A small group of us gathered at a local pub to talk about deep things and discuss what a regular group dedicated to such discussions would look like. Three of us were raised in the church, but really only came to own Christ later in life. Two others were raised in the church and had thoroughly rejected Jesus Christ. What a crazy dynamic--two people who had left the faith talking with three who had returned!
The two who had left the faith--a married couple--had left for different reasons. The husband had grown up in an anti-intellectual, charismatic church in rural Wisconsin. He came to doubt that Christianity could be sustained against the rigors of the intellect. His time in the Marines and as an Army Ranger seemed to confirm that the world was more complex than it is presented in Christianity. (By the way, this is the guy I talked with for three hours at Panera a few weeks ago.)
His wife was also raised in rural Wisconsin, but was raised in a more-mainstream religious Wisconsin home--one where church attendance was occasional and being a good person was mandatory. Her primary complaint with Christianity came with its teaching on sexuality. She didn't like it for the same reason as most people our age--it seems bigoted, judgmental, arbitrary, etc. And as her husband noted, she was more against Christianity than he was.
I could see that--when one of the guys started engaging her on the issue of sexuality, she was noticeably tense and stand-offish. I tried my normal neutralizer on the matter: Sexuality is important, but it doesn't define us. It is not fundamental. Our culture tells us that it is of fundamental importance, but what does it mean for someone who lacks part of their anatomy and can't be sexual? Are they still a person? In any case, I think that took some of the string from that issue and helped us to proceed.
For much of the next four hours, I engaged with my quick-witted counterpart and the other two guys conversed with his wife. This division actually worked really well, as it gave people more room to talk and be heard. My counterpart broke out a line of reasoning from our past conversation for why he didn't believe in God's justice--namely, that justice is a tool of those who have something to fear. If God is truly God, he argued, then he would not have fear and thus have no reason to judge man.
It's a weird argument to track--it feels like a variation of the common postmodern belief that truth is but a means to power. My point in bringing up the argument here is not to help others understand it (I barely do), but rather, to show the need to contest others' assumptions. Many very smart people to talk about principle issues as if they're peripheral. Here's what I mean: They argue that because "A" is such and such (justice is result of the fear), then logically, "B" is such and such (God wouldn't judge).
When smart people do this, they are deflecting you from their very questionable premise about the way things work and force you to engage their conclusion. It is important to stop them right there. "Woah woah woah," I stopped him. Feel free to keep going, but I want you to know that you are making some huge assumptions and built an entire system around them. At the heart of your religion is this belief that fear is central. Feel free to critique other views, but you need to recognize that your view is built on that assumption."
He acknowledge my remarks--whether they did much good is another matter. Bottom line: Don't let people assume their way into a position, which will often put you on the defensive. Always. Ask. Why.
Meanwhile, my two believing friends were much more gently engaging this man's wife. Her husband--like me--is a verbal steamroller. She, like the other two guys, tends to be a bit more measured. She was genuinely curious about why the three of us returned to the faith. I think our answers unnerved her a bit (in a good way) because they were all part-testimony, part-apologetic.
My heart glowed with what I heard or later heard explained from the other guys. One of these young men often gets tongue-tied, but because he wasn't constantly jumping in, the wife strained all the more to hear and understand him when he talked. And his testimony went straight at the heart of her critique of Christianity. He had engaged in a lot of regrettable behaviors, but it was Christ who granted him true acceptance.
Likewise, the other young man spoke of his years of being a dead-beat dad, or as he termed it, a "piece of s--t." He knew that he was that type of person. Yet the mother of his daughter, who he married his past year, loved him unconditionally. In her love, he saw a picture of how God could love a piece of s--t like him."
This last explanation caught the wife for a loss. She said that she hadn't her anything as moving as that in a long time. But what spoke to this woman? It would seem that it was the broken-hearted vulnerability of these two young men. She saw what they saw--the worst of sinners--and no attempt to cover it up. As a result, she got an incredible view of Christ's perfect patience toward sinners.
My buddy (the husband) has already emailed me, telling me that he has another friend who would like to come to the next Meetup. These conversations are life to me. Four hours on heaven and hell; Forever in heaven or hell always in view.
