The Faithful Athiest Evangelist

I wrote this about a month ago and somehow forgot to pull the trigger.  This is still true.  He came to every Holy Week service.
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There is a man who comes to church who is an atheist.  He's been coming since Christmas, and he's very adamant that he thinks what we believe is bogus.  But he comes every week.  And he brings people.  He's our faithful athiest evangelist.

He's a weird dude, and probably marginally homeless.  He makes people uncomfortable.  He wears sweatpants and sometimes a tie with his windbreaker jacket.  He doesn't look or act hungry (some of his friends do), but maybe he just comes for the food after service.  He doesn't participate in communion (some of his friends do).  He doesn't sing.  He sits with his eyes closed, and if it weren't for his physical response during the sermon you'd think he was sleeping.  But he isn't.  Every week after service he gets his plate of snacks and goes back to the sanctuary to sit alone and make a phone call where he relays the sermon in detail and explains why it was a total crock.

This week during service he read the scripture.  And he stood for singing.  And, after the offering plate had been passed and had returned to the front, he came up and put money in the plate.  And after service he made his phone call.  He's our reading, singing, tithing, faithful, atheist evangelist.

I don't know what this means, but I don't want to forget it.  I don't know what God is doing inside of him, or what God is doing among the rest of us, but I can see something happening.  God's ways are mysterious.

And I wonder how much he is like the rest of us.  We call ourselves Christian, but sometimes we doubt.  Is God really there?  Does God really love even me?  Are these people who profess God's real and present love just going to disappoint me again?  Do we only call ourselves Christian when the certainty outweighs the doubt?  Or do we cling to the identity through reading, singing, tithing, and showing up even when we don't have faith? 

And is it what we say, or what we do, or what we believe that makes us Christian?  Or is it God working in us, even as we spend our time telling God what a crock he is?  Loving us despite our appearance.  

And in those times where we cannot say we believe are we still Christians? Does our Christian-ness depend on our own action in the midst of doubt, or on Christ's never-letting-go-ness?


Among the lore that surrounds John Wesley is a story of his faith crisis and the response of his friend (Peter Böhler, a Moravian) that he should, "Preach faith till you have it."  This seems silly on the surface, but isn't it what we all do?  Maybe it's just me, but I can't possibly understand all the things about God.  The more I know God the less I know I know and the more questions I have.  Some of these questions lead toward faith, and some don't.  If I waited to tell people about God until I understood everything I'd never open my mouth.  And I'd miss out on learning from all the other reading, singing, tithing, faithful, atheist evangelists like me.