Sunday, July 11, 2010

evangelism as duty

I have struggled with evangelism since I became a Christian. I'm a naturally shy person. Add years of being the victim of bullying, and the result is a person who is almost socially inept. I get nervous calling in a to-go order. Seriously. I either make my husband call or I find a place I can order online.

So when someone essentially hands me a stack of tracts and tells me to go hand them out, I panic. And when you imply that if I don't hand out said tracts (but rather sneak out the back door), that my salvation is in question, then I really start to prickle. There is nothing worse than being told that just because you don't have an overwhelming urge to go up and share your faith with strangers on the street that you don't really love Jesus.

To say that it irks me is an understatement. A few years ago at a church I used to attend, the pastor went through a sermon series on evangelism. The idea made me a little twitchy, but I was determined to sit through the entire series (and apply some of it to my life). A few weeks in, we came to the dreaded moment. After exhorting us for thirty minutes regarding our willingness to share our faith, we got to the invitation part of the service. With heads bowed and eyes closed, we were asked if we were ready to live as a witness for Jesus. And then the command came: "Raise your hand if your committed to sharing your testimony with five people this week." To my left and my right hands lifted in the air. My hands stayed clenched in my lap.

"No," I told myself. "I won't commit to that. I won't set an impossible goal for myself that I will only berate myself for not meeting. I won't feel guilty about this. I won't."

But then it got worse.

After a few moments, the pastor commented "I'm not sure why some people didn't raise their hands, but...." I didn't really pay attention to what else he said. It felt like a knife straight to my heart. I'm not stupid. I knew I was probably the only one in the sanctuary that hadn't held their hand up high. And even though everyone had their eyes closed, I felt like I was pointed out in the crowd. The pastor had let everyone know that someone didn't love Jesus very much.

I felt like someone had pinned a scarlet "A" to my chest.

I have nothing against people who can go out, pass out tracts and witness to the crowds. They rock my socks. I seriously admire people who can be standing in line at the pharmacy and turn a comment about the weather into a mini-presentation of the gospel that changes peoples lives. But it baffles me that some people want to pressure someone like me, who would probably hyperventilate and pass out cold, to do the same thing. It wouldn't be effective. No one is going to come to Jesus watching me have a full-blown panic attack.

The guilt is crippling. Thank God He sent His Son to free me from the weight of religious "ought-to's". Paul makes it clear that not everyone has the same spiritual gifts, and to try to use a gift that you don't have is like a foot trying to be a hand. I can force myself to go out and witness to strangers on the street. But I'm not going to be as effective as someone who has the gift of evangelism. And God has given me different gifts to use to glorify Him. I'll glorify God more by being the person He created me to be than being the person men think I ought to be.

Friday, July 2, 2010

amazed by grace

It's often said that God uses the most unlikely people to reach out to you in your time of need. This morning, that couldn't be more true.

Just yesterday I was trying to justify my recent abscence from the women's Bible study I attend. I rambled on as I got ready, listing off to my husband one excuse after another. I didn't feel like the other women in the study liked me. They hardly ever talked to me. I felt like the judged me. My husband listened patiently as I whined and then reminded me that the people didn't really matter, but my relationship with God did.

So I trudged on to Bible study, feeling reluctant and detached. As prayer requests were exchanged, I decided to be a little daring. I shared about my on-going struggle with depression and how the recent lost of my cat had sent me spiraling downward, triggering the worst symptoms. The ladies listened and encouraged me. I was a little surprised that I received no condemning looks. Many times before, mention of my depression had gotten me the "oh ye of little faith" look and pointless banter on how if I just trusted God more, the depression would poof!, disappear.

So I really wasn't expecting what happened this morning.

One of the ladies from Bible study came up to me first thing in the morning at work. I was little surprised to see her at my desk; we seldom talked outside of Bible study. As she talked about typical work stuff, she plunked down a women's devotional on my desk. Before she left, she gestured towards the book and told me she had picked it up for me. And with that she breezed off.

I picked up the devotional. Tucked inside was a card encouraging me, letting me know I wasn't alone in my struggles, reminding me I was being prayed for.

I called my husband, sniffling but smiling.