Slackivist also coined the term "evangelical anxiety," which I thought was interesting.
"The nagging sense, lurking just below the surface, that we are not in control after all, no matter how much we insist we are. One result of this anxiety is a reflexive need to reassert that control, to interpret the world and respond to it in a way that reinforces the illusion that such control is possible."
I've often wondered about the drive to convert people. I sincerely doubt that they are working on some sort of points system: "I bring X number of people to Jesus and I'll get a better view in Heaven." The stated reason is that it is all for others, to save them from themselves (or for themselves), but when was that made a requirement?
Recently I started to think that Evangelical Christians are working off the principle that there is safety in numbers. You always hear their spokesmen talking about how they represent "the majority of Americans." (Empty rhetoric, and so what? It still doesn't mean you always get to have your way.) They can't be entirely sure of what's going on in this world or the next, but I guess they figure X number of people can't be wrong. God can't condemn us all, right?
When I was invited to join a local Christian church, there was a sense of desperation about the recruitment. Every conversation came back to the question of whether I would go to Bible Study. I wondered, perhaps unfairly, whether it would be study or indoctrination. The English major in me couldn't stand the thought of cutting off multiple interpretations; that's so much of the joy of reading. I was eventually repulsed by the implication that I couldn't be friends with any of them unless I joined in their particular brand of Christianity.
The last conversation I had with one woman was when I mentioned that one of my closest friends was Jewish and that I am sometimes in awe of people who have so much faith. I've always had a real problem with the idea that God would condemn her to Hell just because she worshiped Him in a different manner than I did. The woman I was talking to insisted that it was a zero-sum game; there's only one way to Heaven and this is it and if we allow that someone else is right, then we must be wrong and then, why bother?
Why bother? Why bother believing in the goodness of others? Or that there is more to life than what's right in front of your face? Hope for a better future? In helping those less fortunate? There has to be something in it for you to treat others with respect? To accept that they hold beliefs because that is what they truly feel and have come to over the course of their life and not just because they haven't managed to bump into a "true" Christian?
Is faith so fragile that it has to be reinforced from the outside? That you have to be surrounded only by those who are the same as you? If my belief system isn't strong enough to be questioned, then I'm not sure I want to depend on it in a crisis.
But here I go judging these relatively nice people who just wanted to bring me to Jesus. I suppose that they'll get along without me. I just imagine they will be awfully surprised when they get to Heaven and see how crowded it is.
