The Reluctant Witness E-Book

Don Everts

• Herausgeber: IVP
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Serie: Lutheran Hour Ministries Resources
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 154

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

New research finds that Christians are less involved in spiritual conversations today than we were twenty-five years ago.As society has changed, it seems we have become more uncomfortable talking with people about our faith. We are reluctant conversationalists. The reality is that many of our churches and communities are shrinking instead of growing. What can we do about this?Don Everts, himself a reluctant witness, grew up assuming that spiritual conversations are always painful and awkward. But after falling into one spiritual conversation after another, he was surprised to discover that they aren't. Don's surprising—and sometimes embarrassing—stories affirm what Scripture and the latest research reveal: spiritual conversations can actually be a delight. Unpacking what God's Word says about spiritual conversations and digging into the habits of eager conversationalists, Everts describes what we can learn from Christians who are still talking about their faith.With original research from the Barna Group and Lutheran Hour Ministries on spiritual conversations in the digital age, this book offers fresh insights and best practices for fruitful everyday conversations.

Leseprobe

Dedicated to

all the conversation partners God has placed on my path— past, present, and future.

Contents

FOREWORDby Roxanne Stone

INTRODUCTION:Are My Feet Beautiful?

1 Reluctant Conversationalists

Getting Honest About the State of Our Witness

2 Why We Stopped Talking

Meeting the Postmodern Cat That’s Got Our Tongues

3 Delightful Conversations

Debunking Five Myths About Spiritual Conversations

4 Eager Conversationalists

Learning from Those Who Are Still Talking

5 Everyday Conversations

Exploring Four Simple Conversational Habits

CONCLUSION:Back on the Bus

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

APPENDIX 1:Research Partners

APPENDIX 2:Research Methodology

APPENDIX 3:Definitions

NOTES

PRAISE FORRELUCTANT WITNESS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

MORE TITLES FROM INTERVARSITY PRESS

COPYRIGHT

Foreword

Roxanne Stone, Editor in Chief, Barna Group

The message of Christianity has not always been wielded with grace. Many people know Christianity more for what it’s against than what it is for. To be against something (or someone) is frowned upon in America today. Tolerance is the word of the day—and while tolerance is certainly a beneficial virtue in a pluralistic society where we must find a way to live alongside one another, walking the fine line between tolerance and one’s convictions is a difficult challenge for many Christians.

Indeed in our research, we saw that a fear of giving offense or being rejected is one of the primary barriers for many Christians when it comes to talking about their faith. The number-one reason people told us they don’t have more spiritual conversations is because “religious conversations always seem to create tension or arguments.” Christians told us that when it comes to their faith in society today, they feel misunderstood (65%), persecuted (60%), marginalized (48%), silenced (46%), and afraid to speak up (47%). When nearly half of practicing Christians feel afraid to speak up about their faith, it is no wonder fewer and fewer are doing so.

Because you’ve picked up this book, I’m going to go ahead and assume you’re actually interested in talking about God. But, perhaps like me, you’ve noticed that doing so has become more and more difficult. The words once shared by common belief seem almost foreign now—grace, justice, charity, sin, forgiveness, holiness—you can’t speak them without needing to define them. (Which maybe isn’t such a bad thing, really? Maybe being forced to give some real thought to these profound concepts is a worthy challenge.)

In the pages of this book, through Don’s clear prose and compelling stories, I hope you’ll find the encouragement and inspiration you need to wade into the tricky tides of spiritual conversations. And I pray the real-life data from Barna will help you recognize the issues making those conversations difficult, so you can engage with knowledge and respond with empathy.

The spiritual conversations I’ve had over the years have not always been fun—they haven’t always led to spiritual awakening. But like the eager conversationalists you’ll meet in this book, I came to find them rewarding and always, always worth the effort.

Let the conversation begin.

“Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news.”

Romans 10:13-15

Introduction

Are My Feet Beautiful?

Several years ago I was sitting in the window seat of a Greyhound bus heading from the desert town of Ontario, Oregon, to the rainy town of Tacoma, Washington. This 500-mile route normally takes about eight hours to drive, which translates to about a fifteen-hour bus ride. It turns out buses do unusual things like obeying the speed limit and stopping in every single little town on the way. Or so it seems.

In the seat next to me was a woman in her early thirties who, for 13½ hours, I didn’t say a single word to or even acknowledge. For 13½ hours! There were several stops along the way (remember, every single little town) where one or both of us would get off the bus to buy food or use the facilities. Then we’d get back on the bus, sit in our a-little-bit-too-close-for-comfort seats on the left side of the bus, and continue to not talk.

Why the conspicuous lack of conversation? I suppose part of this is normal. Have you ever noticed there’s a special set of social rules when we are on planes, trains, and buses—a sort of public transportation Cone of Noninteraction? When we are sitting next to someone on a crowded plane or bus or light rail, it is completely acceptable to not interact. Even though we are sitting uncomfortably close for long periods of time, even though our shoulders and elbows may actually touch from time to time, it is acceptable to not engage in any sort of conversation while in the Cone of Noninteraction.

