I grew up fishing—not in the simplistic straw-hat-and-overalls sense, but in the more serious pursuit of carefully selected tackle, and artificial lure presentation.
I’ve never had the impulse to mash some bread on a hook and clip on an oversized bobber. That technique will work for catching bluegill in a Norman Rockwell painting. No bass I know of would allow itself to be caught in such a dishonoring way. Yet this is a common image associated with fishing.
Caricatures create misunderstandings of gospel preaching, too. The one image stuck in our minds has to do with delivering a monologue to someone.
Even non-Christians agree. The words of an honest critic: “I don’t mind Christians talking about their faith, but once they start, they don’t know when to stop.”
Alright, the unsaved have never liked the idea of gospel preaching. No surprise there. But a lot of the saved don’t much care for it, either. Seems we habitually correlate preaching (or, sharing, testifying, witnessing, etc.) with fear-induced diarrhea.
And so we decide that until we excel at door-to-door sales, we won’t be venturing into the world of evangelism. It doesn’t matter how many times Jesus said to do it.
If you feel pressured or guilty because you can’t imagine yourself in gospel cage fights, it’s time for a paradigm change. God uses conversational dialogue to preach His gospel, as demonstrated in Acts chapter 8:26-40.
Pursue conversations, but make sure that’s what you’re pursuing, and not a presentation in disguise.
There is a difference between the two.
A Presentation is a Monologue; A Conversation is Give-and-Take
You might not be aware of it, but when you’re pursuing a presentation, you’re actually hunting for a block of time to hold the floor. This is fine if the Spirit opens a door for it (see Acts 26:1-23), but far more often, communication will be going both ways.
With a conversation, you’re looking for give and take—talking and listening.
When you talk—“give”—limit the length of it. Don’t make the person regret they asked you a question. Consider how you felt in the past when you asked someone a question and they responded with, “Do you want the long version or the short one?” Which did you opt for? I’d wager you chose the response with the least potential for rabbit trails.
During the course of a conversation, 45 seconds is a long “give.” Twenty seconds or less is better. I don’t expect you to watch a clock, but get used to “feeling” time when it’s your turn to talk. It’s an art, and you have to do it by practice. Usually, people give signals that your turn is up (and has been for a while) when they get a glazed-over look, or start to shift their eyes, fidget, and yawn. A certain amount of attention deficit has affected this generation. If you hog the ball, it will worsen the problem. Learn to say what you want economically.
When it’s your turn to listen—that is, “take”—make sure you’re actually listening, not thinking about what you’re going to say. Don’t be the guy who has to ask someone’s name three times inside of five minutes. Besides, when they talk, people often unintentionally reveal valuable information about their interests, concerns, hopes, and dreams. During their “turn,” they will even expose areas of personal passion or pain. You could say they’re exposing their heart map to you a little at a time, and all but telling you how to share the gospel with them. Don’t miss these hot cues while you are distracted by thinking about something else.
A Presentation Requires a Firehose; A Conversation, an Eyedropper
If you try to conduct a presentation, you’ll be dragging out a firehose. That means extended explanations that tend to drench a listener. But in a conversation, we think in terms of eyedroppers—squeezing short, impactful points into dialogue, like, “How do I know Jesus loves you, Susan? Well, He died for you. When somebody dies for somebody else, that’s a pretty graphic way of proving their love.” Full stop. That’s a drip. If it draws a positive reaction, add another few. Only proceed as long as the other person is engaged; otherwise, you’ll end up preaching to a doorpost. Remember, you are still in a conversation. Whether Susan agrees or changes the subject altogether, she has definitely heard something of the gospel.
A Presentation Closes the Deal; A Conversation Assesses the Situation, then maybe closes the deal
A presenter expects a decision. He or she hasn’t been motoring on for nothing. At the end of a successful sales pitch, the customer is supposed to buy the product—no thinking about it or shopping around. In this style of evangelism, the sinner should repent, cry, and pray a prayer. Either way, it’s all about closing the deal.
