Sharing Some Faith

Someone who writes a blog I read posted a blogging rule yesterday that says if you want faithful readers you need to be a faithful writer.  At first I was sad, because I'm not a terribly faithful writer.  Then I realized that was stupid because I've never really had a goal of developing a readership.  I don't really know why I do this.  I think it's just a public place for me to rant about anything I want and anyone who wants to read it can.  If that's only 3 people, that's fine.  If that's selfish of me, that's fine too, because believe me, it has only skimmed the surface of my selfishness.

I was thinking the other day about how we as Christians are supposed to share our faith and what a tricky thing that is.  A lot of us hear that and proceed to go out handing people tracts (many of which are then passed around as jokes because they are so ridiculous).  There are also those who proceed to share their faith by making large signs that say things like "Stop being a college student or you will go to hell."  These kind of "witnesses" really ruin it for the rest of us, who would like to just quietly offer a word of hope to someone in need.  Too many times I've seen someone who really needed Jesus bristle at the sound of his name and I know the images racing through their head are of "turn or burn" signs and tear-streamed faces topped with bad hair screaming and demanding their money in exchange for a word of hope.  Their repulsion is justified, based on their experience of people who call themselves by His name.

I often think of someone who's chewing gum and someone else comes along and tries to shove a mint in his mouth.  I mean, we know the mint is better, but wait until they guy's gum goes all gross and rubbery and tasteless and he's about to spit it out anyway...

I realized, though, that's it's almost even more difficult for me to share my faith with others who already identify themselves as Christian.  I have a handful (now that I think of it, a rather large handful) of people who I trust know both Jesus and myself fairly well.  Those people I can be really honest with and talk about the very real and immediate things God is doing in my life.  These people are trustworthy to me because I know they, like I do, rest in the finished work of Christ.  We don't always rest perfectly, but we are always striving toward that rest.  These are the people I truly consider my brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers.

Then there are the distant cousins.

Firstly, understand that I meet a broad spectrum of Christians from numerous communities.  I'm not railing against a particular community.  In fact, there are some of these cousins within every group of believers I encounter.  I doubt any of them will find their way to this blog, anyway, so this is just between you and me, k?

There are some who, when you mention that you were talking to God earlier today, will kind of go wide eyed for a second and then shut down.  They write you off as one of those weirdos who are obsessed with God and who probably do such horrible insane things as speak in tongues and pray out loud.  (I'm terribly guilty of both of these infractions, by the way).

But the ones who get under my skin the most are the ones who, when the conversation turns to the things of God, feel the need to correct and instruct and "out-holy" everyone in the room.  Their quiet time is better than anyone else's because actual angels show up and minister to them and they see an open heaven and stuff.  Their Bible knowledge and ability to quote scripture verbatim is astonishing.  I once had someone say to me, "You know, like it says in First John," and then recite the entire book of First John while I just sat there and waited.  Ok, that might not have happened, but it's not too far from reality.

I've been invited to lunches that turned out to be sessions of psychoanalysis through the lens of one man's interpretation of scripture.  I've said, "I'm doing fine," only to be preached an impromptu sermon on why I should be outrageously joyful at all times, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs over everyone I meet, especially people who ask how I'm doing.  I've casually mentioned to a client that I'm a Christian, only to be grilled by that client about my theology.  It turns out, according to his standards, I am not a Christian at all because I had a dribbly baptism instead of a dunky one and he said he was sad to inform me that I would go to hell if I died right now.  I'm pretty sure the Holy Spirit was rolling his eyes.

I'm also pretty sure that last sentence upset some people because the latest thing is to just say "Holy Spirit," with no "The" because apparently Holy Spirit is his actual name.  "How would you feel if people started calling you The Robbie?" they say.

I'd like it very much, really.

I could go on for pages, but the bottom line is always going to be that I just have to get over it.  That's what the bottom line always is for me.  If I die to myself in this area, then I'll no longer be aware of how annoying people are.  At least I hope so.  I also really, really, really hope that I'm not one of those people who is always fixing and correcting and teaching other people, regardless of their integrity.

Jesus just loved people.  When he taught, he taught because the people wanted him to teach.  They didn't always like what he had to say, but they had always asked to hear it.  I want to be one who doesn't just go around telling everyone everything I know.  How boring.  I want to be one who can say the right one word at the right time and keep it shut the rest of the time.  If Jesus, who is God, only did what he saw the Father doing, why should any of us just carry on with our own assumptions of who God is and what he wants?