<img class="alignnone" src="http://c498390.r90.cf2.rackcdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/Setting-Up-Podiums.jpg" alt="" width="688" height="388" />

I remember hearing a story in college about a large church with a young pastor who boldly preached the gospel according to Calvin and Albert Mohler.  The mega-church he led had lost a sizable number of members (though certainly not enough to diminish its mega-church status) and a friend commented that this was because this pastor was “preaching the truth.”  What he meant, which I agree with, is that the truth isn’t always what we want to hear.  What he implied, which I want to question, is that any consequences of bluntly telling the truth are perfectly acceptable.

A friend of mine said to me recently that what we believe determines how we live and treat others.  Whether he meant to or not, he seemed to imply that the primary concern of any spiritual leader must be making sure people believe correctly.  Lifestyle will follow if we just get people’s theology in order.

But what happens when our quest to enlighten others with “the truth” leads to our causing others pain?  Or what happens when people reveal to us deep pain and hurt caused by those with whom we theologically or ideologically agree?  What happens when people ask for our advice and we discover that they believe “the wrong thing?”

Before we go any farther with this I need to confess that I am by no means a master of discretion when it comes to difficult situations like these.  So what follows is not the teachings of an expert in the field but the honest questionings of a fellow journeyer.  I am guilty of having done (and probably will do again) many things similar to those I am about to write about.  I write this not to chastise others but to bring to light a concern that all of us engaged in conversations about faith need to keep in mind.

With that confessions in mind, let me share three types of situations in which conversations about faith cross lines of difference that I have observed:

The first happens when we cross lines of theological difference.

I have heard many pastors, bible study leaders, and seminary students, whether they be Calvinist, Wesleyan, or none-of-the-above, describe moments in which someone came to them with a question or a pastoral concern which simultaneously revealed that they held the “wrong theology.”  Not missing a beat, said “teacher” took the opportunity to inform their new, unsuspecting “student” of a more theologically robust and accurate way of conceptualizing the “issue at hand,” with the resulting private lecture in systematics often taking up most of the 30 minute block set aside for their “coffee meeting.”

The second happens when we cross lines of political difference.

A friend told me a couple of years ago of the painful experience of having a conversation with a mentor and colleague who was leading a local church outreach program.  In the course of their meeting and planning activities for this program, they realized that they came down on opposite sides of a very controversial political issue.  My friend humbly asked to continue working with this mentor and colleague despite their disagreement.  He was met with an ultimatum: until you change your mind about this, we can’t work together.

The third happens when we cross lines of cultural or experiential difference.

Squeezed into the middle seat on a long Southwest flight to visit family for the holidays, it comes out that we are involved ministry or are studying theology.  Or maybe the guy next to us notices the title of the N.T. Wright book we are reading.  Whatever it was, suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere all the usual stereotypes and accusations are flying: the diatribe against organized religion from the woman on our left, the stories of personal pain and hurt caused by church when the fellow on our right was growing up.  My natural instinct, and I suspect I’m not alone, is to dodge the bullet and play the I’m-not-that-kind-of-Christian card, allowing me to explain that Christianity can have a very different look and feel than my new acquaintances have supposed.

Underlying all three of these types of situations, I think, is a concern for the advancement of particular causes and hobby horses in the life of the church.  And on one level, that is fine.  The church needs to better educate its members about theology.  The church needs people who are serious about arguing for the right application of Christianity to the needs of this world.  The church needs to deal with its historical and cultural baggage.  And when we engage in conversations about faith we will often find ourselves on the front lines of all of these issues.

But what also needs to be considered is the concrete reality of the other person in each of these situations.  Does the church member across the table from us need a lesson in theology or do they need to be heard out?  Does the colleague with which we disagree politically need an ultimatum or do they need an outstretched hand?  Do our fellow passengers (or perhaps prisoners?) on a long flight home need the sales pitch for our particular brand of Christianity or do they need someone who is willing to own the harm done to them and simply say “I’m sorry”?

All too often we go into situations where we are crossing lines of disagreement trigger-happy and ready to shoot.  Spoiling for the argument, we don't take the time to stop and consider the consequences of our words.  I was pretty astonished today when I watched this "interview" of Alex Jones by Piers Morgan:

[youtube]http://youtu.be/Tf-i3Y5iRYo[/youtube]

Unfortunately, a lot of people see Christians this way and a lot of times we Christians think this way of one another.  Aggressive and argumentative have become synonyms with "Christian" in our society, and we haven't done much to help our cause.

What I think we need to ask ourselves more often is whether the way we have conversations with those with whom we disagree has more to do with advancing our favorite hobby-horse than with addressing the actual needs of the person we are talking with.

Put another way, I think we need to ask ourselves on a regular basis if our calling to be servant leaders is best accomplished by taking every conversation as an opportunity to argue with others about the right things to think or a moment to accept what we consider false assumptions for the sake of meeting people where they are.

&nbsp;

<em>Alexander Marshall is a blogger, writer, teacher, and student at Yale Divinity School.  You can connect with him on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/alexanderpmarshall">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/alexp_marshall">Twitter</a>, or by <a href="http://apmarshall.wordpress.com">visiting his blog</a>.</em>