Just in case you're a newcomer to my blog, I believe relationships are central to fulfilling the Great Commission. Somehow I missed the weight of this simple truth until we moved to a totally new culture to share the Gospel, where all of a sudden it seemed so "logical" that our time should be invested primarily with those who do not know Jesus, who perhaps have never even known a follower of Christ, at least not up close and personal.
One of my "new" friends dropped by the house on Thursday for our weekly chat. Sometimes we have a cup of coffee, or even lunch, but mostly he just enjoys intelligent conversation (yeah, bring on the sarcasm) and he's also very curious about spiritual things, especially Christianity. He's so considerate of my time, always asking me at the doorstep if I'm busy working on a project or if he should come back another day. You see, we don't plan our times together…it just happens.
Anyway, this particular friend is a Buddhist. Most of you would really enjoy getting to know him, although at first I think he was a bit skeptical of spending time with a "born-again Christian," as he calls me. On this visit, within our first few minutes together, he asked how I was doing physically (been having a few health problems) and he also expressed concern about my mental health, because I have shared openly with him about my struggles with depression since moving to Wales. You see, my friend began suffering with serious clinical depression a number of years ago when he went through a really traumatic experience as a school teacher. I assured him that I was doing really well right now and then he told me something that I had never thought about as a Christian.
He shared with me that most people in Wales (his close friends, his own family, and I got the distinct impression that he was including himself) think "born-again Christians" are immune from sickness, both physically and mentally. But he's discovered the fallacy of such thinking, because he now knows a Christian believer who is suffering with the same human frailties as anyone else; in other words, our lives are not completed "sorted" as the Brits are found of saying. And now he sees how unfair it is to categorize someone on the basis of their spiritual convictions, especially those who are committed Christians.
If I had not dropped my guard and shared openly with my Buddhist friend about my own physical and mental sufferings, he would have continued holding every Christian—and the Gospel they have often shared with him—at arm's length because of his prejudices and bitterness, thinking that we are somehow protected from life's difficulties by our faith in God. So now he's dropping his guard ever so cautiously as he realizes that, in many respects, I am no different than him, his friends, or his family. And our conversations go deeper each time, but I let him lead the way with his own inquisitive approach to real Christianity. For example…
Apparently, he had been reading the Scriptures—something he has done since I first met him three years ago—and reflecting on a passage in Jeremiah:
They built high places for Baal in the Valley of Ben Hinnom to sacrifice their sons and daughters to Molech, though I never commanded, nor did it enter my mind, that they should do such a detestable thing and so make Judah sin. (Jer. 32:35, NIV)
He asked me, "Why would God be so concerned about the immolation of a few childen to pagan religions when He has plans to torture billions of people in the fires of hell…forever?" No easy answers to that question, is there? No way to wriggle out from under the intelligent questions of someone who has studied science and philosophy for a lifetime. So I briefly reminded him of the sinful heritage of the human race—we had a discussion about this once before—and our innate rebellion against our Creator and our God, exchanging the truth about God for a lie and choosing to worship the creation rather than the One who made it all. I talked of treason and the justice of God: how our sinful record could not be overlooked by One whose holiness is perfect, unless we believed in His Son who died to cleanse us from our sins.
And then I admitted that there was no answer that he would find satisfactory in his present state of mind, as an unbeliever, and that whatever arguments I could muster, he would consider them to be utter foolishness. He looked at me, as if to say, "You are reading my mind. It's completely foolish!" So I stopped talking for a few moments. And I told him that unless God grants him faith to believe, he would continue to be blind to the truth and deaf to my appeals to repent and believe the Gospel. I said, "I know that sounds so arrogant to your ears right now, but I'm praying that God opens your eyes and ears to hear the wonderful news of salvation in Jesus Christ. I'm asking Father to surprise you with His grace; that one morning soon you're going to wake up and the penny's going to drop. You will be able to see how wonderful it can be to have a relationship with your Creator and a Savior to cover your sins!"
It was time for him to go. My boldness probably made him feel a bit uncomfortable—we always have very open, honest, and bold conversations—and I trust his head was spinning and his heart was burning from the sweet and powerful work of the Holy Spirit whom I believe continues to draw him back for more. He thanked me for our time together and I stood on the doorstep of our little 1880's stone terrace home: watching him walk down the street, thanking Jesus for this friendship, trusting my prodigal friend into the loving arms of Father, knowing the Holy Spirit had blessed our time together, and amazed at the power of transparency to break down prejudices, preconceptions, and stereotypes.
Bill:
Thank you for sharing with us about your friend. Thank you for also reminding us about how vitally important it is to build relationships with non-Christians in a way that builds bridges for the gospel.