Catholic Answers
I have a plane trip coming up, and with it, my standard pre-flight anxiety.
It’s not fear of flying (I don’t love hurtling through low orbit, separated from death by a few inches of aluminum and plexiglass, but I tolerate it)—it’s fear that God may put someone in the next seat for me to evangelize.
Some people—extroverts, probably—relish the opportunity to witness, but not me. I’m just no good at it. Give me a theological point to argue, an enemy of the Faith to fight, and I’m your man. But I can’t seem to work up the gumption to lean over to a stranger and say, “Hello there. Can I tell you about Jesus?”
Nor am I particularly good at explaining the very basics of what I believe and why. I remember once in high school getting into a lunchroom argument with the school atheist. He wore Slayer t-shirts and mosh-pit bruises, and would later be elected senior class president—an embarrassment that the student council soon rectified by impeaching him on technical grounds. (They couldn’t do anything, though, when the same voting bloc picked Wish You Were Here as our prom song.)
“How do you know God exists?” he asked with an edge to his voice.
From my mouth squeaked out the feeblest of replies: “Because he does.” Honestly, that was the best I could do.
I won’t be too hard on my ignorant teenage self, though. Fact is, many of us are more effective apologists and evangelists when we have something to work with. Cold-calling souls or giving a basic witness can be a much harder task than, say, responding to a direct attack on the Eucharist. As Chesterton put it, “There is about all complete conviction a kind of huge hopelessness. The belief is so big that it takes a long time to get it into action.”
So I’ve been thinking about what I’d say if, while several miles above the earth, someone were to see me crossing myself before eating a bag of peanuts and ask, in all sincerity, Why do you believe it? Ground-up, blank-slate answer: Go.
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