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SELLING JESUS
Nina Bergmann • Mar 01, 2020
I remember someone once describing evangelism as having the cure to a disease - why would you withhold that cure from anyone?! We must share it with as many people as possible!
The truth is, my desire for people to know God really is out of love and enthusiasm; following Jesus has always brought a sense of wholeness to my life, along with purpose and direction, I want that for others. So I set about my youthful days trying to strike up connections with the cashiers of every supermarket, fuel station and convenience store I ever visited, wondering how I could segue from ‘it’s really getting cold now isn’t it?’ to ‘do you know the God of the universe created you, loves you and delights in you?’ Perhaps I should have said, “I’m selling Jesus, do you want to make a purchase?”
These fleeting connections were hit and miss; I couldn’t be blamed if I didn’t get to the good stuff in a 25 second interaction – I mean, I prayed before I went in there so if it wasn’t happening, what more could I do? Besides there were always my ‘non-Christian friends’ (of which I only ever had a token few). I would work really hard on building connection; I would pray for them daily and invite them to every church social event I could.
A couple of years ago I made a connection with one of the Mums at school and she told me she hadn’t really made any friends yet. We messaged back and forth in what I thought might be the beginning of a friendship.
Until she tried to recruit me to sell Arbonne products.
Her connection to me had had an agenda all along, I felt duped.
Around the same time, I went to a carol service at a church not my own and was greeted by smiling men and women brandishing signs saying they were ‘so pleased to see me’ and ‘I was amazing’. If I had never been to a church or carol service before perhaps I would have been moved by this welcome but as someone that has been the sign-wielding greeter many, many times, I found it more disingenuous than welcoming. If I smiled back and said what a great time I’d had I wondered if they would feel like they were ‘getting somewhere’ with me. I felt like an imposter, a secret God-loving, Jesus-follower in the midst of all these ‘non-Christians’.
I’m not the only one with these experiences either; a dear friend of mine was attending a large church and enjoyed the community and connections. She had made some friends, however upon having her third baby and not managing to make it to church for the time being, she noticed none of her ‘friends’ wanted to catch up anymore. She saw through it and never went back.
So if not evangelism in the way I have been taught, how will people know about God? When will they know about God? My need to control the outcome has me stuck in torment over how to proceed. In these times I’m reminded of the end of the book of Job:
“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?
Tell me, if you understand.
Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
Who stretched a measuring line across it?
On what were its footings set,
or who laid its cornerstone—
while the morning stars sang together
and all the angels shouted for joy?”
I don’t have an answer to my questions. When Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was, part of what he said was to ‘love your neighbour as yourself.’ I know the Mum at school probably did think I would be good at selling Arbonne, she must have wanted me to experience the same positive, life-changing thing as her but that feeling of someone having another motive for connecting to you doesn’t feel very nice. It doesn’t feel very loving. I don’t want the people I love to feel that way either.
When I decided, counter intuitively, to let go of any evangelistic agenda I had with my friends (I know, I know, it’s not an agenda, we just want everyone to know the good news) what it made room for was real two way friendship. I always believed the notion that I couldn’t be close friends with people that weren’t Christians, purely because we didn’t share enough of the same things. But we do share all of the same things. We are humans trying to navigate life and work and children and relationships. Trying to be fulfilled and happy and peaceful. All of my desperation to evangelise was actually the gigantic hurdle in the way of sharing the most valuable thing of all. True, pure love.
To really love someone, not for who you hope they become but who they are. To feel that love in return and struggle on through together. What a serendipitous blessing.
Sometimes, we categorise people out of Gods kingdom because they don’t meet the brief, they don’t fit our preconceived ideas and expectations. So, this Christmas, when I put my nativity in pride of place to celebrate “the King has Come”, I am reminded that a King didn’t come, at least not in the eyes of all those waiting on one. The nativity was the ultimate Kris Kringle (maybe the first!), where we quite simply don’t know what to expect and should always be prepared for a surprise, but it will be a gift.
For something new to grow,
something else must fade.
Death isn’t just the end of life it’s also the beginning.
St John of the Cross wrote: “If a man wishes to be sure of the road he treads on, he must close his eyes and walk in the dark.” When we can’t see, and can’t make any sense of things, keeping on can be the deepest form of trust. It can serve a profound purpose, for the dark night of the soul is sometimes the space between who we have been and who we will become.
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