Easter Evangelism

Glen Scrivener, the director of Speak Life, writes about where he's got it wrong in evangelism. Hopefully it will encourage us to scatter the good seed of the gospel this Easter...

This is a dangerous topic. It’s not dangerous because my confessions of failure will spoil my otherwise flawless projection of Evangelistic Success. No, in the words of Austin Powers, that train has already sailed. 

I’m the evangelist who once met a man who only spoke Aramaic so I tried out on him the only Aramaic I knew. Perhaps you know it too. Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani. (I know! What was I thinking? The words of Christ on the cross!). His eyes widened at the man with a Bible who seemed desperate to communicate just how godforsaken he was. He simply patted my hand and moved on. I like to think he silently prayed for me in that moment, thus redeeming the whole encounter.

Or the time I was reading Luke 12 on the tube and just had to share verse 32 with my neighbour. He leapt from his seat and exited the train just as the doors were closing. I’m pretty sure it was not his intended stop.

Or the talk I gave, very recently, where I put—onto the lips of Jesus no less!—a swear word which, after 20 years in the UK I hadn’t grasped was a swear word. As my hearers gasped I thought they were falling under unusual conviction of sin. My friend put me into my misery at the end of the meeting.

And it’s not just amusing faux pas. There’s the time I invited a dozen friends to the Carols Service with the promise of mulled wine and mince pies when actually they felt ambushed by a talk speaking frankly about hell. God used it all but my invitation should have been prosecuted under the Trades Descriptions Act. Or the Christmas talks I’ve given when there’s been the palpable sense, bubbling away under the surface: “Sure, you’re enjoying your once-a-year sing-song now, but where have you sinners been the OTHER 51 weeks of the year!”

Lots of mistakes to share. But, really, the greatest mistakes in my evangelism have been the faux pas I didn’t make. The awkward silences I didn’t provoke. The sneers I never got because I never raised the name of Jesus in the first place. My greatest failures have been the conversations I never got around to having with my friends and family.

You see the danger of writing an article like this is that we can all identify ways evangelism goes wrong. But it’s worth remembering how D.L. Moody responded to criticisms of his evangelistic failures. “I like my way of doing it better than your way of not doing it.” This is not a free pass for every theologically questionable and relationally tone-deaf approach. But it’s worth thinking about.

Jesus’ strategy in evangelism was far less focused on success and far more focused on supply — supplying gospel words and letting the results be what the results are going to be. Think of Matthew chapter 13 — less of a strategy, more of a scattergy.  

Some will be hardened (v. 19), some will be shallow (vv. 20–21), some will be choked by worries and consumerism (v. 22), but some will welcome the word enduringly and fruitfully (v. 23). Our concern is with the supply of the word, not the success. If this soil won’t hear, we sow on another. And another. And another. If this hearer is hard, we don’t get out the crowbar. We don’t beat them into submission. We don’t cry foul because they’ve sneered at us. Sneerers gonna sneer (as Taylor Swift almost said). We sow into the next heart, and the next, and the next.

There is good soil. We have good seed. So don’t try to avoid evangelistic failure. Don’t focus on evangelistic success. Focus on the supply. Scatter. The fields are still white for harvest.

This post was first published on the The Good Book Company blog in 2019.

Divine Comedy

Last night was the annual Men's Curry Evening. There was a good number of men from the Village Church and a good number of men not from the Village Church. There was curry and there was beer. But there was also poetry! Yesterday was World Poetry Day and so it felt fitting to read a poem to the men. I read a poem called Divine Comedy by Glen Scrivener. Here it is to read and reflect on...

What is life? What kind of tale?

Comedy or tragic fail?

Not, is life funny, it's mostly not,

But is it hopeful? What's the plot?

The classic tragedy's a frown;

You travel up then tumble down.

In turn, a comedy's a smile;

You plumb the depths but end in style.

It's not about the laughter or pain,

It's all about the final frame.

Flick to the end and simply question:

Is there a wedding or a funeral procession?

That's the difference, now we ask:

What should be the actor's mask?

In this world, what story's sold?

Is the happy ending told?

No, here's the pattern:

Each wretch stumbles up the compost heap,

Then tumbles down to loneliness and loss,

But painted thinly, this the gloss,

A glistening hedonist directive:

Make attainment your objective.

Grasp and grab and climb and take,

Then perish, never more to wake.

Your life is tragic, first to last,

No matter how the middle's cast.

We're biological machines,

Reading glossy magazines.

So swill your latte, watch the clock,

As time eeks out, tick tock, tick tock.

Unless...

Unless one story comes in view,

Unless the comedy is true.

The author written in to twist the plot,

Within our tangled midst,

To plumb the tragedy and gloom,

Kill death by dying, split the tomb.

And by this anti-entropy,

To reek sublime catastrophe.

Now through the valley, death destroyed,

He pioneers a cosmic joy.

Beside this tale, there's only sorrow,

He alone secures tomorrow.

Hope for earthed, embodied living,

Future righted, wrongs forgiven.

You see, the tragedy is vain,

Begins in pride and ends in pain.

Forsake this desperate ever after,

Turn instead to Easter laughter.

The men were invited to come along to the Village Church this Easter - to our Good Friday service at 10am on Friday 19th April and / or to our Easter Sunday service at 10:30am on Sunday 21st April. Let's pray that some of them come...