Tuesday, September 11, 2007

2 - Onya

When I was fourteen years old, I knew where I was going. They say you can never truly know, but I knew. At least, I was confident enough to tell everyone around me that I knew, and with a clean conscience - My relationship with Jesus, through the power of the Holy Spirit, was stronger than ever, and my faith was moving me into action. I was on this world to save souls, and that was all there was to it.

Through an online Christian message board, I met my first atheist: Onya.

“And yes, that’s my real name,” she said in an email. “It’s Russian.”

Onya had posted a blanket statement on the message board, about Christians ignoring facts in order to hold on to faith. In all, we probably only shared about 4 emails between the two of us, but I'll never forget our interaction. I, an outspoken evangelical, was not trying to convert her, but to give her a fuller image of Christianity. Obviously Onya had become jaded by "Christians" who might have treated her with bitterness. I wanted to prove to her what the love of Jesus really looked like.

I started by simply listening to her. Listening was the only thing that had gotten me anywhere in life, and, when I listened to Onya, I realized that she had a lot to say. Christianity, to her, was filled with stubbornly ignorant people, and this made her angry. She believed that Christians allowed themselves to be persuaded (practically hypnotized) by something they knew, inside themselves, to be a lie.

I assured her that this was not the case, at least not for me.

When she said that faith should never contradict facts, I agreed. I told her that faith was the evidence of things not seen, not evidence against things seen, and my faith in Jesus was reasonable and supported by evidence. I didn't say it to contradict her, but only to inform her. Obviously, I thought, her view of Christianity had been skewed, and it was my responsibility to show to her that Christians, true Christians, are reasonable people.

I wanted to find out where she had gone wrong, and lovingly correct her. So rather than telling her "you are absurd," I just asked her to tell me more.

“Will,” she said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t go on with this discussion much longer.”

I stepped back, so as not to pressure her. I knew that the situation was in God's hands, and that God would work within His perfect plan.

“But I want you to promise me something, ok?” she spoke to me like I was a child, and I tried not to resent it.

“I want you to promise me that if your faith in God ever conflicts with facts, that you won’t be too scared to question it... Never ignore what you know to be true, even if it contradicts your beliefs.”

Confident that the facts were on my side, I promised.

We broke contact on good terms, and have not resumed it since. At the time, I felt glad for having planted a seed of truth (real truth) into the darkness of Onya's life.

I was fourteen years old.

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These are drafts of some personal stories that I'm writing and revising.
I would love to hear any feedback.