The Dialogue Venture

Posts Tagged ‘Christian’

A friend of mine is looking for a job. She has a wonderfully diverse background but, for various reasons, has spent years living around the poverty line. Recently she was asked to interview for a job in line with some of her prior education (law school). To me, it had all the earmarks of a calling.

I find vocation fascinating, because it’s such a wondrous process. Elements of your background fit together in a way no one could have predicted. Something triggers a yearning you never knew you had. A passing remark illumines a pathway for the next stage of your life. I think I see that happening with my friend, and I told her so.

She was having none of it.

In no uncertain terms, she expressed her impatience with talk of vocation. When you know poverty, she said, you’re not focused on some ethereal call; you’re looking for a job. Something that puts bread on the table and keeps body and soul together till the next paycheck. This friend of mine consistently seeks God’s will for her life, so the notion of calling is not foreign to her. But her concern here was more immediate.

See the key words in the previous paragraph? When you know poverty.

I don’t. I never really have. My one brush with poverty lasted only a year or two, and even then I always knew where my next meal was coming from. By bringing me up short, my friend shed light on an entire frame of mind that I had never even considered.

I need a mindshift. A big one, as I mentioned in our previous post.

This particular mindshift is essential for people of faith in general, and middle-class (and up) Christians in particular. The Bible is rife with evidence of God’s concern for the poor; some theologians call it the single most important message therein. The Magnificat, Mary’s glorious prayer in the Gospel of Luke, expresses this elegantly:

(God) has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He has put down the mighty from their thrones,
and exalted those of low degree.
He has filled the hungry with good things;
and the rich He has sent empty away.

Churches can serve poor people without knowing them intimately—through financial support, for example. But if we stop there, I think we fall short of God’s call to stand in solidarity with the poor. That requires something deeper: face-to-face encounters, together with the mindshift in which we set aside our preconceptions, our experiences, our whole ways of thinking, and listen intently to the experience of the other.

If we do that, our eyes will be opened and our perspective expanded. We will stop thinking of “the poor” as a monolithic group and see the diverse humanity therein. Our approach to social issues surrounding poor people will change. So, in essence, will we—toward a more open heart, hand, and mind. All due to a mindshift that prepares the soil of our soul for authentic dialogue.

When I was in high school, I dated a young woman who had big plans for my future. At one point she sensed that God was calling me to be a great evangelist; at another time, a pastor of my own church. She somehow saw in me the raw material for the “godly man” she wanted to marry.

Looking back, I wonder if she ever really knew me. (It wasn’t her fault: I didn’t know me back then either.)

During one of our many phone calls, we fell to talking about some situation that flew right in the face of my limitations. I just couldn’t find my way through the obstacle at hand. She would have none of it. Instead, she quoted to me—loudly—St. Paul’s observation to the Philippians: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

“I don’t know,” I stammered. “I’m more complex than you think—“

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” she boomed.

There’s that talking at again.

In my own rudimentary way, I was in the same space as the people from last week’s post. By saying “I’m more complex than you think,” I was trying to speak from my own perspective, my own experience.

But Girlfriend was speaking at. She was presuming to know my capabilities better than I did. That might have been valid if she’d spoken from a deep knowledge of me. But she didn’t. Instead, she spoke from an external standard, applying it in a way that it was probably never meant to be applied.

Contrast Girlfriend’s approach with a practice from the Quakers. For hundreds of years, they have used a method called the Clearness Committee to discern the voice of their “inner teacher” in the face of life transitions and quandaries. A person assembles five or six trusted people to hear her story and ask her honest, open questions, with no hint of leading or giving advice. The goal is to clear away the person’s mental clutter and thus allow her to hear the inner voice that will guide her toward a resolution.

Totally opposite from talking at. It even goes beyond talking with. It’s listening with. If we aim to dialogue with our “adversaries,” we would do well to listen with—entering their mindsets, thinking as they think, and asking respectful questions. 

When was the last time you were talked at? Have you ever responded well to it? How’d you manage that? When was the last time you were talked with? How was it? Share your experiences in the Comments section below.

If you pray the Daily Office, you may have run across this passage earlier in the week: 

You shall not hate your brother in your heart, but you shall reason with your neighbor, lest you bear sin because of him. You shall not take vengeance or bear any grudge…but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the Lord. (Leviticus 19:17-18, RSV) 

This comes from part of the Torah known to many scholars as the Holiness Code. According to the text, God has called the people of Israel to “be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy” (v. 2), and now he’s telling them how to do it. The list of commandments is an inspiration to anyone with high ethical standards: do not oppress your neighbor, do not be partial to the rich (or the poor) in judgment, leave produce in your field for the poor. 

