There have been two points in my history that have defined my personal philosophy of evangelism. Oddly enough – they don’t involve studying under great evangelists or being mentored by great men and women of God. They include a conversation with a friend of mine who still struggles with putting faith in anything, and a movie about selling industrial lubricant at a convention in Wichita, Kansas.
I came to faith at seventeen. Like many other over-excited and under-informed folks that come to faith during this tumultuous time of life — I had to tell everybody about Jesus in every moment of every day. Sadly, what also comes along with coming to faith in the late teen years is a misplaced, if well meaning, zealotry. I wanted my friends to believe exactly like I did. If they didn’t – I had no problem pulpit pounding and shaming them that as baseless fools. My friend Zack had to endure a particularly large number of these speeches. Over time, as I began to understand what “sharing the truth in love” really meant, I didn’t want him to feel attacked. I told him that if I ever got too bad, he just needed to tell me to shut up for a while.
He looked at me and said, “Not a problem. I’d be more upset if you didn’t talk to me about it.” It was not the response I was expecting, so I asked him to explain. He said, “If you believe the world to be this way and didn’t tell me about it, one of two things is happening. Either you don’t actually believe it, or you don’t care enough about me to tell me about it.” Neither one of those were true, so he didn’t even blink when I brought it up. It was the natural conclusion.
Devito delivering his speech at the end of Big Kahuna, distributed by Lions Gate Films
A similar thought came to mind when I was flicking through channels one night. My clicker came to rest on a movie called The Big Kahuna. I was surprised to find out that instead of some Elvis surfer movie, I was going to be treated to Kevin Spacey, Danny Devito, and Peter Facinelli discussing human nature, society, and even God in the context of a sales convention in Wichita, Kansas. Even more surprising was that I found it to be incredibly compelling. I won’t bore you with a point by point analysis of the film, but – while I have a standing hatred of all things spoilers – I must go over part of the speech that Danny Devito’s character gives at the end of the movie. I will try to do so in as out of context a manner as I can so as not to ruin it.
At the end of the movie, the world-wearied Devito looks to the impetuous, Bible-thumping Facinelli and points out what he believes to be the pivotal flaw in his approach. Not because of the faith itself, but in the way he chooses to display it. His style of presenting God was less about sharing faith and more about the pitch. He says,
“You selling God is no different than Bob selling industrial lubricant. The second you grab hold of a conversation and twist it, it’s no longer a conversation. It’s a sales pitch. And you’re no longer a human being. You’re a marketing rep.”
I realized then that I wasn’t sharing my faith out of the joy and wonder of having experienced a relationship with God. I wasn’t even doing it to make sure they didn’t end up in hell. I was doing it because they needed to be convinced that this was the right thing to do. I was trying to sell people Jesus.
When we talk about playing the long game, we are coming from the idea that if Christ is truly sovereign in your life, you don’t need to inject Him into conversations. He will show up there naturally. You will share what He’s teaching you. You’ll share the peace you have, or how you are relying on faith to get through when that peace is hard to find. You will pray for those around you. It isn’t about getting to the agenda. It’s about interacting with the overwhelming movement of the Spirit of God in your life and possibly theirs.
Bringing up this concept occasionally causes voices to raise up in response. They say that a method termed ‘lifestyle evangelism’ is just a term used to hide the fact that people are too lazy or scared to share the truth of the gospel. I can understand where this comes from. If a person says they are trying to share God with his neighbor by being so incredibly amazing that the neighbor is then compelled to ask from whence this strange and glorious state of being emanates – I will point out that 1) no one is that good, and 2) the world is full of “good” people who don’t believe in God.
The difference is one of intention. Those who actively preach the gospel are intentional about getting the message of salvation to the people. In the same way, sharing the gospel relationally must also require a level of intentionality. It just looks different. Real, powerful relationships require work and attention to cultivate. Otherwise they will fall into neglect. It involves intentionally stepping into the joy and pain of another person’s life – and encouraging them to walk around in yours too. It involves laying yourself bare for the purpose of loving another human being. And all of it without requiring anything in return.
I have known Zack most of my natural life. He’s known me before I came to faith, endured my over-zealous attempts to win souls to Jesus, and is still one of my closest friends. As far as I know, he makes no profession to any sort of faith, and has little intention of changing that. We still have long conversations about God, human nature, and the epic mythology of the Nordic peoples over Dunkin Donuts iced coffee. He was one of my groomsmen when I got married. And he knows full well that I pray for him daily, both for his safety (he is currently serving in the US army), and that he come to know God as I know Him. He knows this – because I tell him. And the understanding that he does not know God means sometimes I do so with a tear welling up in my eye.
We gather at the table, often with the same people over and over again. We play games we’ve played dozens of times before or for the first time together. And yet the playing is just the medium through which we build something greater. This is not just true with the act of sharing the gospel, it is also provides a means to speak to hurts, minister to those who are already in the body of Christ, and generally do the work we’ve been called to do daily. We play the long game because it might cost us everything – but there is no other way we know to live.