Last June, my wife Lynn and I went on a final backpacking trip in the Sierras before moving east. We went up to Silver Pass from Edison Lake. Much of the time we were hiking on the Pacific Crest Trail. We were out for five days, the PCT’ers we encountered on the trail had already hiked weeks. Most of them zoomed past us with little more than a wave or quick greeting—understandably focused on covering as many miles as possible. Yet, even a year later, I have distinct memories of the rich conversations we had with the half dozen or so who did stop and talk—including our conversation with “Legend” and “Bee.” (Most PCT’ers use a trail name.)
About an hour after we left our campsite at Silver Pass Lake, we met them as we crossed Silver Pass Creek. They told us they had met on the PCT two years earlier and gotten married. Legend has done the trail a number of times. It was the second time for Bee. Conversation flowed as easily as the stream beside us. Legend, with jolly blue eyes, philosophized about life and the trail. He exhorted us to live in a way that our kids and grandkids would call us legends. Knowing of our upcoming move he said, “don’t worry about stuff, give it away.”
We asked him if he knew “Paint”—a man who also had done the PCT several times. We told Legend how Paint, who works at the lodge/campground at Edison Lake, lent us his tent when the zipper broke on ours. Legend’s eyes got even brighter. Yes, he knew Paint. He told us how hiking the trail had brought significant healing for Paint in a dark period. Then, referring to his lending the tent, Legend told us other stories of Paint’s helping others and how his unselfishness has grown. Then, becoming more reflective he said, “I’m convinced the way to live is to give unconditionally, not expecting something in return. If I offer another hiker a plate of spaghetti and expect them to do the dishes that is conditional.”
When he said “conditional” and “unconditional” I immediately thought of God. Since he had so freely exhorted and philosophized, I decided to jump in and do some theologizing. I said his comments led me to think of God and that many people view God’s love as conditional. I then told some examples of how I had noticed that in Honduras and how I responded. I wanted to help people know and experience God’s unconditional love. I led Bible studies to encourage people to let Jesus shape the way they thought about God. I said to Legend and Bee, and by now another PCT’er who had stopped as well, “Although not academically oriented I decided to get a Ph. D. in theology so I could help release people from the toxic theology of a God of conditional love. I just retired after 25 years of teaching at a seminary in Fresno.”
Lynn, figuring I would not say it myself and that it would pique their interest said, “And he has written 13 books.” Bee immediately said, “What’s your last name. I want to look up your books. Which one do you recommend?” Probably because of what I had just talked about, I recommended Recovering the Scandal of the Cross, explaining how it offers alternatives to understanding the cross as God punishing Jesus so God could offer forgiveness. But then I thought, “why not recommend another book too.” So I said, a newer one is Centered-Set Church. I repeated it slowly hoping she’d actually remember it until she had an internet connection. She asked quizzically, “what is a centered-set”?
I picked up a stick, and in the middle of the dirt of the Pacific Crest Trail I drew a circle with O’s inside and X’s outside and gave a three-minute version of bounded, centered and fuzzy. When I got to the part about fuzzy, and people reacting to judgmentalism and wanting to get rid of the line, I just took the toe of my boot and wiped out the line in the dirt. That worked great, better than when I have done it on a napkin or piece of paper. After mentioning some weaknesses of fuzzy, I told them that what we see in Jesus is something different and I drew and explained a centered approach. My drawing of the directional arrows in the dirt was not as clear as the napkin version—but clear enough to grab their attention. Bee responded, “I want to get that book!” Legend said, “that’s what we will talk about today—about the center and the line.” Lynn said, “it’s all about what direction people are headed.”
I was bold that day; I took initiative. In that sense the conversation at Silver Pass Creek was like evangelism I did at the mall in my youth. But it differed in significant ways. First, rather than walking up to a random stranger and beginning a conversation—by asking if they had heard of the four spiritual laws—my initiative with Legend and Bee took place in a conversation already happening. Second, the evangelism at the mall was saturated with obligation. In a general sense, as a Christian I felt I ought to be doing it, and in the specific sense the youth group leaders saddled me with the obligation by taking us to the mall to do evangelism. In contrast, standing beside the stream, the initiative sprung from within. It flowed from a well of desire for people to experience the God revealed by Jesus and be liberated from toxic theology and bounded and fuzzy churches. I felt much different walking down the trail after the conversation that day than I did leaving the mall decades ago.
The day before, Lynn and I ate lunch beside a jewel of a lake just a few hundred feet below the pass. After lunch I walked over to a tree, picked up a pine cone and threw it in the lake.
When I saw the ripples start to spread out, and eventually make it all he way across the lake, I thought of the picture above my desk of ripples on a lake. Every morning I pray that the ripples of the centered approach will spread. I stood, looking at the lake, and prayed. In a small way the conversation the next day was answer to that prayer. I pray now that this story may contribute to more ripples spreading. May it increase your imagination for the evangelistic potential of the centered-set paradigm. May it increase your confidence that conversation about it will be comfortable and many people will respond positively. May it spur you to look for ways to bring it up in conversations—with people you know and ones you happen to cross paths with. Let us pray for opportunities. Let us pray the ripples will spread.