And reason with your neighbor. 

It’s hard to reason without dialogue. Can we say, then, that God called the people of Israel—and, by extension, is calling us—into dialogue? 

Maybe. Speaking for God with certainty is risky business, of course. But it is interesting to find this command ensconced amid so many others that lay out the basics of just, fair, merciful behavior. 

Even more interesting is how close this passage ties “reasoning with your neighbor” to matters of love and hate. You shall not hate, so you must reason. You shall not hate, so you must love your neighbor as yourself. 

That says two things to me. First, dialogue is an alternative to hate—even a way through hate. It’s difficult to hate someone when she’s talking with you. 

The second thing keeps us talking: a commitment to love. When, in our hearts, we can commit ourselves to seek the other person’s good, for better or worse, we don’t give up. We might take a break from dialogue to clear our heads or let the emotion dissipate. But love keeps us coming back to the table—if not to agree, then to learn how to respect each other within our differences. 

Imagine what would happen if, say, the warring factions within the Christian Church acted this out. Might they actually find a way to live together, conflicts and all?

Do you have “channel markers” in your life? I’m referring to those people whose deep insights and good example command your attention. Wherever you are in life, you keep half an eye on them (as you would a channel marker when you’re sailing) to see what they’re thinking, writing, or doing. A glance at their words and actions helps you chart a straight course.  

Jim Wallis of Sojourners is one of my channel markers. He’s a born-again Christian with a deep concern for peace and justice issues—so he confounds the conventional wisdom that religious always means conservative (and that liberal always means godless). His prolific writing has found expression in three books, a popular daily blog, and the magazine where he serves as editor-in-chief.

Yesterday, he asked me to sign a civility pledge.

Not just me, of course, but anyone and everyone. Like me (and probably you, since you’re reading this), Wallis is deeply concerned about the climate of polarization that pervades U.S. culture. Like me, he believes people of faith have a unique role to play in nudging us toward dialogue. So he’s asking said people of faith to sign his Covenant of Civility as a critical step.

I’m skeptical of pledge signing in general: it’s too easy to pledge and too hard to deliver. (Think New Year’s resolutions.) But this may be different. According to the site, “church leaders from diverse theological and political beliefs” have already signed on. Just as important, Jim Wallis is a “channel marker” for a wide swath of the faith community—including, I believe, people in very high places—so anything he produces has more clout than the average effort.

Civility, as I’ve mentioned before, is only the first step, a precondition for the dialogue that draws us close to one another across all manner of divides. But it is an absolutely necessary first step, because you can’t talk—or, more important, listen—until you’ve stopped shouting. I encourage you to visit the site and sign the pledge.

Our guest is here, and he’s talking evangelism—or, rather, an entirely new and refreshing take on evangelism. (Why are we talking evangelism here? See my last post for background.)

Jeffrey Johnson has written Got Style? Personality-based Evangelism to help Christians share their faith in a way that fits the way they’re wired. The book moves readers away from the one-size-fits-all, passing-out-tracts version of Christian outreach into something that, in some versions, feels very much like dialogue. For this post, he answered a few of my questions, and I present excerpts from his answers below.

Before we get started, a few definitions. Johnson lays out six basic personality styles, and he refers to some of them in our interview. To vastly oversimplify, Assertive refers to the usual stereotype of an evangelist: a direct, verbal salesperson/preacher. Relational, as the name implies, is oriented toward relationships; the evangelizer is more of a counselor or teacher by nature. Incarnational focuses on sharing the gospel (“Good News”) by serving others.

OK. Enough preliminaries. Here we go:

Many outside the Christian faith take offense at traditional evangelism: they see it as an attempt to impose one’s beliefs on others. What would you say to put these people at ease with your approach?

From the outset, evangelism is not about convicting, convincing, or converting the non-Christian. That is the work of God in a person’s heart and mind. As Christians, we ought to share the Good News with passion and purpose, but not with manipulation or maneuvering. Moreover, if evangelism is not done in complement to one’s personality, it is at least forced and at worst faked—often done out of guilt and not love for God or the individual. My book presents personality styles with which people normally engage the world and suggests how they can use these styles to share their faith with that one and the same world, as Christ’s final words directed us to do.

Only a very small percentage (2-3%) of people are wired to “evangelize” using what you call “traditional evangelism”—large-scale crusades, door-to-door calling, street preaching, tract distribution, etc.—and to be honest they are statistically the least effective. The vast majority of people are dominant in Relational and Incarnational styles; they seek first and foremost a genuine relationship with the other person (because that is how they engage the world) before trying to introduce them to a personal relationship with Christ. In the Incarnational style, evangelism will occur over an extended period of time where both respect and rapport are established, so what is shared by the evangelizer is easily received by the evangelized because of the authenticity of the relationship and the knowledge that one only seeks the best for the other.

