A House with Many Entrances

It’s been fascinating to observe the ongoing parsing of Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s conversion to Christianity. I’ve reflected on it briefly (here and here). This conversion been the subject of conversation with friends and acquaintances. It’s led down all kinds of interesting little trails. What counts as a “legitimate” conversion? It is even right or proper to speak of such a thing? Is the language of conversion simply a way to speak about subjective preference? Can we actually make the argument that some belief systems are “better” or “truer” or “more useful” in the context of pluralism in all its forms? Is “conversion” the right word to use for being persuaded by a cultural or civilizational argument? Should there not be some kind of emotional, spiritual, or affective component to things? How does what we’re converting from affect what we end up converting to? So many questions…

Brad East wrote an interesting piece on some of these matters this week. I want to pull at only two threads from his long-ish piece. First, East has an interesting observation on the nature of, for lack of a better term, “brainy” conversions — the conversions of intellectuals and other prominent public figures. According to East, it’s rare to find these kinds of people finding a home in Protestant-land, whether it’s happy-clappy non-denom evangelicalism or the wheezing and gasping liberal mainline traditions or somewhere in between. I would be surprised to discover, for example, that Hirsi Ali has found a spiritual home in the Happy Valley Bible Fellowship or some earnestly progressive United Methodist church. More likely, Roman Catholic, Orthodox, or Anglican.

Here’s how East puts it:

Speaking only anecdotally, I have never known students of Christian theology to move “down” the ecclesial ladder. I have only known them (a) to move “up,” (b) to move “left,” or (c) to move “out.” That is, relative to where they started, they go catholic, they go liberal, or they go away, leaving the faith behind.

This rings mostly true for me, at least as a general trend. I can think of a number of examples of friends, acquaintances, or people I’m vaguely aware of online who move “up,” “left,” or “out” the  deeper they dive into Christian history, theology, and ethics. I can think of very few who move “down” (i.e., into the “low church” traditions). I would add that in my experience, the move “left” is often a precursor to “out,” but that’s purely anecdotal. At any rate, people seem to have a hunger for something deeper than what’s on offer in many Protestant-ish spaces, whether it’s a bit of pop psychology and some cool music, a sanctimonious lecture on social justice, or some combination thereof.

Again, East expresses something of what I see (and, truth be told, feel):

What intellectuals, especially agnostic intellectuals in midlife, are restlessly searching for is something not man-made, but divine; not provisional, but final; not a question, but an answer. They are looking for rest, however penultimate in this life, not more open-ended restlessness. Something that lasts. Something that can plausibly make a claim both to antiquity and to permanency. A bulwark that will not fail. Something to defer to, submit to, bow one’s head in surrender to; something to embrace and be embraced by: a teacher but also a mother.

Second, there’s the question of motivation when it comes to conversion. Hirsi Ali’s conversion has been poked and prodded and analyzed in countless ways, but why? Do any of us look back at our own conversions with the same level of scrutiny? How many of our motives were pure and unstained? I think East puts it very well:

Doubtless there are people who join Christianity as a cultural project; must they remain there forever? I see no reason why we must, as a matter of necessity, say yes, for all people, always, in every circumstance. No adult is baptized without a confession of faith; if a new convert makes an honest confession and receives the grace of Christ’s saving waters, then he or she is a new creation, God’s own child, whatever the mixed motives involved. To say this isn’t to worship the God-shaped hole in our hearts instead of God himself. It’s to acknowledge, from the side of faith, that the hole is real. Because the hole is real, different people will find themselves knocking on Christ’s door—which is to say, on the doors of the church—for every manner of reason in every manner of situation. What Christ promises is that, to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. He does not lay down conditions for what counts as a good reason for knocking. Nor should we.

Or, as Alan Jacobs puts it:

My view is that everyone has to start somewhere… One person may seek a bulwark against relativism; another may long for architectural or linguistic or musical beauty; another may crave community. Christian life is a house with many entrances. I became a Christian because I fell head-over-heels for a Christian girl who wouldn’t date me otherwise, so how could I judge anyone else’s reasons for converting? As Rebecca West said, “There’s no such thing as an unmixed motive”; and God, as I understand things, is not the judge but the transformer of motives.

Amen. And thank God.