My Token Atheist Friend

I'm Christian, he's atheist.  I'm ebony, he's ivory.  (Okay, we're both ivory. Not every story can be perfect!) 

I met Logan when I was working for Chi Alpha at UL.  Chi Alpha is a campus ministry organization that I was involved with while in college.  After graduating, I worked for them for a few years, filling a number of roles, one of which included teaching a class called "Foundations of the Faith."  During my last year there, Logan came poking his heathen head around, trying to stir up trouble.  Just kidding.  Logan is one of the most morally-driven people I know.  The real reason he came to my class was because he believed that truth is worth spreading and sharing and talking about.  That's something you have to respect, especially if you profess a religion whose founder commanded his followers to, "Go and make disciples of all nations."

So Logan would come to my class, sit and listen attentively, and then every single week he would come to me with questions afterward.  And every single week, we would end up getting coffee and sitting down and talking for hours. (For those unfamiliar, this is a luxury reserved only for college students and retirees.)  One topic would blend seamlessly and endlessly into another, until our only cue for stopping was when one of us could no longer hold in the coffee.  Mother nature would force the break, and we would just take that as our stopping point and pick up again the following week.

After the class was over, Logan would continue to spontaneously drop by my office at Chi Alpha.  As long as I wasn't doing anything terribly pressing (I usually wasn't), we would get coffee and chat, just like old times.  And by "chat" I mean talk very seriously for hours about God, Jesus, faith, and life.  (I eventually had to make it a point to start asking him questions about his life because it suddenly dawned on me one day that my total time talking to him exceeded any one of my own family or friends, and I barely knew anything about him.  That was the nature of our conversations.  No small talk.  Just straight to the deep stuff.)

As I mentioned earlier, this all took place during my last year at Chi Alpha.  I had been working there for four years and had decided I wanted to try something new.  Then something funny happened.  I had applied to work at Starbucks, and shortly before I was hired, I found out Logan had JUST started working at the very same location I was hoping to get hired at.  A few weeks later I got the job, and just like that, Logan and I were co-workers. Just at the moment when circumstances would have separated us, they brought us back together again.  Of course, he would chalk this up to coincidence.  As you may have guessed, I believe it was providence.  However, the reason I say that might surprise you.

Unquestionably, I believe in the human responsibility to share what we believe to be true and good, as well as the Biblical mandate that I, as a Christian, should share the Gospel.  But I do not believe that God has saddled me with a special burden to convert this particularly unconvinced soul.  Friends have sometimes asked me if I feel that he has come any closer to faith because of our relationship.  I refuse to even speculate.  I do not take credit if he is.  I do not accept guilt if he isn't.

There is only one life I can control, and that to a limited degree.  That is my own.  So when I say that my friendship with Logan is part of providence, I refer to the role Logan has played in my own life.  Every friend adds something unique to our lives, and Logan adds something particularly invaluable to me:  a questioner of my most cherished beliefs and assumptions.  No matter what our beliefs, if we have even a shred of humility, we must sometime wonder if we are wrong, right?  Logan helps me feel that I have taken at least a step towards wondering more honestly and thoroughly.       

This isn't to say that I value him only for that function.  We really are friends, and I'm happy to report that we now sometimes talk about things other than religion.  But I'm also happy to predict that our respective beliefs will always have a place at the center of our rapport.  Those things are immensely important to us both.  I've learned that sharing beliefs is reciprocal.  To share properly is to invite and welcome other beliefs, including criticism of your own beliefs.  I've decided that I have no desire for a faith that cannot withstand that sort of exchange.  I implore everyone to seek out friends with very different beliefs.  If done honestly, it can only change you for better, never for worse.       

"Get in There! Yeah yeah!"

Then I heard another voice from heaven say:

“Come out of her, my people,

so that you will not share in her sins,

so that you will not receive any of her plagues;" (Revelation 18:4)

It seems rare that this verse is given serious consideration in modern Evangelical sermons and conversations.  Granted, throughout church history there has been a tug-o-war between the ideas of "letting your light shine" on one side and being "holy," "separate," "in the world, but not of it" on the other.  But it seems to me that if  either side is winning right now, it's the side for which being involved has become an unquestioned value: Of course we should vote; of course we should lobby for issues that matter to us; of course we should engage in "culture wars."  Many Christians can't see any reason why one wouldn't get involved in such things.

But if there is a Biblical context in which God commands his people, "come out of her," "get un-involved," then I ask, where is that reflected in Biblical preaching today?  I'm not saying the message to get involved is always wrong, but shouldn't it at least sometimes be to get uninvolved?  Shouldn't there be some discussion about discernment to differentiate between the two, rather than the assumption that getting involved is always the right thing to do?

The political and cultural battles of our day are full of disrespect, greed, coercion, and hatred, and most of what we hear from Christian leadership is, "Get in there!"  Perhaps some should rather listen to the voice from heaven saying, "Come out!"  

 

Finishing from the Start

I'm on page 830 of a book that weighs in at just over 1,000 pages.  I started it over 2 years ago, put it down for awhile, realized I hadn't retained anything, restarted from the beginning, started taking notes to retain the information better, realized I wasn't enjoying it as much that way, then made a New Year's resolution to finish it by April of this year.  Here I am in August with almost 200 pages to go. 

My slowness in reading it has not been for lack of discipline or desire.  I very much enjoy reading it, and I read often enough.  My concern has been reading it right.  Not that there's any one right way to read a book.  What I mean is, reading it the way I really want to, maximizing both my enjoyment of it and its educational benefits.  It's dense and packed with difficult-to-remember names, places, and ideas, so I don't find it beneficial to fly through it like a novel.  But at the same time, I don't find it desirable to read it like I'm studying for a test.   I've taken my time in finding a good balance--a pace that's not too quick to remember, but not too slow to enjoy.

At various times, I've been tempted to feel discouraged with how long it has taken me.  A few times, I even thought about stopping, wondering how many other good books I'm missing out on for this one.  It feels good to be so close to the end of it.  A pride of accomplishment seems to always accompany the act of finishing a book.  But I find a more worthwhile pride in the fact that I took pleasure in it, as well as having retained a reasonable amount of the material. 

There are times to just be done with something, and then there are times to finish. We can be done with something in an instant.  Ironically, finishing has meaning for each present moment, beginning to end.  So then, when we decide something is worth finishing, the important question is never "Am I finished yet?" but "Am I finishing right now?"