How to Talk About God
Last week I recounted a stomach-sinking story of a young boy struggling with cancer that people seemed pretty engrossed with–a story, essentially, of how The Problem of Evil came to thwack us in the head again and then how the swelling was suddenly mollified by a series of events so suffused with goodness and jollity and grace that even a nihilist would have admitted there seemed to be something going on that smacked of–oh, don’t say it, don’t you dare say it–that’s right: Transcendence. I said it. Anyway, I’ll get into the Problem of Evil some other time, and if you want to see the original post, go here. But for now, I’d like to talk about how to talk about God.
So when I published the post, I knew it could come off the wrong way to people–like I was being pushy about religion, or whatever. And believe me, I get it: Religion is a pretty sore topic to bring up in front of people you don’t know–sometimes even in front of people you do know–especially online. God, it seems, has been largely dis-invited from public discourse, whereby any mention of Him is becoming increasingly–what’s the best way to put this?–impolite? I think that’s fair to say. Now, you can mention things like The Universe or whatever obscure, politically correct entity you want, whenever you feel the need to open your spiritual exhaust pipes and let out some of that pent-up soul-steam, but any specific mention of God–that is, the one to whom we owe our very existence; He who exnihilates this entire cosmological soap opera–well, now you’ve gone too far! How dare you bring Him up!
So I put up the post and a lot of people found it to be special and important, and there didn’t seem to be too much, or really any, problem with what I had said, at least not publicly. But I hold no great optimism that everybody liked what I had to say, and that none were behind the screen furrowing their brow and thinking I had a lot of nerve to bring up the topic of religion like that. Especially since I was particular about what I believe. I am also certain I could have gotten plenty more likes and shares and heart-shaped emoticons if I had been more PC in my message–offered some nice but ambiguous comments about the goodness of The Great Cosmic Polenta Loaf or what have you. But pandering, despite its gratuities upon the ego, is not productive. So, I try not to.
Here’s the part that really got me, however: Within minutes of posting, my inbox began filling with messages from people wanting to hear more about my conversion process and if I wouldn’t mind talking them through some things. I told them so long as this wasn’t some underhanded way of trying to mulct me out of free business or fitness advice, that I would be happy to. So I spent the past few days having meaningful and moving conversations with people about religion, spirituality, and faith. Many of these people were agnostics/atheists who wanted to press me on some particular hold ups they had around the existence of God; others were people who’d fallen away from Christianity and needed help reconciling some particular aspect of it; and then, of course, there were all my Protestant friends who simply wanted to know why somebody would choose Catholicism, of all things. The conversations I had were many and deep, and I have to say I learned a lot from having them–what drives people to faith, what drives people away from faith, and how one little post about God can change a person’s entire perspective on things. As nervous as I was to write about this, I’m now so glad that I did. The effects were–well, they were significant, to say at least something about it, especially all the parts that people didn’t see.
What I ultimately realized (however) is that people are hungry for this. People–despite their often glamours appearances online–don’t seem especially satisfied, even with all the comforts afforded by modern society. And they aren’t satisfied with this whole notion of spirituality without religion, either–or atheism, even. (I talked to a lot of atheists, and it was great. I think I even converted one.) And guess what? As a former atheist, I wasn’t satisfied, either. And I had literally everything that *should* have made a man happy: A thriving business, a wife and family, a little, yellow sports car, and this thing. But still, there was always that upward yearning, even if I didn’t know what it was or what it meant. Because Augustine was right: Nothing of this material world can substitute for what satisfies an immaterial soul, the desire for God, a friendship with our Creator and Sustainer.
So mostly I saw from others much of my own experience reflected at me, similar, in some ways, of how I found my way to fitness, all those years ago, and began sharing that story, only to discover how many people were struggling with pretty much the same things that I was.
And so I think we can learn to talk about God–without making too strict of an analogy–in the same way we talk about fitness or anything that’s helped us in life. Because if you talk about fitness like a jerk, like somebody who thinks they’ve got it all figured out, you’ll maybe rouse the emotions of those who agree with you, but more even likely you’ll invite the vindictiveness of everyone who does not, and convert precisely no one to the cause you’re so intolerantly promoting. Everybody will get angry, but nobody’s mind will be changed. Because if I proclaim the efficiency of kettlebells by hurling insults at powerlifting (or whatever other fitness approach), I’ll get support from my kettlebell friends, but everyone who does powerlifting will probably hate me–and it doesn’t matter if I’m making a good point or not–it’s the presentation that counts. It’s how you treat people.
But if I talk about how kettlebells helped me to solve a problem–a really thorny, soul-sucking problem, like, say, you know, arm fat–and if I present it in a way that doesn’t demean or insult somebody who doesn’t use kettlebells–well, then I might get their attention. Not always, and not of every one. But leading with a positive–a sort of, well, here’s what worked for me, and who knows, maybe it could work for you–instead of an insult, I think, is the way to go. Lead with beauty. Lead with what is good.
