The fear if (inter)faith

I have been charged with leading a group of leaders from various faiths on campus. It is, in a word, hard. In theory, our campus wants to be able to connect with leaders from all faiths so we can have better communication, share resources, and be able to connect students to the spiritual dimensions of their development.

The problem is, nobody wants to come. For our last meeting, we invited 48 groups and 4 people showed up.  A few years ago, I was pretty afraid of other religions. Now I recognize the value of getting these groups together, not to pretend we all agree about theology, but to collaborate around student success. I think interfaith dialogue and connection is pretty rare, and I think many of these groups have the same fears I used to.

So, we (in theory) sit in a room with people representing traditions that have thousands of years of less than positive history with one another. Muslims and Jews, Hindu and Taoist, Protestants and Catholics, Athiests and Ba’hai. What good could come of this?

I propose another question: Why did Jesus heal people? The people he healed died later anyway, right? My guess is that he loves people so much he can barely help himself, he knew that miracles pointed to something miraculous, and that healing touches people’s hearts (thank you Hugh Halter).

Can you imagine if we were able to create relationships where these historically hostile groups respected and cared for one another? Could you say it was anything but miraculous? Could you say that people’s hearts were not touched? Furthermore, what if Christians were the group that was over-the-top loving and sacrificial and caring?

If we believe we have the truth, why are we afraid of people asking questions? Why would we ever be afraid of being around people who believe something different? I work on this project with a fabulous graduate student (who also attends a local seminary) who studies Paul’s interaction with the Greeks. She says, “We need to know someone else’s language well enough to use it to our advantage.”

We should see interfaith as an opportunity to build relational bridges. One leader told me, “I would come, but what would the perception of my students be if they saw me there?” Instead, our biggest Christian groups on campus are being shown up by the Mormons.

Showing up to a conversation doesn’t mean you agree with everyone there, it just means you respect them and care about them enough as people to listen and maybe work together. Rather than showing up ready for a debate, Christians ought to actively pursue places and people they don’t understand so they can listen. How can we become all things to all men if we don’t get to know them?

From the outside

I had lunch with a student last week, Alec. Alec is a self-identified agnostic, who spent his summer teaching English in Rwanda. Before he left, I gave him a book to read (Barnes and Noble was sold out of Blue Like Jazz). Alec, who says he has never read a book twice, read this one back to back on the plane. He said though he usually gets irritated at how Christians talk about God (and cited some specific mutual acquaintance examples) he liked how the author talked about God.

Alec had two unsolicited comments about Christians.

1. “If you believe God created the whole world, shouldn’t there be more to this than singing songs and hearing a dude talk once a week?” Yes. Absolutely yes.  The Creator of the world has more to offer than a weekly lecture. Unfortunately, the example of Christians has most people believing that to follow Jesus is to attend a not-so-compelling weekly event. We have all the power in the world and we seem content to sing about it.

2. “I understand you can re-read a book if it’s interesting, but do you really need someone to keep talking to you about it if you already know what it says?” Yes. In fact, ironically enough, this is exactly what the Bible says! Too bad we’re more known for talking about the Bible and Bible characters than doing what the Bible says and living like Bible characters lived.

Alec – in two questions you have summed up brilliantly what many of us are thinking and feeling. Thanks for sharing. I hope we listen.

Cru

I’m listening in as Campus Crusade for Christ unveils it’s new name – Cru.

Steve Sellers, the vice-president for North America, announced it to their staff tonight. He backed up the unveiling of the new name with tons of data. 20% of people who were open to the gospel were then turned off by the name. “Crusade” conjures up lots of bad images and history, and it was time. I think it’s a good move. After 60 years, it takes a ton of courage to take a name change. Inviting someone to “cru” is easier, and it’s more inclusive of everything they do. “Cru” has decided that they are more interested in people coming to into a relationship with Jesus than holding onto the past.

I wonder if some of our churches will have the courage to follow suit. Does getting invited to “First United Methodist Church” feel welcoming to a non-believer? Moreover, when you invite someone to your church, do they feel invited to sit in a pew – or to a relationship with Jesus?

One step further. Think of all the bad images that come to mind with the word, “Christian” (if you can’t think of anything, just read Unchristian). Are we willing to re-name ourselves, so that people are more open to Jesus? What if you took a little extra step to introduce yourself as a hopeful follower of Jesus, or changed your Facebook status, or talked more about a relationship than a religion or church attendance?

Thanks to Cru for taking a courageous step. It may cost them donor support and national recognition, but they want to eliminate any barrier to relationship. I hope we follow suit.

She thinks she could follow Jesus

Jenn is a junior who studies Arabic and political science, loves music, and has a hard time with religion. She’s open to talking about deep things, but is uncomfortable with religion.

A group of Christian RAs get together about once a month to pray, worship, and talk about their lives as missionaries on our campus. They invited me to talk about what Jesus thinks about social justice. Thinking it’s a topic Jenn would like, I invited her.

