When Gen Con was still in Milwaukee, the local Christian evangelists took to the streets to save souls through signs and pointed questions and pestering. I never scorned them -- they're brothers in Christ, even if they're from a branch of the family I don't talk to much. But as a gamer, I could see their tactics were poor.
I felt bad just ignoring them, so I would acknowledge them when I passed, which was usually the opening they wanted.
Except I don't need re-saving. I was exactly the person they didn't want to talk to. Yet somehow, that never seemed acceptable to them. I got into some strange conversations with evangelicals looking for something to convert rather than someone to love.
Story 1
A guy with long, stringy hair a beard, a baseball cap. Pictures and scripture painted on his truck. A sign condemning sinners stands in the street, next to the sidewalk. It was the day before the con started; all of us were still getting warmed up. A friend and I were walking back from Kinko's to the convention center.
"Do you know what you have to do to be saved?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
"What is it?"
"Don't you know?" I asked him, confused.
"I do, I want to know if you do."
"What do you say it is?" (Jesus judo ends theological arguments way faster.)
"Don't you know?"
"Yeah, but I want to know what you say."
We did that routine two more times before he revealed,
"Read the Bible every day!"
"That's not it," I said. "You have to believe in Jesus to be saved. That's what the Bible says."
He was indignant. My friend was already half a block ahead of me, so I left to catch up. I saw the dude later in the convention, but I crossed the street because I didn't want to talk to him again.
Story 2
As I walked by a man with a sign and a Christian t-shirt, I said hello.
He asked me if I knew what would happen to me if I died that night. A classic hard-sell evangelical opener, one I've never used myself, because it's such a theological crotch kick.
I actually had somewhere to be, and was with friends again, so I didn't stop to talk. We had this whole conversation while I was on the move.
"Yes," I said, walking by him. "I'll go to Heaven."
"Well let me ask you something else," he said as I walked on, looking back. "Will you go to Heaven if you commit suicide?"
This is the Catholic test. If you think Catholics aren't real, true Christians, you can sometimes lure the confused (I mean, open) ones into a conversation this way.
"Yes." I said louder, because I was farther down the block now.
That's right!" he shouted.
"I know!" I shouted back.
I felt bad just ignoring them, so I would acknowledge them when I passed, which was usually the opening they wanted.
Except I don't need re-saving. I was exactly the person they didn't want to talk to. Yet somehow, that never seemed acceptable to them. I got into some strange conversations with evangelicals looking for something to convert rather than someone to love.
Story 1
A guy with long, stringy hair a beard, a baseball cap. Pictures and scripture painted on his truck. A sign condemning sinners stands in the street, next to the sidewalk. It was the day before the con started; all of us were still getting warmed up. A friend and I were walking back from Kinko's to the convention center.
"Do you know what you have to do to be saved?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
"What is it?"
"Don't you know?" I asked him, confused.
"I do, I want to know if you do."
"What do you say it is?" (Jesus judo ends theological arguments way faster.)
"Don't you know?"
"Yeah, but I want to know what you say."
We did that routine two more times before he revealed,
"Read the Bible every day!"
"That's not it," I said. "You have to believe in Jesus to be saved. That's what the Bible says."
He was indignant. My friend was already half a block ahead of me, so I left to catch up. I saw the dude later in the convention, but I crossed the street because I didn't want to talk to him again.
Story 2
As I walked by a man with a sign and a Christian t-shirt, I said hello.
He asked me if I knew what would happen to me if I died that night. A classic hard-sell evangelical opener, one I've never used myself, because it's such a theological crotch kick.
I actually had somewhere to be, and was with friends again, so I didn't stop to talk. We had this whole conversation while I was on the move.
"Yes," I said, walking by him. "I'll go to Heaven."
"Well let me ask you something else," he said as I walked on, looking back. "Will you go to Heaven if you commit suicide?"
This is the Catholic test. If you think Catholics aren't real, true Christians, you can sometimes lure the confused (I mean, open) ones into a conversation this way.
"Yes." I said louder, because I was farther down the block now.
That's right!" he shouted.
"I know!" I shouted back.
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