My guilty wardrobe secret and the crippling fear that besets us all

OK—I’ve got a confession to make that might shock you. If you’re not already, I suggest you sit down and grab a strong cup of tea and brace yourself. I suspect it will be all the more shocking for you because of who is writing this. Director of an evangelical publishing company of some notoriety. Pillar of the church. Organiser of conferences for youth and children’s work and evangelism. Blog writer. Book editor.

I’ve got profile.

And yet here I stand before you (metaphorically), laying this dark secret open for the world to see. Something that I have hidden for more than 40 years.

Are you ready?

I’m terrified of telling other people about Jesus.

Take a pause to breathe deeply and scour your bookshelves for anything that may have my name or fingerprints on it, and bin them with a look of betrayal and disgust on your face.

I first realised my gospel cowardice as an enthusiastic newly-converted teenager, when I bought a T-shirt that had Romans 1 v 16 printed on it in big bold letters. “I am not ashamed of the gospel…” In the excited hubbub of a youth group filled with zealous young believers, it seemed the right thing to do. But when it arrived, I took it home, and put it on in the privacy of my bedroom. Looking in the mirror that evening, a simple phrase shrieked repeatedly through my mind: “DO NOT WEAR THAT SHIRT IN PUBLIC. EVER!!!!”

It has stayed hidden in my bottom drawer ever since. It’s still there today, and whenever I dig down deep enough and expose it, it still mocks my fearful secret. Mercifully, it will not fit now… But the fear remains—and I suspect that many, if not most other believers I talk to about this have the same fear. The fear comes from all kinds of places:

Fear of not knowing what to say. Making a statement about Christian belief, and the truth about the world as we see it through the window of Scripture, is a fear-filled experience for many. What seems so easy and natural in church or among other believers is a different matter when you are in conversation with someone who is not a Christian. What do I say? How do I articulate my faith? Will they even understand what I’m on about?

Fear of being asked a difficult question. Conversations often move swiftly on to difficult questions. What is my answer to someone who denies the existence of God, or who confidently asserts that my own belief is based on my psychological need, rather than anything real? And what do I say if they retort by asking me about one of the “Three Big S’s”—science, suffering or sex?!

Fear of looking ridiculous. This lingers with us all to some extent or other. None of us like to be different or to stick out from a crowd. And belief in Jesus is becoming more and more weird. I suspect this is where my own worst fears come from. I just like to be liked; but the message of the gospel has a hard edge to it, which I just know will be unpopular.

Becky Pippert makes an astute point about our fears in her new evangelism training course, Empowered:

"What is the focus of our fears? It is entirely ourselves! When we say that we can’t witness unless we know the answers to ALL the questions—or until we are such skilled communicators that we could never offend or be rejected—we’re saying that we want a way of witnessing that bypasses our weaknesses and allows us not to have to depend so much upon God. At the end of the day, people do not come to Christ because of our ability to present the gospel perfectly. Only the Spirit of God can convict of sin and convert and transform lives. That is why prayer is such an invaluable tool in evangelism."

She’s right. The late, great preacher and evangelist John Chapman taught me to pray like this: "Lord, please give me an opportunity to speak to someone about you today—and please don’t be subtle about it, or you know I’ll bottle it.” I pray this prayer with trepidation, because the Lord has regularly answered this most reluctant of requests.

But perhaps the greatest encouragement to evangelism is to come back again and again to the gospel and the person it is all about—Jesus. Because it’s only as I am convinced that the gospel really is “the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes” that I start to feel less awkward about sharing it.

The power to open blind eyes rests with God, not in the slickness of my tongue.

But sometimes, with gritted teeth, I have just felt compelled to power through the feelings and “get over myself”. Sometimes with positive and pleasant results. Sometimes resulting in leaden embarrassment, outrage or indifference. But knowing that God is sovereign in evangelism has been my rescue at this point. When my words seem to flow and be persuasive, they do not guarantee results—even if they make me feel good. And yet even when my words are hesitant, fumbled, disjointed, they are not empty. The power to open blind eyes rests with God, not in the slickness of my tongue. This truth has been demonstrated to me again and again over the years, when God has chosen to bless my feeble, halt-tongued efforts.

And he can bless yours, too.

Join Tim to find encouragement at The Evangelism Conference this year on Tuesday 11th October (London) and Thursday 13th October (Manchester), where Paul Mallard and Rico Tice will help us see how whole congregations can be equipped and empowered for evangelism, despite our weakness, and even through it.

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