But if I’m being honest, there was more than that going on during our silent bus ride. I may have been silent, but as the bus ride stretched on there was a sort of escalating war going on inside of me. You see as a Christian I know I am sent by Jesus to be a messenger of his to the people around me. I knew this that day as I sat on the bus too. In fact, I was an intern with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, basically a campus pastor in training. So I knew clearly that Jesus was in the business of rescuing people and that I had been enlisted in that mission.

As a campus ministry intern I was quite familiar with Paul’s simple logic in that Romans 10 passage at the beginning of this introduction:

Anyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.

But how will they call on someone they don’t believe in?

And how will they believe in someone they’ve never heard about?

And how will they hear unless someone tells them about him?

I knew all that. In fact (this is where the story gets a little embarrassing) for the first 13½ hours of the trip I was reading a book. It happened to be a book about—evangelism. Yes, I was enjoying Becky Manley Pippert’s call to relational evangelism, Out of the Saltshakerand into the World, while completely ignoring the human being seated two inches from my right elbow and shoulder.1

And at first the irony was lost on me. (Did I mention this is an embarrassing story?) I had been asked to read the book by an older Christian, and so I was. I found it to be well-written and captivating, though I have to admit I felt there wasn’t much new about the content. I already knew that followers of Jesus were called to witness to and share with others about Jesus. (I even taught this as a campus intern.) I was just, to put it simply, not planning on doing that. Ever.

To say I was a reluctant conversationalist would be an understatement. I was not interested in striking up even a pedestrian, everyday conversation with the woman seated next to me. To use Pippert’s language, I knew I was “the salt of the earth,” but I had little interest in leaving the saltshaker.

Why? I guess I felt I was called to the college campus and that “contact evangelism” (being open to spiritual conversations with people you’ve just met) just wasn’t my thing. But also, I suppose, it really was a combination of apathy, shyness, and basic fear. And some simple logic: I assumed spiritual conversations were pesky, painful, awkward things, and I make it a habit to avoid pesky, painful, awkward things. Therefore, logically, 13½ hours of silence.

But this is where the war within me began to rage. You see, during that silence I was reading Becky Pippert’s book. And while the call to witness in the book was not new to me, the spirit and tone of the book were. Becky wasn’t laying on a guilt trip: All Christians must engage in pesky, painful, awkward conversations. This is your duty. On the contrary, Becky simply told story after story of everyday, surprising, even delightful conversations. She wasn’t like a drill sergeant wagging her finger and insisting I dutifully engage in spiritual conversations. She was like a happy swimmer waving her hand and beckoning me to get off the dock and join her in the waters of witness: Come on in, the water’s great!

And that sense of delight was, to me, new. Could spiritual conversations really be enjoyable? Pleasant? Delightful even? Turns out this is the surprising conclusion of Paul’s logic in Romans 10, and the part of the passage I had never really paid much attention to:

And how will they hear unless someone tells them about him?

And how will they tell unless they are sent as witnesses?

As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who share good news.”

How beautiful are the feet? I don’t know about you, but I have rarely heard of feet being referred to as “beautiful.” Beautiful feet? What exactly is Paul saying? That people who share the news of Jesus have attractive feet? For that matter, what was Isaiah (whom Paul is quoting here) saying?

How beautiful upon the mountains

are the feet of him who brings good news,

who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness,

who publishes salvation. (Isaiah 52:7)

Closer inspection reveals that Isaiah and Paul were proclaiming exactly what Becky was describing in her book: that there is something beautiful about sharing with others about God’s salvation. It’s not that their literal feet are pretty, it’s that their mobility and readiness and willingness to talk are attractive and delightful. Talking about God with the people around you is, according to Isaiah and Paul, beautiful.

And thus the growing war within me on that bus. My allergy to conversations was grounded in the hard certainty that spiritual conversations were pesky, painful, awkward things. But there was Becky happily treading water next to Paul and Isaiah, and all three seemed to be waving their hands, smiles on their faces, beckoning me to quit the dock and jump in: Come on in, the water’s great!

And so somewhere about three quarters into the book (13½ hours into the bus ride), the war within me came to a crescendo. Are the waters of witness really great? Is it really beautiful to start walking up a mountain of a conversation in hopes that it may become a spiritual conversation? When Jesus told his disciples “You will be my witnesses” (Acts 1:8), might that have actually been a joyful invitation rather than a sober sentence? I had to find out.

So after 13½ hours of riding in complete silence, I turned to the woman seated next to me and said (get ready for it):

“Hi.”

Did I mention this story is a little embarrassing? Perhaps not the smoothest first step onto the trailhead of a conversation, but a step nonetheless. The woman seated next to me flinched just slightly, and her eyes widened. (What must she have been thinking to be greeted after so many hours of silence?) But she smiled politely and said:

“Hey.”

