I once listened to a pastor recount the story of being a bad salesman. A woman in his congregation had urged him to visit her husband, an unbeliever, in their home. The pastor did so, and took along a friend. The two men knocked on the door, the husband answered, and invited them to come in. He began to ask them questions. The conversation seemed to be productive, and by the end of the evening, the man seemed to be quite interested. As their time came to a close, the pastor handed the man his business card and said, “If you have any questions, or if you'd like to invite Jesus into your heart, please give me a call.” As the pastor and his friend walked back down the sidewalk to the car, his friend turned to him and said, “Boy, you aren't much of a salesman. Why didn't you close the deal right then and there?”

There is a time and place for asking someone if they want to accept Christ. But, as this pastor told his friend, it's not about pressuring someone into making the decision. It's something they have to want to do, because they are ready to do it, between them and the Lord.

I once heard an evangelist say that if everyone who came to the altar actually got saved, the entire world would have been saved ten times. There are many people genuinely come to Christ at the altar. But sometimes people respond out of pressure, out of guilt, or out of emotion only, and as Jesus said in the parable of the soils (Matt. 13:3-9), if there is no depth of root, their faith withers and dies. There is no reward for pressuring someone into saying the sinner's prayer. Sometimes “low pressure” or “no pressure” evangelism can be just effective, and sometimes more long-lasting. It is my personal belief that, when people come to Christ without any pressure, beyond the prompting of the Holy Spirit, to do so, they are more likely to have counted the cost and stick with their commitment.

Jogging for Jesus

I discovered the power of low-pressure evangelism when I befriended a woman I continually crossed paths with on my running route. After awhile, when we were running at the same time, we began running together. She attended a Catholic church, and she enjoyed when I talked about the Lord, but it was clear that we were in very different places spiritually. I didn't push the issue. I simply talked about my life, my beliefs, and the things that God had done in my life.

There were lots of opportunities. When she told me about her friend whose daughter was killed in a tragic accident, for example, I listened compassionately to her concern, her fears, and her sorrow, then I gently turned the conversation to my thankfulness for God's promises through Christ Jesus. Even when my life is touched by sorrow, I said, I am comforted by the fact that I and my loved ones are going to the place with no more death, no more sorrow, and no more crying. When she brought up controversial political issues, I would talk about what God had to say about those issues, musing about how, since my beliefs are founded on the Word of God, it makes my political decisions much easier. The Lord is the one I'll be accountable to one day, I told her. When she was worried about her children, I would talk about God's promises, about reading the scriptures, and praying the scriptures into their lives. No matter the subject, she was amazed at how quickly I could cut to the heart of it by simply relying on the Bible. Sometimes, too, we just talked about woman things, like running, children, work, and nutrition. I was careful not to overwhelm her, however, or make her feel pressured, as if faith was the only thing I could talk about.

The more we ran, the more about the Bible she learned. She didn't read the Bible herself, except what little she heard in church, but the more I talked about it, the more she began to realize what she didn't know. I'd give her small pieces at a time, and over the course of nearly two years, I'd covered all of the major themes, including the difference between profession of faith and true confession of faith. Especially as it related to the hypocrisy she'd experienced in the church and the beliefs of people she knew who said they believed in God but whose lives were barren, with no fruit. I'd quote verses, such as the need to be born again (John 3:3), that not everyone who called Jesus “Lord” will enter the kingdom of heaven (Matt. 7:22-23), and that belief, by itself, is not enough, for “even the demons believe, and tremble” (James 2:19).

I knew that I was talking about her, too, so I treaded lightly. I rarely made it personal, but I waxed philosophic and quoted scripture liberally. After awhile, she began to talk about her own interest in reading the scriptures, which I enthusiastically encouraged.

As the months wore on, it became clear that God was working on her heart, giving her the desire to read the scriptures, so I began to hold her accountable to what God was calling her to do. I'd do it gently, but every few weeks, I'd say, “Have you read the gospel of John yet?” or “How's that scripture reading going?” If she expressed frustration or concern about a situation, I'd ask her if she'd been praying about it, and when she said no, I'd ask her how she expected God to work if she wouldn't go to Him in prayer.

You're Different

One day, she made the comment that I was different from most of the Christians she knew. “You really know your stuff,” she said. “No matter what we talk about, you know what the Bible has to say about it.”

