Orthodox/Interfaith « The Website of Unknowing

I was glad to come across a contemplative Christian talking about the nature of effective evangelism vis-a-vis the actual gospel of Christ.  Just an excerpt:

Orthodox/Interfaith « The Website of Unknowing
We need to love people first, and then share our spiritual enthusiasm later. And what does such inter-religious love look like? Well, for starters it is vulnerable, it is based on listening and gentle sharing, it is open-ended and trusting: it has a non-directive approach to the future (i.e., truly loving religious dialogue has absolutely no agenda to “convert” — its only agenda is to share, to learn, and when appropriate, to teach).

“But wait,” many conservatives will object, “you are suggesting that Christians should encounter non-Christians from a position of vulnerability rather than one of power. That we should listen to non-Christians as much as we speak (witness) to them. Doesn’t this put us at risk of being corrupted by non-Christian ideas?” Well, let’s put it this way. I believe Christians should approach non-Christians as Christ. We are suffering servants, not triumphalist warlords. We bring good news and glad tidings, not a message of fear or intimidation. Most of all, we are lovers of God and trust in God’s grace. Out of this deep center of love and trust, we dialog with others both to celebrate the wonders of God’s multivalent creation and to learn how we may humbly be of service.

Breaking news: Young Blogger Catches Fire

The fire of God’s love, that is.  Look what he wrote: 

 In the book of Matthew, Jesus tells us, “Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.” (5:44, NIV) Easier said than done, I know! When I look out and see all the atrocities done in the name of God–the Most High whose love can never be fully comprehended by human minds–I want to attack. I want to shut the mouths of those who speak hatred forever.

Sunday afternoon

Friday evening I was driving through the rain.  

It was a beautiful drive, in a way; thick fog, bursts of heavy rain, down a country road where I was late for a homegrown arts program in a little part of the world that nobody goes to unless that’s where they’re going.   As I drove through the rain, late for my meeting, I thought of those nearby who have no car to drive.  I remembered the warm bed and the dry clothes waiting for me at home, and I thought of those nearby whose roofs would leak this very night, who would wake up to a day of cleaning as best they could the damp and the mildew that can’t be separated from their lives.  What good does it do, I asked myself, to sing of a God of love, without letting that love somehow get past me and to someone else?