"Weakness In Witnessing" by Prof. Grant Horner

From The Master's Current, a publication of The Master's College:

Like so many other things in the world of evangelical Christianity, ideas about evangelism are often driven by trends, fads, and over-hyped systems or programs. It seems that every three years or so some new idea about how to reach people with the gospel sweeps through churches and conferences, spawning books, seminars, websites, and new varieties of outreach ministries. Many of these movements are identified with specific ministry personalities: "Have you read so-and-so's new book on evangelism?" Before long these methodologies grow into cottage industries, with a marketing tagline, slick presentation, and product roll-out.

This is not to say that these ideas and systems are necessarily bad. I've learned from them myself, although, as you can probably tell, I'm not a big fan of "packaged-product" ministry. Like everything else, one must exercise biblical-critical discernment when evaluating any ideas, including (and perhaps especially) those with direct theological content.

Where does our desire for these "evangelistic techniques" come from? We would all like to be liked, accepted, even popular; none of us enjoys rejection. But the gospel is always a scandal when presented accurately. The cross is an offense because it is an affront. It is an insult to every belief we cling to that tells us we are good (the most desperately misbelieved lie we all tell ourselves). The cross dismantles philosophies and destroys religion. It eviscerates mere mortality and it demolishes rebellion. The gospel requires surrender with no terms for negotiation. You cannot argue with the cross: your options are spit on it, or die on it.

Thus, presenting the gospel to a lost soul is the most exhilarating of propositions: it is the harshest of attacks ("you are a sinner") while being the most merciful of rescues ("but God can save you"). It must be both to be authentic; and therefore it is inherently risky. It can be frightening.

I was once up on a sizeable cliff in Southern California on a lovely fall afternoon with three of my regular rock-climbing partners, all unbelievers, and all very successful men. One is a top cosmetic surgeon, one a very well-off international businessman, and another a famous professor at CalTech. I was seventy feet above them, leading the climb, and I heard them in a friendly debate down below--something involving me, actually. Several snippets drifted upwards, including "Don't bait him, don't bait him!" This was followed by my CalTech friend saying, "No--there's no way he believes that, he's educated!" Then the question floated up: "Grant, where did the world come from?" I called back down that God, according to the Bible--which I believed--had made it by speaking, and in just six literal days. My CalTech buddy had lost the bet with my surgeon buddy, and had to take him out that night for a $100 dinner. (Alas, I was not on the invitation list.)

Now, I had established multi-year relationships with all these men, always being open about my Christianity with them, often with the result being just this kind of "friendly" three-on-one antagonism directed my way. But I've never allowed their opinions of my faith to interfere with either my openness or our friendship. I shared my own struggles, doubts, and curiosity. I may be the only Christian they will ever know closely. And what do I have to fear? They're just men, like me, or at least before I was saved by God's grace in February of 1983.

So why was I not afraid to be open about my wacky views with my friends, and others as opportunity afforded? Not because I am bold. By nature I have always been shy, timid, retiring, and quiet. My classroom teaching and pulpit preaching personae are a bit more boisterous at times, but that is my public face before crowds. It is a pedagogical technique, designed to maximize the teaching event. Generally I am very quiet. I am the dullest person at parties, even at my own home. I just sit quietly and observe. As a child I was painfully shy, and I still am with strangers. So how do I avoid fear, or even shyness, when presenting Christianity to my friends and acquaintances?

Simple. I am a strong believer in the sovereignty of God. It is not my job to convert, to win an argument, to gain agreement; it is my job to witness. God is the converter, not me. Thankfully! I couldn't sell ice water to a thirsty man.

Furthermore, I have learned that the key to effective witnessing is authenticity. People can tell a fake. Fake Christianity really smells terrible, too--it may be the worst smell on the planet. But being real and transparent about your own struggles, your own doubts, your own weaknesses, and yes, your own sins--now that will get a listener's attention. In fact, I think a key component missing from most of our evangelistic attempts is a deliberate, unapologetic presentation of ourselves as sinners, no better and no worse in God's eyes, than anyone else. That is when you can really talk about grace to a captive audience.

I deliberately seek out pagan friends to share a significant portion of my time--especially my leisure time. This doesn't mean I engage in activities that shame Christ; it means I go to the people that He loves, and who do not know of His love. And I consciously work hard to fight the natural temptation to present a fake, "spiritual" self--one who does not wrestle with occasional doubts or uncertainties, one who does not suffer temptation, one who is not weak, frail and in desperate need of an infinitely gracious God to keep me on the right path every moment of my days. Because in weakness only am I strong at all.

Did not Christ come in weakness that was true power?

~Professor Grant Horner