Sermon from May 17, 2009

"Ambassador Without Fear"

I spent four days in Orlando in February. Sorry! Someone had to do it. I was actually there as part of a pastor's gathering. It was 80°. You wouldn't have liked it; much too hot. I had an experience there I wanted to tell you about. It was pleasant to buy take-out meals and eat outside. After lunch one day, I approached a man at the table, a complete stranger. I said, "Not bad, is it?"

He said, "You mean the day?"

Well, that started the conversation. He seemed willing to keep it going. I was willing. I wanted to find out if the conversation might turn to Christianity. Did it ever!

He grew up in New Jersey. He learned I was from Delaware and said, "So, why are you here?" I told him about the pastors' meetings. Without warning, he said to me, "Well, I'm a born-again, beer-drinking, Pentecostal, and I don't go to church any more."

I was about to make a brilliant rejoinder, but I never got the chance. He immediately let me know in no uncertain terms what he thought about churches. His own experience played a large part in his description. As usual in situations like that, he made it clear that he believed in God, he believed in Christ, and he tried to do right by his fellow man; but he wasn't having anything to do with a church.

I said, "I think you'd like our church in Wilmington."

He said, "Would they let me drink beer?"

I said, "We have more important things to talk about."

"Could I bring it into the sanctuary?"

"No, but we don't want people to bring coke or coffee there either." And I said, "You know, it's too bad you aren't part of a church. You might be good for the church, and the church would be good for you."

And that's where we left it. We left a lot of loose ends. I didn't know how to take the conversation to the next step. Not satisfying in some ways, but I took what the situation gave me and tried to make the most of it. It was one of my early attempts to walk across the room and try to start a conversation about God. I'm learning to do it better every time I do it. What's gotten into me? I'd like to reflect on that with you today.

A Question of Method
Jesus Christ changed my life when I was 16 years old, and I have never gotten over it. Within hours of that life-changing experience I began memorizing scripture. Someone gave me a packet of four Bible verses called "Beginning with Christ," complete with a short explanation for each verse. Each verse was printed on an individual card with its chapter and verse reference and also a label.

The label for the third card read, "Witnessing." The chapter and verse reference was Acts 1:8, and this is what I memorized: But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth.

My peers and our spiritual guides made it clear that witnessing was something I was supposed to do. So, I set out to do it in the classroom, in the locker room, and anywhere else I could make my witness heard. I did it all the wrong ways.

I know the Apostle said: I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some - 1 Corinthians 9:22. I included in "all possible means" some regrettable ways of witnessing. I regret nearly all the ways I did it for a decade. Here are three of the more regrettable.

Billy Earnhardt was the catcher on our high school baseball team. He had a younger brother, Bobby. After practice one day, I took Bobby home, and I told him about the gospel. I took him down what we call "the Roman Road" to faith in Christ. He was having none of it. Well, it was my car, and he wasn't getting out until he believed. It didn't work, and at the end of the episode I don't know who felt worse: Bobby or I.

Another witnessing gimmick bore the unlikely name, "the Gospel Bomb." I kid you not. It had the gospel written on a small piece of paper, which was then rolled up to about the diameter of a straw and wrapped in pink plastic. Someone bought a box of these "bombs." We put them into a car and then drove to a neighborhood, where by the way none of us lived. When we saw a group of kids standing on a corner or sidewalk, we'd drive by, throw several bombs at them, and drive off. I don't remember doing it again. I felt awful about it.

Third, I once went door to door in a plush North Dallas neighborhood, knocking on doors cold, and attempting to tell the person at the door about Christ. I found myself praying at door after door that no one would be home. I have never done it again.

Perhaps I speak like a fool to tell you how I acted like a fool. I do it so that my regrettable experiences will serve as necessary background for the change that has taken place in my life as a result of reading the book Just Walk Across the Room.

A New Day
That book did something good for me. Hybels writes: "I would be the happiest person on the planet if every interaction I had with a seeker yielded a falling-on-the-knees experience. But you know as well as I do that real life paints a far different picture," (p. 41). We don't have to present the whole plan of salvation in every conversation. We don't have to invite every person we talk with to our church. We don't have to "close the deal" every time we share our faith story.

That liberated me from unreasonable expectations (often self-imposed), and freed me to build on my natural interest in people. A lot of the old fears have simply evaporated. My tongue is loosened. Wherever I am in the company of other people, the situation is charged with opportunities to talk about God. How can we take advantages of those opportunities? Here are three steps.

First, develop a relationship. It may be casual, like my one conversation with the man in Florida. It may be a close friendship, and there are many levels of relationship in between. Each develops out of a shared experience. Develop a relationship.

Second, discover the story of the other person. About ten days ago, Carole and I heard Justice Samuel Alito at the Hotel DuPont at a dinner sponsored by Intercollegiate Studies Institute (ISI). Before the dinner and speeches we wandered through a reception for guests. Carole and I met a woman and her mother. It was hard to hear above the noise, but I thought I heard her say something about Dubai.

I said, "Were you in Dubai?" She was, and that was all I needed. I started asking her questions. It turned out that she was from Texas. She had come to Wilmington to support ISI and hear Justice Alito. She and her children had lived in Dubai twice, where she worked for Chevron Oil. And I said, "Tell me about religious liberty in Dubai."