Let’s dwell on that for a moment. In your book, you say that while many Christians are best suited to evangelize by befriending or serving others, ultimately this should lead to sharing the faith verbally. Those being evangelized, however, sometimes perceive this as an ulterior motive and feel “used.” How does the Got Style? framework circumvent this to create a genuine engagement with the other person?

Before we can really expect people to listen to the Inspired Word, we must validate their Inherent Worth. Even if a person rejects what I have to say, that does not diminish the blessing they can be to me or I can be to them, just as friends. Spending time with people, regardless of the outcomes, should never be viewed as a waste of time. Never. Jesus hung out with people who chose not to follow Him. Christmas is literally about Jesus showing up to spend time with us. He had a reason for coming here—to establish a relationship with us so in turn we might have a relationship with Him. That’s not an ulterior motive; it is the ultimate motive.

To what extent does the Got Style? framework allow evangelism to become a genuinely two-way street, in which each person can share her beliefs, respond in a sensitive manner, and learn from the other’s perspective? To what extent does the evangelizer’s ultimate goal of sharing the gospel allow for this “two-way” perspective?

Got Style? helps people see their own style and better understand other people’s styles, so truly it is not about one-way communication. For the vast majority of people in the Relational, Incarnational, and similar styles, conversations are rooted more in free-flowing, back-and-forth relating of personal experiences than in predetermined scripts. Evangelism occurs over time and with the involvement of multiple people. Therefore it is not a strategy of show up and speak up, but rather show up and listen. The focus is on others, and off of me.

Let’s say, after numerous discussions to get to know the other person, the evangelizer realizes that his friend’s relationship with God might blossom in a Catholic church or Quaker meeting. What would you advise the person to do?

It needs to be understood that evangelism does not seek to introduce a person to a particular expression of the Christian Faith, but rather to Christ Himself. Therefore, once a person has been introduced to Christ and they make a faith commitment, the determination must be made as to where and how to best mature them in their newfound faith, which using your examples could be liturgical and formal or contemplative and informal, or really any expression between those two.

Like so many groups, born-again Christians are often misunderstood and stereotyped. What would you like people to know about born-again Christians that they don’t know now? What stereotypes would you like to clear up?

I think the stereotypes you mention apply to those categorized as Assertives, those who are out there on the fringe, partly because of their outspokenness. Remember, the early church was birthed through the means of the Assertive style, but by midway in the Book of Acts, the style changes dramatically from proclamation to presence evangelism. Paul would put down stakes and stay in a town for an extended period of time, even working a secular job so he could mix and mingle with people outside the Christian faith on their turf and in their terms.

Is there anything else you’d like to share with likely readers of The Dialogue Venture blog?

Personality is very personal. For each of us, it is unique. It defines who we are and directs how we interact with others. Yet people are saying they haven’t found a way to do evangelism naturally, as a part of how they are “wired.” Because evangelism has become associated with something unnatural or forced, it feels “bad.” I never understood why sharing something so good made so many feel so bad—until I realized most people are doing evangelism in a way contrary to the way God made them. We are called to do evangelism out of grace, not guilt. It can be enjoyable, not just an endurable, experience.

Fluff the pillows, vacuum the rugs, and get your questions ready. We’re going to have a guest.

In thinking about the dynamics of dialogue, I’ve become intrigued by evangelism and the tension it introduces between Christianity and the rest of the world. Many Christians view telling others about Christ as a core requirement of their faith. Many of other faiths see the practice as an offensive, old-school sales pitch, with one person pressuring another to convert. That would make evangelism antithetical to dialogue.

It would, that is, if we defined evangelism exclusively as a one-directional hard sell. But could it possibly be that simplistic? My attempt to think it through led to my recent article in Next-Wave.

Since that article appeared, I’ve heard from several Christian leaders who are also working to redefine evangelism. In the process, they may have something to say to those among us who find the traditional model reprehensible.

One of those leaders is Jeffrey Johnson, who’s come out with Got Style? Personality-Based Evangelism. His thesis is that Christians, while all called to evangelism, must approach it according to their individual personalities. If, for instance, you’re more relationally based, you might focus on nonverbal evangelism, rolling up your sleeves and helping your neighbors. If you’re more analytical, perhaps you engage others in thoughtful discussions of certain topics. (Hmm. Sounds like dialogue, yes?) While allowing that a few Christians are hard-wired for assertive evangelism, he questions the overall effectiveness of this approach in a skeptical and diverse society.