But in a conversation, you’re assessing where you and your friend have arrived together. As your visit winds down, are there indications you should encourage the other person to repent and believe in Jesus now? Maybe they’ve signaled strong interest. Without a call to faith, you’ll leave them hanging. Lead them to Jesus, and help them confess Christ as Savior and Lord.
But it could be that your friend is only mildly interested. You need to pray for them more and perhaps converse with them a number of times before they become receptive to Christ. Of course, your friend might have been completely unfazed by any eyedropper remarks and has no interest in faith talk. In such cases, if you try to close the deal, you may as well close the relationship. High pressure might be okay in front of five hundred people, where an individual can hide in the crowd, but it won’t be a good idea between you and your best friend. Be wise and learn to evaluate your conversations.
My Eleventh Hour Eyedropper
After a lot of provocation from the Lord and a lot of procrastination from me, I finally walked down the street to my neighbor’s house. I hardly knew this elderly couple except from a distance, but I’d heard the wife was in the hospital, dying.
On the way over, I had to remind myself that this encounter would not be a presentation. It wouldn’t be a Sunday morning sermon. It would be a conversation, and maybe a short one. I considered for a moment an eyedropper statement, something short, but impactful, I could say that would capture why I was coming over, the urgency of the situation, and offer hope, as well. Yes, that’s a tall order.
The man came to the door, pleasant but understandably pressured by his situation. I re-introduced myself, offered condolences and concern for his wife, and asked about his faith. He told me they were not religious at all.
“As a pastor, I would be more than happy to go with you and visit your wife,” I said. “Of course I wouldn’t force anything on her.” He got noticeably uncomfortable at my offer, showing it by a pronounced shift backwards and a half-turn away from me. His mouth said, “Thank you, that’s very nice,” but his body language said, “I want to get away from you.”
With my window rapidly closing, all I had left was my eyedropper. I used it.
“When your wife leaves this world, I hope to see her leave it with Jesus, and not alone.”
This gave him pause, and our conversation re-ignited for a few minutes more, again pleasant, but still ending with polite refusal.
After a dialogue like this, all anyone can do is pray. In reflection, I suppose I should have built closer relationships, I should have acted earlier, and I should have kept my schedule freer. I should have said and done a lot of things that would have made a clumsy, eleventh-hour gesture unnecessary.
All of these failures notwithstanding, I still got to say something at least to him.
Get Ready to Rumble
As you pursue conversations with people, consider your own eyedropper. For instance, in our perpetually charged political and cultural environment, someone will get around to asking what you, a committed Christian, think about the issues. It’s liable to pop up without warning in the middle of an otherwise casual exchange. Rather than launch into a multi-volume explanation, probe first. Test the water. Think eyedropper. You might respond, “Well, I believe problems happen when people refuse to let Jesus rule over their hearts.”
The other person might say, “Oh, come on, a lot of foolish, hateful people say they’re Christians!”
To which you might reply, “Yes, but again, it’s about Christ ruling over the heart, and not simply what people call themselves.”
At the mention of Christ, the person you’re talking to might judge this topic as off-limits for them. You’ll know it because they will suddenly change the subject. Let them do so. Remember that this is a conversation, not a presentation. Besides, they might circle around to it again, a few minutes later—“Hey, what did you mean by ‘Christ ruling over a person’s heart’?” Even if they don’t want to revisit gospel statements you’ve made, be peaceful. Your friend is less likely to feel they were trapped in a pressuring “religious exchange.” And they’ll probably be less likely to avoid you in the future.
Nothing can insulate us from being misunderstood on behalf of the gospel. Today is a day of smallness of heart, willful ignorance, and complete dedication to sin. The images on YouTube are so cringeworthy—people pitching infantile fits of rage because they heard an opinion they didn’t agree with. Of course, this same reaction can come from hearing the name of Jesus.
The difference is that your gospel-eydropper, at least, presents a starting place for redemption to them. When they calm down, your words will still be there in their memory, offering them a breadcrumb trail to salvation.
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This is an updated edition of a post originally published on John Myer
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