We walked through 7-8 passages where Jesus looks out for those that religious people would have avoided.  ”Who would Jesus be hanging out with today?” we asked. We had a great discussion, and were challenged to love people courageously, and be known more for what we’re for than what we against, to demonstrate love more than we dictate or describe it.

I invited three non-Christians to the gathering that night, Jenn one of them. They walked in, saw people they knew, felt welcome, and got to learn more about what their peers believe and the questions they are wrestling with. When they came in the door, I knew immediately that we weren’t going to sing, and that our prayer time would be limited. Though the topic that night was social justice, the focus was on those three.

I followed up with Jenn later in the week. She said, “I think if more people thought about Jesus that way, I’d want to be a Christian.” That may have been the highlight of my year.

How can we create more spaces where people can comfortably experience what Jenn experienced? We don’t need to filter what we believe, but our friends need an environment where they can be themselves and feel normal. I’ve written before (and said that night) that Christians need to get uncomfortable. (Ironically, another non-believer pointed out to me that in coming to our gathering he was in an uncomfortable place! Try bringing a non-believer to church and you’ll realize how uncomfortable it is for them) When Jesus taught, it seems to me that he made sinners feel at home and religious people squirm. Maybe the only people that should be comfortable in our gatherings is non-believers!

We have a generation of college students who are eager to introduce their peers to Christian community. How can we create welcoming environments and relationships so they can encounter him? My guess is that we Christians need to get uncomfortable.

Trust vs suspicion

Trust is harder than I think. I got an email from a colleague today, Sarah, a fellow RD who is openly gay. A few of her staff members want to come work with me next year. She says…

“My Christian RAs are really appreciating what you have to offer. Please do me a favor… and keep challenging them to think outside of their comfort zone. I’ve done my best to challenge and support their identities in their roles, but I need some help from people like you to talk about the privilege they have here and how to navigate their beliefs while remaining inclusive.”

Here’s my response…

“Absolutely, that’s partly what (RA) and I talked about today. In the past, I’ve been leery of hiring Christians who want to work with me because I’m a Christian. In the past they have made assumptions that I will allow them to be less “PC” or inclusive or inviting of other identities. Quite the opposite is true. I do think I have an important role to help them navigate their beliefs and identity as Christ followers. I realize I could type a lot about this because it’s something I care about a lot, would love to dialogue more about it sometime. All that to say – yes, you can absolutely count of me to challenge people to think, welcome, love, and engage outside their comfort zone. I think it’s what Jesus would do anyway.”

I’ve worked with Sarah for almost 2 years. For her to trust me, I need to be someone who is challenging fellow-believers to be welcoming, loving, and caring outside of their comfort zones. I’m not trying to make a political statement. I’m trying to say – every day we demonstrate whether we can be trusted. I gain trust by what I do proactivly, not just by what I do reactively. If I don’t challenge fellow believers to be more uncomfortably loving, I lose Sarah’s trust. More imporantly, I think it begs the question – as his followers, are we reflecting the heart of a God that can be trusted?

All about Bolivia

The Chiquitano dry forest is the size of Florida. It’s populated mostly with indiginous tribes who rely on natural water supplies like rivers, streams, and catching rainfall.

This summer, I get to take a group of a dozen Engineers to help install new and fix existing hand-pumps so they can drink clean water. Not only can we do some good in Bolivia, but I hope we can plant some seeds in the hearts of future Engineers. At least I hope we will, we’re still a ways away from getting approved.

Not surprisingly, the large public university I work for has a hard time justifying sending a dozen students to the jungle with me. The final approver for this trip is famously grumpy, and doesn’t understand why we would send students to a place just to make a few people’s lives better (okay, she doesn’t quite say it like that).

Andy Stanley has been teaching me to pray for something big, so we’re praying for the opportunity to do this. Guess what? Not only could we impact the lives of hundreds in Bolivia, but I know the lives of the dozen who go will be forever changed.

In the neighborhood

“God put on flesh and moved into the neighborhood”

I love this verse, and it’s part of the “why” I do what I do, why I ask my wife to continue to live with me in a residence hall with 400 freshmen. Where do I have more opportunity to impact college students than to move into their neighborhood? I get to live with them, I get to be in their world, invade their space.

As I explained it this morning, I love living in the tension between when Paul says he is, “all things to all men that I might save some” and “pray for me also that I might fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel.” I absolutely want to live my life so people know the truth, or as I sometimes say it, so students can take steps to becoming who they were made to be. But I (like everyone) have to do this in a specific context. I daily have to think about how to be relatable, but not compromise. I have to be an insider in my culture, but I still want my faith to stand out. I have to be wise with my words, but never afraid to say the truth.

Here’s what I’ve discovered – I don’t have to ever be afraid of what I believe. In fact, the more assure I am of what I believe, the more I welcome questions.  I love what Rick Warren said yesterday about the recent news incident, “Bookburning is cowardly act by those afraid their beliefs aren’t strong enough to attract if people are allowed a choice.” How the heck do we live among but still stand out? The question becomes – how do I display truth so its relevant? How do I display the gospel so its approachable?

