Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Numbers, Atheists and Responsible Evangelism
So when I recently had an experience with some folks who were tallying up the number of people with whom they had had evangelistic encounters, I swallowed the discomfort I felt and responded graciously. I wanted to appreciate their genuineness, and decided I'd return to the question later.
To be fair, I hate numbers in general. I don't like math, my recent efforts at Scripture memorization have been hindered by an inability to recall chapter and verse, and I use what I call "my handy-dandy tip calculator" in my cell phone when paying the bill at restaurants. If I'm looking at a room of people, whether it's 7 people or 700, I am utterly unable to estimate the number present.
That aside, I have to admit that numbers are not unimportant. I talked to my dad about this, and he pointed out that when taking attendance in worship, it matters whether there are 150 or 151 people in the congregation--because that 151st person is valuable in and of himself or herself.
Another image I thought of is this: my boyfriend is a musician and frequently plays for tips. When he's counting up his $1 bills, he likes to think of each bill as representing a person who took the time to listen to his music and to dig out their wallet; so with each dollar bill, he prays for the unknown person behind it.
But a preoccupation with numbers makes me nervous. Yesterday I read an article from the Huffington Post called "Thank God for Atheists" that helped me figure out what exactly was troubling me. In it, Tom Krattenmaker tells about Jim Henderson, "a recovering evangelist," who decided at one point that he hated evangelizing and needed a different way to share his faith. Here's the part that resonated with me:
"Henderson realized he was doing unto others what he would never want done unto him. He was manipulating conversations to set up a pitch. Viewing people as potential notches on his evangelism belt rather than fellow sojourners and prospective friends. Listening only to the extent it could reveal an argumentative opening. He realized he hated the whole enterprise."
That's how I've always felt about evangelism in general. In fact, for a year or so, I only referred to it as "the E-word." This is wrong, of course; I've since come to the conclusion that although evangelism is not my primary vocation, it is the calling and duty of every Christian. But Henderson realized something very important: anytime a non-believer becomes a potential believer instead of a person, something is wrong.
Henderson found that having genuine friendships with atheists was immensely helpful for him developing a sense of his own faith and religion. The perspective of someone with an outside view of Christianity can reveal things that other Christians wouldn't even think about.
Of course, Christians aren't always very good at having genuine relationships with non-believers. Sometimes the potential for them to convert becomes the sole reason for maintaining the friendship. I've seen this happen and it seems so strange to me. One of my best friend is a self-professed "apathetic agnostic." I've never really thought about the possibility of him coming to Christ. I guess I'm supposed to at least hope for that--but I love him as he is, not as he might be. Not to mention that he has been a far better friend and moral compass that a lot of Christians I've known over the years...and since he knows me so well, I'm acutely aware that I haven't exactly been a model of what a Christian life should look like.
The sad truth is that I often feel more comfortable around non-believers than some Christians, which is disturbing. Some of that, I'll admit, is my own pride and residual theological elitism I'm still trying to get over. But I remember watching the movie Jesus Camp and feeling really, really uncomfortable. Granted, if church isn't making you uncomfortable, it's not doing its job (or you're not doing your part). But it's that sentiment about which Jim Henderson expressed concern--that's what gets me. The worldview of some atheists/agnostics is closer to mine than that of certain Christian groups.
So. Do numbers matter? Yes--in that each number represents a person whose life is precious in the eyes of God and should be treated as such by other people. That preciousness is unconditional.
You still won't catch me dealing with attendance or the budget if I can help it.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Numbers, Atheists and Responsible Evangelism
I've always had good theological instincts. If something bothers me, it's probably for a reason, even if I can't quite put my finger on it or explain it.
So when I recently had an experience with some folks who were tallying up the number of people with whom they had had evangelistic encounters, I swallowed the discomfort I felt and responded graciously. I wanted to appreciate their genuineness, and decided I'd return to the question later.
To be fair, I hate numbers in general. I don't like math, my recent efforts at Scripture memorization have been hindered by an inability to recall chapter and verse, and I use what I call "my handy-dandy tip calculator" in my cell phone when paying the bill at restaurants. If I'm looking at a room of people, whether it's 7 people or 700, I am utterly unable to estimate the number present.
That aside, I have to admit that numbers are not unimportant. I talked to my dad about this, and he pointed out that when taking attendance in worship, it matters whether there are 150 or 151 people in the congregation--because that 151st person is valuable in and of himself or herself.
Another image I thought of is this: my boyfriend is a musician and frequently plays for tips. When he's counting up his $1 bills, he likes to think of each bill as representing a person who took the time to listen to his music and to dig out their wallet; so with each dollar bill, he prays for the unknown person behind it.
