Fine Print Evangelism

Emily and I were about half way from the parking lot to the cliffs of McAfee Knob, one of the most breathtaking precipices in Central Virginia.  Right before we rejoined the Appalachian Trail from our fire road short cut, a man about as old as our dad stopped us and handed both of us what looked like business cards.
While such unsolicited offerings are awkward enough at a Chamber of Commerce happy hour, it smacks of freak show on a dusty, wooded trail.
If you’re like me, after reading the words they held, something between pity and indignation bubbles in you—probably between a smirk and a head wag.
I’m not quite sure how anybody would find this word circus to be effective evangelism.  This wouldn’t get me to join Amway, let alone an entire faith system.
In this card’s defense, it’s nowhere near the first use of puns, cliches, stipulations, fear-mongering, and outdated context to introduce Christianity.  And since a good portion of Christianity reflects such tired communication, maybe it’s laudable that this stranger accurately represented the religious reality he espouses.
I’m nowhere near the best ambassador for Christ, but I know Jesus came to give us life, not Christianity.  And I can’t speak for other people of The Way, but my hope is bigger than just an eventual heaven.  I want to discover the most fulfilling now that unfolds into a fulfilling forever.  I want to know and be known by something bigger than myself.
This card does something right.  It asks a question: “What is your goal in life?”  In the Bible, Jesus and his apostles often opened spiritual conversations that way.  Of course, they used their voices instead of cowardly stationery; and—more importantly—they listened for the respective answers and engaged in conversations.
Jesus left heaven to come to where we are.  He didn’t rain post-dated business cards on us.  He didn’t ask us to weed through insider jargon to understand he wants us more than he wants justice for our sin.  The choice he offers is essentially an ultimatum, but he wants so much for us to reciprocate his movement toward us.
If that’s how Jesus came to us, how then should we represent him to others?
Don’t get me wrong: God uses printed materials, even those dispersed generically.  God wants us to engage strangers, even those we may never see again.  Something inside of me, though, senses that people need to see our hearts, not just our creeds.  They need to read our eyes, not just our regurgitated catechisms.  They need our life—and the Life that pumps within us—to intersect with theirs.
[footer]Stock photo purchased from iStockPhoto.com[/footer] —
This sample below was found in a mall bathroom after writing this post.