Wolves have always held a special fascination for me, for reasons I only partially understand. Misunderstood and much-maligned, they are remarkable creations of God. Oddly, I find spiritual resolve and motivation in them.

Shortly after becoming a Christian, I read an article in Harper’s Magazine (1976) entitled “Wolf Kill” by Barry Lopez. His story is a journal of his experience trying to understand the hunting habits of wolves in Canada and Alaska.

In “Wolf Kill,” Lopez describes something he observed among wolves and their prey that he called “the conversation of death.” A wolf stalking a bull moose, for example, would silently approach the bull until it got within striking range and was able to make eye contact with the moose. What happened next is “the conversation of death.”

The wolf would continue to stare at the bull until the latter noticed him. Then, for the next sixty seconds or so, the bull moose and the wolf would hold one another with their eyes. It was during this gaze, Lopez argued, that the decision was made by the wolf (and bull) to attack and kill, to turn away, or to attack but not kill – to engage one another as “sparring partners,” honing their skills without drawing blood or cracking ribs. This happened so repeatedly that Lopez was certain it was a meaningful dialogue.

What was also intriguing, he noted, was what would happen when the wolf came across a domestic animal such as a cow. The wolf would stalk and stare, but the cow – upon seeing the wolf – would immediately break eye contact and panic. The wolf would immediately attack and kill, Lopez said, but would not eat. He killed as though enraged and as if he did not consider the kill worthy of consumption.

I seek these kinds of conversations in my relationships with other Christians. (At the risk of being Pollyannaistic, let’s call them “conversations of life.”) I find other believers that have viable-but-different theologies and engage them in questions and debate. We do not seek to destroy one another — we do not attack and kill – and we do not turn away. We engage, crossing swords in vigorous but respectful conflict, iron sharpening iron as we do so. We are strengthened as a result, but also emerge more understanding of the other’s position and, usually, more appreciative and respectful of them.

(It is tempting to say, in these contests, that I am full of the spirit of the wolf and my opponents are full of bull. But I will resist.)

Most recently, I have had these conversations of life with David at Jollyblogger, Tim at Challies, and Brad at 21st Century Reformation. Regardless of your theology, you should read these blogs regularly: these are committed, passionate, and thought-provoking Christians. We are still testing one another’s mettle at this point, but it is thoroughly edifying.

On occasion, I come across a domesticated soul. Those who panic and run are usually trolls, seeking the uninformed or younger believers in Christ to frustrate or confuse. Sometimes I encounter believers that may be domesticated, but are hungry to learn and to grow. There is always time for people like this, and the sword is put away for later. Feed the hungry before playing with the strong.

Such passionate interaction as I have found is a good thing, I think, and something that needs to happen more often than it does. Sadly, such interactions sometimes deteriorate into fruitless and futile arguments full of heat but very little light. Not too glorifying to Christ, I’m afraid. But when it works, it is invigorating and humbling at the same time.

It is the Body of Christ building up, broadening, and balancing itself. It is a privilege and thrilling to be a part of it.


2 Cor 1:13