By Jeff Scoggins

Mark and Darrell had joined me at the church to pray on Tuesday evening. “Let’s pray that someone else will join us to pray,” I suggested. We did. We prayed that someone would come pray with us, but I suppose we weren’t expecting God to answer immediately. Perhaps he would answer the next time we met—perhaps someday in the future. My expectations of God were low—as usual.

Just as we said “amen” the outside door slammed and in walked three young men. Sporting goatees, caps, loose jeans, sports shirts, and one worn Bible, the three of them strode confidently into the church basement. Two of them I had never seen, one I had met a couple of times, and he had even come to church once because he had been invited. “I will go pretty much anywhere at least once if I’m invited,” he had told me. As they strode in one pulled an old church bulletin out of his Bible. “It says ‘Please come,’” he said pointing to the announcement for prayer meeting.

“We were just praying that you would come,” we said. “Find a spot.” They sat down around our table and we prayed for another 15 minutes or so with them and for them. After that we talked.

I can’t relate the entire conversation in these few paragraphs, but the opening remarks were facinating. One young man was packed full of opinions. “I think God put everything here on earth for us to use. There is nothing bad if you do it to the glory of God.” I looked at Mark and Darrell out of the corner of my eye. They leaned forward as if to say, “Interesting idea. Tell us more.” I relaxed. It was a safe place for him to talk. And he did talk. They all talked and so did we. We asked questions. Over the course of the conversation that night all of us changed our thinking in some significant ways. All of us grew spiritually.

Finally, one of the young men blurted out, “Do you know why people like us don’t come to church?” I was all ears. “It’s because people automatically condemn us and the way we live without even knowing us. In church we can’t talk like we’re talking now.” 

He was right. I instantly imagined the uncomfortable coughs and squirms I would see in just about any Sabbath or Sunday school if these guys were to make their rash statements there, embellished as they were with colorful language. I could imagine the arguments, the offended sensibilities, the defensiveness, and the closed minds. If I were these guys, I thought, I wouldn’t come to church either. “And it’s boring,” put in another.

But they had not come to complain about church. Church was a non-issue. Church offered nothing for them as far as they were concerned. End of discussion. But they had come to talk about God. They wanted to be heard. They wanted someone to listen and respect their opinion. Once they realized that we respected their opinion they relaxed and became open to hearing our thoughts as well. These young men were thinkers, striving to honest in their thinking. All they asked was that we be honest too—honest about our own imperfections, honest about our own limited understanding of God, honest about our own fears, honest about why we live the way we do.

If there is a qualification for growing spiritually I believe it’s a willingness to think honestly. By the same token, if there is a qualification for helping someone else to grow spiritually I believe it’s a willingness to allow someone else to think honestly even when it’s diametrically opposed to our sense of right and wrong. Only then can we hope to participate with the Holy Spirit in gently guiding someone’s thinking toward the truth as it is in Jesus.

The awesome thing about such conversations is that everyone grows. No authentic spiritual conversation takes place where one person gives everything and the other merely receives. Even a mature Christian has something to learn from a thinker no matter what he looks like or what he believes, as long as he’s an honest thinker and especially when he carries a worn Bible.

Copyright 2008 by Jeff Scoggins

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