My first experience of Christian discipleship, starting just a few days after the encounter with God that led me to Christ, was with a Navigators Bible study. I continued meeting with that group, and learning from them, until I left the Air Force. Later, when I was doing my undergraduate work at Cal Poly Pomona, I became part of the local Campus Crusade for Christ ministry.
All this is to say that I’ve received a significant amount of training in individual evangelism. I know how to use the Bridge to Life, the Four Spiritual Laws, the Roman Road, and a number of other methods of explaining the gospel. I’ve also learned how to direct a conversation toward spiritual topics. And this isn’t just academic knowledge; I can’t count the number of times I’ve gone, with one or two others, to talk to people about Jesus. I’ve even been on two Campus Crusade summer evangelism projects; one to South Lake Tahoe, and the other to Argentina.
So I have the training, and I have the practice. What I haven’t had is a lot of success. There have only been a handful of times that I have been privileged to see somebody come to faith in Jesus. And when I think back on my experiences, I can’t really say that I’m surprised. You see, sharing the gospel the way I was taught isn’t natural for me, and I hate doing it. The approach isn’t the one I would choose, and the words aren’t the words I would use. I can force myself to do it if I’m going with someone, but never if I’m alone; not even if I’m talking to a non-believer who wants to know about Jesus. And all of that reluctance comes through in my conversation; there’s no way it couldn’t. The people I’ve talked with over the years had to have been picking up that I didn’t want to have the conversation I was having. It’s no wonder, then, that so few of them responded the way I’d hoped.
But Jesus said, “my yoke is easy and my burden is light,” (Matthew 11:30) and I’ve certainly experienced that in other areas. God has given me gifts of teaching and writing, and both of them are a joy to use. I come away from either of those tasks excited and energized. But individual evangelism is a struggle that leaves me drained. When, that is, I can bring myself to do it all.
Now, I recognize that a lot of things in life are hard. That’s true both as a Christian and as a human being. But the normal pattern in both cases is that hard things become easier (if not necessarily easy) and more natural with practice. When that doesn’t happen, as it hasn’t for me here, that’s a hint that I’m doing something wrong. And I think I now know what. For many years, every time I stepped out to try and share Christ, I was trying to be an evangelist. I even prayed for the gift of evangelism. But all along, God was calling me, instead, to be a witness.
Allow me to explain. With regard to the gospel, I only know what I have received from others, or read in the Scriptures. But when I speak of what Christ has done for me, how he saved me, and the amazing things he has done in my life, I testify from my own knowledge. I speak, as a man of earth, about how I have seen heaven come down to earth. I am, in other words, a witness.
The same is true of apologetics. It’s not my business to prove that God is real, but simply to tell people what he has done for me, and invite them to see for themselves what he will do for them. This is not to say that there’s no role in the church for apologetics, just that it’s not my role. I’m not an evangelist and I’m not an apologist. I’m a witness. But for far too long I’ve been trying to be the former, while failing to be the latter.
The apostle Paul wrote about this to the Corinthian believers:
I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor. (1 Corinthians 3:6-8).
And Jesus himself had earlier said something similar:
“Even now the one who reaps draws a wage and harvests a crop for eternal life, so that the sower and the reaper may be glad together. Thus the saying ‘One sows and another reaps’ is true. I sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the hard work, and you have reaped the benefits of their labor.” (John 4:36-38)
The evangelism training I’ve had usually mentioned “seed planting” as something that might happen, but harvesting was always the focus. Planting and watering were, by implication, lesser roles. You were supposed to always try for the harvest, but if that didn’t happen you could console yourself with the hope that you had at least planted or watered a seed. Not great, but better than nothing. That’s like saying that if I can’t be an eye in the body of Christ, I might at least have the hope of being a lesser part, such as an ear (1 Corinthians 12:16).
But planting and watering your garden obviously don’t happen simply by going through the same motions you would use to pick vegetables, just with unripe plants. And planting isn’t the same as harvesting in this Biblical metaphor either. The role of an evangelist – a harvester – is to proclaim the good news about Jesus in such a way that the listeners are brought to a point of decision. But I’m not an evangelist, I’m a witness. My role is simply to tell the truth about what I, personally, have experienced. And in that role, I’ve learned to stop thinking about having “spiritual” conversations and try, rather, tell the truth about God all the time.
