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What’s the point of arguing?

I guess it depends.

When two people have a disagreement but both are willing to hear and consider the other person’s perspective, an argument (or should I say, “heated discussion”) can be constructive. But when one or both of the parties involved are unwilling to hear the other person out and are instead heck-bent on making their own points heard, well, it just seems like a colossal waste of time and energy to engage in it.

This is less of a dialogue and more like competing monologues.

I wouldn’t change my mind on anything because someone argued that I should. However, I can be convinced to change my mind by people whom I trust.

During my first year in Japan, I visited the kasetsu (temporary home for tsunami survivors) of a man we’ll call “Hayashi.” Two teammates and I knocked on his door on a chilly autumn morning. Hayashi, a kindly, older man with old-school glasses that looked way too large for his face, opened the door and greeted us in the genkan (entryway). We had come to his home to deliver a printed photo that our team had taken in the springtime, before my family arrived in Japan. To my teammates, this was a follow-up visit, but for me, this was my first time meeting him.

Hayashi was a retired fishing boat crewman who had survived two major tsunamis: he was on a ship off the coast of Sumatera when a tsunami rolled beneath him and crashed onto the shores in 2004, and he was living in Ofunato when the tsunami inundated the town in 2011. He was friendly and talkative, his big voice piercing the misty mountain air.

My teammate/translator introduced me to Hayashi-san as a missionary from America. Hayashi replied that he was familiar with Christians as he had often visited churches, along with mosques and temples, when he was on shore leave in different countries. He also told us that he had been reading a book about Jesus, given to him by someone who had knocked on his door several weeks prior.

My teammate looked concerned. She asked Hayashi-san for a peek at the book.

The old man ducked inside his cramped kasetsu and reappeared a minute later, holding a thick Japanese book.

My teammate muttered to me in English under her polite smile. “Watchtower. Jehovah’s Witnesses have been here.” She launched into a lengthy explanation, telling Hayashi-san in Japanese that the Jehovah’s Witnesses are not really the same religion as Christianity, even though they may appear to be. She explained that they have their own version of the Scriptures, whereas most mainline Protestant denominations all read the same Bible (or at least different translations of the same Bible).

Hayashi dropped the friendly grin for a moment. “Hey, don’t push your religion on me. I just want to be friends, hang out and chat, drink tea…”

My teammate calmed him down, translated for me, and changed the subject. She asked Hayashi-san how his family was doing.

His happy demeanor returned. Hayashi-san beamed as he boasted of his daughter’s accomplishments at school, his youngest son’s kind character, his wife’s dedication to the family as she worked to support them. (Hayashi-san was forced to retire after an injury to his hand.)

We asked him more questions about his family. It was clear that he lived for them, and he loved talking about them.

After chatting for a bit, it was time for us to leave so that Hayashi-san could start preparing dinner for his wife and kids, all of whom would be home soon. Before we left, I felt a nudge in my spirit to ask if we could pray for Hayashi-san.

My translator asked him. He said it’d be fine.

I asked if I could put my hand on his shoulder as I prayed.

He agreed to it.

So I laid my hand on his shoulder and began to pray, with my Japanese teammate translating. I prayed as I felt the Holy Spirit leading me to, blessing Hayashi-san’s fatherly love for his children– a love that reflects the love of God the Father for His children. It was a simple prayer: nothing spectacular, nothing spooky.

When I ended the prayer and opened my eyes, I saw that Hayashi-san was weeping, lifting his oversized spectacles to wipe away tears. He said, through our translator, “I have met with so many people from so many religions. I’ve read so many books on faith and spirituality. I’ve visited so many temples, churches, and mosques in my travels. But I have never felt what I felt when you prayed for me just now. I don’t even know why I’m crying–I’m not sad…”

I silently praised God and replied, “That’s God’s Holy Spirit working in you, Hayashi-san. He has been working in you for many years now.”

He wept even more.

Hayashi-san invited us to come back. We did, and he began to invite us to come into his home. (In Japan, it’s normal to receive guests in the genkan only. Not every visitor is invited inside the house.) His son would serve us tea, and we would gradually begin to talk about matters of faith and spirituality.

We gave Hayashi-san a Bible, which he promised to read instead of the Watchtower book.

Over the next two years, Hayashi-san and his son would come to church for events such as our Christmas party. He would listen intently to sermons. We would see him become even more kind and gracious than he already was.

As our time in Ofunato was drawing to a close, a friend from my then-home-church was on a missions trip to Ofunato and met with Hayashi-san. My friend asked him, “Do you believe in Jesus?”

“Of course I do!” Hayashi was adamant.

My friend pressed further. “Do you believe that you’re a sinner, and that Jesus died on a cross for the forgiveness of your sins?”

Hayashi-san wavered for a beat. “I’ve heard that before. Yes. I believe that.”

My friend went for broke. “And you accept that this is all a free gift that you need only to receive?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You know, that means you’re probably Christian now.”

“I suppose that does,” Hayashi-san replied, the hesitation in his voice defeated by confidence.

Three takeaways:

1. Arguments only turn others off. Hayashi-san pushed back when we tried to argue against Jehovah’s Witness tracts. Nobody likes being told what to do. When sharing your faith with others, do you try to convince them by way of arguments that they’re wrong in their worldview and are therefore going to burn in hell for eternity? Does this approach work?

It never worked with me when I was a non-Christian.

2. Build trust first. Hayashi-san professed faith in Christ two years after we expressed an interest in his family, after we developed a genuine friendship, after we sat together, sipped tea together, prayed together. He formed enough trust in us to hear what we had to say about Jesus.

Like they say, “People don’t care what you know until they know that you care.”

3. Let God be God and do what only He can do. It wasn’t our arguments that convinced Hayashi-san that Jehovah’s Witness is not the same as Christianity; it was the stirring of the spirit he felt when we prayed for him that set us apart.

My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.” (1 Cor. 2:4-5 NIV)

(To be continued)