Love Listens

How to Respond to a Friend of a Different Faith

Kim identifies as a Pantheist. Her good friend Kevin identifies as a Christian.

She is especially drawn to Eastern Mysticism. Lately Kevin has made a few remarks she found troubling. She figured the best thing to do is to have an honest conversation with Kevin about what she believes. The talk did not go well; in fact, she has decided to end their long and valued friendship. That decision is what drew my attention.

Her decision was not predicated on their different beliefs about God, but on how Kevin treated her after she explained to him what she believed. Kevin’s response reminded me (to my shame) of myself at his age.

Back then when someone told me they believed something different than “Biblical Christianity” I saw it as opportunity to win a debate. And I was quite a good debater.

She wasn’t ending their friendship because they were on different spiritual paths. They had worked together for several years after he accepted Christ as Savior and Lord. No, her decision was not made because they held different beliefs but because when she tried to honestly express what she believed about God to her friend Kevin immediately responded to her as an adversary not as his friend.

Her story of their exchange was honest, raw, and full of pain. I felt her pain because I had inflicted so much pain in my youthful arrogance by considering anyone with beliefs different from mine as an adversary to be convinced.

This made me stop and ask:
“How should we respond when someone we love sees the world—and God— differently than we do?”

Kim’s belief about God:
She expressed her belief in God not as a person "out there," but as the universe itself. A living, conscious force that includes all things, (e.g., The Force in Star Wars). For her, praying isn’t reaching out to a being above—it’s tuning in to the divine within. She finds comfort and clarity in this belief. It helps her feel connected, seen, and free.

Kevin’s response: He gave her a link to a website that condemned her beliefs as “demonic deceptions.” She told him that she found the website hurtful and tried to explain, not to argue but honestly explain, why his response was hurtful. He ignored the hurt and responded instead with emotional distance and theological certainty. He told her she was wrong. He said there was one truth, and what she believed wasn’t it.

This left little room for disagreement. She felt her only choice was disconnection from him. He had won the debate and lost the friendship and forfeited all future opportunities to witness to his friend.

What if he had responded differently? What if he had listened with his heart? What if he had paused before he preached? What if he had said something like:
“Thank you for being honest with me. I can see how deeply this matters to you. I know we see things differently, but I want to understand—not because I want to win an argument, but because I care about you.”

That graceful response might’ve changed everything!

At some point, he could, and should, share what he believes:
“I believe God is not just a force but a loving Creator who made us for relationship. I believe that love is most clearly revealed in Jesus—who doesn’t just show us God but invites us to walk with Him.”

Then perhaps that truth would’ve landed in the context of love, not condemnation. It could’ve opened a door, not slammed one shut. Truth doesn’t have to be shouted!

And in case you’re wondering, yes, I do believe that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. I won’t apologize for that. But I’ve also learned: truth can be shared like an open hand, better than with a clenched fist.

In a world that’s deeply divided—especially around faith, identity, and worldview—what we need more than ever is courage and compassion. Conviction and kindness. And a lot more listening.

We don’t need to water down the gospel.
But we do need to stop weaponizing it.

Jesus never compromised truth—but He also never skipped compassion. He looked into the eyes of the forgotten, the shamed, the “wrong,” and loved them first.
So, perhaps the most Christlike way we can respond to our differences is to:
Pray first. Listen second. Speak third.
Ask honest questions. And, yes, speak the truth, but with humility, not superiority.

To my friends who see the world differently:
You matter. You are not invisible. And the God I follow sees you, knows you, and loves you more than you know.

And to my fellow Christians:
Let’s be known not just for what we stand against, but for how we walk alongside. Not just for what we believe, but for the way we love.

Because we’re not here to win arguments.
We’re here to win hearts.