“I'm nothing special,” I protested. “You can know what the Bible says about things, too. God wants you to know those things.”

She also told me that she was amazed by the fact that, even though I knew all the scriptures, I wasn't pushy. “You're like a regular person,” she said. “But you live it, you don't just talk about it. I've never known anyone like you.”

Once again, I replied that I was nothing special. “You can have what I have,” I said. “It's a free gift for everyone.”

One day, she told me about how she and her family were driving down the long, slow hill by the horse farm on my running route, and they saw me running up the hill other way. I often run with my tape player and headphones, usually with some sort of worship music, and this day was no exception. I sing loudly as I run, sharing the lyrics with everyone within earshot (that's tough to do on hills — that will give you a cardiovascular workout!). She told me that her husband commented how easily I seemed to traverse the hill. “I wonder what she's listening to,” he said. My friend replied, “Oh, I know what she's listening to.” That warmed my heart. My faith made a difference in my life, and that was so incredibly clear to her.

One day, as we were running, I felt like I should ask her a question. “How do you know that you are going to heaven?” I asked.

In spite of all the talking we'd done about scripture, she said, “You know, I really don't know.” It seemed to really bother her.

“Do you want to know?” I asked. “The Bible says, `Confess the Lord Jesus, and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, and you will be saved' (Romans 10:9). Jesus said that we are born spiritually dead, but that we can be raised to life by being born again through His Spirit (John 3:3). We receive that Spirit by confessing our sins before Him, accepting the payment that He made for our sins on the cross, and asking Him to come into our lives as Lord and Savior. It's that simple, but, of course, you have to mean it.”

The Angels Rejoice

We finished up near her house, with my heart pounding as much from anticipation as exertion, because I knew that I was going to ask her if she wanted to accept the Lord. I'd known her for two years, but still, I was nervous. I didn't want to push her too fast, or make her feel that if she said no, that I wouldn't be her friend anymore if she said no. But I'd learned to obey the prompting of the Holy Spirit, as He was doing now, for He knew the proper timing better than I.

“I know we've been talking about it,” I said, “so I was wondering if you would like to invite the Lord into your heart today? I could come in, show you the verses in your Bible, and we could pray together.”

She thought about it for a moment, then to my joy, she said, “Yes, I'd like that.”

It was the first time I'd even been in her house. As she went to find her Bible, I played with her dog, rolling the rubber ball around her living room. After a few minutes, she came in with her Bible, and we sat together on the couch and read John 3:3, John 3:16, and Romans 10:9 together. I said that I'd pray for her, and then, if she felt like she wanted to, she could pray for herself.

I prayed first, thanking the Lord for His goodness and mercy, for giving us His Word, and for the knowledge that He will never leave us nor forsake us, and that if we want to come to His kingdom, He will meet us with open arms. I thanked Him for His shed blood on the cross, and for His promise of eternal life for those who would believe. Then I paused, touching her hand gently, and she began to pray. She prayed the most beautiful prayer I may have ever heard. It was heartfelt, and she poured out her needs to the Lord, and asked Him to forgive her of her sins and come into her life. As she prayed, her tears flowed freely down her cheeks. When we finished, and she looked up into my eyes, she said, “I feel different.”

“You are different!” I said. “Welcome to the kingdom! You're my sister in Christ now, did you know that?”

She smiled. “I suppose that's true.” She went into the bathroom to wipe her face, and when she returned, I wouldn't have recognized her. Her face was lit with such joy that she looked like a different person. She positively glowed. “What?” she asked, when she saw the look on my face.

“Look at you!” I exclaimed, laughing. “Look in the mirror!”

She walked to the mirror, looked at her face, and started to laugh, too. “I do look different!” she said.

“Of course you do!” I replied. “You've been born again!”

My friend began reading the Bible that day, starting in the gospel of John. After that day, every time I'd see her, I'd ask, “Did you do your reading today?” Although the answer wasn't always yes, for the first time in the two years I'd known her, sometimes it was.

I think back to the number of times that she went out of her way to tell me that it was my approach that reached her. It wasn't heavy or pushy. I simply lived the gospel that I talked about. For her, it was watching my faith make a difference in my life week after week, month after month, and year after year. She could see that what I had was real, and she wanted it, too. I'm not subtle by nature, and this kind of “show me, not tell me” is sometimes difficult for me, but in this case, it was exactly what she needed to see.

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