What we can learn from unbelievers

With gratitude for the nonbelievers, doubters, and questioners among us

At lunch with a friend once, she questioned me about prayer: Why do I do it? Does it really change things? I explained that when I pray, I come into closer alignment with God. Even if circumstances outwardly don’t change, I find peace. I tune in to people’s needs and feel deeper compassion, which helps me love them more.

Surprisingly (to me), she found this concept offensive. “Why do you need God for that? Shouldn’t you already feel compassion and love? I feel those things and I don’t even believe in God.”

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Once I was asked to be on a panel at a writing conference. As we went down the row introducing ourselves, each of us explained what kind of writing we did. I said I wrote nonfiction about faith. Another woman on the panel leaned toward her microphone and responded, “Some would argue that you write fiction.”

I wasn’t offended in the slightest. It made me laugh. But it’s also made me ponder what exactly people who do not practice the Christian faith think about those of us who do. It makes me wonder how a nonbeliever could look at me and not think I’m insane. How do they still have respect for me, if they think I’m making this up? Am I deluded when I talk about hearing from God? Am I mentally unstable?

And yet, I’ve rarely felt judgment from someone who doesn’t believe when they find out I do. Some people express their own religious trauma or background, or sit quietly until they decide what kind of Christian I am—accepting or judgmental? Sincere, or waiting for the opportunity to bash them over the head with my beliefs?

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I’ve thought a lot about these moments, knowing that some of the people in my life who most closely model the compassion, kindness, and generosity of Jesus do not identify as Christians. In our church culture, there’s a tendency to act like we’re in a special club—as though as believers, we are privileged (which goes along with the mostly unspoken, not-really-secret belief that we who have accepted Christ’s invitation are somehow better than those who have not).

Reminds me of the Pharisees: I must be better than they are because I [fill in the blank].

There are lots and lots of good, kind, well-meaning Christians, and many of them think that God calls us to save the lost. After all, if you’ve experienced the grace and love of God, if you’ve witnessed God’s mercy and compassion, if you’ve been changed and even transformed by God’s goodness, then of course you will want the same thing for anyone you love.

Or, in a slightly nuanced variation of that thinking, I at least will hope that you will find your own version of the contentment and acceptance I’ve found with God.

But people are not stupid. They see an abundance of hatred, lies, greed, selfishness, judgment, corruption, and disrespect—and think that must be what Christianity is. Nobody looks at that and thinks, “Oh, hey, I want to be like that.”

I, for one, do not think it is my job to convince other people to believe the way I do. Perhaps I have a responsibility to authentically live the faith I profess, and through that, show people the unconditional love of God. But I am not naïve enough to think that only Christians are good people. And I don’t think people who don’t believe in God, or who follow a different God, are lost.

A good friend of mine is an atheist—and she is one of the most empathetic people I know. She’s loving and thoughtful. Her great compassion does not come from her faith; it is simply who she is. She, and other nonbelievers I know, have shown me such grace.

I believe God’s love is large enough to encompass us all.

I believe God is in control, and God can decide who is loved.

And I believe that we, as believers, have a lot to learn from those who do not. Here are just a few of my observations about what we can learn from

non-Christians.