his name was foxy; he was a dealer.

Her drug dealer delivers. And that convenience makes it hard to quit.

So said a friend of mine this morning when, after she told me she needed to cut down on the pot, I asked her what was holding her back.

Delivery.

My mind is boggled. And the tiniest bit impressed. How did she get her "druggist" to deliver?? Do you pay extra for that? Or is it just a brilliant tactical move on his part, to keep clients hooked? After all, I've seen some shady drug deals, and delivery is a far more attractive option. In college, this same friend got her drugs from a guy named "Foxy" who would pull his pimped-out, "antique", burgundy-colored boat of a Buick into an empty lot on the corner of a seedy street in our college town. Open for business.

No more Foxy for her.

The tone of the conversation was really strange. It was semi-clear (which I think means slightly opaque) that she felt judged, despite my lack of judgment. I got this impression from her assertion that "And, I don't think there's anything wrong with marijuana", and the question "Why are you trying to turn this into a therapy session?" That last one because I asked her the afore-mentioned "What do you think is holding you back from quitting," and also "Why do you want to stop?"

So, her reaction took me by surprise. It clued me in to a couple of things.

1. I'm being judged for stuff I'm not doing. And..

2. I'm being judged for stuff I'm not doing, but maybe should be doing.

One of the hardest parts of this transition from the loosey-goosey, philosophically-suspect theology of Christ as the greatest moral leader ever (dude), to Christ as the Savior, and son of an exacting God, is in molding my responses to the world.

So far, my response has been completely hands-off. Everything's OK, and anything goes. You want to tell me about your weekend sexual escapades--how you wound up in some guy's bed, not knowing his name or address? Bring it, oh ha ha, that's a funny story, hope you had cab fare back from the western burbs. You got outrageously drunk last weekend, and are planning on it again tomorrow night? Keep me posted, by heinously un-readable drunk texts, if possible.

I've taken this approach because I don't want to seem judgmental. The slightest whiff of judgmentalism in that world could throw a testimony out the window. Also, as a wise friend passed on from a wise friend, what's the behavior when the soul is messed?

And yet...I'm hiding what I really think. On colder issues, I would just say, "Dude, that is so massively uncool. Really? They deliver pizza, too. Maybe you should start weaning. Domino's is the new methadone."

But these issues are so hot. And as much as I'd like to believe that my friends respect my mind (and by extension, my faith), I'm starting to realize that when it comes to the big-box sins, the chains are heavy (something I should know well enough).

So, what do I do? Do I shoot straight on the fact that I do think there's something wrong with the drugs? Or, do I pad around it? How do I have these conversations in which I will (no matter what I say) be "the Christian"? How do I show love, and honesty simultaneously?

I have no interest in convincing anyone of anything, or laying down a set of unalterable edicts about how people ought to behave. God will do the convincing, and the edicts are His (and understood in His time). My job is to love, and support. But, I feel dishonest laughing along in conversations in which I find little humor. If it's messed up, it's messed up.

How are these conversations over drugs any different than my early conversations with James River folk about how I felt that atonement was unnecessary, and the Bible mythical? How did they respond to me? They were open and unapologetic about the truth. But, they loved through, and trusted God to come in. Generally a great model. Does it work here?

I pray for wisdom.