But a preoccupation with numbers makes me nervous. Yesterday I read an article from the Huffington Post called "Thank God for Atheists" that helped me figure out what exactly was troubling me. In it, Tom Krattenmaker tells about Jim Henderson, "a recovering evangelist," who decided at one point that he hated evangelizing and needed a different way to share his faith. Here's the part that resonated with me:
"Henderson realized he was doing unto others what he would never want done unto him. He was manipulating conversations to set up a pitch. Viewing people as potential notches on his evangelism belt rather than fellow sojourners and prospective friends. Listening only to the extent it could reveal an argumentative opening. He realized he hated the whole enterprise."
That's how I've always felt about evangelism in general. In fact, for a year or so, I only referred to it as "the E-word." This is wrong, of course; I've since come to the conclusion that although evangelism is not my primary vocation, it is the calling and duty of every Christian. But Henderson realized something very important: anytime a non-believer becomes a potential believer instead of a person, something is wrong.
Henderson found that having genuine friendships with atheists was immensely helpful for him developing a sense of his own faith and religion. The perspective of someone with an outside view of Christianity can reveal things that other Christians wouldn't even think about.
Of course, Christians aren't always very good at having genuine relationships with non-believers. Sometimes the potential for them to convert becomes the sole reason for maintaining the friendship. I've seen this happen and it seems so strange to me. One of my best friend is a self-professed "apathetic agnostic." I've never really thought about the possibility of him coming to Christ. I guess I'm supposed to at least hope for that--but I love him as he is, not as he might be. Not to mention that he has been a far better friend and moral compass that a lot of Christians I've known over the years...and since he knows me so well, I'm acutely aware that I haven't exactly been a model of what a Christian life should look like.
The sad truth is that I often feel more comfortable around non-believers than some Christians, which is disturbing. Some of that, I'll admit, is my own pride and residual theological elitism I'm still trying to get over. But I remember watching the movie Jesus Camp and feeling really, really uncomfortable. Granted, if church isn't making you uncomfortable, it's not doing its job (or you're not doing your part). But it's that sentiment about which Jim Henderson expressed concern--that's what gets me. The worldview of some atheists/agnostics is closer to mine than that of certain Christian groups.
So. Do numbers matter? Yes--in that each number represents a person whose life is precious in the eyes of God and should be treated as such by other people. That preciousness is unconditional.
You still won't catch me dealing with attendance or the budget if I can help it.
1 comments:
- Douglas said...
-
Sarah,
Thanks for shedding some light on the "E-word." I identify with a lot of your anxieties and reflections regarding evangelism. I think your portrayal of "bad" evangelism is one of conditional love - love that has a particular objective outside of simply the love itself. There is also some deception involved, and possibly a lack of humility, when you befriend someone in order to "convert" them.
A friend of mine who is currently in divinity school has this posted on his facebook wall, which I believe is from Henry Nouwen:
"I don't want to be called pastor because I have seen too many so-called pastors who are spiritual prostitutes selling their love under the condition of change. If my relationship with a man is affected by the subtle pressure that he should stop drinking so much, get away from drugs, be less promiscuous, cut his long hair, go to court, to church, or the city hall, I am still not really with him but with my own preoccupations, value systems and expectations, and have made of myself a prostitute and degraded my fellow man by making him a victim of my spiritual manipulations."
--A Bartender in Amsterdam
Also, the David Lamotte song, "Butler Street," expresses concerns about "bad" evangelism. The whole song is really good, but the particular verse is, "An old man asked me if I was saved, and I turned, to check his eyes. I didn't see any concern there, and it's sad that I wasn't surprised. He was just trying the secret handshake, where you push until push comes to shove. His hands were deep in his pockets, and his eyes said nothing of love."
-Douglas Clark-Brown - July 7, 2010 at 8:10 AM
1 comments:
Sarah,
Thanks for shedding some light on the "E-word." I identify with a lot of your anxieties and reflections regarding evangelism. I think your portrayal of "bad" evangelism is one of conditional love - love that has a particular objective outside of simply the love itself. There is also some deception involved, and possibly a lack of humility, when you befriend someone in order to "convert" them.
A friend of mine who is currently in divinity school has this posted on his facebook wall, which I believe is from Henry Nouwen:
"I don't want to be called pastor because I have seen too many so-called pastors who are spiritual prostitutes selling their love under the condition of change. If my relationship with a man is affected by the subtle pressure that he should stop drinking so much, get away from drugs, be less promiscuous, cut his long hair, go to court, to church, or the city hall, I am still not really with him but with my own preoccupations, value systems and expectations, and have made of myself a prostitute and degraded my fellow man by making him a victim of my spiritual manipulations."
--A Bartender in Amsterdam
Also, the David Lamotte song, "Butler Street," expresses concerns about "bad" evangelism. The whole song is really good, but the particular verse is, "An old man asked me if I was saved, and I turned, to check his eyes. I didn't see any concern there, and it's sad that I wasn't surprised. He was just trying the secret handshake, where you push until push comes to shove. His hands were deep in his pockets, and his eyes said nothing of love."
-Douglas Clark-Brown
Post a Comment