And there we were, both of us, on the trailhead of a conversation. I would take a next step in the conversation. And so would she. And where the trail of that conversation eventually went floored me. Changed my life forever, and perhaps hers as well.

At the end of this book I’ll tell you the whole fun story. But for now, I simply want to place before you the assertion that was memorably placed before me that day: there is something delightful about spiritual conversations.

Not only does God’s Word proclaim this, but brand-new research conducted in partnership between Barna Group and Lutheran Hour Ministries confirms this as well.2 And that’s what this book is all about. It is my hope in the following pages to not only unpack what God’s Word clearly states about the nature of spiritual conversations but to also take seriously what the latest research reveals (perhaps surprisingly) about people’s experience of spiritual conversations. My conversation on that bus and many conversations since have convinced me that this is a vitally important endeavor.

You see, as it turns out, since that bus ride God has taken me on a path that has involved numerous spiritual conversations. Though I was once such a reluctant (perhaps even stubbornly reluctant) conversationalist, God has invited me to labor with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship on college campuses for eighteen years and to labor as a pastor for ten years. Those twenty-eight years have been utterly filled with spiritual conversations.

Along the way I’ve also become intimately involved with a popular spiritual conversation model and a spiritual conversation ministry that have both given me a bird’s-eye view of thousands of additional spiritual conversations than I normally would have had access to. The net result? I find myself treading water right next to Becky and Paul and Isaiah. And this book is simply a biblically grounded, research-based way of waving my hands to Christians everywhere: Come on in, the water’s great!

More to the point, the water is delightful. And Jesus’ call to be his witnesses, it turns out, really is a joyful invitation, not a sober sentence. Witness really is beautiful. And inside that insight rests the hope of the world and of your neighborhood. Normal Christians like you and me are the “sent ones” Paul refers to in Romans 10. In the end, people won’t hear about Isaiah’s “good news of happiness” unless they hear it from you and me. We are Jesus’ plan.

So where do we go from here? We begin with an honest, perhaps uncomfortable, self-evaluation of the state of our witness (chap. 1), followed by an important reckoning with one particular fear that is causing so many of us to avoid spiritual conversations (chap. 2). And this is where things get exciting, because in chapter three we’ll find out what the most current research tells us about how Christians and non-Christians alike experience spiritual conversations. The net result: the data actually bursts five popular myths most of us have about spiritual conversations. (The water really is better than you might have guessed.) Finally, in the last two chapters we get to know a group of people researchers call “eager conversationalists”—folks who are having a blast in the waters of witness. What do these eager conversationalists have in common (chap. 4), and can we begin to practice for ourselves any of their conversational habits (chap. 5)?

If you are a reluctant conversationalist reading this book simply because an older Christian has asked you to—keep reading. You may find yourself as surprised as I was on that bus ride. If you are an eager conversationalist wishing your conversations were more fruitful—keep reading. You may gain important wisdom about how non-Christians experience spiritual conversations. And if you are a leader struggling to mobilize more people to engage in more spiritual conversations—keep reading. You may find that perhaps Paul knew exactly what he was doing when he finished his logical progression in Romans 10 by poetically celebrating the beauty of witness.

In the end, my prayer is that the Scripture and data and stories and insights found in this book will confront you with wonderful news: that spiritual conversations truly are delightful. That the feet of those who share the good news really are beautiful. On the whole, Jesus’ church in our new postmodern age has grown silent. But I wonder, What if we started talking again? What if we began turning to the people next to us and simply saying hi more often?

If the last hour and a half of my bus ride was any indication, the results would be, in a word, delightful.

Figure 1.1

They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved.

Acts 2:42-47

Reluctant Conversationalists

Getting Honest About the State of Our Witness

I’m sitting at a gray metal desk in the basement of a nearly abandoned local church that has donated office space to some of us campus ministers. It’s snowing outside the church, a beautiful Boulder, Colorado, winter day. But I’m not gazing out at the snow, I’m staring down at a blank sheet of paper that is confounding me.

This is odd. I’m a writer at heart, I like blank pages. I usually never meet a blank page I don’t like—they inspire me and help me think. But I’m having a problem with this particular blank page. I work on a nearby campus for InterVarsity and I’m supposed to be writing my monthly report. My supervisor has asked me to look back at the last month and characterize my efforts on campus and assess the fruit that has resulted. Sounds simple enough. But I’m grousing. I’m confounded. I don’t like this assignment.

Characterize my efforts on campus? How can you sum up in mere words and sentences thirty long days of labor that have been so messy, so sublime, so context-driven? And assess the fruit? How do you count spiritual fruit? Is it possible to quantify the fruit of relational evangelism? Is it even right to try to count spiritual fruit that only God can produce?

These were the lofty thoughts and justifications rolling around in my head as I stared at that blank sheet of paper. But mostly I was just insecure.

It is a tender thing to characterize your own efforts to share the gospel. All Christians are sent on a mission: Again, as Jesus said, “You will be my witnesses” (Acts 1:8