So, when I talk about God, I talk about problems we all know and have–problems that afflicted my existence as an atheist, and drove me to despair; 900x worse, I assure you, than mere, visible cellulite–and that God, and only God–was able to pull me out. Because people resonate with problems; believe me, we all have them, even, and especially, believers. But if you can show a way that you’ve been able to handle some of these problems, even if you haven’t gotten them all to go away, people will listen, and they might even do it attentively and authentically. They might want to hear what you have to say, rather than putting their defense up because you lead with your religion, rather then lead to your religion.
– Pat
Buycialis says
Hi, Steve; The following caught my eye: “Everybody plays because everybody dies; that’s why it is important to discuss spiritual issues. How can you assume an atheist considers the afterlife if he/she is an unbeliever? “An atheist would say to Sophie, “I am sorry for your loss but it’s just tough luck; better luck next time.” For the atheist there is no hope, no possibility of good news. In the end all life ends in nothingness and the atheist can offer no true comfort. There you go again! So an atheist cannot have compassion? Why does offering true comfort have to include an afterlife? Sophie could have been an atheist.
Pat Flynn says
Hi Buca,
I’m not sure who you’re responding to with this, since it doesn’t seem to be from my post. Perhaps to somebody who shared it on social media somewhere?
At any rate, I would never want to imply that an atheist can’t be a moral person. Some of my closest friends are atheists and I consider them all to be extremely good people.
So the objection to morality on atheism isn’t that atheists can’t be moral or have a sense of purpose in life, but only that if atheism is true, then there is no objective basis for their moral behavior. Here is where it’s important to distinguish between moral epistemology and moral ontology. One (epistemology) is the study of how we come to know of morality—from our parents, genetics, etc—of which God is not required, typically; the other (ontology) is the study of morality as such, or the nature of morality. In other words, is morality a thing that exists independent of the human mind, or just something we have invented as a tool to survive? Even more simply put, is there truly such a thing as right and wrong? And for that—at least if we want to answer yes—we do need God.
Because on atheism there is no basis for assuming morality is anything more than a spinoff of the evolutionary process; that if we rewound the process and ran it again, nature could have given us a very different set of moral beliefs, or perhaps none at all. This leads us to conclude that (on atheism, anyway) there is no such thing as right or wrong; not even the acts of Hitler could we condemn as being evil, since the very word evil implies an objective morality; a true reality of right and wrong, not just an imagining of such things. So on atheism, the holocaust wasn’t *technically* evil, so much as it was just strongly distasteful according to many of our tastes.
Now, of course, most people, and I think even most atheists, would object to this description of the holocaust. Because most of us do believe there’s such a thing as right and wrong, and most of us do believe that if the holocaust was anything, it was evil. But without God there is no way to establish morality as something existing outside the minds of human beings, to take it from being subjective—that is, a helpful mutation for the survival and propagation of species—to objective—that is, actually existing as a reflection of the character of God.
So the theist position acknowledges that while we may have come to know of morality through various means, evolution included, those means line up with something that is ontologically basic and concrete, existing independent of human thought—it’s something we discover, rather than invent. And this gives us incentive to be moral for reasons other than utility or pleasure (heaven, sure, but also our love of God), but asserting this doesn’t deny that those who are not theists can’t act morally—they just don’t have an objective ground for their acting that way.
Michael Rickard says
There are a number of ways to discuss God and your faith in Jesus Christ. I’ve seen “how to” videos that seem more like sales pitches than honest conversations about Jesus (I won’t mention names). My experience is that some of the best ways to discuss it are when people are facing questions or concerns about life’s many problems. You can say, “I was in a similar position and found it comforting to know God was in control” or whatever direction the Holy Spirit leads you in. Another way is just to talk to people about your testimony. In my case, I was an attorney who was self-centered and using drugs recreationally to the point where they took over my life. Sadly, when financial problems arose, I turned to robbing banks and did time in prison. Now, I’m doing so much better thanks to living my life according to Jesus Christ’s example (Disclaimer: I have a long way to go in doing so like I should so don’t think I’m putting myself on a pedestal). The Christian life is about much more than security concerning the afterlife. Share your story and people may realize there’s something special for them.
Morgan Christopher says
You raised some good points, Pat. “Because if you talk about fitness like a jerk, like somebody who thinks they’ve got it all figured out, you’ll maybe rouse the emotions of those who agree with you,” It is about presentation. I don’t like someone trying to shove their beliefs down my throat whether they’re talking about Christianity, fitness, or why I should read a book or watch a TV show. Religion is such a sensitive subject, yet people engage people in conversations with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. There’s a reason it’s been said you don’t discuss religion or politics at dinner. People need to take a careful approach when sharing their faith. People can benefit from the Gospel, but they won’t if someone turns them off with a bulldozer approach. It least that’s my take on things.
Cheska J says
I think it’s also a matter of how open minded the crowd that heard that listens to you when you say those things are. A lot of things can be discussed in a healthy kind of way if only people aren’t that quick to make their own comments, everyone are always free to have their own reservations, but it’s always a good point when we at least to what others have to say. I’m soooo glad you were able to share your nuggets of wisdom and your humble learnings from your experiences, Pat! You’ve had quite the journey. I’m sure you have made an impact on a lot of people. 🙂