Different Strokes

Recently, I met up with an old high-school friend. Janet and I discovered lots of differences. She is married with a daughter. I am single with a cat. She lives in East Coast suburbia, while I live in a city in the South. What we found in common was that both of our lives contained tragedies that caused us to reflect on our futures and our faith.

Janet said she is learning all about how to be a better person. She prays but believes everyone chooses a different direction. Religion, to her, is mostly “what works for you.”

A while back, I spent a few days with a girlfriend I hadn't seen in almost 10 years. Carolyn and I found out that our journeys through life were not so different. We were both engaged. We had both relocated. We had both started our own companies. We talked about boys, girls, shoes, sushi, airports, dogs, coffee and pretty much every other thing four hours in Starbucks can cover. And we talked a little about God.

Carolyn was raised going to a traditional Latin Mass. She believes her salvation is secured by her childhood confirmation and her knowledge of every Bible story ever told.

Last week, at an awards dinner, I struck up a conversation with a very intelligent and eloquent colleague. Mark's knowledge of politics, culture, art and science was remarkable. He had served in the Armed Forces, graduated with honors from his college, and was being recognized at the dinner for his outstanding achievement in his profession. His words were weighted with experience, education, exposure and enlightenment.

I listened as Mark shared with me the power of karma. He boasted of its impact and effect on his life. He spoke with clarity and authority, certain he was right about every single word coming from his lips.

It is often difficult to just listen. As a Christian, I wonder if my heart should reflect a more broken state in these situations. Everything I read in Scripture tells me there is a definitive moment, a decision to be made, a cross to carry and a Lord to serve: "Now is the day of salvation" (2 Corinthians 6:2, TNIV); "No one comes to the Father except through Me [Jesus]" (John 14:6, TNIV).

Shouldn't these passages create an urgency on my part to "save" these "lost souls"? Millions of words exchanged in our dialogues, and not once did I tell them they were wrong and that they must know Jesus. Not once did I mention heaven. Not once did I mention hell.

All I did was listen.

I have two brothers en route to an eternity of pain and suffering, a sister-in-law on a path to fire and brimstone, old and new friends bound for agony and torment. And still, I listen.

And I live. I live my life right in front of them. I read my Bible. I go to church. I tithe my income. I pray for the poor. I even bow my head and hit my knees regardless of who is present.

I'm kind to the woman at the checkout. I'm apologetic to the person I've cut off. I'm right and wrong out in the open and alone in my room. I'm broken and restored in broad daylight and in the dark of night.

Sometimes strangers see the best of me, and other times they see the worst. Friends close enough witness my weaknesses and share in my strengths. My family—well, they just see it all.

My life as a Christian sometimes puts me on a platform to share the story of my changed life. But it mostly puts me in places to act out these changes. There are some moments when I am compelled to cry out to a lost person that she must get a map. But most times, I'm at peace offering direction instead.

It might be someone's job to scream from the soapbox. It might be someone's job to tip with a tract. It might be someone's job to scare a soul into salvation. It might even be someone's job to stand in the way of a life that is lost and force a new course.

But it isn't my job. Christ called me to be His witness. He called me to feed His sheep. Yes, God definitely tells me to get His Word out, but He gives me the Holy Spirit to figure out how.

St. Francis of Assisi said it so beautifully: "Preach the Gospel always, and when necessary, use words." Jesus did that. People sought Him out to discover the source of His brilliance because He lived a transparent life, reflecting His Father.

Sometimes, it becomes necessary to use words. In those moments, I pray for God to do all the talking. Memorizing His Word, studying His Scriptures and trusting Him for the results help to ease the pressure.

Janet eventually asked me why I chose Jesus. Carolyn joined me in prayer before every meal. Mark watched me choose juice over gin. Each one of them engaged me in a conversation about my faith.

Then, they listened.