Every Wednesday afternoon (when I’m in town), I take off work just a little early and traipse down to the local community center to read with Isha. Now, I must confess that kids frighten me a bit—perhaps I’m just too type A and germophobic to charm them. My four-month-old niece looks like she’s about to cry every time I approach her.

Nonetheless, somehow I ended up tutoring a little elementary-age refugee girl once a week (when I told Kentucky Refugee Ministries that I had experience as an ESL tutor, I neglected to mention that it was with college students). Isha doesn’t like reading much, but she does like “the surprise” she gets whenever she reads five books. I’m afraid that bribery, pure and simple, is the only reason she even bothers with me.

Now, I don’t know that Isha’s family is Muslim, but I’m guessing that they don’t keep two giant posters of the Ka’aba in Mecca on their apartment wall just because they think it is a pretty rock. Generally, though, this little bridge of interfaith relations hasn’t been an issue for us. Curious George doesn’t really discuss the similarities and differences of the three Abrahamic religious traditions.

That is, until yesterday when Isha decided she was going to read a small book entitled God Made from the First Prayers series. We had already wasted five minutes of reading time haggling over whether to read a ridiculously easy book or just an easy book, and I just wanted to get started. So although I had earlier dismissed a children’s book by Max Lucado, when she busted out God Made I wearily agreed.

I didn’t really feel the full force of the moral conundrum I was in, though, until we got to the last page and Isha, who had mechanically read the word “God” about five times by now, wanted to know who this “God” was. I felt like I was in a cartoon—on one shoulder was a character like that big-haired blonde on TBN, wailing, “Testify to Jesus!,” while on the other rested some hippie-ish progressive from Berkeley humming, “Cultural sensitivity….” Neither voice was very helpful as I stumbled through a rather vague and confusing answer. Finally Isha herself (who Bridgett says was just messing with me anyway) helped me out by solemnly pointing toward the ceiling. I feverishly nodded agreement.

The whole concept of evangelism, particularly in an increasingly multicultural and pluralistic world, is a sticky one. The word either really turns you off, or really floats your boat in this politically charged climate. People don’t actually think much about evangelism when they think of NNPCW, but it is one of our mission commitments. We say, “NNPCW reaches out to engage young women in a respectful community, sharing faith stories and biblical perspectives that lead to claiming and living out the gospel of Jesus Christ in a transforming way.” And I believe we do that—many of our alumnae say they would never have stayed in the church if it weren’t for their experience with us.

You can say what you want about how to engage in respectful community with an elementary school student, or whether it is appropriate for one’s reading tutor to attempt to proselytize you (I, for one, wasn’t really comfortable with that idea). But what does evangelism really mean when we couple it with respect for others? How are we supposed to “share the Good News” when the whole idea of evangelism carries so much baggage?

Hmm… only one thought I’ll throw out there (although I welcome yours)—“God” and “church” aren’t dirty words. At one point in my life I was afraid to ever bring up such topics, for fear that someone might feel that I was trying to convert her or him. Working for the church has cured that, since I have to make a faith statement every time I say what I do. And really, I’ve found that most people, once they realize I don't have ulterior conversion motives, don’t feel threatened by my Christianity or my Presbyterianism. In fact, saying, “Yeah, I work for the Presbyterian Church,” in a non-judgmental way might actually open them up to share their own faith journey.

Because in an authentic community, I am genuine toward you, warts and all, and you’re genuine toward me. We respect one another in that we don’t have all the answers, our knowledge of God is finite anyway, and we might just be able to grow from exchanging our faith stories and struggles. It may not be evangelism as Bible-thumping, but it might still help us both know God.

“A certain woman named Lydia, a worshipper of God, was listening to us; she was from the city of Thyatira and a dealer in purple cloth. The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul.” --Acts: 16:14

Kelsey