The Christian and a “Heretic” by Ken Williams

How I view my relationship with Jesus determines how I see others.

Ken Williams

I joined the other passengers as we boarded our flight from Sacramento, CA to Dallas/Ft. Worth, Texas. I looked forward to relaxing and reading. After getting settled in my window seat and greeting the woman in the aisle seat, I pulled my book out intending to relax and read. But that was delayed by the woman in the aisle seat who asked me if I believe the Bible. It felt more like a trap than a request for friendly conversation. I sensed that nuancing my answer would prolong the conversation, so I replied, “Yes” and started to read. She wasn’t finished. Other passengers relaxed, read, napped, or chatted, but not my neighbor, or me, as it turned out.

I tried being friendly by giving her my name, hoping for a friendly response. Observing her more closely she appeared tense. My answer did not satisfy her. She followed up with, “Well then you believe that you have to be baptized to be saved!” I responded, “No, I don’t believe that.” She said, “Well then, you don’t really believe the Bible!” I told her I believe baptism is a sacrament of the church, but salvation is by faith in Jesus alone, not of works. I pointed out that Jesus told the thief on the cross that he was saved, without being baptized. She wasn’t done.

She then asked a question she considered would put the final nail in my coffin, “Do you believe in using musical instruments for worship?” The whole thing was weird, but I shared my belief. I said, “Yes. I’d love to go back in time and hear the musical instruments that accompanied the Psalms.” She said, “Well then, you don’t really believe the Bible!” What was driving this poor soul?

I looked at her carefully and asked her, “Do you think I am a heretic and damned to hell?” She looked surprised and attempted to avoid the answer. I suggested that she could answer with a “yes” or a “no.” She looked away from me and sternly replied “yes, yes I do!” I then asked her, “do you think my church is heretical and damned to hell?” She answered, “yes, yes I do!” Then I asked, “Do you believe your church is the only legitimate church of Jesus Christ?” She said, “Yes, yes I do.” I replied as gently as possible for me at that point, “I knew that.” It wasn’t quite over.

My neighbor no longer appeared as a prosecuting attorney, instead she looked away and appeared unhappy. Whatever was driving her was hurting her. She was caught up in her spiritually sick, fearful thinking. Hoping to relieve some of her angst, I confessed I had belonged to a similar church when I was younger so I could understand where she was coming from. She was quiet and I considered getting up to leave her to her thoughts, but she turned to me and spoke with a softer tone to her voice, “Well, I told you what I think about you and your church, what do you think about me?” Wow. That surprised me! I knew how I felt but what did I think about her?

I explained I would ask her a question before answering. She gave me permission. I asked her, “Have you received the Son of God, and do you believe in his name?” She said “yes.” I said, “Well then, I believe you are my sister, and I am your brother in Christ. I believe we will be in heaven together.” She appeared startled. I wanted to assure her I didn’t expect her to agree so I said, “No worries. I know what you believe, but you asked me what I believe. And that is what I believe not to be confused with what you believe.” She exclaimed, “Wow. That’s gracious!”

I took advantage of this change in our relationship and replied, “Yes. Yes, it is!” Hoping for a little humor I added, “But I’m not stupid. I need to use the restroom and I don’t want to offend the person who blocks my way to the aisle.” She chuckled long enough so I could excuse myself. Upon returning I joined the other passengers, relaxed, but before reading my book, I considered the misery we cause ourselves by not believing God’s grace is sufficient for us. By God’s prevenient grace I know that I am loved and have been freed to love others. Even when we disagree. I got more out of this encounter than if I had read the book. I prayed she would be aware of Jesus’ loving Presence as well.


Ken and Nancy Williams served for some 25 years in pastoral ministry, and then almost another 20 years serving and mentoring other pastors.  With the heart of a pastor Ken continues to write and blog from upstate New York where he and Nancy live close to their grandchildren. 


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