourselves.

I'm not too sure just what this means with regard to R. For now, the communion is still off-limits, but we'll trust God to show him and us when he's ready. In the meantime, maybe we can be on the lookout for what we can learn from this little one, who views God as a Superhero and likes to tell Him jokes when he prays. What mystery, how God works in the heart of a three-year-old! What glorious wonder that He would make His home there!

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