In a very personal reflection, Dr Brian Stiller, Global Ambassador of the World Evangelical Alliance, recounts a memorable meeting with Pope Francis, highlighting his humility, love for Jesus, and commitment to serving others, especially the marginalized.
As our small group finished our brief time with Pope Francis, I wondered why he was lingering, so I waited and watched. It turned out that he was waiting for us to leave so that he could turn out the lights and close the door, a task not too small for this global pastor.
Pope Francis has now left us after his 12 years as leader of the world’s 1.2 billion Roman Catholics, a church with whom evangelicals have many deep doctrinal disagreements, for example, in how we understand the meaning of ecclesia, or the role faith plays in being justified in Christ. However, like Billy Graham, he was a religious leader for all seasons, sharing words of counsel reaching hearts far beyond his Catholic flock.
My personal sadness aligns with the world’s grief upon his passing. His affection was evident. He deeply loved Jesus. His leadership had an uncommon gentleness; his instinctive pastoral heart, without apology, wrapped its arms around those in need. However, his gentle heart was not averse to utter sharp prophetic announcements—calling out some of his curia, speaking bluntly to those in his clergy establishment whom he considered to be out of line with Christ’s calling. When toughness was needed, he was no shrinking violet.
In my brief personal contact with Francis, I saw a person who integrated interest of others with a toughness of vision and truth.
But how did a Pentecostal preacher's son from Saskatchewan end up having a two-hour noon lunch and conversation with this Pope? It was at Francis’s initiation. He wanted to build deeper relationships with evangelicals, so several of us from the WEA were invited to the Vatican—purely for fellowship. There was no particular plan or strategy; it was just to get to know each other better. The night before our meeting, at dinner our host received a call. Later, we learned it was the pontiff himself, checking to see if we needed anything.
The next day we met at 11:00 for a pre-lunch conversation. One by one, we told our faith stories. A few days earlier, Francis had travelled to a Pentecostal church in central Italy, where he apologized for how the Catholic Church had historically treated Pentecostals. I wanted to know how that trip came about and why he made it. There were chuckles as he recounted his reason for going and the simple joy he shared with the pastor and congregation.
When Francis was appointed, he chose a simple life, avoiding the pomp and ceremony of his predecessors. Rather than living in the papal apartments, he took up residence in a two-room apartment in St. Martha’s House, a small hotel inside the Vatican, taking his meals with everyone else in the hotel cafeteria. That’s where we gathered for lunch. After the main course was served, he dismissed the attendant, saying he could look after us.
The conversation was lively; we had much to ask, as did he. His inquisitive nature probed our lives, vision and calling. But then a fitting picture described the heart of who he was. Sitting across from me, I noticed that he was about to fill my water glass. Called to serve a complex global community characterized by enormous ceremony, the head of the Catholic Church was aware of my need for water. What a picture. What a moment.
Conversation drifted to evangelization: how might we introduce Jesus to secular minds? Around the table we went, offering various views and concerns. But then he said something I'll never forget. Looking at me across the table, Francis said quietly, “I have no interest in us evangelizing evangelicals.” He smiled and then added, “And I know some of my senior people will be very unhappy with me saying that.’
This was more than just a curious side comment, a kind of throwaway line. It was a serious theological statement about the nature of salvation. I heard him clearly saying this: I respect the way the Spirit leads you to Jesus, how he redemptively lifts your sins with the eternal promise of life which is now yours. This in my understanding was an obvious and clearly tacit admission that our coming to Christ by faith was within the message offered to us by Christ.
After lunch, we exchanged hugs of farewell and a prayer and went on our way. Today, the warmth and love of that special moment still linger.
Within the Roman Catholic community, there have been sharp divisions. Francis himself was accused of being progressive, liberal, or unorthodox. As a Protestant evangelical watching the inner wranglings of this religious system, I could only stand in appreciation and wonder, watching this South American pastor who was asked to oversee an ecclesiastical monolith, at the very time when its internal world was being ripped apart by fiscal malpractice and devastated by horrific accounts of sexual violations. On top of that, the Pope was expected to say something about global trade disputes, cross-border gang violence, economic disasters and the persistence of war.
Jorge Mario Bergoglio came to Rome as a pastor with a deep-seated love for the powerless and the marginalized. So, it was characteristic of him to want divorced and remarried people to partake of God’s grace. His calling and ministry were consistent with Jesus’ words, “I have come not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.”
I was in Ukraine when his calling out of Russia on their invasion was tepid. We had hoped he would speak more strongly. Many others wished Francis would have done certain things differently. But in this time of global shaking, as international ruptures upset our social and economic order, we should treasure this pontiff from Argentina who refused the accoutrements of his position and lived a simple and humble life, sensitive and tough in his evident love for Jesus.
Francis lived with overwhelming love in the face of anger. He spoke and demonstrated reconciliation in the midst of manipulation and warmongering. He reached out to lives shattered by failure and sin. He applied the inglorious nail-pierced hands of our risen Saviour whose resurrection we celebrate and within whose eternal promises we live.
Pope Francis is no longer among us, but his life and witness are forever a witness to the One who is.
Originally published by Dispatches from the Global Village.
