The church in Quebec is at a crossroads. Some shake their heads and talk of a crisis. Others roll up their sleeves and call it a challenge.

Everybody is praying for change. Problem is, most are expecting it in the wrong places.

You see, in Quebec there is a difference between the church and the culture. Aha, you say, so what? That's a good thing. The church is called out, set apart, different.

In fact, the church has always tried to protect itself from being influenced by the god of this age. We don't want the world to infiltrate the church, do we?

Of course not.

But what happens when the church is no longer able to infiltrate the world?

Quebec society is the most post-modern, liberal, unchurched culture in North America. Quebecers have rejected traditional religion and morals and set out on a new search for meaning. They are spiritually sensitive and honest.

Take Jake, for example. Jake's a professional contact and a new friend of mine.

Jake is a fairly typical bilingual Montrealer. He has a BA in philosophy and he spent 10 years as a doorman. He's come through a few disappointing relationships and he's still single. His parents are divorced. He talks about his father's ?husband.? He wants to make it big in business so he can afford to surf whenever he wants, and be able to help a few people who could use a break.

Jake talks about making money and making love. He talks about wounded people. He talks about God. And he talks about boxing. This is where he loses me. This intelligent, hard-working man enjoys getting his body and brains bashed around for sport. I suddenly feel like he's changed channels and I am no longer receiving his signal.

But mostly when we talk together, the reception is clear; our stories intersect. Money, sex, human joy and misery and God-the stuff that life is made of. The stuff that Jesus talked about.

It's easy to talk about God over coffee on the infamous St-Laurent Boulevard, watching people with tattoos and piercings and partners go by. God has a vested interest in all of their wounded, messed-up or self-sufficient lives. Jesus would be comfortable in Jake's world, using his language, giving meaning to the senselessness and redeeming the sin and pain-making some of the pieces fit together.

So far so good. Now, what about church?

The evangelical church in Quebec-the most liberal society in North America, remember-is probably the most conservative, the most traditional, the most formulaic.

I have visited dozens of churches in Quebec who all have as their mission to reach Quebecers for Christ. But I can't imagine taking Jake to any of them.

The culture shock would be too great, the connection nearly impossible. We don't speak the same language. We pussyfoot sanctimoniously around the real issues, we take offence at the appearance or the lifestyle.

We would expect Jake not only to understand, but to participate in something that would have the same effect on him as boxing does on me. He wouldn't get it. So we say that Jake's heart is cold to the gospel. He is pagan, rebellious, a greedy, lustful sinner. We pray that he will change.

But wait. This guy walks down Ste. Catherine's Street, sees a teenage girl with a young child in tow and spends 10 minutes wondering out loud about what he could do to help her if he had the money and the resources. He chats with a friend who's stoned and afterward laments that he's messing up his life. He offers to help the 50-year-old recently divorced neighbour in starting up her new business. He stops to help a stranger with his stalled car at 3 a.m.

I see Jesus in Jake. I told him that yesterday. He emulates the heart of God more than many of us who are found in the pew rather than the gym on Sunday morning.

I don't have a problem connecting Jake with Jesus. I just have a problem connecting him with the Christian community-a family to which I am devoted. Herein lies my dilemma.

Maybe if I could find a follower of Jesus who likes being bruised and bashed for fun?