So let’s say, as we did in Next-Wave last August, that old-school evangelism is obsolete. Assume that instead of making the gospel “sales pitch,” we join the general conversation as the only way to build trust with a skeptical culture. Conversation means listening: not while preparing our rebuttal, but with an open heart and mind. 

That leads to an unsettling question. If I listen at length to a Hindu, or a Buddhist, or a Wiccan, will my own faith change? Am I putting my core beliefs at risk? 

I’m happy to report that the answer is no. And yes. 

I know this partly because of a long car ride I once took with an accomplished astrologer. The first time I met her, all my defenses went up. Astrology = evil, right?  

Not long afterward, we had to travel to an event together. During the drive, her approach to astrology came up, and I had a choice. I could leave my filter in place, spending the whole time defending myself against this evil and trying to find holes in the theory behind it, which would alienate her beyond belief. Or I could lay the filter aside for a while.  

By choosing the second course, I learned something surprising: she was no child of Satan, but rather a professional whose alternative worldview had some internal logic to it. Only by setting aside the preacher’s voice in my head could I begin to grasp the reality of the astrologer’s world—and, maybe, forge a bond between us. 

Did I start consulting astrologers? No. Do I still follow Jesus? Oh yes. Did I learn something that challenged what I thought I knew? I certainly did.  

That’s the risk and the opportunity in a nutshell. When we start listening to others’ beliefs, we realize they might not be what we thought. They might actually make sense on some level. We might have to revise our views of them. We may need to revise other views we hold dear.  

The choice here, though, isn’t between rejecting every idea that comes our way and embracing them all carte blanche—between holding our doctrine with clenched fists and tossing it to the winds. Instead, as we listen, we can ask questions of ourselves to weigh the new ideas as well as our old beliefs.  

• Does the new idea contradict scripture or supplement it? Take meditation. The Bible doesn’t say much about it; in contrast, it stands at the very core of Buddhism. And yet Christians through the centuries have found it a valuable practice for growing their relationship with God (another good test of an idea). Does something have to be explicitly approved in scripture to be useful? Is it necessarily bad because the Buddhists use it?
• Does the Bible say what I think it says? I thought the Old Testament prohibitions against astrology implied that the practice was irredeemably evil. Then I heard new evidence from my astrologer friend. Did I misunderstand the scripture? Was there another way to interpret the passages while preserving their integrity? Was there a way to read them that was more accurate than my viewpoint at the time?
• Does the idea before me say something important about God? Some of my liberal Christian friends have no use for the doctrine of the Incarnation: they see Jesus simply as a man in extraordinary touch with God who went about preaching the kingdom. But I can’t go there. As I read it, the Incarnation says something about the wild extravagance of God’s love—that God was willing to suffer through the difficulties of human life “while we were yet sinners”—that can’t be said any other way. Because I’ve tasted of that extravagant love personally, the Incarnation as fact has the ring of truth, so I’m sticking with it.
• How essential is my belief on this point to the Christian faith? To my faith? Put another way, is a form of Christianity that embraces [insert controversial issue here] still Christianity? If I have to give ground on this issue, could I do it and not toss my faith entirely? The Church Universal is often criticized for dividing over non-essentials; by asking this set of questions—and taking the time to reflect on them—we might avoid the larger tragedies of bitterness and schism. 

Questions like these can help us determine how tightly or lightly to hold our own opinions. Equipped with such tools, we can enter into “evangelism dialogues” with a genuine openness to the other, born of the confidence that our faith is solid and its essence can only grow deeper with each encounter.  

But this is only half the story, because it’s all about what we do. As always, what God does is more important; he not only opens our hearts but guardsthem as well. The closer we draw to God, the more trust we can place in that protective care. Intimacy with God also enables us to hear with God’s ears and thus better evaluate the ideas that cross our path.  

So what’s the benefit of all this? A heart truly open to others, a mind well-honed to weigh ideas, a confidence that nothing can separate us from our God, and a connection to others that shows them—by the simple act of listening—the love of Christ. Gifts like these could help us not just communicate the gospel, but be the gospel more effectively in a skeptical yet hurting world.