One lunchtime at the university, she and a guy called Josh walked up to a random stranger. Josh introduced himself and asked if the student was interested in doing a survey of spiritual beliefs.
” Are you guys with the Christian group?” he asked.
“No, not as such,” she replied. “I mean, we have friends in it and sometimes we go to the meetings. But we’re not doing this as part of that group.”
“So, is this a research project or something?”
“Kind of.” The data did eventually get used for a master’s thesis. But mostly the surveys were a filter. They were a very rough way of finding, on any given day, people who had the time and inclination for a conversation.
They had nothing to sell. They did not need new friends. They had many already, possibly too many to be practical. We’re doing this, she wanted to say, because we want to, because something in us compels us to. Because we’ve already had these conversations with all of our friends, with people we work with, with randoms who serve us at checkouts and people who sit next to us on the bus. We’re doing this because we can’t help it. We’ve been given something that is too good to keep to ourselves.
We’re doing it because once we were trapped, by our fears, our emotions, and because we’ve found the way out. We’re here because we’re looking for others who are searching for an out, some who might not even realise they are, some who know they are but don’t recognise the way. We’re here because it reminds us of where we’ve come from, of who we are and that what we have now is so different, even on the worst days. We’re doing this because we had so many misconceptions before, because there is so much misinformation and lack of understanding, that sensationalism and bad human behaviour have obscured the less exciting but much more interesting and satisfying truths. Because we want the truth to be known. Because we hate lies, hate manipulation, because we just want to be faithful with what we’ve learned.
We’re here because we want people to be happy, for sick people to be well, for angry people to forgive so innocent people can be spared.
“We’re mostly doing this to find out what people think. And to find people who are interested in spirituality.”
And because it’s helped us. It’s helping us now. We didn’t know it was what we needed—that it was a who, rather than a what.
“What kind of stuff do you mean?”
“We just have dinner at a friend’s place, once a week. It’s pretty casual. And we read the bible and have a discussion-“
“Oh. Ok. Well, I’m not really religious.”
Neither are they. But they’ve mentioned that book, that symbol of judgement and human hypocrisy, and now he’s switched off.
“That’s cool, you don’t have to be. Anyone’s welcome.”
“It’s ok, cheers, I’d better go to class anyway.”
Maybe they shouldn’t mention the bible. But then they’d be misleading people. She already shies well away from using the C-word. That word to her still means prim anti-homosexuality, male dominance, suspicion of geological timescales and bending science to your beliefs, because otherwise God gets angry. They watch him shoulder his bag and escape into the lecture theatre.
“Should have just told him my story.”
“Oh well. Next time.”
She nodded. If only she’d been quicker, been listening more. If only she’d prayed more before talking.
She couldn’t blame herself. She knew the statistics; you have to sow a lot of seed to get a crop. You have to talk to a lot of people to find someone who’s interested today. How long had it taken her? How many times had she heard the words, brushed them off, not been ready, gritted her teeth when someone should have been acting instead of just talking. Or praying. It’s not just an idea. It’s not just people’s beliefs. It’s an encounter, an experience. It’s all of those but more than them. That’s why they were here.
God loves us, random person. God, and yes, Jesus. They really do.
Metanoia 