"Go and tell," but how?

A few days ago, Jeff Brumley of Associated Baptist Press wrote an article entitled, "The new face of interfaith dialogue."

Brumley writes that such dialogue is now being carried out "not just in formal conversations . . . but in local communities where friendships forge as ministers of various faiths work together for common goals amid increasing religious diversity in the Bible belt."

This subject carries special meaning for me, because my dad, A. Jase Jones, helped to lead many interfaith dialogue efforts, especially Jewish-Baptist dialogues, in the 1960s & 1970s through his work with the SBC Home Mission Board's Interfaith Witness Department.

Last month, I wrote a Texas Baptists Committed blog post about the trip to Israel that a group of us from Wilshire Baptist Church in Dallas took with a Jewish group from Temple Emanu-El. I titled it, "Traveling through Israel for 10 unforgettable days," and explained that what was especially memorable was the dialogue that went on between Jews and Baptists during that trip. There was a lot of conversation, some public, but also quite a few private one-on-one conversations. All of the conversations, at least those that I experienced, were constructive. We found common ground, but we also frankly discussed our differences. As in the cases that Brumley references, what started out as dialogue ultimately evolved into friendships forged during the trip. 

For those of us from Wilshire, there was an obvious, though tacit, understanding that our purpose in going with the group from Temple Emanu-El was not evangelism. It was to share the experience with, and learn from, each other. It was about mutual respect and sharing, not persuasion or argument. Yet for Christians, our lives are to be a witness, and Jesus told us to "go . . . and tell" (Matthew 28:19-20). So the impulse to witness to our Christian faith is never far from the surface. But what form should our witness take?

As I wrote in my blog post, I had one-on-one conversations with several members of Temple Emanu-El in which we shared our faith journeys with each other. For my part, there was no "this is what Christ has done for me, etc.," but rather "this is the route (including the missteps, stumbles, and falls) I've taken in my walk with God . . . this is how I've wound up where I am today in my Christian journey."

During one evening's group discussion, there seemed a consensus that Christian "missionaryism" is seen as a threat to the Jewish community and their identity, and I understand that - or at least I think I understand it, as well as I can from the perspective of one who is not Jewish. After all, these are a people who have been wanderers (as the title of Chaim Potok's enlightening book puts it) throughout their history. They have been rendered homeless repeatedly, and the perpetrators of the Holocaust sought to exterminate them. Who among us wouldn't forever feel threatened if our people had such a history?

We didn't ask our Jewish friends when or how it would be appropriate for us to share our faith with them, though I'm hopeful that we'll have the opportunity to ask them at a future get-together. But here are a few of my own thoughts (nothing set in stone, just some thoughts) about sharing our Christian faith in general:

• It should be done within the context of relationship. "Cold-calling" may work in sales, but our faith is not a product to be "sold." It is a relationship (with Christ) to be shared in relationship.
• It should be done with the permission, either explicit or implicit, of the other person. In other words, there should first be some understanding that the other person is open to hearing what we have to say.
• It should be mutual. If we are going to share our faith with others, we should be open to listening to their faith journey as well. There should be a mutual respect, with ears and minds open on both sides of the conversation.
• It should be done in an attitude of sharing, not one of persuasion or coercion.

These thoughts are not new ones for me. Through many conversations over the years with my dad, who passed away 5 years ago, I learned these attitudes, and I saw him demonstrate them throughout his life and ministry.

In his book, Neighbors Yet Strangers: The Jews and Christian Witness (Broadman Press, 1968), Daddy put it this way:

Love should be nonutilitarian. That is, it is not a love assumed for its usefulness in reaching Jewish people. If it is, it is not love at all. To be genuine, it must be a love of people because of their value as persons made in the likeness of God. If it is love assumed for its usefulness in reaching Jews, it is not the kind of love which Jesus has for [people]. His love is not conditioned on man's acceptance of him, for he keeps on loving forever even the ones who forever spurn him. Therefore, although the Christian always hopes for the salvation of his Jewish friend, he loves him whether or not there is any expectation that he will become a Christian. . . .

Possibly one reason that Christians have had so little success in reaching Jewish people for Christ is that they have shared with them so little of their lives. They have been content to let Jews and Christians travel through life on parallel but rarely-touching roads. On occasion, they have called across the 'median strip' an invitation to their Jewish friends to leave their road and travel the Christian's. Is it surprising that such an invitation has a hollow sound to Jewish ears? Harry Golden asks, 'If they don't want me for one hour at the Luncheon Club, why should they seek my companionship in heaven through all eternity?' . . .

Some Christians fear that they will offend by mentioning the name of Christ. If the Christian shares his life with his Jewish friend, the mention of Jesus' name is not likely to offend. Eugene A. Nida, veteran missionary, said, 'I have never found a man I could not speak to about Jesus Christ, if only we were walking down the same road together.'

In other words, be friends first, and you will probably wind up sharing your journeys with each other.