Well, she said there are churches of all kinds in Dubai, and then the conversation turned personal. She said, "I'm Buddhist, and I found a Buddhist place of worship in Dubai." You don't find many Buddhist Caucasian women from Texas in the oil business.The reception ended, and I never saw her again. She never asked anything about me, but she saw me again, because ISI had invited me to pray before dinner was served. I don't know what dots she connected when she saw me. Maybe my conversation with her followed by my prayer was one tiny contribution to her spiritual life. Others will have to make other contributions. It started by discovering her story.

Third, discern times and ways of introducing God and Christ into your conversation. It's not always possible. That's where discernment comes in. I was riding with a guy, and the conversation turned to God. He wasn't hostile to God, but he had nothing to do with the church and didn't know how to talk about God. Right then, something I learned from Hybel's book went to work.

I read the following paragraph: "Last year during an evangelistic series in our midweek meeting, I challenged every person at Willow (Creek Church) ... I told them, 'your job is to write out your story in a hundred words or less.' Before they could grown about the hundred word thing, I explained that my story ... contains exactly seventy-nine words. I counted. Takes about forty-five seconds to tell, and I guess I have told it more than a thousand times." (p. 127) I was ready and shared my brief faith story with that guy.

Our mission at BVBC is to introduce people to Jesus Christ and help them to become His followers. Developing a relationship, discovering stories, and discerning ways and times to introduce Christ into a conversation is proving a much better way to do it than locking Bobby Earnhardt in the car, throwing gospel bombs, or knocking on doors of people I don't know.

Questions of Motive
Now, I need to take you a step further. I need to tell you what else I have discovered about myself. I had not only hang-ups about methodology but also questions about motive. Why was I trying to bear witness to Christ? Granted that locking Bobby Earnhardt in the car until he believed was a regrettable method, why should I tell Bobby about Christ at all?

I don't know any way to be subtle about this. So, let me tell you bluntly that it did not and it does not motivate me at all that Bobby might be going to hell. Do I believe that hell exists? Yes, I do. No one spoke more about hell than Jesus. Do I believe that Jesus Christ is the only way to avoid hell? Yes, I do. But does keeping people out of hell motivate me to share the gospel? Very little, even in my zealous early days! Trying to account for that has occupied a permanent place in my soul for a long time. Let me tell you what I've learned about myself.

I had reacted badly to preachers, whose sermons on hell struck fear in my heart. I experienced anxiety about hell for several years, long after I had confessed my sins and believed in Christ and begun to serve Him. Their sermons on hell were instruments of fear; not instruments of peace. The fear and lingering anxiety repelled me. I never wanted to inflict those emotions on other people. Within me the fear of hell as a motivator died.

Other Christians came to a similar conclusion. Someone introduced me to the Four Spiritual Laws of Campus Crusade for Christ, and they didn't say much about hell. The most evangelistic of my seminary professors didn't say much about hell when they preached or shared their faith. Christian writers and Christian missionaries I got to know talked about ways into people's hearts other than fear of hell.

Scripture itself had a surprise for me. I read the sermons of the apostles in the book of Acts. They never mention hell. They usually emphasize the resurrection of Christ and the goodness of God in creation and the change Christ made in their own lives. I said a moment ago that no one spoke more about hell than Jesus, but nearly everything He said on the subject He said to religious leaders like me, not to harlots and prodigal sons and tax collectors. That was disconcerting. Within me the fear of hell as a motivator died.

What took its place? I'd like to mention four powerful scriptural motivators: the character of God, the command of Christ, the condition of man, and the coming justice. First is the character of God. We see it in the disproportionately powerful parable of the Prodigal Son that Jesus told. The father in Jesus' story represents God. He is a God who gives his children freedom, even freedom to rebel against Him. He is also a God who watches the road for His returning children, and when He sees them, He runs to embrace them and welcome them home. I want to tell people about a God like that.

Second is the command of Christ. Ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth. We go to the person next door and to the people group on the far side of nowhere, because Christ commanded us to go. Going is an act of obedience.

Third is the condition of man. Vachel Lindsay wrote in a poem:

Not that they serve, but have no gods to serve;
Not that they die, but that they die like sheep.

The gospel gives to man a God to serve that gives us purpose in this life. The gospel gives to man a horizon beyond death that fills us with hope in this life, because it confirms a deep human intuition: this life cannot be all there is. People and nations thrive where this gospel is embraced. I want to share the gospel, because it is good for man.

A fourth motivator is the coming justice. According to Acts 17:31, the Apostle Paul said to the Athenians: "God has set a day when he will judge the world with justice by the man he has appointed. He has given proof of this to all men by raising him from the dead." The promise of justice for our world rightly reminds us that Christ will call people and nations to account for their lives. But isn't it also music to our ears that at long last justice will roll on like a river and righteousness like a mighty stream? (Amos 5:24) I want to preach the gospel, because I stand as a herald of justice to come.

The Pastoral Center of Gravity
Here's my challenge to you. Read the book. You can buy the book at more than half off its retail price. Buy it and read it. Talk about the book with friends.

Second, if someone were to ask you tomorrow, "Why are you a Christian?" how would you answer? This week, write out your answer in a hundred words or less. And I'll go you one better. Look on the back of the Ministry News. It lists my private e-mail address. Send me what you write. It will be a good exercise for you, and I'll offer suggestions for improvements.

Third, look for a way this week to have a conversation with someone in which you introduce God into the conversation in a natural, unforced way. Maybe it won't go that far. That's okay. Just see how far the conversation goes.

Finally, ask yourself and keep asking until you get an answer to the question, "What motivates me to share my faith? What motivates me not to share my faith?" May God take away your fears and make you bold!