The well-groomed visitor offered a practiced smile.
“Good morning,’ he almost sang, in a rehearsed tone. ‘I’m here today to share with you the good news of Jesus Christ.’
‘Not interested mate.’
‘But if you just have a few minutes, I think what I share with you could change your life.’
‘Mate – I said I’m not interested. If you had a few minutes I’d tell you why what you believe in is a massive load of crap.’
‘Well…um…’ (he seemed a little taken aback). Then back on script: ‘I’d have to disagree with you on that,’ he said with an irritating smile.
‘Yes… well… you have no bloody idea mate… no idea at all.’
‘I’m sure if you just hear how the Lord changed my life, you will be impacted by my testimony.’
‘Nah. You just don’t get it and I doubt people like you ever will.’
Silence for a few seconds. The door was starting to close.
‘Hang on…’ came the visitor’s voice. He offered a different tone. Off script. Tinged with a surfacing empathy. Was it the man’s angry yet sad eyes, that birthed that feeling in him? Was it the raw honesty of his tone? Whatever it was he continued: ‘I’m sorry I was being so… simplistic. I’d like to listen, really. I’ll shut up and listen, if you want to talk’.
The door changed its direction and was soon almost open again.
‘Why would I want to talk with you anyway? I’ve met good religious people like you before. You won’t hear what I’ve got to say. You’ll be thinking of the next line to come back with when I say anything. Just look at you: all dressed up like you’re going somewhere important, telling complete strangers your so called ‘good news’ – and what the hell do you know about the people you end up talk’en to? Nothing! Bloody presumption of people like you thinking you have all the answers. It’s bullshit.’
He had promised to listen so he bit his tongue. There were lines to use from his ‘evangelism manual’ he’d been trained with – he was remembering them now – but a niggly feeling came over him that just maybe it would be better to actually stay quiet and actually listen.
‘Maybe there is some truth to that,’ he ended up conceding, hoping to encourage his new acquaintance to continue.
‘Have you ever experienced tragedy? I mean… real shitty horrible tragedy?’
An honest shake of the head confirmed the assumption behind the question.
‘Exactly. When you lose a kid in a car accident because of some shit-head drunk driver, you’ll find yourself re-evaluating everything you thought you believed – especially about religion. A God of love? Bullshit. If there’s a God of love why would he let that happen? So don’t come here peddling your crappy simple answers as if they apply to my life. It won’t work on me.”
‘Some things are very hard to understand, that’s for sure,’ the visitor offered.
‘I don’t believe in a god at all anymore… You think you can say something in a few minutes to change my life?’ A contemptuous laugh shot out. ‘You won’t change my life mate. That day… that accident… that changed my life.’
The manual replies were rushing to his head. He did not utter them but they were trying to re-take control of his mind and tongue. Regarding the man’s atheism, he was tempted to use: “You might not believe in God but God believes in you.” Or: “Atheism is really just another form of faith. You can’t possibly have been everywhere in the universe and personally checked every corner of the cosmos to eliminate the possibility of God: so welcome to a different religion, a religion of faith in your limited capacity to reason!” But no: despite their clammer in his mind, and their attempts to take control, he kept those voices at bay. Neither the smart little quip, nor the attempt at a brief rational response would be of any use right here, right now.
Instead, all the visitor could say was, “How could it not change your life?’ in a rather passive voice.
‘So… can you see why you’re wasting your time talking to me about your religion. I’ve had it up to my neck with religious people and their simplistic answers to all that goes on.’
Silence. But then a surprising concession from the visitor.
‘I have wondered the same thing at times to be honest. But I have been trained to put that thought out of my mind. “Lacking faith” I was told. I haven’t personally experienced the kind of suffering you have, but my cousin lost his 19 year old daughter to cancer last year. I did wonder similar things, as he struggled with the same questions you’ve raised.’
‘Did he ditch his religion too?’ came a slightly less angry response.
‘Not really. But it was impacted. He … he changed his understanding, rather than ditching it. He doesn’t talk anymore about God in terms of someone who will change your life for the better. Now he talks about a God of love who journeys life beside us, walking side by side. Laughing when we laugh, crying when we cry. Like a friend.’
A few moments of silence. The man looked as if he was processing what he had just heard. Then came the reply. ‘Not my thinking sorry. Maybe if someone had said stuff like that earlier, it might have been helpful. But the rubbish I got told by religious people was just … irrelevant… and even painful to listen to. Like I was being bad for not accepting God’s will kind of rubbish. Or I can at least be grateful she is in a better place. Seriously? How could those kind of comments help anyone who’s grieving? … No. I’ve had it with religion.’ And then he added a final line that sounded as if he had used it before. ‘If God’s real at all then he’s a bastard: a giant in the sky stomping on random people with his giant foot and not even noticing.’
The visitor looked soberly at the man. ‘I’m really sorry you’ve experienced such tragic loss. Really. And you’re right: there are no simple answers.’
The awkward silence signalled it was over. The visitor made one last comment. ‘I’m glad to have met you, and thanks for sharing your thoughts and experiences with me.’ He extended his hand. The other paused for a second more than normal, but then did shake it in silence, giving a faint nod as he did so.
He closed the door and the well-dressed young man turned away. As he walked up the footpath, he took off his tie.
To read more from Jim Reiher click here
To access secular support for loss and grief you can go to: https://griefline.org.au