God’s word teaches:
Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms. If anyone speaks, they should do so as one who speaks the very words of God. If anyone serves, they should do so with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen. (1 Peter 4:10-11).
If I take this seriously, then anytime I talk to somebody I should say what the Holy Spirit gives me to say, speaking “the very words of God.” Unfortunately, this is not something I’ve seen much of in the American church. More importantly, I haven’t seen much of it in my own life. I’ve compartmentalized my conversations into “religious” and “non-religious” sections. And even as I’m writing this, I still get an unwanted picture of an annoying hyper-pious Christian who only ever talks about Jesus. But that’s still compartmentalization, even if all but one of the compartments are being silenced. It also reeks of self-righteousness and of being “holy” just to be seen.
But, it occurs to me to ask, what if I don’t restrict myself to “religious” topics, but rather allow the Spirit to guide me in how to speak about any topic that comes up? Even in apparently trivial matters, if my motive is not really to share information about the weather, or tools, or guns, or whatever, but to build a relationship (which it actually is most of the time, even if that fact is not recognized or acknowledged), then doesn’t it make sense to let the Spirit lead me in those conversations too? It seems to me that if I’m being led by the Spirit, as Romans 8:14 says that I am, then all of my conversations should be, in some sense, spiritual.
Not only can I speak from God through his Holy Spirit, but if I’m actually following Jesus, then he intends for me to speak his words. This is the part I think we really need to get through our heads and start living; speaking from God is just not a thing for when I’m doing something religious; it’s supposed to be a continual thing. And it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m exercising a special prophetic gift that only some Christians have. It just means that my words are the natural outflow of a life lived for Jesus.
So what does this actually look like? It turns out that it looks a lot like something I’ve already been doing for many years. Ever since I got married, I’ve mentioned something about my wife in nearly every conversation I have had. Catherine is such a huge part of my life that on almost any topic – food, entertainment, pets, the economy, what I did last weekend – I can say something about her, even if just in passing. “My wife and I tried out that new restaurant,” or “my wife and I are spending Christmas with my family this year,” or… well, you get the picture. I don’t try to make the conversation about Catherine, or transition to “wifely” topics, she’s just part of everything I do, so of course I talk about her.
So it is with God. My life isn’t compartmentalized into spiritual and secular activities, so how does it make sense to compartmentalize what I say? And the minute I stop thinking in terms of evangelism and “spiritual” conversations, I find that I don’t have to look for ways to mention God; all I have to do is stop trying to leave him out. It’s just a matter of ending all the self-censorship, such as talking about my weekend without mentioning that I’ve been to church, or sharing some good news in my life without praising God, or offering sympathy to someone who’s sick or struggling without offering to pray for them. All the things I’ve avoided saying because, in my mind, any mention of God to a non-Christian meant that I was trying to have a “spiritual” conversation.
Think for a second about ordinary, casual conversation. What do people normally talk about? Obviously, they discuss whatever they both find interesting. It just so happens that the most interesting things going on in my life all involve God. I can tell the story, if someone wants to hear it, of how I first came to Christ. But really my role has primarily been to tell the truth about what Jesus is doing in my life right now. And my conversation feels natural because it is natural. More than that, I can watch myself getting better at it as I continue to practice. And ironically, since I stopped trying to have spiritual conversations, I’ve told many more people about what God is doing in my life than I ever did before. And when those seeds are ripe… well, I can’t help noticing that when Jesus saw the ripe fields around him, he didn’t tell his disciples to start harvesting, he told them to pray for harvesters (Matthew 9:37-38).
If God has made you an evangelist, then do that work diligently. You are one of the harvesters we’re praying for, and we’ll rejoice with you over the harvest. If, like me, you’re not an evangelist, then be a witness. Tell the people you interact with the truth about what Christ is doing in your life as part of your everyday conversations. Show them, up close, what a son or daughter of God looks like. And if God puts you in place to also lead somebody to Christ, be ready, and trust that he knows what he is doing. If not, then pray for the Lord of the Harvest to send the right person, at the right time, to harvest the crops you’re planting.