I maybe have 4% of this figured out. On a good day. I just love my job.

Calculus Appreciation

Numerical algebraic geometry. That’s the research interest of my Calc 1 instructor Steve Idhe (pronounced “I’d”). Its 8:00 am on Monday morning of the first day of classes and Steve is literally bouncing up and down with excitement about calculus. I get a few curious looks from people who recognize me from their floor meeting last night.

Every fall, all the engineers in my buildings (nearly 300 of them) take calculus. On the days leading up to the three midterms you can scoop the stress with a spoon. Then, in the spring, a sixth of our engineers end up on academic probation. The common culprit is, not surprisingly, calculus.

So, seven years after I took my last math class, I decided to take calculus. If I’m going to help my students, I want to understand what they go through. I always tell students to find professors during office hours and make study groups, but I haven’t done it myself in years. Of course, I’ve never taken calculus, I don’t own a TI-84, and I honestly can’t define “fractal.” As a close friend aptly put it, “You’re probably going to fail. But at least you can relate to those who fail.”

Back in class, Steve tells us that 70% of our grade is based on tests. If we fail the final, the best we can get in the class is a D. He spends a few minutes telling us some clever puns with his name (i.e. “Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Idhe”), then tells us we’re going to skip chapter 1 because it’s all stuff we should know already. Also, we’ll be using the brand new 12^th edition of the book, so there’s no hope of saving a few bucks on a used book.

I’m getting nervous. The syllabus says to expect to do homework 2-3 hours for every hour in class, which “Ihde” rather not. Steve says, “The only people who don’t study are geniuses and morons.” I didn’t recognize any of the terms he casually mentioned that I should already know from chapter 1. Calculus is starting to sound less appealing, but Steve is starting to grow on me.

Steve sits down, and tells us a story about how kind and caring the coordinating faculty member is. He tells us how to find him, call him, or email him. He makes sure everyone knows where tutoring is held. He tells us three times that he expects us to find him after class if we have questions. Not only does he love calculus, but he wants to do everything he can so we can succeed if we want to.

A few residents give me a hard time for dropping the class. I’ve already had a few overwhelmed and teary-eyed students in my office who are freaked out by college classes. I understand them a little better now. Also, I’m impressed with Steve, and have a lot more confidence sending students into the abyss of faculty office hours.

What if we put ourselves in our students’ shoes more often? It was good to remember how freaked out syllabus day feels and good to be reminded how much the other side of the house requires of our students. The next time I have a conduct hearing, or student org meeting, I’ll keep in mind everything

College students and religion

While 52% of college freshmen say they regularly attend religious services before coming to college, that number drops to 29% by their junior year. Why?

I came across an interesting news article today as I was doing a bit of research about religion in higher education. The article sites a few reasons for the drop in interest and participation in religion: schedules, sex, and structure (okay, I alliterated their points for them).

Schedule. Waking up early on Sunday morning isn’t conveniet for most college students, especially when almost everything they need is on campus and church means a commute.

Sex. A new book called “Sex and the Soul” cites that students feel like have to choose between sex and religion.

Structure. At home, church was a support structure, the organization and institution was good because it provided something concrete. In the words of the author, “They are moving toward an amorphous spirituality and are less likely to affiliate with an organized religion. They may do something that is personal, grass-roots, and small scale…”

Notice anything strange? The author does not cite any change in belief! We have this mindset that people come to college and enter the liberal world of evolution, Marx, and Nietzsche. Students stop going to church, not because they stop believing in Jesus, but because it isn’t convenient.  They stop participating not because they suddenly become evolutionists, but because church isn’t catered to them anymore. What does that say about their experience in high school? Perhaps that they were made to believe church is and should be convenient. What do our church environments (including our high school youth groups) communicate about faith? Is it about ownership, sacrifice, personal choice, and commitment? Or is it comfortable, convenient, and catered?

Just a little insight into the college student world. Here’s the article, if you’re interested: http://www.capecodonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20100404/LIFE/4040307/-1/NEWSMAP

Bringing you in (II)

Dear Tony,

Since hearing my story at Cru (‘the 24-year old virgin’), I’ve seen you continue to connect with several students in Cru. It’s hard not to be thrilled – your stereotypes are slowly being broken down and you are starting to trust some Christians. Maybe you’ll notice there’s something different. Maybe you’ll start to feel free to ask real questions. Maybe you’ll be open to hearing the stories of others. This seems to be such a normal way to assimilate, belong, and believe.

We continued to look for ways to get you connected to God-fearing people. So, we asked you to MC our wedding. You would do a great job, I’d love the chance to show off one of my fantastic RAs from the last two years, and you’ll get to be around some amazing people who love Jesus.

So, we flew you in, and you spent three days with us. I’m almost positive nobody explained the gospel to you, prayed with you, or opened the Bible with you. I’m proud of the men who we shared a cabin with you prayed like they meant it around us, who talked about the love of Christ around our wedding, and who cared about you though they know nothing about you.

I hope it was worth it. I know you’ll likely never see these people again, but I hope it made some impact.

Thankful for you!