Do we believe the same?

“We believe the same!” My friend energetically interjected with a smile and a tap on her desk to reinforce the point. The almost weekly refrain sometimes felt like an indictment that I had failed miserably in communicating the basics of my faith.

My friend, Joy*, an administrator at a local school, wanted to improve her English skills, so she asked me to meet with her in her office for conversational lessons. Our conversations grew longer by the week, often relegating news articles and vocabulary words I had prepared to afterthoughts.

Instead, we worked our way through all sorts of other topics, including local happenings, world events, and the latest drama at the school. Rather than an English tutor, I felt more like a trusted confidant or counselor — a safe outsider with whom she could share frustrations or wrestle with how to address the problems she faced in her position. Our conversations frequently veered into the spiritual, and surprisingly often, at her initiation.

Joy was a Buddhist. Most of the Buddhists I met in the city were nominal, more like Christmas-and-Easter Christians, visiting a monastery once or twice a year to have their astrological signs read, and to fix any “destiny” issues.

But Joy, in contrast, was one of the most devout and enthusiastic Buddhists I had met. She rose extra early every morning before the marathon slog through wall-to-wall traffic in order to meditate and chant scriptures. Her office showcased various Buddhist devotional objects. And she had the local monks at the monastery down the street on speed dial. Whenever bad things happened at the school, she called them in to perform rituals to repair the grounds from any negative spiritual forces or karma and ward off future breaches.

As a sincere Buddhist, Joy was mindful of spiritual things, and the importance of pursuing a virtuous life; she was eager to talk about the values we held in common. Buddhist doctrine explicitly teaches that all religions are essentially the same; you’ve likely heard some version of the saying, “We’re all climbing different paths up the same mountain.” For many American Christians, this produces an immediate compulsion to set the record straight and to clarify that what we believe is fundamentally different and at odds.

But in the Asian contexts where I have lived, I learned a long time ago that the goal of conversation is often different than for us more direct, truth-at-the-risk-of-conflict Americans. In more harmony-seeking contexts, the goal is first and foremost to establish commonality in the relationship; people are wary of getting into divisive debates which are sure to cause a loss of face. There are different, more appropriate means of conveying truths and ideas. So when someone uses the line, “It’s all the same,” I try to discern whether they are actually intending to make a theological statement, a social connection, or if they are feeling an uncomfortable tension because we are speaking too explicitly about our differences.

My friend Joy generally wasn’t trying to make a deep theological statement. She usually said it to signal her sense of connection and appreciation for my values, morality, and strong faith. It was relationship-affirming. I didn’t want to insensitively stomp on her gesture. Sometimes, I smiled and we moved on. At other times, I would share a story of Jesus that came to mind. And sometimes, I took the opportunity to explain in greater detail about my faith. I avoided the direct contradiction of saying, “It’s not the same.” If I learned nothing else about the art of communication in Asia, stories are great for expressing things indirectly. She often found the stories strange, but intriguing and got a little more insight into who Jesus was and what he taught in an inoffensive way.

That particular day, when Joy exclaimed, “We believe the same!”— she followed up with the Buddhist idea that we have to depend on ourselves to be good people. I felt a prompting to not let that one pass. I smiled and told her that I was glad she felt confident and strong in herself, but I did not feel so strong. In fact, I know that I am too weak by myself to do the things I know are good. Joy winced on my behalf at such an embarrassing confession. But that is why I follow Jesus. If we take refuge in him, he promises the gift of his Holy Spirit. His Spirit can cleanse and transform our hearts from the inside, and he walks with us, giving us the wisdom, understanding, and power to do what we cannot do on our own.

Joy was quiet — a rarity in our conversations. She finally responded, thanking me for sharing. She had never heard that before. I could tell it was a profound and perplexing idea, and one that she was taking in slowly. I don’t know if she will ever let go of her devotion to Buddhism, but I pray that those conversations and stories will continue to intrigue and cause her to search out more, and lead her to faith in Jesus.

*Names changed or omitted for sensitivity reasons