One day I was out with another Christian doing what I thought all faithful Christians do, programmed evangelism, door-to-door canvassing. We saw someone walking up the street, so I took a tract and approached him. When I got near, I held out my hand and offered him some literature. He began to walk around me, holding out his hand in refusal. He sped his pace up, spewing out fiery, caustic words like: “You’re a cult, a sect! You’re a cult, and I don’t want to have anything to do with you! You’re a cult!” He back peddled up the street, hurling out insults and rustling along as quickly as he could. I looked at my friend. I was frigid. I felt rejected, personally hurt. I felt like a freak, and in some senses I was. I was not sharing Jesus. I was giving literature. The Bible says in Luke 10:4-7, “Carry neither purse, nor scrip, nor shoes: and salute no man by the way. And into whatsoever house ye enter, first say, Peace [be] to this house. And if the son of peace be there, your peace shall rest upon it: if not, it shall turn to you again. And in the same house remain, eating and drinking such things as they give: for the labourer is worthy of his hire. Go not from house to house.” This passage tells me, among other things, to carry nothing, salute no one on the way, enter into houses, speak peace, eat, and drink Does this sound like evangelism to you?
Unfortunately, it probably does not. Our deformed methods of sharing Jesus reflect our misunderstanding of this passage. We do not know how to bring Christ home. We have a concept of door-to-door sales, and not household-to-household peace-speaking. Evangelism is sharing the love of the Lord Jesus beginning with words of peace. It is not notching our belt. That experience on a blistery hot day in the Amazonian town of Macouria in French Guiana will remain until my dying day as an image of one of the worse ways imaginable to do evangelism. Leading with literature is not God’s way. It is an excuse for not speaking “Peace” as Jesus told us to speak. As a result of an endless cycle of leading-with-literature disappointments, I sought a way to share my faith that was living and filled with peace. I sought something natural to new life in Christ. Jesus, Paul, Peter, Stephen, and James. None began their Christian testimony among unknown lost people with a printed tract or even a Bible. “How can I break into the thought-world of my entourage? People are tough,” I thought. “Turning a conversation is so awkward.” They know I didn’t write the tract. If they want to hear anything, they want to here from me first. If Christ changed my life, I need to speak it. It must come from my mouth, not the printed testimony of someone else. The pulpit is no different. When people give up an hour of their time on Sunday mornings, they don’t want to hear Internet reruns. They need to hear the Spirit of God’s fresh illumination of his word coming from our hearts. I never want someone leaving the church saying to himself, “This guy did not preach Jesus and the Bible. He rehashed someone else’s literature.”
