Faith Can Be Found, But Not Forced
For years a friend of mine worked for a Christian community organization. It was one of those groups that sometimes assisted congregations and trained pastors, but otherwise basically produced a monthly newsletter. They were eager and well-intended. They wanted to “serve Christ,” but needed a bit more punch in the community, and less focus in their Christian ghetto. To their credit they recognized this and began contemplating a way to better help those in need around them. So, after a little work the group started a food bank; a much need place in the community where hungry people could come and get a few groceries for their families. It was superb, and I volunteered at this food bank right away.
My intention was to sort cans and boxes, meet some nice people, and lend a hand to those who were hungry. It wasn’t a Mother Teresa feat, but to give a cup of cold water (or a box of spaghetti noodles) to someone thirsty or hungry is to serve Christ himself. But when I arrived at the distribution site I was given the assignment of “counselor” along with a name badge to prove it. Why? Because I was a pastor-type, and who better to fulfill the required faith counseling for those coming to acquire food? Before anyone departed with their bounty of brown bags, they were required to see a counselor. No counseling, no food.
This counseling consisted of sitting in a room the size of a closet, on a cold, uncomfortable, metal chair, under flickering fluorescent lights, and having a gospel tract force-fed into the client’s hungry stomachs. The promised groceries sat, tauntingly, in the corner the entire time. This manipulative arrangement really bothered me – really, really bothered me. In fact, I couldn’t do it. As if a person having to ask for food wasn’t dignity-killing enough, now they had to be subjected to a spiritual Heimlich maneuver? No way.
Yes, I love to share my faith with others. It is a large part of my vocation and is practically etched into my DNA. But I refuse to force my faith onto someone, particularly if that someone’s empty stomach is being used against them in the process. Spiritual decisions just cannot be forced or coerced. In the words of Roger Williams, imposing or manipulating a decision of faith “is like compelling an unwilling spouse to enter into a forced bed.” That’s a stout condemnation for what was going on under those flickering food bank lights.
It reminds me of a day my family had on the Choctawhatchee Bay last summer. We were with friends, boating, barbecuing, and swimming. My son was cannon-balling off the boat dock with wild abandon, time and time again. His little friend, however, wouldn’t even get close to the water. We begged him to jump in. We bribed him. We threatened him. We told him how better his life would be if he would just give it a try. We sang thirty verses of “Just as I Am.” But he would not budge. Finally, the boy’s father got in the water and brought the little guy with him. That was a mistake. Who knew a three-year-old had such strength! He screamed and flailed about, finally digging his fingernails into his father’s neck until he brought blood. Battle won he was put back on the dock and happily did not approach the water for the rest of the day. So make a note for future reference: No one jumps into the water until he is ready to jump. The same goes for decisions of faith.
Jesus said, I think to those of us who like to “make” things happen: “You’re not in charge here. The Father who sent me is in charge. He draws people to me – that’s the only way. Only then do I do my work, putting people back together.” No amount of cajoling, bribery, sweet-talk, exploitation, or the promise of a full stomach can ever substitute for God’s still, quiet voice; a voice that only speaks when the time is right.