So can dialogue and evangelism peacefully coexist? That’s what we aim to find out. Next week, Johnson comes to The Dialogue Venture as part of a blog tour to promote Got Style? I have questions for him, but I’d like to include yours as well.

If you have a question or two, please send them along before Friday noon (Eastern Standard Time). You can use the comment space on this post or just contact me directly. While I can’t guarantee I’ll use every question (especially if we get tons of them), I’ll include as many as I can.

This could be an opportunity to pick the brain of someone who’s trying to break down a few old walls. Help me help him do that. Think up some questions and fire away.

Put a recovering fundamentalist and a professional astrologer in a car for an hour, and what do you get?

What you get is interesting, to say the least.

We’ve been talking lately about the need to set aside our preconceptions in order to truly hear the other and make dialogue more fruitful. But how does this work in real life? A story might give us some insight, so here we go.

Once upon a time, I took part in a writers’ group with an accomplished astrologer. As we went around the room to introduce ourselves, and she began to discuss her profession, all my defenses went up—the vestige of my fundamentalist Christian past, during which I had learned to equate astrology with evil.

How ironic that we would have to drive to an event together.

During that drive, we discussed her approach to astrology, and I had a choice. I could leave my conservative filter in place, spending the whole time “defending myself” against this “evil” and trying to find holes in the theory behind it. I could also lay the filter aside.

By choosing the second course, I absorbed so much more than I would have otherwise. She told me—and I heard—about the vast gulf between serious astrology and the tabloid version, the practical aims and goals of the profession, and other things that, together, painted a portrait of a viable alternative worldview.

The moral: What I heard about astrology from an astrologer was far different from what I had heard from Christian preachers. Only by setting aside the preacher’s voice in my head could I begin to grasp the reality of the astrologer’s world.

What difference did it make? I still don’t consult astrologers, and I could probably quibble with aspects of their thinking. But in my fundamentalist days, I feared astrology as a wicked practice that could seduce me if I didn’t watch out. An honest conversation dispelled that fear forever—and allowed me to approach other belief systems with curiosity and welcome rather than fear.

Perhaps more important, by setting aside my preconceptions, I could extend grace and a listening ear to my astrologer friend. How many of us could use a dose of that?

Do we have to give up our beliefs before we engage in dialogue?

I thought about this when a Religion News Service article led me to the Civility Project. Co-founded by a Democratic consultant and a Southern Baptist adviser to Mitt Romney (that combination alone should get your attention), the project sprang from a frustration with the shouting that currently passes for civil discourse. Central to the project is the Civility Pledge: a promise to be civil in public discourse and behavior, respect others regardless of their position, and stand against incivility.

What a great idea. Others have worked on civility for considerably longer and explored it more intently—P. M. Forni’s Civility Initiative at Johns Hopkins is especially notable—but it’s wonderful to see a call for civility from the grass roots. The more, the better.

Two items on the Civility Project website, though, brought the belief question to mind. One page states that the project does not involve “a surrender of personal beliefs, convictions or ideology.” Meanwhile, a poster comments that civil dialogue is impossible until fundamentalists stop preventing civil marriages for GLBT people. This expresses her personal conviction, and she has made it a precondition for civil dialogue.

Can you actually be civil and not surrender these things?

I think you can—but not by leading with “never surrender.” That orientation almost automatically puts us on the defensive, listening to the other not so much to truly understand her but to find the holes in her thinking. If the other person realizes we’re doing this, she’ll perceive herself as vulnerable to attack. She too becomes defensive, we learn little about each other, and the dialogue has no value.

So how do we go about this? I think the key is not to surrender our beliefs, but to set them aside for purposes of the dialogue. In doing so, we clear our mind to consider the other’s perspective from the inside out. We can hear her logic, her passion, her values more clearly. As a result, we connect more deeply, build trust, and open up an opportunity for deeper dialogue. This gives us a richer understanding of the other perspective, which we can then explore from our own value system. 

Imagine if we tried this with, say, gay marriage. GLBT people might find that conservative Christians are not necessarily homophobic, but rather trying in good faith to see the issue from their biblical worldview. Conservative Christians might hear the life stories of gay people and realize that being gay is not a choice, but rather who they are at their very essence. 

At the end of the dialogue, conservatives might still conclude that homosexuality is sinful, and GLBT people might still be frustrated with them. But they have understood the opposing perspective more deeply. More important, they have seen the human being behind the perspective, and that can lead to something bigger than dialogue—compassion and peace across the ideological divide.