'“YOU’RE A CHRISTIAN? WHY?”

So I was sitting at a bar with a guy from Austria I just met. We were both taking a break from a long hike and I asked if we could share a table, to which he responded with a gracious “yes.” If my memory is correct, we each ordered a coke and no food. 

Our conversation began the way it does with any stranger. Where are you from? What do you do for work? How’s your hike? There’s something freeing about talking with a stranger. Maybe it’s because it feels like the conversation has no real consequence on your life. You’ll probably never see them again, so there’s no reason to beat around the bush to make sure this person likes you. And maybe for that reason, our conversation moved into more vulnerable territory pretty quickly. Somehow at some point we got to talking about morals. He asked me where my morals came from, which was an interesting question. I made a vague comment about Jesus, the way he viewed the world, and how I thought that was a compelling vision.

My new friend could see the truth hiding under my words, and asked me, “So are you a Christian?” 

I told him yes.

Then my new Austrian friend asked me a question that no one in my previous 26 years of life (as far as I can remember) had ever outright asked me. 

“Why?”

Honestly, I was a bit caught off-guard. Growing up in the South, you really don’t get asked that. Ever. Being a Christian is not a foreign concept here. Here, there is a stunningly low curiosity around what would make someone a Christian. We have plenty of curiosity around what makes someone vegan, or an ultra-marathoner, or polyamorous, because these are generally novel things to us Southerners. But this Austrian guy had the same type of curiosity about that part of my identity as I would have if he told me he was a traveling magician. To him, this was novel.

I thought about it for a moment, and— after warning him this may sound dramatic— said, “Because Jesus is the lover of my soul and his teaching leads to life.”

My answer surprised me, and it surprised him too. We talked about that answer for a while then got up to finish our hike. We left a cash tip and two empty cokes.

I’ve thought about our conversation a lot since then. Since no one ever asked me so bluntly before, I had never given an account for what exactly keeps me here as a Christian. There are a lot of reasons not being a Christian would make sense, and even would prove pretty helpful in some areas of life, depending on your goals. And honestly, there are some bad reasons to be a Christian, too– power, perceived certainty, eternal fire-insurance, to name a few. All of which were things I held onto previously at some point in my life as motives for my faith. 

But over my lifetime, the truest reason I’m a Christian is just that: because Jesus is the lover of my soul and his teaching leads to life. Being a Christian has been frustrating, confusing, exhilarating, boring, refreshing, heartbreaking, and whatever other words describe something all-consuming. And yet so far, the love of Jesus is still where I would rather be found than anywhere else. 

I’m a Christian for the same reason my best friends are my best friends, but just deeper. The same reason a cool river in the Blue Ridge is my favorite place to spend any moment in summer, just deeper still. The same reason Continuum is embarrassingly still my favorite album and my favorite books are my favorite books, just way deeper. There’s something about Jesus. I just know I was made for him. 

It can feel too good to be true hearing there is a love that never everleaves or forsakes. And still there’s something about Jesus that makes me feel deeply understood and truly loved in a world that is shy on both deep understanding and true love. The heart of Jesus is truly the safest place I’ve ever known. 

Not only that, but I have repeatedly found Jesus’ teaching to be the truest path to a rich life. They can be confusing and yet arresting, and I’ve found living well comes from wrestling with the truths Jesus claims. 

There’s a story from the gospel accounts where Jesus gives one of these cryptic and weird sounding teachings to a large crowd. It’s so off-putting they all leave disgusted, except for twelve. And Jesus looks at these twelve people, and basically says “Are y’all leaving, too?” Peter, one of Jesus’ apprentices, replies, “Jesus, where else would we go? You have the words of life.” I love this answer because he doesn’t claim to understand the mystery, he just knows it’s worth staying for. 

That’s what being a Christian feels like for me. There are plenty of times in this faith when my friends and I feel incredibly frustrated, confused, in the dark. Yet in those moments, we also realize there’s nowhere else we really want to go. Jesus has the words of life.

I say all of this for a couple of reasons. First, this entire essay came out of someone’s willingness to ask me a question I had never clearly asked myself. I want to encourage all of us to be curious about the things about others that we take for granted. There are treasures of conversations and friendships hiding under the stones of assumption that only need a curious hand to turn them over. We can all be as brave as my new friend and ask a question, like:

“What made you want to become a teacher?”

“Why did you want to have kids?”

“What’s kept you living in this city?”

Second, I know some of the people reading this are Christians. And if you’re like me, you never really asked yourself why you were still here with Jesus. For me, it took a stranger from Austria. I’d encourage you to give it some thought. Your answer may surprise you. It may be really simple. It may still be forming. Whatever it is, I promise you it’s worth your curiosity.