The Great Derangement - Matt Taibbi [102]
Beet-Root Face? I was about to laugh, but Janine looked over at me and I quickly straightened back up.
“I would go red at the drop of a hat,” Comfort said. “But when you’re a Christian, you’ve been commissioned to take a gospel of everlasting life to a world that’s in a shadow of death! I mean, the issue is so important, we can’t afford to hide behind a bush! Kirk, save us! Come out from behind that bush! Remember, I can do all things in Christ, who strengthens me!”
“I can do all things in Christ, who strengthens me!” shouted Cameron.
“Come on, what are you scared of? What’s your fear?”
“Well, I’m just kind of a shy person,” Cameron repeats.
“So am I,” Comfort reiterated. “But remember, I can do all things in Christ, who strengthens me!”
On and on it went. Eventually, as one might predict, Cameron manages to cross the “scary waters of personal evangelism.” He achieves this by jumping on the “four stepping stones,” represented by the acronym
W
D
J
D
which is easily enough remembered by the phrase “What did Jesus do?” But in fact WDJD stands for:
Would you consider yourself a good person?
Do you think you have kept the Ten Commandments?
Judgment. If God were to judge you by the Ten Commandments, do you think you would be innocent or guilty?
Destiny. Do you think you would go to Heaven or Hell?
It was an easy formula to remember, a simple concept and an even simpler pitch. When the show was over, we went around the room and discussed some possible methods for beginning witnessing conversations. There was much talk about the opportunities afforded by encounters with the likes of bank tellers and store cashiers. One woman even talked about calling a plumber and cornering him once he was under the sink. “I just don’t want him to think that I…,” she began, and looked up at us; too late, we were thinking it. Anyway, the collective loneliness of the group was striking—almost no one had good ideas for how to meet people. It was even suggested that we use chance telemarketing calls as an opportunity to try to convert the telemarketers.
Later on in the meeting we broke down into pairs—boys with boys and girls with girls, of course, so there was no risk of hanky-panky—and practiced witnessing to each other. Joe for some reason chose me, the new guy, as his partner. I guess he wanted to get to know me. But after nearly an hour of Kirk Cameron on top of many months of relentless indoctrination, I was increasingly impatient with the entire scene. I was not about to allow anyone to flip me and hit me with a back round kick, at least not with this silly nonsense. So in the “training session” with Joe, I decided to take my mask off, just for a few minutes.
He got himself into character by rocking back and forth in his chair, then finally extended his hand.
“Well, hello, there,” he said. “My name’s Joe.”
“Matt,” I said.
“Matt, let me ask you something,” he said. “Would you consider yourself a good person?”
“That’s not for me to say,” I said unhelpfully.
His smile waned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that it’s not my job to decide whether I’m a good or a bad person,” I said. “It’s my job to try to be good. Whether or not I succeed is a matter for someone else to determine. After all, if I could answer that question myself, the act of asking it would be meaningless.”
He stared at me, then looked at his WDJD card. There was nothing on there about this answer. He looked back at me suspiciously.
“I’m just saying,” I said, “that this is something a secular person might say.”
“Oh,” he said, frowning. “Well, okay then. Let me ask you, Matthew, have you ever told a lie?”
“Sure,” I said.
“What would that make you?” he asked.
“A liar, I suppose.”
“And have you ever lusted after someone?”
“Sure,” I said. “I suppose you might even say that I’ve committed