When
I was a student at Indiana University in the late 1970's, there were a couple
of sidewalk evangelists who regularly stationed themselves along a main campus
thoroughfare and harangued students on their way to and from classes. They
carried big floppy King James Bibles and dressed like Secret Service agents,
complete with sunglasses. They would shout at the students, accusing them of
all sorts of sins, threatening them with hell, and calling them to repent –
real hell fire and brimstone stuff. Often, a group of students formed to
harangue them back. The students would heckle them and call out challenging
questions. It was quite a show.
There
did not seem to be any real engagement. None of the students seemed to be
genuinely interested in, let alone attracted to, the message the evangelists
were presenting. As a young Christian, I mostly found it embarrassing. I
usually walked pass the spectacle with my head down, hoping not to be
associated with either side.
Once,
though, as I sat under a tree within earshot of the debate, one of the
evangelists said something that I could not ignore. He made the claim that,
since he had become a Christian, he no longer sinned. This idea can be found
the “holiness” tradition, mainly among some Pentecostal groups. But, having
listened to this guy for some time, I didn’t believe it.
Embarrassed or not, I
was fool enough to rush in where angels fear to tread. I got up, walked through
the ring of students and said, “Wait a minute.” I pointed out that in 1 John it
says that if we say we are without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is
not in us. The evangelist countered with another text. For a few minutes, with
a crowd of students watching on, we played dueling Bible verses.
Suddenly,
the evangelist looked at his watch, said it was time to go, packed up, and
left. Most of the students began dispersing and I turned to go on my way.
But, from
behind me, I heard, “Wait.”
I turned around and saw a small group of students
remaining.
One of them said, “Now it’s your turn.”
They began to ask me
questions about my faith. I attempted to answer as best I could and offer a
different understanding of Jesus from what they had been getting. I was struck
with the genuineness of their interest. These were some of the same students
who had been heckling the evangelist just moments ago. But, like the Greeks who
came to Philip in John 12, they wanted to see Jesus. They just couldn’t see him
through the presentation of the evangelist.
That
experience has stuck with me through the years. I know from experience that
people are hungry for the good news of Jesus. I also know that many people
inside and outside the church have been presented with versions of Jesus that
have not sounded or looked like good news.
If we want to share that good news
we need to live and talk in ways that demonstrate that it really is good and
that it really is news. If we want to make a defense of the hope that is in us
we need to do so with gentleness and reverence toward those to whom we are
making that defense.
Among
other things, that means loving people as they are and engaging them
respectfully, taking genuine interest in their own stories, their own hopes and
fears, their own wisdom and understanding. Unless we do that, people are
unlikely to care what we have to say anyway. And until we do that, any
challenge we might present to their personal beliefs or morals will ring
hollow.
The same is likely true for whatever critiques we offer of social and
political issues. That’s what the evangelists all those years ago did not
understand. But, if we understand that and live it, there are people who want
to see Jesus.
Now
it’s your turn.
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