We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us.
(2 Corinthians 5:20)
Ever since I can remember, I’ve been passionate about reaching out to the spiritually unconvinced. Raised in a Christian home, I discovered early on that lost people really matter, and soon recognized the significance of inviting people into a meaningful relationship with God through Christ. I became convinced that nothing quite compares with the joy of cheering seekers on as they take steps in their spiritual journey.
As a kid, I remember sitting on the floor with my dad to watch the Billy Graham telecasts. We’d listen intently as Billy preached powerful sermons with simplicity and authority, imploring people to get reconciled with God. On occasion, he would also speak of the incredible responsibility and privilege we all have as Christians to reach out to others with the gospel, inspiring me by his own example. I distinctly remember the unforgettable story he told about Jim Elliot, the great missionary to the Auca Indians in the jungles of South America. Billy Graham’s words rang with passion: “Jim Elliot, martyred at twenty-three, wrote this prayer at the age of twenty-one: ‘Lord, make me a crisis man. Let me not be a milepost on a single road, but make me a fork that people must turn one way or another in facing Christ in me.’ A crisis man—isn’t that a tremendous thought—that when a person greets you, they are faced with making a decision one way or the other concerning Christ in you? Jim Elliott was such a man!”
“Lord, make me a crisis man.” When I heard those words, I knew I too wanted to grow up to be such a man. I wanted to live in crisis mode for Jesus Christ. And so I have spent a lifetime on the lookout to develop and implement the best ways to convey the compelling message of the gospel. Along the way, however, I’ve come to discover the greatest challenge within the evangelism process: to strike that important balance between presenting the truths of the Bible with boldness and clarity while, at the same time, keeping my treasured friendships safely intact. My hope and dream has been to impact people in my sphere of influence, but to do so in ways that communicate my genuine care and concern for them no matter how they respond. And still to this day, my aim is to initiate conversations about spiritual matters in such a manner that my relationships with people far from God flourish and thrive, not falter.
Jesus, the ultimate friend of sinners, clearly upheld this critical value throughout his ministry. My heart stirs as I picture Jesus hanging out and eating with the “sinners”—the very ones the religious leaders considered outcasts. Society’s rejects. The lost ones.
But when Jesus looked at the crowds, he saw people from a spiritual perspective. He saw them as lost and downcast and distressed. His heart broke for them. He wept for lost people.
That’s the heart of God toward those still outside his kingdom. And the question is this: Do we view lost people in the same way God does? When the spiritually unconvinced cross our paths, do our hearts break with compassion? When we encounter those outside God’s family, do we wonder about their spiritual condition? Do we recognize that they are like sheep without a shepherd, that they really matter to the Father? And do they truly matter to us? If we sincerely have that kind of heart attitude toward the unconvinced, it changes everything. It transforms our whole perspective about how we interact with them, how we treat each one, and how much we value their friendships.
Seekers matter. Non-Christians matter. Do they matter to you? Do they matter to me? Some of us may need to do business with God and recalibrate our hearts and minds so we’re aligned with his priorities. We may need to get alone with God and pray, “Lord, give me a renewed passion for lost people. Give me a heart that breaks when I encounter people far from you. Give me the same compassion you have for them. Give me new eyes to see them as they really are—lost, separated from you, and distressed.”
