Evangelism. To some, including myself up until years recent, that word is dirty. It creates this uneasiness in your gut that feels a little forceful and over arranged.
For me, it used to paint this picture of men intruding onto doorsteps just to be denied and ignored before they even got into their “Do you know Jesus Christ?” spiel.
Maybe I used to feel this way because I was in the running zone. I wanted to be as far from Christianity and all the hypocrisy I thought it influenced as I possibly could. Maybe it’s because American culture doesn’t leave space for those interruptions, the very interruptions God can use to save us from pain and sorrow. Maybe we have the wrong idea of evangelism altogether.
Today, I see it as simply sharing faith. It’s not forcing people to mumble a weak little sinner’s prayer they don’t actually mean. It’s a conversation and it’s a natural overflow of the joy God has placed in our hearts.
God has given me so much. So much joy and freedom and peace that I can’t help but spill it over to those I meet.
Keeping all of this in mind, I tried to wrap my head around the door-to-door evangelism on our host’s agenda in Côte d’Ivoire.
We’ve been on the move this month, visiting different area villages to preach and sing and pray and yes, even evangelize.
Sunday morning, we nommed on our typical bread-and-chocolate-spread breakfast and hit the road to journey to a nearby village. The plan was to share the Gospel with the people there and attend church for the better part of the morning.
This wasn’t my first go-round with this type of ministry on the race, but my experience prior said it’s not the most natural for me.
There’s something shifty about sitting down with a stranger, fighting to have a normal conversation through the added layer of translators, and somehow incorporating the Gospel into it without resembling something like a used car salesman.
If it were up to me, I’d spend the afternoon with one household. I’d ask them about their lives and their dreams and their pain. The relationship should always come before religion. I don’t want our first five minutes together to send a message that all I care about is whether they go to church. And that’s hard when you have several other houses that you’re supposed to visit that day and only so much time.
Sunday morning we split into two groups to visit the village and share our faith. Courtney and I were headed to our second house of the day when we passed an older man sleeping on a bench. The hard work that comes with living in a bush village will age a person, but this man looked rougher than the average. A small vacant liquor bottle sat beside his bench and he seemed slightly out of sorts.
He pulled up a chair and offered us a seat on the same bench he had been sleeping on moments before. At first, I didn’t know what to say to him. I asked the Holy Spirit to provide the words that this man needed to hear.
We virtually knew nothing about him at this point. Yes, it’s odd that he’s sleeping next to a bottle at half past nine, but who am I to make assumptions?
I pushed into small talk, knowing our host wanted to make this a short visit as we had other homes to visit. Ignoring his urgency, we landed on the topic of Jesus.
I could feel the disinterest seeping out of his face. He said his whole family was Christian, but he wasn’t a believer.
We invited him to church that day and he laughed. Our translator shared that he said “These white people are commanding me to go to church, I must go!”
This response was disheartening, but I didn’t want to push. I thought, maybe this is how this one is supposed to go. Strangely, this man reminded me of myself before I knew Jesus. Imagine if people surrendered to my stiff arm with the same thoughts as I did that day? Would I be here right now?
Yet the next thing that came out of his mouth urged me on. He said “I am going to drink something and go to church later.”
Playing confused, I responded “Water?”
Our translator laughed and shook his head no.
I knew then that it was an opportunity to bring him into my life with my very own story.
I shared a piece of my testimony with him, still feeling his disinterest. He warmed up slightly, but it seemed like he was about ready for us to be on our way.
I made sure to tell him that I didn’t know how he felt inside, but I hoped my experience was an encouragement to him.
We prayed for him and asked God to be the changer of his heart. We asked that He would move in his life and bring this man into a relationship with him.
We visited one more home and headed to the church. I looked around the room and to my surprise, the older man caught my eye in the front row.
He actually came to church. I prayed again that God would use the pastor to speak to his heart.
As the service proceeded, the pastor asked if any new visitors would stand up and introduce themselves. Each of us on the team took turns sharing our names (American and Baolé) and what we were doing there. Finally, it was the man’s turn.
The congregation all knew him as his sleeping bench was seeing distance from the church. After what I thought was an introduction, the people went wild with jumps and claps and smiles from ear to ear. The ruckus confused me for a moment, but I got the vibe that something awesome just happened.
When the noise simmered down, our translator shared what he said. He gave his life to Jesus that day!
This was an incredible moment, not because I was the one who talked to him, but because I knew God used his kids to do something for the kingdom that day. I couldn’t take credit for this man’s heart change. All I could do is rejoice in God’s goodness.
This revealed something about evangelism that I think I’ve always known somewhere deep down: it’s not about outcomes.
Me sharing my faith with a friend, new or old, should not depend on whether they accept Christ that day. It’s up to God to change them. All I can do is steward His grace to those I would meet along my way.
I hope, in a kind of too-close-to-home type of way, that this man can taste and see the Lord’s goodness in the realest way. I hope one day he shares his faith with someone, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that what God has done for him could not be credited to human hands.
I pray that he finds the kind of transformation God took me through, radical andI pray he finds joy and peace anew.
Evangelism. This is why. The hope for changed lives, the vision of God taking his lost sheep and pulling them near, the remembrance that Jesus is still running after each one of us.
