I’ve been thinking about our beloved RDean lately. And others like RDean who consider Christianity “magical” — a silly collection of myths believed by people who are at best naive and at worst fools.

I don’t make it my life’s ambition to convince the RDeans of the world that God is real. However, I do wish RDean could share my joy.

This past weekend, I gave a talk to high school-age conservatives at the Reagan Ranch Center in Santa Barbara. Before going, I asked my friend Tom Pfingsten, 25, a question: “You grew up like a lot of these students, in a conservative Christian home. What do you know now that you wish you had known when you were their age?”

Tom said, “I wish I had known that true compassion is more persuasive than a good argument. I wish I had known that it was not enough to have the right ideas if I couldn’t show people that I cared.”

The talk I was preparing was on the topic of compassion and social justice. But it occurs to me that Tom’s statement might well apply to Christianity. Do we spend too much time trying to argue people into the faith instead of simply showing them that we care?

For example, I would like to say to RDean: ”Let me tell you what my life was like — what my heart was like — before God found me. I wasn’t even looking for God, or religion of any kind for that matter. I was an agnostic and doing just fine, thank you very much. And yet here came this force, this spiritual awakening from outside me. I didn’t ask for it or even want it, but the call of God was irresistible. As a result, my life was transformed! My relationships were transformed! Forgiveness replaced bitterness. Purpose replaced purposelessness. Direction replaced wandering. I don’t know what needs and hurts you have in your life, but, man, if you could have what I have, taste what I have tasted…wow! I want you to know about it!”

Obviously, Christianity has been caricatured as both a wholly-owned subsidiary of the Republican Party and the beating heart of intolerance and discrimination. Much of these caricatures are hype, churned out by the media and left-wing alphabet groups.

But let’s admit it: We have earned a certain share on our own.

I once did an analysis of the Bible and found that something over 85 percent consists of storytelling. Not laundry lists of evidence. Not recitations of systematic doctrine. Not believers telling other people what to do. Just stories of imperfect people and God’s work in their lives.

For some reason, God has wired us to respond to “story” — to be moved, changed, and even spiritually born again. And He has chosen “story” as His own preferred medium. I wonder if we shouldn’t spend more time emulating His example?

I’m not saying we shouldn’t be able to argue doctrine and evidence: Doctrinal ignorance has often devolved into heresy, and the evidence for creation and Christ’s resurrection are the stories that will reach some hearts.

Still, maybe we should spend more time telling our own stories, which, after all, are part of God’s onward march, His revelation of Himself through human history. Maybe we should spend more time sharing our own pain and trials and joy and transformation. That is evidence, too. And sometimes, evidence of a changed life is the most powerful argument of all.