When I became a Christian in the early 1970s, one of the first things I was told was that I had to become a witness. It was part of a strange new language that you very soon become used to. What does it mean to be a witness? Go and tell people what Jesus has done for you. Why? Because it is the “Great Commission,” taken from the end of Matthew’s gospel. We have to make as many people Christians as we possibly can.
There followed years of learning how to do it. Street witness. Frigid fingers on the frets of a guitar. Singing choruses to passers by. Embarrassing conversations. Failure. Guilt. Courses. Methods. “Evangelism Explosion.” (A disconcertingly violent metaphor.) As a minister, church growth was all the rage. Bigger churches. More people. More courses. More workshops. More seminars.
There is a story in the gospel of Mark where Jesus heals a leper and expressly tells him not to tell anyone. “See you say nothing to anyone,” said Jesus. Here is a different commission. It is the great commission of silence. This different kind of commission is repeated in Mark’s gospel a number of times—sufficiently so, scholars came up with the phrase “the Messianic Secret.”
The difference, if this were taken as a priority over the other commission, would be marked. “Ah, now you are a Christian,” I would have been told, “Don’t tell anyone. Keep it to yourself!” At least I would have been spared the pressure to witness and associated guilt when I kept my mouth shut!
I am reluctant, now, to talk about my faith. I tend to keep it to myself. When people ask me directly, I tentatively give them snippets, tasters—with lots of qualifications. I listen more to their stories. I look for Christ in them. I affirm their journey.
I have tried to analyze why, for me, this is the case. There are probably unconscious reasons. A psychologist might suggest that I am in reaction to the overzealousness of youth. A friend might say, “You just got burned by it all.” They both might be correct.
Consciously, I think it is that I see faith somewhat differently. Spirituality is no less important to me, but is different now than before. It is a whisper and not a shout. I am less certain about truth claims. I am more tentative about interpretation of experience. I am less willing to make judgments about others. I am more inward.
“To be as Christ to those we meet,” is an extraordinary calling. It is a life lived and not a religious view talked about. It is an aspiration and not a method. To be as Christ is to be silent, to be attentive, to welcome, to see the other as subject and not object, to build relationships of love.
“Do you follow Jesus? Shh! Don’t tell anyone!”
+Ab. Andy
There followed years of learning how to do it. Street witness. Frigid fingers on the frets of a guitar. Singing choruses to passers by. Embarrassing conversations. Failure. Guilt. Courses. Methods. “Evangelism Explosion.” (A disconcertingly violent metaphor.) As a minister, church growth was all the rage. Bigger churches. More people. More courses. More workshops. More seminars.
There is a story in the gospel of Mark where Jesus heals a leper and expressly tells him not to tell anyone. “See you say nothing to anyone,” said Jesus. Here is a different commission. It is the great commission of silence. This different kind of commission is repeated in Mark’s gospel a number of times—sufficiently so, scholars came up with the phrase “the Messianic Secret.”
The difference, if this were taken as a priority over the other commission, would be marked. “Ah, now you are a Christian,” I would have been told, “Don’t tell anyone. Keep it to yourself!” At least I would have been spared the pressure to witness and associated guilt when I kept my mouth shut!
I am reluctant, now, to talk about my faith. I tend to keep it to myself. When people ask me directly, I tentatively give them snippets, tasters—with lots of qualifications. I listen more to their stories. I look for Christ in them. I affirm their journey.
I have tried to analyze why, for me, this is the case. There are probably unconscious reasons. A psychologist might suggest that I am in reaction to the overzealousness of youth. A friend might say, “You just got burned by it all.” They both might be correct.
Consciously, I think it is that I see faith somewhat differently. Spirituality is no less important to me, but is different now than before. It is a whisper and not a shout. I am less certain about truth claims. I am more tentative about interpretation of experience. I am less willing to make judgments about others. I am more inward.
“To be as Christ to those we meet,” is an extraordinary calling. It is a life lived and not a religious view talked about. It is an aspiration and not a method. To be as Christ is to be silent, to be attentive, to welcome, to see the other as subject and not object, to build relationships of love.
“Do you follow Jesus? Shh! Don’t tell anyone!”
+Ab. Andy